#(otherwise I know I would spend hours reading every single new post that appears) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Orange Lamborghini

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 6.3k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : lil toucha ass play, car sex, baku being a damn tease

bio : You keep telling yourself you’re done with Bakugou, but the last time is never really the last time, is it?

author’s note : i know i said i was gonna post a tamaki fic but it’s a certain violent blonde’s birthday tomorrow!! (happy 4/20 ayy) so here you go ;) … also this is a part two to my other baku fic, “fuck you i just might”, but you don’t have to read that one before this if you don’t wanna!

side note : Y/H/N is your hero name, and reader is a pro hero working at the same agency as Bakugou. ALSO he smells like caramel bc of his quirk, dont fight me on this >:(

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“🅂taying late again?” Reo, the owner of the coffee cart stationed in the lobby of the hero agency, quizzes as he throws you an accusatory look.

You stand before him, hand awkwardly looped around your elbow and a small, bashful smile on your lips. He totally knows. But you appreciate that he never outright says anything, and you know for a fact that he would never peep even a whisper to anyone. You are probably his most loyal customer, and you’d like to think he considers you a friend after all this time— not to mention, all the coffee you’ve purchased from him.

Reo gauges your meek expression, and he only smiles as he pours the creamer into the dark brown liquid. “They must be working you hard… I’ve never seen a top hero work such long hours, staying even after everyone else has left. Well, almost everyone, that is.”

Yeah, he most certainly knows.

“What can I say?” You blabber, perhaps answering him a bit too quickly. “Work is my whole life. I don’t have time for anything else, I guess.” The sentiment is a little awkward but full of candor, and when the words leave your lips you’re surprised to hear them carry such a solemn tone.

The man nods in understanding, handing you your cup of coffee before he grabs a cookie from the glass display case and offers it to you as well. “On the house,” he states and you share a long showdown of a gaze with him before you reluctantly pluck the treat from his outreached tongs.

“Thanks Reo, you have a good night now.” Bowing slightly to the elder, you turn and take your leave, quiet steps echoing in the otherwise empty foyer.

Just as the elevator doors open to take you back up into the higher levels of the building, Reo calls out to you. “You know, you should find someone that’s just as hardworking as you. Maybe they’re closer than you think.”

Flustered by the old man’s advice, you only nod and bow again, jamming your thumb into the button. A sigh of relief escapes you as the doors conceal you from his prying eyes. That man has a sixth sense, you swear.

The elevator doors open and you briskly walk through them, along the corridor and around the corner before you finally reach the conference room. Taking a deep breath, you slip through the doorway, eyes trained on the table half-covered in paperwork. Bakugou is sitting behind the spread out files, his red eyes jumping up to regard your approaching form. Placing the cookie wrapped in napkin on the table, you nod at him as you turn and open a cabinet, fingers pinching a fresh manilla folder and shutting the door with a bump from your hip.

“Working late, huh?” His rough voice splits the silence hanging in the air, and when you turn to look at the blonde, he’s lounged back, corded bicep hung carelessly over the back of the chair and a cocky look on his face. But his eyes hold another emotion as they give you a once-over, one that makes your insides stir in both memory and apprehension.

You nod again, a coy smile gracing your lips as you take a sip of your coffee, your own gaze lingering on the muscles that poke out from the hem of his tight tank top. “You too?” You ask, even though the answer is obvious.

Bakugou’s hand twirls the pen he was previously using in rapid, effortless circles, and his knee bounces slowly underneath the table. “You gonna eat that?” He answers your question with his own, slanted eyes flicking towards the cookie resting on the tabletop just an arm’s length away from him.

“You want it?” You can’t help but be surprised— you always expected Bakugou to be an uppity-ass, no-junk-food kind of guy.

“It’s Reo’s, right?” The blonde replies gruffly, thick fingers reaching out to grab the confection. “Shit tastes like heaven.”

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. Why, that sly little…

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” you chirp out as you turn on your heel, ready to retreat back to the safety of your office.

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes return back to your departing figure, a thin brow raised and a snarl of a smirk splitting his lips. “Aw, ‘ya worrying ‘bout me now, Princess?”

“Fuck you,” it flows from your mouth, years of foul-mouthing built up into a knee-jerk reaction. Your eyes widen as his turn to slits, that stupid smirk morphing into a gleaming grin.

“Don’t tempt me.”

A wave of heat washes over you from head to toe before settling between your legs. You don’t bother to stick around, your feet carrying you out of the conference room as Bakugou’s harsh laughter trails behind you, echoing down the hallway.

Closing the door to your office behind you, you lean your back against it as you slide toward the floor, shutting your eyes tight as the memory washes over you. He’d taken you— right there on the desk you’re supposed to be working at— and ugh, it was fucking good. Shit, he was good. Dropping the folder on the floor your fingers fly to your temple, rubbing your skull in a useless attempt to push the memory away.

Alright, if you’re being honest… that was just the first time. There were, well, a handful of times following the initial incident, much to your now chagrin. There was that time in his office on the other side of the building that had a perfect view of the ocean, which you had become very familiar with while your face was pressed up against the glass and he ravaged you from behind. There was also that time when it was around this time of night and he had thrown all your paperwork off of the conference table and taken you right there, pounding into you like no tomorrow. Yeah, there were a few times you’d found yourself naked before him, pussy gripping his thick cock as your lips clashed with his.

But last time was the last time. You can’t just keep fucking him like this, all over the agency in such scandalous secrecy… the two of you hiding this gruesomely passionate beast you co-own, feeding it only once the the coast is clear and, oh, he feeds it so well… every meal a juicy, fat steak dripping with desire and euphoria, encasing your senses in a silky smooth film as his calloused hands glide all over your— No!

You shake your head abruptly, derailing your sinful train of thought. You agreed that last time was it, fin. And… the time before that, too… and maybe the one before then as well— well, it doesn’t matter because last time was actually the last time. Pulling yourself together, you make your way toward your desk and begrudgingly begin your work.

By the time the folder is full, the clock indicates that tomorrow has begun and thus, it’s time for you to go home. Without a glance towards the conference room, you make your way toward the elevator, letting out a long sigh as the weight of the day slips from your shoulders. Jabbing your thumb into the button, you lean against the railing and check your phone out of habit. Two new messages from Jirou pique your interest, and you eagerly open the chat log to see what she’d sent.

Jiji 🎸: Girls meeting at the usual tmrw night!! Hope you can make it :)

Jiji 🎸: We all miss ya girly, you’ve been working too much lately ❤️

A part of you feels bad for misleading your friends. It’s not that you aren’t working late these days… it’s that your workload is not the only thing you’re doing when you stay after hours at the agency. Your friends had started to notice all the late nights you’d been spending at your job, and they’d begun to pout when you would bail on their bar-nights. They understood that you were working, and you hoped that they didn’t harbor any further suspicions. You had not told a single soul about your rendezvous with Bakugou Katsuki— the only person who seemed to have an inkling of your relationship, if you could call it that, was Reo.

Sliding your phone into your bag, you decide to try to make it tomorrow night. The last time had been the last time with Bakugou, so you would definitely be free tomorrow night, especially after finishing up the paperwork you had just completed minutes prior. With a wave of determination washing over you, a small smile appears on your lips as you fiddle with your staff key-card absentmindedly, wondering what you should wear when tomorrow night comes around.

When the elevator dings and opens its doors, your feet take you out of the steel chamber and into the cement confines of the parking garage. At this time of night, the only way in and out of the building is through the parking garage gate, seeing as the custodians lock up the front doors long before midnight. But you don’t mind, because the night air is fresh and cool on your face, and the subway is only a three minute walk from the garage exit. Just before you can reach out to tap your key against the automatic gate, an ear-splitting screech roars behind you and you jump, shooting straight up into the air.

Whipping around, headlights nearly blind you as they point right into your eyes. Squinting at the obnoxious light, your vision widens again when you recognize the outline of a sleek and shiny Lamborghini. An orange Lamborghini, to be precise. And a license plate with “G-ZER0” unmistakably tacked onto the front bumper, which sits almost flush against the smooth cement floor.

“Oi, Y/H/N,” a blonde head pokes out from the driver’s window, narrowed red eyes glaring at you. But his lips are curled into a smirk, clearly enjoying your frightened-animal-like reaction to the startling revv of his engine. “You’re blockin’ the way.”

Your hands indignantly turn into fists at your hips, a frown and a furrowed brow marring your expression as you turn around. Smacking the key card against the scanner you strut directly in the middle of the pavement for as long as you can before the road widens. Once the car can easily fit on either side of you, you move over to the sidewalk, arms crossed over your chest as the low car matches your pace, engine purring loudly.

The window next to you rolls down soundlessly, and the blonde leans slightly over his console to crane his face up in order to see yours. “Where are you goin’?” Bakugou inquires, and you can feel his intense gaze on the side of your face but you do not turn to acknowledge him.

“Subway.” You reply shortly, eyes trained straight ahead of you. Three minutes until you reach the subway station, exactly two corners and two blocks away.

The car roars as the angry blonde hits the pedals again, exhaust crackling with a ferocity similar to a big cat’s. The sound is deafening but you don’t waver, feet placing calmly in front of one another. “At this hour?” He pauses for a moment, long enough for you to let your guard down and chance a look at him. Which is a mistake, because goddamn he looks sexy as hell sitting in that exorbitant car, one hand thrown atop the wheel with his bicep on display, the other arm perched atop the console between the seats and those vermillion eyes blazing into you. It’s only a mere second that you give him, but he knows your resolve flutters as you look away quickly, your pace increasing to make him press on the gas just a hair harder to keep up with you.

Your breath catches in your throat when he speaks again, your heart pummeling your ribcage with vigor and a claminess lining your palms.

“Get in.”

It’s neither a question nor a statement— it’s a demand. One that has heat rising between your legs, the embers that had been so surely extinguished suddenly igniting furiously with but a scrap of sustenance. You grit your teeth and keep walking, determined not to get in the car. If you get in that car… you don’t know where you’ll end up. Or, you do know where you might end up, and that would be very bad. It takes a lot of your willpower to spit out a simple, “No thanks.”

Bakugou grumbles at your stubbornness, the vehicle screeching again as he demonstrates his displeasure and the unnecessary horsepower underneath his hood. “Come on, Y/N. Just get in,” he presses, his voice not as harsh as it was just a moment ago.

But you hold your own, flipping a stray lock of hair over your shoulder. “Aw,” you smirk, humoring him for a millisecond as your eyes flick over to him, “‘ya worrying ‘bout me now, Boom-Boy?” Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as he visibly bristles in the corner of your eye.

“Damn it, I’m trying ‘ta— tch,” Bakugou grumbles and cuts himself off before he apparently decides he’s not going to play the familiar game of cat and mouse with you, “Fuck this.” Tires squealing on the rubble, the sleek car leaves you in the dust, sharply turning the corner ahead of you before disappearing into the night, the noise of the thundering engine echoing through the tall cityscape.

You glare at the corner ahead of you, unimpressed. He was trying to— to what, put you in a pissy mood? Hell of a job he did, if that was the case. Frown sinking into your cheeks deeper than before, you continue your way to the subway station while you pull your phone out to distract you from your miffed thoughts. Turning around the very same corner the orange sports car had rounded just a minute ago, you nearly drop your belongings when a pair of rough hands grip your biceps.

Relief washes over you for a moment when you meet Bakugou's irritated expression, before horror spreads through your limbs as he shoves you into his open passenger door. Without much of a fight you’re inside the vehicle, fruitlessly yanking the door handle only to find it’s locked shut. Sliding back into the luxurious leather seat, you scowl at the hero as he slams his door closed and snags the black seatbelt over his torso. “The fuck, Bakugou?” You hiss, attempting the door again to no avail.

“Hey, easy with that!” He growls, a thick finger flicking the pedal shifter into drive and slapping his boot against the gas. His eyes meet yours as a wicked grin lifts his lips. “Buckle up, Princess.”

Your head smacks against the back of the seat as the car lurches into a velocity that no doubt exceeds the speed-limit. Your hands scramble over your shoulder and you frantically grab the metal clip, unceremoniously shoving the belt across your lap to find its destination. Once the joint clicks into place, your eyes fly to the man beside you, pure rage boiling underneath your skin. “You asshole! I’m gonna rip your dick off!” You yell, the slightly ajar windows letting air zip into the cabin and howl in your ears, your hair flying around your face.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he quips dryly, voice deep but holding an infuriatingly potent tone of amusement.

You shut up at that, heat rising to your cheeks as you look out the window defiantly, away from him. Your eyes trail over the interior of the car, curiosity winning you over as you your fingers trace the smooth features lining the inside of the door. There’s a soft underlighting beneath the seats, glowing an acidic green to compliment the orange of the exterior in a display that screams man with an enormous ego. You roll your eyes, adjusting your legs to point away from him as much as possible.

“I didn’t know you had a Lamborghini. This how you get into your slutty fangirls’ pants? Take ‘em for a ride in the Baku-bile?” You ask, shooting daggers into his sharp jawline. The premise of him fucking faceless girls in the very seat you’re in makes you want to throw up in disgust.

Bakugou snorts at the name, scarlet eyes snapping toward you before settling back on the road. “Don’t need to show ‘em my car to take ‘em for a ride,” he answers snidely, a sharp canine gleaming at you from his smirk.

You don’t acknowledge his reply, one arm crossed over your chest and the other gripping the side of the door harshly as the city flies by outside the windows. You wonder where he’s taking you, because he never asked for your address, but you sure as hell aren’t going to start up a conversation again with that dickwad, so you just simmer in your displeasure instead.

The ride is surprisingly smooth and you would never admit it, but the feeling of him stepping on the acceleration makes your heart thud, adrenaline coursing through your veins and washing over you. You try your best to hide your excitement with every boost of speed, but you don’t catch Bakugou’s eyes lingering on your tiny smile every time he accelerates. You almost whine when the car slows and you pull into an empty parking lot, apprehension settling in your chest as the engine cuts and you’re left in silence, with him. A public park stretches before the lot, empty swings and monkey-bars twirling leisurely in the wind.

He doesn’t say a word, so after an incredibly long and awkward minute you break the ice. “Bakugou… what are we doing here?” You turn to him expectantly, lips melting back into a frown as you give him a once-over. He’s still in that tank top, which you curse for being a part of his hero costume. Why the hell did he have to choose something so flattering?

The blonde casts a side glance at you, leaning back slightly in his seat. “Wanted to have a chat with ‘ya,” he says, turning to look at you fully. The car seems like it is not big enough, for he’s only a short distance away from you and looking handsome as ever. The park before the windshield is illuminated by only the moon and starlight, casting a soft glow onto his smooth skin. The stubble on his jaw scatters tiny shadows across his chin, and those scarlet eyes peer into yours deeply. The moment is full of unrestrained tension, until he speaks again. “Coulda done this in the garage but your stubborn ass wouldn’t gimme the time of day,” he grumbles, effectively releasing you from his trance.

You blink and look away before returning your attention to him, a sour expression on your face. “Okay, dipshit, what did you wanna talk about?” You huff, arms crossing over your chest defensively. So you might have gotten yourself into this, but only a tiny bit.

You’re left hanging, expectantly eyeing him with a measured gaze. His eyes are locked with yours, but his mouth doesn’t move, not a semblance of a word on his lips. You give him that ‘eyes widening and head jutting forward, I’m waiting for you to talk’ look, but still he’s quiet. Tossing your hair over your shoulder impatiently, you let out a frustrated sigh as you close your eyes. “Look,” you start, turning back to him ready to flame his ass, “I don’t—”

Bakugou’s lips are on yours, his hands clutching your jaw and pushing your mouth into his while he leans forward over the console between the seats. A moan tears from your lungs, the familiar scent of caramel crashing over you as he fills up your senses, fingertips weaving into the hair behind your ears. His tongue thrusts into your mouth, greeting yours like a lover desperate to hold his beloved, caressing and rolling and dancing.

Suddenly your hands are on him, one around his back and pressing him toward you while the other threads through his silky soft tresses. A groan rumbles out of him as you pull against his scalp, one of his hands slipping down the back of your head to hold where your neck meets your shoulders, squeezing the sides of your throat gently. An embarrassing mewl floats out of you at that, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as you both gasp for breath.

His red eyes twinkle at you mockingly, a sultry snarl on his lips. But Bakugou doesn’t dare say a word, instead claiming your lips again with his own, sucking in your bottom lip and biting gently with his pointy canines. The hand on your neck remains strong, while his other hand slithers down your chest, groping your breast with enthusiasm and his thumb roving over your already-hard nipple, which he can feel through the fabric of your skin-tight hero costume and bra. He moans at the discovery, fingers eagerly flying to your side and unraveling the zipper there, watching as the skin of your exposed chest becomes illuminated in a mixture of moonlight and the green glow emanating from beneath the seats. Tugging the wire to rest atop your tits, he nearly growls at the sight of them, diving face-first toward you and wrapping his mouth around a nipple. You buck into him, falling back uncomfortably onto the door, but he just crawls onto his seat and leans further into you, red eyes darting up to catch your wanton expression.

Desperately gripping at the shreds of your sanity, a tiny part of you screams out at the wrongness of the situation. “We shouldn't… fuck, Bakug— ohhh,” you whimper as he nibbles at you, your heart rate skyrocketing in desire as you close your eyes, trapping your trembling lip between your teeth. The rationale is pushed away, the only thing you can pay attention to being the way Bakugou’s mouth feels latched onto you, and the hand traveling down your torso to tease between your legs. His rough fingers prod at your cunt through your leotard, expertly locating your clit through the cloth and focusing extra attention there. Simmering tendrils of heat burst through you and you cry out, legs weakly drawing his wide frame closer to you.

After a moment Bakugou sits back in his seat, pulling you with him. It’s a little rocky, not a perfect transition, but you make your way to sit on his lap nonetheless. His large hands palm your tits roughly, pinching your nipples as his tongue wrestles with yours, your moans leaking into his mouth. His body jerks in surprise as your hips begin to roll against his, and you can feel just how bad he wants this too, rubbing into you against your thigh. It only makes him touch you harder, leaning down slightly and becoming lost in the heated kiss. A hand trails down your waist to grab a handful of your ass, cupping the flesh before he slaps it harshly, then holding it in his palm again as his fingers dig into your skin. He drinks up every noise you release, like a starved man receiving his first meal in forever. He pulls away to kiss down your neck, tongue licking a stripe down your throat before his warm mouth lands on your skin, nipping and lathering and sucking.

“This is,” you gasp, coming up for air and that scrap of sanity surfacing in your mind again, “We shouldn’t be doing this, we— we said that last time was the, ahuh-ahh, last… last time.”

Bakugou sucks harder against your neck, his hands on either ass cheek and pulling your bottom against him. The friction of his cock against your core, even with your clothes separating you, makes your head spin and your voice die out. “You want me to stop, hah?” He grumbles against your throat, slick with his saliva. He rolls your hips against his particularly hard, and your hand reaches out to latch onto his shoulder as your pussy twinges in your panties.

You cannot reply, only a high-pitched whimper tumbles out of you because suddenly he’s pushing aside your leotard and panties, digits dipping into your humiliatingly wet entrance. His fingers easily glide up and down your slit, thumb flicking cruelly against your clit as you double over, nails breaching the skin on his shoulders.

“Doesn’t seem like you know what you want,” he comments, voice gravelly and timbre. His other hand rests on your hip, keeping you from grinding against him. He’s looking up at you, eyes darkened with lust and that haughty grin splitting his lips.

You glare at him, eyebrow twitching at his torment, mouth wavering as his fingers continue to tease along your sopping folds. After being with him so many times, you know what he’s waiting for, but you’re absolutely torn; a moth drawn to the flame yet wary of being burnt. “Please, Bakugou,” you murmur, eyes begging him to give you more.

Bakugou’s brow quirks upright, a single knuckle pushing into you and rubbing against your velvet walls. “Please, what, Princess?” He drawls out, almost purring at having you in his favorite position. That being, you, desperate for his touch.

You groan, throwing your head back as another knuckle slides inside, two wide fingertips stretching your cunt so infuriatingly shallowly. You try to move your hips but his grip is iron on your waist, and a long whine falls out of your mouth. “Just— Pleaseee Katsuki,” you beg, not wanting to say the words he truly wants, but not giving him nothing as his name leaves your lips so seductively.

His nostrils flare as he exhales, shifting underneath you as you feel his cock twitch against your leg. “I thought you wanted me to stop?” He growls, tone low enough you can feel his words shake his lungs. They shake something within you, too.

“No,” you breathe out, placing your lips softly against his before pulling away, your eyes boring into his, “I want this, I want you so bad.”

Bakugou groans as he drives his fingers into you knuckle-deep, curling his fingertips and rubbing against your insides. You moan like a whore at the sensation, his thumb still working on your clit clumsily as he pumps his fingers into you. His lips capture yours again, the hand on your hip jumping up to grab onto your neck again and push your lips harder onto his.

A searing heat ebbs through your body as his digits dutifully work within you, and you can’t help but begin to drop your hips against his hand, grinding onto his fingers without restraint. Bakugou clearly appreciates that, a loud moan ripping out of his lungs at the novelty and his fingers press harder into you, colliding into that spongy spot deep inside. You sob at the intensity, pleasure wracking through you as the angle only makes it easier for him to hit that spot— again, and again, and again— until white shapes flash before your eyes and you’re clutching onto him, screaming out as ecstasy thrums through your entire being.

After a minute of your pussy fluttering around him, Bakugou’s fingers pull out of you, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you like you’re the hottest person on the planet. “Fuck,” he snarls, lip twitching as he lifts his hips, tugging down his black pants and briefs half-way down his thighs. His heavy cock smacks against his abdomen, looking pale and pretty in the low lighting, glistening with a bead of pre rolling down the side of his length.

You lick your lips at the sight, the desire to shove him into your mouth overcoming you. Bakugou catches your reaction, a low chuckle reverberating his chest and making you glance at him. “I wanna suck you off,” you say quietly, looking over to the passenger seat and wondering if you could do it from that position, because you certainly can’t do it from where you are now.

“Thas’kay Princess,” he mumbles, grabbing your chin and forcing your lips to meet his once again. His tongue glides over your lip slowly, his other hand smacking your ass roughly before he grabs the inside of your thigh, spreading you above him. “That can wait. Need you right now.”

His words send a different kind of shiver down your spine— the kind that was the whole reason why you’d told yourself you needed to stop fucking him in the first place. But right now, in this moment, there is no way you’re not going to fuck him. You’d already come this far, you might as well just indulge yourself in him.

So you do, and you both let out a breath of satisfaction as you rub your dripping cunt against the underside of his length. You lather him up, slickening his member in your arousal from back to front before you press your lips onto his, soft but passionate, and you welcome him inside with ease.

Bakugou’s head falls back onto the headrest as his hands lay slack on your hips. He’s reclined, but his red eyes jump between your face, your tits, and your cunt that sucks him up so greedily as you begin to bounce above him. His mouth hangs open slightly as you find your rhythm, your hands ripping up the bottom of his tank top to lay your palms on his chest and his abs, a thumb scratching through his kept and dark happy trail. “Hah— fuck, Y/NNN,” he moans, closing his eyes to succumb to the pleasure for a moment before he forces them back open, refusing to miss out on such a dreamy sight. Memorizing your body, willing himself to remember each moan and blissful expression you give, storing it away so he can burn them into his spank bank.

Once he’s had his fill of the wondrous sight, he sits up, mouth sucking in your nipple as his hands still your hips, grabbing the flesh there and wiggling to adjust himself underneath you. Ecstasy shoots through you as he takes the lead, thrusting up harshly to prod deep inside your womb, stretching you out and rubbing so deliciously against your g-spot. “Oh, god, Katsuki,” you wheeze as he just goes faster, thick and muscular thighs providing enough means to continue like this for who knows how long. Just as you begin to feel your orgasm build once again, his pace slows, and you’re about to complain before a long finger is thrust into your mouth.

Bakugou groans as your tongue coats the digit in spit, not needing instruction. “You gonna be a good girl for me, Princess?” He questions before he takes the finger out.

Your arms fold around his neck as you nod and kiss him again, drunk on his lips and his touch. He welcomes the tender moment, a hand planting on your ass and spreading you again before his wet finger meets your asshole, making you jump into him with wide eyes. “Ka—”

His lips pull you back in, silencing your hesitance as he begins to thrust his cock up into you again, pace measured and slow. The roll of his hips provides a new type of pleasure as his cock drags against your inner walls, your clit rolling on his pelvis. You quiver on top of him, hole puckering as his finger rubs around your rim. You whimper when he pushes inside, the small stretch foreign and stinging. But he doesn’t push it any further, just continues to lazily grind up inside of you, his tongue playing with yours. He only breaks away to whisper praise to you that makes your pussy shiver around him, “Good girl, you’re sucha good girl Y/N.”

Before long the digit is up to the second knuckle, and you’re a moaning mess above him. The feeling of his finger in your ass, with his cock stretching and pushing in and out of you— it has your eyes crossing in pleasure. The thin wall separating his cock and his finger continues to rub exquisitely on both sides, sending waves of fuzzy bliss coursing through your limbs.

The extra penetration seems to also be affecting Bakugou, for his thrusts begin to pick up as he starts slapping up into you with renewed ferocity. The stimulation from your pussy and your clit already have you clenching, but then he starts to push his finger in and out of your ass slowly, and you’re holding onto him for dear life, your head on his shoulder as you mewl into his neck. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and so can Bakugou, who nuzzles your face a bit before he kisses you again. Your lips dance sloppily, your body jostling as he pounds into you from below, and you begin to whimper as your cunt tightens around his cock.

“Still want me to stop?” He hisses, rough palm clapping across your ass cheek.

“Fuck no,” you pant, planting your knees on the seat beside his thighs and bucking up and down in tune with his pace.

Bakugou groans at your initiative, knuckle sliding deeper inside of you and gauging your reaction as your shudder against him in pleasure. “You like a finger in the ass, hah? Fucking slut,” he snarls as he rubs the digit inside of you, eliciting a low moan from the depths of your lungs.

You’re bouncing on his lap as best as you can, your head skimming the top of the car’s interior while you claw at his shoulders. “God, Katsuki, mphhh—” The added pressure of you sinking down as he ruts up is almost enough for you to cum, and Bakugou knows exactly how close to the finish line you are, grabbing your jaw and tugging your face to hang directly in front of his.

You brow furrows and your heartbeat hastens at the intimacy, passion crackling between the pair of you as his vermillion orbs burn into you. You don’t want to let him see such a vulnerable part of you, but he starts to slam into that spot deep inside of you mercilessly, determined to show you how good he can make you feel. Your orgasm tears through you and an overwhelming heat blasts into your body like wildfire through dry grass. A broken shriek releases from you as your eyes slam shut, limbs shaking, nails diving into his traps, and toes curling in your shoes.

Bakugou gasps as you constrict around him, moving his hands to clasp onto your hips tightly, throwing your body down to meet his as he pistons into you. Skull falling backwards limply, your tongue lolls out like a bitch in heat, his actions dragging out your mind-numbing climax delightfully long. He launches at the exposed skin of your neck, teeth sinking into your throat hard enough to leave dark bruises there, moaning shamelessly into your flesh as his thrusts become quicker, needier. “S-Shit, where should I— ‘m gonna—”

Your fingers rush to his hair, snapping his head backwards and his eyes widen in surprise, but you smother his open mouth with yours immediately, your tongue plunging into his wet cavern and claiming him as your own. Your hips hurl onto his with finality and the blonde stiffens beneath you, trembling fingers pressing into your skin. A loud groan rattles both of your bodies as his load spills into you, coating your womb in his sticky release as you continue to drop onto his searing cock slowly. When he comes down from his high he squeezes your waist gently to signal you to stop, sitting back with his jaw hung open slightly, laboured and choppy breaths making his sculpted chest rise and fall sharply.

You let him pull you into his embrace, his large biceps caging you against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. It’s peaceful laying in his arms, the post-orgasm bliss thriving and filling the entire cabin of the vehicle in a hot and sweet scent. Or maybe that was just Bakugou— you subtly sniff his skin and smile, the caramel-like aroma from his exertion wafting off of him. He’s warm, and somehow even though his muscles are rock-hard beneath you, his embrace is soft. You nuzzle into his neck as his fingers glide over your moist back, arms locked around your waist.

Neither of you say a word, two heartbeats thumping rapidly against each other as you enjoy each other’s presence. The both of you desperately cling to this moment of serenity, knowing that soon enough you’ll have to go back to normal, and this will have just been another “last time.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

no one asked for this but i did it anyway 🤪🤪 happy birthday blasty 💥💚🧡

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#mhmm ive been thinking about this for awhile #hope it was alright!! i know nothing about cars nor car sex LMAO #especially not lamborghinis lol #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugo katsuki fic #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my fics #my fics katsuki

2K notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.2k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically a mff threesome

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and with a special appearance from eight special guests

A/N: due to burnout, i’m unfortunately putting tgm on hold and logging off of tumblr for a little while, so there will be a bit of a wait before you get the new chapter. i’m going to log back on after 48 hours when the vote is done, because i’m considering putting the results behind a ‘read more’ option so that if you don’t want to wait, you can choose to reveal who is being voted out, otherwise you have the freedom to wait for the chapter. i have a post coming out explaining why i’m going on hold and what that means. please keep an eye out for it xx

ELIMINATION

The vote has closed.

DAY TWENTY-ONE

Your ass is still still a little sore the next morning, and having Hoseok smirk at you every time you shifted is a special kind of torture in and of itself. Waiting for everyone to gather, you’re one moment away from begging Taehyung for a massage right then and there before Sejin finally enters, rapping awkwardly on the doorframe as he steps in.

Skipping the pleasantries, he hunkers down on the coffee table in the middle of the couches, gesturing for you to join.

You swallow, aware of the attention on you. “Can I just stay on the couch?” You stubbornly avoid Hoseok’s gaze, leaning further back into the cushions, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around you as you tuck your head against his shoulder. Maybe you’d ask for that massage later, you reason, massages are platonic, right?

“Sure,” Sejin allows after a moment, eyes softening in sympathy. You flush at the unspoken reminder that he definitely saw the footage, but the producer powers on. “Let’s get started, then, we have quite the day ahead of us.”

Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. You’d been chatting earlier this morning over text with your friend, who was already on a train on his way here. You wonder how the boys will react to Eric. Part of you had worried, but you’ve yet to meet a single person that didn’t like him. It would be good to finally catch up.

The other guys don’t seem suspicious about the news, but before you can dwell on it, Sejin is clearing his throat and lowering his voice into the announcer-like tone he used for the meetings. “This week’s theme was Work Hard, Play Hard. According to the Bangasm Bomb, Week Two’s fan favourite Yoongi was allowed to distribute them. Instead of asking Y/n to guess, I want the players to each say whether they were happy with Yoongi’s choice or not. Starting on the right with you: Jin.”

Perhaps due to their splitting up yesterday morning - you hope their conversation went well in the end - Jin and Yoongi are on opposite couches, and Jin is a little subdued when he speaks to Yoongi. Not necessarily sad, just calmer than normal, like they were old friends. “So, Yoongichi gave me foodplay. As much as I appreciated getting the prompt, and I had a wonderful time with Y/n, never fucking again will I use something so messy. I swear to god, there’s still caramel in my hair, and I don’t think it’ll ever come out.”

You wince at the description, jostled slightly by Taehyung’s laughter rocking his body. Sejin confirms that he’d successfully fulfilled his prompt, and moves along to Namjoon, who looks about as red as a fire hydrant.

“Mine was ageplay,” Namjoon explains, voice dipping so quiet that you can barely hear him, before he clears his throat and glances up again. “I enjoyed it a lot, if I’m being honest. Um- thank you, Yoongi. I’m a little concerned that you knew to give it to me, though.”

“Come on,” Jin jibes, punching his shoulder lightly, “you’re absolute Daddy material. When it doesn’t look like you crawled out of someone’s pocket, at least.”

Namjoon frowns down at himself, the denim overalls rolled up at the ankles, mismatched socks and a t-shirt with a little embroidered sun on it. “Was that a compliment?”

Jin sends him a solemn, meaningful look. “It’s whatever you need it to be.”

“Anyways,” Sejiin jumps in, “congratulations, Namjoon, you’ve avoided the bunks again. Following on, we have Jimin. Go ahead.”

With legs that look a mile long in some skinny black jeans, Jimin winks across the room to Yoongi. “I got breathplay,” he explains, “which I’ll admit isn’t my favourite prompt out of them all, but I still had a really good time. Though I did try and go a little easy just in case.”

Your eyes widen, remembering ringed fingers around your throat and his cold smirk which contrasted with the heat of him inside you. “That was going easy?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’ve barely scratched the surface, Y/n,” he states vaguely and sits back, tilting his head to Sejin to indicate he’s finished.

The producer quickly informs him he was successful, and moves onwards. On your couch, the only active player is Hoseok, who sits on the opposite side to Taehyung. He sends you a mischievous grin before leaning out to face Yoongi. “Wax play for me,” he reveals to the group, “which was an absolute delight. I’m very glad I got this one, just for safety reasons. It sounds like some of the prompts this week were a little more intense.”

He sits back, but Sejin doesn’t move on this time. “Hoseok, unfortunately you failed your prompt this week.”

Hoseok blinks, brows lifting. “But there are cameras in that bathroom! I checked.”

“That’s not the issue,” Sejin explains with a sympathetic smile, “it’s that you directly revealed to Y/n what your prompt was. Now-” he begins, seeing Hoseok’s clear disappointment, “I had a talk with some of the editing and producing teams on this, as well as the higher-ups. Because we understand and appreciate that you revealed the prompt for reasons related to safety and wellbeing, we’re going to change things up a bit. You have a choice. Either you take the penalty and stay in the bunkrooms, or you stay in your own room. The caveat is that you randomly have to draw a name, and that person will join you.”

Hoseok winces. “God, this feels like a variety show,” he complains, “but I’ll risk it and take my bedroom. At least I’ll be comfy, and I’m fine sharing a bed with most of you anyway.”

Sejin’s already prepared, nodding and retrieving seven strips of paper from his pocket, all folded in two. The rest of you hold your breath as Hoseok’s hand hovers over the splayed-out options, finally tugging one out from the bottom. He takes it, flicks it open, and immediately deflates with a frustrated groan.

“This is fucking rigged,” he protests, ripping the paper into two, “I pick the bunkrooms.”

Sejin patiently holds his hand out for the torn shreds, reading them over. Is that a smile on his lips? “Jung Hoseok, you’ll be staying in the comfort of your bedroom with fellow contestant Park Jimin until the date of the next Sunday meeting.”

“Hey!” Jimin shrieks. “I did my prompt! Do I get no say in this?!”

“You don’t, unfortunately,” Sejin replies promptly. “Next up is Jungkook.”

Jimin squawks, collapsing back onto the couch with his arms tightly folded and his mouth screwed up into a scowl. Across from him sits Jungkook, clinging to Yoongi. With his legs tucked under him and his sleeves balled in his hands, the youngest gentleman is reminiscent of his subbier side when you played with him. “I got anal play,” he declares proudly, “I can’t believe it took me three weeks to get pegged. Shoutout to homeboy for sending that prompt my way.” He punctuates the comment by gently bumping his head against Yoongi’s shoulder, like a cat on its owner’s leg. Rather than sitting up, he stays there.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, finishing off before Sejin can even step in. “I was cumplay,” he states plainly, “so of course, I took that. Who needs to fuck around with wax and food and shit when you can stick to the basics?”

The producer nods formally, tapping his shoe against the carpet. “And the two of you both successfully completed your prompts, congratulations. That means nobody will be staying in the bunkrooms this week. Taehyung,” he turns and fixes the boy with a warm stare, “you’re welcome to go back to your room for the rest of the competition.”

Taehyung beams, a boxy grin and crescent eyes. “Noted, sir,” he says with a chirp. “Do we get to find out fan favourite now? I know who I’m rooting for.” Taehyung sends Jimin a shy smile, and the older boy winks at him fondly.

“Yes, of course,” Sejin allows, clearing his throat. “As usual, we tallied up the results from the voting page on our website. I’ll say the top three. Third place this week was Jungkook. Congratulations.”

The youngest man sits upright suddenly with a wide-eyed look. “Seriously? I didn’t even dom! Oh, wow, uh-” he cuts himself off and looks around, finally fixing his sights on one of the cameras near the roof that are streaming to the fans. He pumps his fists with a little cheer, then folds them together and bows. “Thank you! I’ll do even better next week.”

Yoongi’s cheeks go pink as he tries to act like he isn’t cooing over the boy, reaching out to ruffle his ever-growing hair. “Good job, kid,” he compliments shortly.

“Second place,” Sejin continues, “Seokjin.”

It seems as if the therapist hadn’t seen it coming at all. A picture-perfect expression of shock blooms on his face before he lets out a bright peal of laughter, clapping his hands together with a single smack. “I did it! Ah, I knew I still had it in me. Old age won’t stop me yet, see. Everyone should learn from this.”

You shake your head with bemusement, lifting your brows at him. “Silver medal and it’s already going to your head, huh? The fans have created a monster.”

“The fans have seen the light,” Jin corrects placidly, before a line forms between his brows. “Wait. Who got first, then? Who outdid me plus caramel sauce?”

“In first place, and winning the chance to spend an evening outside the Villa with Y/n,” Sejin starts, before pausing for dramatic effect, “is Hoseok. You’re having quite the emotional rollercoaster this morning, Mr. Jung.”

Instead of a hooting cheer, a smug grin, or even disbelief, perhaps the one thing you didn’t see coming was Hoseok blinking quickly, before pressing the back of his hand to his nose. You don’t have to be watching a 1080p close-up to see his eyes misting.

Taehyung immediately croons, throwing his arms around the dom in a tight hug, wiggling in place as Hoseok laughs tearily. “I’m so proud,” you hear Taehyung say, muffled in Hoseok’s shirt.

“I- Goodness, I’m sorry- I really just wasn’t expecting that,” Hoseok admits, tilting his chin up to stare into the ceiling light. “That means a lot. Phew, wow, the audience are some kinky fuckers,” he finishes, relieved when the strange atmosphere splits into easy laughter.

Heart warm, you reach over and squeeze his arm. “I’m really happy for you, Hobi,” you say in a soft voice. “You deserve it.”

“Where will you take her tonight, hyung?” Jungkook chimes, teeth poking out of a teasing grin. “Is it ‘take your fuckbuddy to work’ day at the Red Room by any chance?” His comment rouses whoops and whistles around the room, Taehyung giggling and pinching the dom’s cheek.

“Ah, about that,” Sejin jumps in quickly, a hand held out to settle the noise, “the reward won’t be scheduled for tonight, unfortunately. We’re going to put it on Monday night, since today - as I’m sure you all know - we have some special guests.”

Your brows lift. Guests, plural? Maybe you weren’t the only one who was asked to contact a friend. Your heart skips a little faster at the prospect of being exposed to close friends from the boys’ real lives. What if they didn’t like you? Would it even matter?

Sejin isn’t done, standing up from the coffee table to give the announcement on foot. “A few days ago, you all received text messages from me with some instructions to find a close friend, colleague, or family member to join you on the show. This was up to your discretion, as long as they agreed to a quick police check, however there was one condition. Y/n; you were asked specifically for a male friend. The guys were asked to bring a female friend.”

You suck in a gasp. After three weeks being surrounded exclusively by dudes, you’d suddenly have seven new ladies to talk to. “Just for the day, right?” you question, knowing the plans you’d had to make with Eric.

Sejin’s lips quirk up. “For most of the guests, yes. However, for one lucky lady, they’ll have the opportunity to stay for a full week. At any point today, Y/n, you can draw a name from this box-” he pauses, glancing down at his again-empty hands, “-I’ll, uh, I’ll bring the box out in just a moment. But you’ll be able to randomly draw one name, and if the recipient agrees, they’ll be staying in the bunk room for seven nights. Questions?”

Taehyung raises his hand tentatively. “Hypothetically, would we be allowed to have sex with the guests?”

Sejin sighs. “All but two of them signed a contract in which they consented to the possibility of sexual interaction, yes. But none of them will be required to at all.”

You bite your lip. When talking with you, Eric had mentioned the contract, and stated that since it was just one day he’d rather not offer himself up for that. One of the girls must have done the same, then, but that still left six people who were joining for a day - or a week - willing to consider having sex with the others on the show. Perhaps you were raising your sex drive being on the show, or maybe you just missed the company of women, but that thought excited you more than anything.

“When do they come on?” Yoongi asks with a grimace. While the others are practically vibrating with the anticipation of being reunited with their friends and meeting new people, Yoongi seems begrudging, and you can’t help but wonder what girl in his life he asked to join him.

“They’re waiting outside right now,” Sejin reveals, “we’ll bring them in one by one to introduce themselves. As they come in, I want the person who invited them to get up and stand on the side with them until everyone’s paired up.”

Taehyung’s hands slip into yours and Hoseok’s, gripping them into tight fists with a hoot of excitement. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you sit up straighter, eying the doorway. “Do you think there’ll be a game?” the masseuse hisses, positively wiggling in his seat.

On the other couch, Jungkook’s eyes widen comically. “We’re doing a game? Oh, hell yeah!”

Sejin, who had been sending a text, glances up quickly. “The game isn’t ‘til the eve-” he cuts himself off, but it comes too late. “Ah, dammit. Anyways, please give a warm welcome to our first guest. Please come in.”

Before the person even rounds the corner, you hear an excited squeal. A slender girl with toffee-coloured hair and bright features careens into the room, her giddy smile widening as she lands her eyes on Jin.

If you had pictured someone to be friends with the therapist, it probably wouldn’t be this boisterous woman in tiny shorts and strappy sandals that’s currently cannon-balling onto him, but he lets out an oof, wrapping his arms around her with a fond smile.

Sejin clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself?”

“Oh!” The girl sits up, elbowing Jin in the stomach as she gets up to smile at everyone. She looks gorgeous in a summery red lipstick, and the voice that comes out is just as sweet. “Hi everyone, I’m Hyuna, Soogie’s better half.”

Rubbing his hip, Jin scoffs. “You’re my sidekick at best.”

Ignoring the person whose lap she’s sitting on, Hyuna beams. “If he’s been cool on this show at all, it’s my positive influence.”

“Thank you, Hyuna, the two of you can go stand to the side,” Sejin deigns, glancing towards the doorway. “Next?”

In this way, all the guests appear one at a time and pair off. Eric’s next in, and you rush up to give your old friend a tight hug, grinning as he immediately stands beside Jin and Hyuna and begins to schmooze, making the two of them alike fawn over him.

“Hi, everyone,” he announces in a cheery tone, “I’m Eric, longtime friend of Y/n and aspiring Gentleman. Pleased to meet you all.” Sejin nods at him, and Eric’s smile turns down a few watts to sober up. “Also, I didn’t sign the contract, so if there’s any funny business, feel free to not invite me.”

Unlike the first two, the third person that enters the room is shy, a reserved posture and sweet smile. She dresses in a corduroy dress and long-sleeved shirt, her dark hair up in a ponytail. Introducing herself as Ji-eun, she explains that she, too, chose not to sign the contract for sex, blushing at the word.

Equally blushing is Jungkook, who repeatedly bows to her as she comes in, hand hovering over her waist as he leads her to the side. You and Jin share a bemused look as the girl introduces herself as a family friend and Jungkook’s old babysitter.

Picking up the energy, the fourth guest is someone you actually recognise. Jessi, a Bangasm powerhouse in every right that Jimin is, turns the corner with a sultry look, sidling up to Sejin playfully before tugging Jimin up from his seat.

“Jessi, as most of you are probably aware,” she introduces, looking insanely stunning in a fitted crop shirt, high waisted shorts and eyeliner to kill. “Come on, Park; you’re with me.”

As he stands up, letting her ruffle his hair and gushing over his choice of earrings, you marvel at how different he appears around her. In the industry, if you’d heard of Jimin, you’d heard of Jessi. She started a few years before him, met him on a shoot, and the two were practically a power duo ever since. From the videos they had together, they portrayed an image of the King and Queen of porn, always working with each other whenever they could. But now, instead of some sex-crazed couple, all you see is Jimin being fussed over like a younger brother, leaning into Jessi’s fond yet teasing touches.

The two of them sit beside you, and your cheeks can’t help but burn up when she pokes her tongue out between her teeth and flicks you a wink, turning to Jimin and giving him a meaningful nod.

So far Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi remain on the couches, and when the next girl rounds the corner, you just about think you must be seeing double.

With a black bob of hair sharper than her jawline, perfectly arched brows and a pouty mouth, an absolute copy of Min Yoongi scans the room. Her face changes, turns mischievous when she spots a begrudging Yoongi, and jerks her head. “I’m the hotter twin,” she announces, “Min Yoonji.”

As Yoongi huffs and gets up to join her, you watch with wonder as the two lookalikes stand together. She mumbles something low, ruffling his hair as he desperately tries to duck away, and the twins settle on the far side of you, beside Jungkook.

Quickly, another raven-haired girl steps in, barely even looking at you as she takes in the decor. “Fuck, this place is nice,” she mutters, before her eyes look directly ahead of her, maroon lips stretching into a smile, “Joon-ah, you’ve been here rent-free for the past month? Holy shit.”

Namjoon winces, bowing awkwardly to her, and you tilt your head. Why does it seem like they barely even know each other? Sejin must hear your internal monologue, as he clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself and state your relationship to Namjoon?”

“Oh, my name’s Sunmi,” she says with ease, “Namjoon and I are...” She trails off, looking to him for help.

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he blurts, “best friends!” before going bright red. “Uh, we’re, um, we’re best friends.”

Sunmi beams, nodding matter-of-factly to the rest of you, before walking forward to pinch his cheeks and wiggle his face back and forth lightly. “Oh, yes,” she coos, “we go way back.” Letting go, she takes his hand and guides him to the side of the room where everyone but Taehyung and Hoseok are gathered.

You try to send Namjoon a questioning gaze, but he avoids everyone’s gaze but Sunmi’s, nodding shyly at the things she tells him quietly.

Luckily, the second-to-last guest takes up your attention fully. With velvet boots that reach the middle of her thighs, and a black shirt that reaches just as low, she’d look cute and preppy were it not for the black harness that brackets the shirt, reminiscent of Hoseok’s leathers, the sharp smokey eye and a red lipstick so dark it’s almost black. It doesn’t take you much to work out which of the remaining boys she’s accompanying. “Thank you to Hope for inviting me,” she begins, and your eyes widen at how silken and sweet her voice is, a total 180 from the typical dominatrix stereotype, yet it seems to fit her perfectly. “I’m Bee, I’ve worked at the Red Room for several years, and been friends with him for just as long.”

The two share a light hug, but you can see the affection there as his eyes crinkle and her beam widens. She hooks a finger around one of Hoseok’s belt loops and follows him to stand beside Jimin, barely enough room for them as it is.

Lastly is Taehyung, who’s already on his feet by the time a gorgeous blonde enters. Before you can get a good look at her, the two are bear-hugging, Taehyung lifting her off the ground for a moment as he grins so widely all his teeth are on full display. It warms your heart to see, and even when she settles back on solid ground, the two are attached at the hip, his arm tightly holding her to him.

“This is Chungha, my best friend,” Taehyung announces proudly, “we met at work when I was a trainee.”

“Aren’t I supposed to do that?” she questions with a throaty laugh, but still gives a warm smile to the rest of you. “But yeah, that’s me!”

They go to move over to the crowded corner, but Sejin steps in, clapping his hands once to gain everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone!” he declares. “Welcome to all our new faces! You’ll have until 10pm tonight to socialise, have fun. For lunch today, we’ll be having a barbecue and picnic outside, but after then, you’re free. Be sure to respect Ji-eun and Eric’s choice not to partake in any sexual activity. And Y/n, I’ll be right back with the box. Make sure you pull a name before 10.”

Once he leaves, you let out a dramatic breath, collapsing into Eric’s side. “Today is gonna be busy,” you anticipate, “so many pretty girls to talk to. So little time.”

“Hey!” your friend protests, wrapping his arms around to trap you against his front. “Forget about the girls, you should be hanging out with your best friend! I’ve missed you, lest you forget!”

Suspicious, you wiggle around to face him, narrowing your eyebrows. “You just want me to be your wingman,” you accuse, “who is it? What guy here are you crushing on?”

Eric scrunches his face up, clutching at his chest in offense. “I am not crushing on anyone,” he insists, before glancing over to Hyuna, Jessi, and Sunmi have gathered around Namjoon like a flock of seagulls, cooing over the little embroidered patches on his overalls. “I just want the Iron Giant over there to crush me.” Squinting his eyes, he inspects the room until he locates Yoongi, who’s pouting like a wronged child as Yoonji makes herself at home in the kitchen, pulling out drawers and cabinets like she’s searching for something.

“He’s the doctor, right?” Eric asks of Yoongi. You nod, suspicious. “He likes to eat cum, I have cum to spare… I’m no mathematician, but x equals sex, you know?”

You wince. “Not your best line,” you say in a disappointed tone, “but anyways: I thought you told me you didn’t want any funny business? You didn’t sign the contract.”

Eric’s eyes skirt over you, taking in the seven men as he shakes his head slowly. “I was young then. Foolish. I know better.” Suddenly, he grips your shoulders and ducks his head to look you intensely in the eye. “Take me to Sejin’s office. I have a contract to sign.”

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and an even more beautiful day to watch the muscles in Jin’s back flex under his t-shirt as he mans the barbecue.

Sharing the same sentiment is Jessi, who sighs dreamily at him, sitting beside you on the sun-warmed grass with her legs stretched out in front of her. “They don’t make men like those anymore,” she muses, “face of a fucking god. You get to fuck him?”

You chuckle at the abrupt question, quickly learning that Jessi wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Generally once a week, yeah. Unless I vote him out, I suppose.”

“God, please do,” she enthuses, “save some for the rest of us, you know?” Suddenly she sits up straighter, glancing around to take everyone in. “You know, when I heard about this, I thought for sure they’d either get a bunch of porn-addicted dweebs who jack off into crusty socks or all the airheads in the industry would sign up for a vacation. I guess they really filtered out the duds. I’m impressed.”

“They did good,” you admit, smiling fondly as you watch Taehyung jump around a small cross-legged group on the picnic blanket, holding out handfuls of beads. The masseuse had discovered Hoseok’s penchant for jewellery-making somehow and had demanded a tutorial. Jungkook and Namjoon look like two flustered schoolboys as they quietly help their respective friends, and Yoongi has his sister in a headlock as he tries to tie a bright pink and green bracelet around her wrist. Hyuna and Chungha are practically in each other’s laps, giggling as they wind delicate anklets onto each other.

Some of the others hang around Jin as he cooks. Bee is chatting up a storm with him, hip propped against the edge of the barbecue, and Jimin steals pieces of caramelised onion, sneaking glances towards you and Jessi. Your heart warms at his inquisitive look, the look of happiness and relief on his face when he sees the two of you getting along.

So caught up in your observation of the group, you don’t realise you’ve been silent too long until you get roughly punched in the shoulder. “Holy shit!” Jessi declares. “You like them!”

“Who?” you counter defensively.

She laughs, her whole face lightening up. “Fuck, maybe all o’ them. Is there anyone you don’t have a crush on? Anyone that doesn’t make you feel all giddy and happy?”

You’re stumped at that. For a long time, you’d been seeing having a crush as some grand, dramatic realisation. Realising you liked Tae and Jimin, and then more recently being confronted with your feelings for Jin, those romantic notions seemed so loud and all-encompassing. But the guys making you feel giddy and happy? Their presence cheering you up, missing them when you spent time on your own? It was a lot easier to admit to yourself that perhaps all seven of them fit within those constraints. “I… I hate to say that you have a point.”

Jessi squeals, briefly attracting the attention of the haphazard circle of jewellery makers. “I knew it! Oh my goodness, isn’t this so exciting? Have you had an orgy yet?”

You gape. “Jessi!”

“What?” she asks innocently. “If you’ve been here several weeks and you still haven’t had an orgy, you’re wasting your time, girl. Get onto that.”

“I have, actually,” you admit with firing cheeks. “Before Tae got eliminated.”

“The puppy?” When you send Jessi a bewildered look, she just shrugs, tipping her head over towards the barbecue where Jimin has taken to kissing the back of Jin’s neck and shoulders, standing up on his tiptoes to try and bribe the older man for some food. His friend sighs at his antics. “Park told me,” she explains in a matter-of-fact tone, “said he was an absolute delight to play with when he’s got his collar on. Fuck, and looking at him now really solidifies the image, you know? I’d love to make him beg for a treat.” Your face must sour, because without a pause Jessi is cackling, poking you lightly in the cheek. “Oh my goodness, you’re jealous! You can’t fuck him anymore so you don’t want me to!”

“It’s not that,” you protest, not wanting to expose that selfish desire.

“It’s fine, I get it! I’ll keep my distance,” she allows, rolling over on the grass to lean in, chin almost resting on your shoulder as her voice deepens to a conspiratorial tone. “But if I’m honest, you should just fuck him and take the penalty. I know I would.”

You bite your lip. “What if he accidentally touched me? He’d be sent home. It’s such a risk.”

She just shrugs, leaning back to watch him as he sits in the middle of the group, Chunga reaching out to playfully ruffle his hair. “Tie up his hands,” she deflects easily, “there are always solutions, you know? And if you really like him, I kinda think he’d appreciate you making the sacrifice to be with him.” Sighing out one last time, she stands up, brushing off her pants. “Food for thought. And speaking of food, there’s a big hunk of meat over there that isn’t on the barbecue.”

As Jessi makes her way over to Jin with a heavy swing to her hips, you decide to join the group. There’s a small gap between Ji-eun and Jungkook as they keep a respectful distance, so you wedge yourself in with a few muttered apologies.

Up close, Ji-eun is gorgeous, rosy features and kind eyes. It’s no wonder Jungkook looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. Perhaps you’d normally feel jealous, but you get it. “So,” you start, reaching out for a cord to begin a bracelet, “the two of you are family friends?”

Jungkook nods hastily. “Our parents went to high-school together,” he divulges, fiddling with his finished bracelet to look busy. “And since my mom and dad both worked full-time, noona babysat after school.”

You coo, tying a knot at one end of the waxed cord so the beads don’t fall off. “That’s so cute, oh my goodness! Ji-eun, was he a troublemaker as a child? I bet he was.”

“Hey!” Jungkook protests, but the older girl just chuckles, sending you a genuine smile.

“Gukkie was actually a sweetheart,” she admits, “always super polite. He was cute, too, had this coconut haircut and the roundest eyes, little tiny hands. Not like now.”

Jungkook gasps again, clutching at his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. “How dare you! I’m still cute!”

You hum in an unconvinced way, turning to poke at his cheeks, tapping his button nose. “You’re a little bit cute,” you allow. “Though I bet you were cuter with the bowl cut.”

The camboy’s temporary pleased look vanishes and he abruptly stands up. “This is slander, it was not a bowl cut, I just have a very round head! I’m going to find Yoongi-hyung, he respects me.”

You glance around the group in confusion, but Yoongi isn’t in the immediate vicinity like he was earlier. In fact, the group has dissolved into a few stragglers finishing off their bracelets as most of the gathering emigrate to the sheltered patio. “Oh shit, is lunch ready? I’m starving.”

“Looks like,” Ji-eun chirps, but once the two of you stand up, she hooks her hand in your elbow, preventing your departure. “Before we go, I just wanted to say,” she begins, eyes earnest as they lock onto yours, “thank you for making Jungkook so happy. I know it’s not like it’s just you, and I’m going to try and thank everyone in due time, but he speaks so highly of you especially. He’s really coming out of his shell here, I can see it now.”

Your heart swells, instinctively turning to seek out the black and red hair in the crowd. Jungkook has slipped a glove on one hand and is cutting up pieces of meat with tongs and a pair of kitchen scissors, a broad grin on his face as he hands them out. “I’m really lucky to have met him. You helped raise him well.”

She beams at that, tugging on your arm as the others call out for you to join them. “It’s not me. That’s all just our Jungkookie.”

Throughout the lunch, you can’t help but think that every time you look at him. Our Jungkookie.

Much like Taehyung, Chungha is very generous with her hands.

The offer comes quickly after lunch. Most of the guests and guys are still outside socialising (Eric has managed to con a bunch of them into playing a rather hands-on game of football on the grass), but while you were inside getting a drink, both massage parlour workers joined you, Taehyung’s arms naturally slipping around your waist for a lazy back hug.

“Pour us one?” he requests casually, his voice like molten brown sugar. “I want you two to get to know each other. Maybe we could go upstairs for a bit?”

Beside you, smiling with her eyes as well as her baby pink lips, Chungha pats your hand. “I’ve heard so many good things,” she assures. “But Taehyungie is so disappointed that he can’t take care of you anymore.” Your heart freezes in your throat when she comes in close, smelling like cherries. Her voice dips so that only you and Taehyung could hear, the latter nuzzling his nose against the back side of your neck. “I could take care of you for him, if you want?”

You turn around in Taehyung’s grasp, seeking out his confirmation. He smiles, nods, and lets go to take the two extra drinks you’d poured. It’s only lemonade, but he takes an indulgent sip as if it were champagne.

Without another word, he begins to make his way to the stairs, glancing back to make sure you’re following. You think back to Jessi’s words, of showing him that you cared. It seems like, in his own way, he’s reaching across that divide and showing you he cares too. Chungha’s fingers winding between yours, you follow the two masseuses upstairs.

Perhaps it’s their job experience, or maybe just their sweet, puppy-like personalities, but being near them both feels so comforting and relaxing. In Taehyung’s bedroom, he sits on a chair, as close to the bed as he dares. Chungha tugs you directly onto the mattress, and you gasp as a slight push to your shoulder sends you collapsing backwards, head on the pillow.

She looks divine above you, smiling down as her pale golden hair hangs down and brushes against your collarbones. With a knee on either side of your hips, she straddles you and leans in closer, lips barely brushing. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Your heart thuds strongly against your ribs. You nod, feeling dizzy as the pressure on your mouth increases and her hands slip into your hair. Her lips and fingers move in sync, massaging your lips and scalp indistinguishingly. Perhaps she’s even a better kisser than the others on the show, or perhaps it’s that the touch of a woman after three weeks of men feels like pure oxygen, like eating with a gold spoon after years of stainless steel.

Her fingers slide further, molten relaxation with every stroke. Soothing your temples, the crown of your head, the nape of your neck, she keeps you feeling warm and light, even a little hazy. Lips parting from yours for just a moment, Chungha whispers to you, her fingers playing with the waistband of your pants. “Will you let me taste you?”

Arousal thrums hot between your legs, but something makes you hesitate. Or, rather, someone. You shift your head on the pillow, looking past the curtain of Chungha’s hair to where Tae sits, cross-legged, on the armchair.

His eyes widen, soft and concerned. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/n,” he assures.

Chungha pulls up at that, sitting back against her heels again. Losing the closeness makes a whine catch in your throat. “It’s not that,” you confess quietly, “I just… I don’t want you to feel left out.”

The blonde masseuse straddling you coos as Taehyung turns pink, and she beckons him closer. “I don’t feel left out,” Taehyung assures you as he tentatively perches on the edge of the bed, tugging your hand gently to clasp between his own. “I can’t touch you like you deserve, at least not now. But Chungha can. If you want this, I want you to have it, Y/n.”

Your hand feels so warm between his smooth palms, but your heart feels even warmer. “I do want it. But… Stay close to me.”

Taehyung laces his fingers through yours, holds your hand up, and delicately presses a kiss to the back of your hand, making your breath catch. Afterwards, his eyes dart accusingly to the cameras recording your every move and sound. “That was technically platonic contact,” he insists quickly, “they do it in movies all the time.”

You laugh softly, but it quickly mutes into a silent gasp as Chungha suddenly moves down, hooking her fingers into your waistband and undressing your lower half as she goes.

Spreading your knees and sinking to her chest between them, her perfectly manicured fingers run teasing lines up and down your bare thighs. “Just relax,” she coos, “just let yourself enjoy it.”

Her hair, like spun gold, tickles your thighs as she lowers her face closer. So light you can only just feel it, she presses a kiss into the seam at the top of your right leg, so close yet too far from where you need her. Doing the same to the other side, she begins slowly trailing them closer to your core, giggling onto you when your breath hitches in impatience.

Taehyung shifts, situating himself behind you so that your head lies back and rests on his lap. With the same hand that holds yours, he takes the other, holding both of your wrists together in less of a restraint and more of an embrace. Together, him and Chungha bracket you in this cocoon of gentle touches, and as his other hand begins taking over the scalp massage Chungha had started earlier, you can’t help but let your eyes slip shut.

It’s because of this that when she finally licks a bold stripe up your folds, it catches you by complete surprise. You squeak, jolting between them, but Taehyung just tugs on your hair lightly, shushing you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Taehyung asks softly, bent over so he can speak lowly.

Chungha, now that she’s started, uses her tongue and lips just as expertly as her fingers, marking Taehyung’s question redundant. You nod anyway, and are rewarded with the subtle vibration of her chuckling, lips wrapped around your clit.

There’s something inherently different about the way Chungha eats you out, that’s clear even with your eyes shut. Her lips are plush like Jin’s, her cheeks soft like Yoongi’s and her tongue roving deep like Jungkook’s, but with every second that passes, it feels like she’s explored your pussy a million times before. Each swipe and suck and nibble seems practiced, learned, and in mere minutes your thighs are trembling.

She alternates attention to your clit with fucking you on her tongue, and Taehyung’s hand never ceases its languid journey through your hair. The two poles of pleasure have you unable to catch your breath, unable to even open your eyes as every movement makes the lids heavier.

Two separate people, yet they work in unison. When Taehyung presses behind your ears, Chungha flattens her tongue on your clit in a slow drag. When that muscle becomes pointed, flicking over you to make you jump, Taehyung’s fingers curl so that the nails run over your scalp. Each nip of Chungha’s teeth is punctuated with a tugging of a lock of your hair, and caught between these tides, the only things that feel incomplete are your lips. What you wouldn’t give to have Tae bend a little lower and brush his mouth against yours, even for a moment.

Instead, you slip your bottom lip between your teeth, occupying them needily. A coil tightens in your stomach so slowly, like a gentle bubbling simmer, but it isn’t until you feel two slender fingers sliding inside you that there’s a tangible shift in pleasure. Like taking an exit on a highway, you feel a distinct change of path, like you’re now moving directly towards your orgasm. Driven by that desire, you rock your hips, moaning as her mouth hones in on your clit and her fingers curl, seeking out that spot inside you.

Unsurprisingly, she locates it with ease, and before you can even catch your breath she’s massaging it without mercy, twisting her fingers inside you with every audible thrust so that the pleasure is inescapable. You writhe, but she still has an arm free to throw over your stomach and hold you down.

Taehyung is still deliriously in-sync, and you can’t hold back a moan as his fingers press harder and nails drag stronger. Eyes rolling back, you feel that crest build, so close you can taste it, and your moans become desperate.

The two of them read the signs and up the intensity one last time. Taehyung drops your hands so that both of his can bury deep in your hair, and Chungha switches to three fingers inside you, scissoring and grinding them against your g-spot.

You come with a broken cry, seizing up as the pleasure wracks your body. While Taehyung stops his massage to brush your hair back, carding his fingers through it comfortingly, Chungha fucks you through it without mercy, sucking harshly on your clit and spreading you open on her fingers.

It’s not until your whole body is shivering and you try anad wriggle out of her hold that she finally lets up, leaving you boneless in Taehyung’s lap.

Far more full of energy than you are, Chungha straightens up with a satisfied sigh, licking her lips. As you fight to catch your breath, she runs a hand up and down your thigh. “You’re a fucking gorgeous specimen,” she compliments warmly, “when you get out of here, come by anytime.”

Suddenly Taehyung’s arms wrap tightly around your arms and chest, chin tucked onto the crown of your head. Even as you can’t see him, you can hear the pout in his voice. “When she gets out, she’ll be coming by for me,” he protests sweetly, “but I’m sure we could invite you too if she wanted.”

You laugh tiredly, leaning your weight back against Taehyung. “I’m definitely not turning that down, holy fuck.”

Chungha giggles prettily, chin still glossy from going down on you, though it doesn’t seem to bother her. “Won’t you give me one last kiss before we go clean up?”

You can’t deny her sweetly batted eyelashes, though you wouldn’t even want to. Once Taehyung begrudgingly lets you go, you lean forward and meet her halfway, tasting yourself on her tongue. It’s filthy but chaste, a quick swipe of her tongue into your mouth, a peck, and she’s pulling away with a wink, jumping off the bed.

Once she prances into Taehyung’s bathroom and closes the door behind her, Taehyung goes slack, winding his arms around your torso from behind and tucking his face into your neck. “I hope you liked it,” his voice comes out, muffled and shy.

You ruffle his hair fondly, wishing you could do more than that. “It was perfect,” you say without a doubt. “Thank you, Tae. I-” There are words that you can’t say, shouldn’t say now. “I like you a whole lot.”

If it’s possible, his hug tightens. “I like you a lot too.”

The rest of the day goes without hiccups. You spend your time getting to know the girls - albeit in less intimate ways than you had with Chungha - and slowly the idea of pulling a name out of the box becomes both exciting and worrying.

Hyuna brings out a new side of Jin. He looks more unburdened with her than he has the whole time on the show, and their vibrant energy together is contagious. Jungkook acts like a smitten schoolboy around Ji-eun, and she’s so patient and endearing that you can’t help but sympathise with him. It’s very clear Namjoon and Sunmi don’t actually know each other very well, but fuck you could watch their awkward banter and dynamic for hours. Sunmi is a relentless, unflappable tease, and Namjoon eats it up with a nervous laugh and bright eyes. Chungha seems more interested in the other girls than she is with Taehyung, but they’re never far apart, sharing countless meaningful stares between conversations. Bee is much like Hoseok, in that she’s so sweet and bubbly when she doesn’t don her dominant persona, and quickly she wins you over, her kind words and cheerful laughter a highlight of the evening. Jessi seems like the type of bossy but protective older sister that seems perfect for Jimin, whose usually-concealed soft interior lifts closer and closer to the surface with every minute spent in her easygoing, boisterous company. And finally, Yoonji is an absolute enigma, commanding attention with ease but seeming entirely disinterested with it. The moment a conversation bores her, you watch her eyes shift, inspecting some person or other like they’re a science experiment. You’ve been under that gaze yourself, and you practically feel the heat of the magnifying glass. But at the same time, when she does get engaged and speaks up, she’s just as articulate and sharp as Yoongi, and you can’t help but hang off her every word.

After relaying all this information back to Eric, who seems equally supportive and bemused, the only conclusion you can draw is that it would be entirely preferable to have all seven of them stay.

“Goodness, you insatiable minx,” your best friend teases with a mock look of disapproval. It’s 9:58pm, and the two of you have been stuck in the living room for almost the whole hour, staring hopelessly at the box. “Seven men is good, but fourteen people is better?”

“It’s not that,” you defend with a whine, “not that I would protest. No, it’s just- I wanna get to know them more, you know? And I feel like I’m learning more about the guys while they’re here, which is going to prove very important for tomorrow’s decision. And once I pull a name there’s nothing separating me from elimination, and I have no fucking clue who to eliminate, but then at least-” You huff, unable to articulate it. “I’m procrastinating.”

Eric grimaces, nodding. “It took you roughly fifty-nine minutes to come to that conclusion, but I’m glad we got there eventually.”

You kick your feet up over his lap, throwing yourself back onto the couch in despair. “I could’ve been out there researching this whole time, why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, bouncing his knees so that your feet are jostled off. “I thought you wanted to work it through and that explaining every vivid detail of the past three weeks was necessary. It was riveting, by the way,” he adds in a drawl, “I’m certainly relieved you felt it pertinent to describe exactly the size and appearance of all the cocks in this house.”

You jump up, kicking him in the shin. “Hey! Don’t be sarcastic, I’m in a crisis!”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Eric defends, brows lifted. “I’m doing my own research. Taking into account the past several hours, as well as the interesting mental pictures I’ve now been able to make, I’ve decided I wish to become the sexy meat in a Namjoon and Hoseok sandwich. Do you think it’s feasible?”

You open your mouth instinctively to protest, but then you stop, mulling over the combination. They had spent a lot of time together…

Eric claps his hands together with a victorious cheer. “You considered it, that’s basically a yes! Anyways, I hate to say it,” he digresses, quickly sobering up, “but it’s time to draw a name.”

Nerves immediately alight down your spine, but you fight them off. “Fuck, okay, I guess it’s random so it doesn’t matter, right?” Before you have the chance to second-guess that statement, you lean forward and plunge your hand into the circle-shaped slot in the box, feeling sharp edges of paper bumping against your skin.

Managing to close your fingers around a slip, you pull it out, opening the fold. Two words, three syllables. Eric and you read over it in silence for a moment, before you let out a amused chuckle. “Yoongi’s going to be pissed, huh?”

ELIMINATION

On the seventh Day of every Week in the game, the Elimination vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the fan-favourite vote, which has already happened.

The vote has closed.

Below are the results for last week’s vote for Fan Favourite!

659 notes · View notes

cassandraclare · 4 years

Text

Jessa/Wessa ship wars

teenagefunbouquet said:Isn't it enough Tessa&Jem got a wedding comic, two kids (and you say more), a lifetime as the only mates for each other and your most explicitly written sex scene After the Bridge? Wessa are the most popular and we get nothing, every wessa moment is shared with Jem while Jessa get to be alone, Wessa fans got no "anticipation" like jessa fans are getting now everyday you give them a book in jem's pov or a short story or a new kid. it feels like wessa is dead.

I’ll be interested in people’s thoughts on this. (I left the username as is since it’s a blank account, probably created to ask this question, so no one’s really getting hurt in this minor drama.) Most of my long and somewhat crabbish post is under the read more.

First, let me reply with the obvious, which is the Jessa rebuttal: “Isn’t it enough that Will gets to be Tessa’s first love and Jem only gets to be her second? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa had sex when they thought Jem was dead? Isn’t it enough that there’s a whole series about Will and Tessa’s kids but we only find out that Jem and Tessa had a kid in a short story? Isn’t enough that Jem and Tessa have spent half their relationship looking for a kid who’s related to Will, not either of them? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa got two biological kids they got to spend eighteen years raising and Jem and Tessa only get like two years with Kit? Jessa are the most popular, but half the stories in Ghosts of the Shadow Market happened while Will was still alive! And now Wessa fans are getting content every day and have two more books of Wessa being married and doing cute stuff to look forward to. Every day they’re getting a special edition of a book with a whole short story about their wedding. It feels like Jessa is dead.”

Not that I believe any of that either: I think both complaints are equally silly and selfish. But they are complaints rooted in the same logic, which is “My ship is the best and most popular, and every time I see something that in my mind supports the ship I hate I feel angry and diminished, and rather than perhaps examining those feelings I’d like to vent them on other fans and the creator.”

So. My feeling about this is: I am sad to see there is still some kind of a ship war here. As far as I am concerned...

the Wessa/Jessa ship war ended in 2012 when we found out Tessa loved both boys equally and would spend a lifetime with both of them. The end. Quibbling about irrelevant details like how many kids each couple has subsequently or examining closely the explicitness of their sex scenes seem bizarre and pointless. It has nothing to do with how books and stories are made, or how they work, or what functions they serve. At this point it’s like you decided your favorite football team could definitely beat another team, and you spend all your time obsessing about it even though they will never play against the other team because the other team is a hockey team.

When I see people say that “Wessa got” something or “Jessa got” something, it makes me cringe. It reduces stories that are about other things, often friendship, to being about a ship war I am not a part of. (Not every story or book in which a couple appears is a story about that ship. Sometimes they’re just grouting their shower or fighting a demon.) Wessa and Jessa are not dueling pop stars fighting over who gets to perform on the Tonight Show. In fact, they are not fighting at all, which is part of the underlying problem. People are used to love triangles where two guys are fighting over a girl and are jealous of each other. Will and Jem are not jealous of each other. They are not fighting over Tessa. To believe that it lessens Will and Tessa’s relationship that Jem is around and alive, or that it makes Jem and Tessa’s relationship better that Will is dead, is a fundamental misunderstanding of these characters and the story they are in. You are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole, and it will cause you endless misery and frustration.

For instance, claiming that “every Wessa moment is spent with Jem.” Well, that’s ridiculous. Obviously, Will and Tessa spent an enormous amount of quality time alone together in TID. (Otherwise, you would have no investment in this relationship in the first place. There’s a reason you’re attached to it.) Jem did not attend their wedding. He is around in Chain of Gold mostly in his role as a Silent Brother: tending the sick, helping James, bringing news. He is not around during the scene where Will and Tessa make love, or when they kiss and cuddle in the drawing room, grossing out their kids. (I had to fight very very hard to retain even one scene of Will and Tessa alone: in a normal YA book, you would never see a sex scene between the parents, from their point of view.)

The problem is not that there is no “Wessa content” to “anticipate.” The majority of Wessa fans are happy to enjoy stuff like the wedding story or the Wessa moments in TLH. The problem is that the person asking this question will only accept a TLH book in which Jem isn’t mentioned at all as “Wessa content,” and since that would be a fundamental and appalling betrayal of the story and characters — something I would never write and never consider — they will forever feel they are not getting what they deserve.

Asker: if you think that it’s somehow better for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, that they “get” something that Will and Tessa don’t by having had something awful happen to them, then I do not even know how to begin to speak to you. What has always been meaningful to me about Will, Jem and Tessa is that they all loved each other equally. If that is not the case, then they are not people I am interested in writing about. If that being the case makes you not want to read about them, then you are free to stop — please do — but the story is not going to become something other than it is because you feel your ship is the “most popular.” (Which it is not in my experience, the ships are about equal, and I don’t know why it would matter if it was.)

In After the Bridge, which is not an explicit sex scene but rather a short story that contains sex (they exist!) Will is mentioned thirty-two times. Here’s an example:

“Jem swallowed, running his fingers up and down the blade. “He had only just died,” he said. She didn’t need to ask who he was. There was really only one He when it was the two of them speaking. “I was afraid. I saw what happened to the other Silent Brothers. I saw how they hardened over time, lost the people they had been. How as the people who loved them and who they loved died, they became less human. I was afraid that I would lose my ability to care. To know what this knife meant to Will and what Will meant to me.”

If you think Will isn’t present in Jem and Tessa’s relationship just because he’s dead, you’re wrong. He’s mentioned constantly. (And if someone thought that made it not Jessa content, I would have the same discussion with them: If Jem and Tessa didn’t care about Will, I wouldn't care about them.)

As long as there has been fandom, there have been ship wars. Social media has added a new dimension to that, which is what you’re doing here: the ability to run to the creator and complain, hoping they’ll side with you or give you what you want.

Here’s the problem: it’s really really toxic to have been involved in a clearly vicious ship battle for years. It will destroy utterly your ability to read or enjoy the canon you’re arguing about. I’ve been there, I’ve had friends be there. If you think it’s a point for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, if you went into Last Hours thinking Jem wouldn’t be in it, that is a sign of a profound detachment from the actual reality of the canon books. You are not interacting with what I am writing or the characters as they are. You are interacting with the fight you are having. That is why your discourse has spun so far off from the books it no longer resembles what is actually happening in them, and demands such extreme gestures to be appeased — like leaving Jem out of Lost Book when he’s actually from the city the characters are visiting, or cutting him from Last Hours even though it would be unrealistic, cruel, and a disappointment to the vast majority of readers.

Dismissing every single moment Will and Tessa have together in TLH because Jem is alive somewhere and it’s bothering you is a recipe for you to be miserable. Clearly you didn’t enjoy the Wessa wedding, or the Will and Tessa love scenes in Chain of Gold. Clearly you consider Jem and Tessa having children not to be a reason for happiness but rather bitter rage even though it is totally irrelevant to Will and Tessa’s past relationship. The only thing that would be satisfactory would be a rewrite of Clockwork Princess in which Jem was run over by a tank and Will and Tessa didn’t care and were happy and got married and we never had to hear about Jem again. But because that would require time travel and a rewrite of Will and Tessa as vile assholes, that is not a thing you are going to get. If you are determined to always be miserable about the reality of what this story is, than the only result of that is that you will always be miserable.

There is never going to be a winner of this love triangle. It isn’t that story. No amount of anything I do is ever going to change that: no short stories I write, or content I produce, or books or sex scenes or longform poems about either couple will change the fact that both Will and Jem ended up with Tessa and she loves them equally. If you want a “somebody wins” kind of love triangle, there are other books that will provide that for you. These will never be those books.

So why did you write this long screed, Cassie, the rest of you might be wondering, and fairly. Three reasons. One is that there are other questions that are carbon copies of this one (as in, written by the same person/small group of people) cluttering up my inbox, and I want to put a stop to the idea that this kind of thing is going to be acknowledged as a valid comment or complaint. It’s not. Second, we have all been driven bananas by quarantine and I am no exception. The third is that this is the last time I am going to address this kind of ship-fight-disguised-as-question. Any further demands for me to favor one Tessa ship over another will be responded to with a link to this post. In the end I’m hoping this will be a time saver once we’re all allowed outside again.

#jessa #wessa #tid #tlh #gotsm #screed

2K notes · View notes

elopez7228 · 4 years

Text

Scenic Route 25/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Maz and Rey stayed at the Motel-6 on Weat Drive in Helena, which provided twin rooms—with matching twin beds. It was a well-kept yet charmless establishment, built in the image of the city itself. Helena’s wide avenues and stocky skyline formed a neat grid around major routes running north-south and east-west.

The surrounding countryside was verdant, but Rey found the architecture quite different, typical of cities that experienced long winters: raised sidewalks, thick walls and closed windows. But the spirit of the Far West was palpable in Montana, from the wood-plank porches and cowboy hats to the cattle breeders and the constant presence of horses. But there was a certain culture clash as one moved north, to the heartland comprised of oil wells, massive trucks, leather and furs.

The atmosphere was gloomy; this morning’s enthusiasm that had accompanied their gargantuan brunch and a swim in the river, had diminished considerably. Running into Syed had cast a dark shadow over Rey’s mood, her feelings no less tumultuous than before. Was she mad at Ben Solo? Did she want keep flirting with him this morning? They did have an undeniable attraction. Truthfully, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him, not for a moment, since she their paths crossed on her first day in America. How annoying. She would gladly have spent an hour without thinking of him, honestly. She would have wanted to think of herself, or Finn or Poe, to blame Leia Skywalker for her troubles or to conquer the world with Maz. But alas, here she was, fretting over Ben Solo.

Wasn’t she furious at him? The indecision was killing her inside. She would go to the concert the next day, but it would require an explanation, a face to face. She would have to look him in the eyes and give him an ultimatum that would determine their relationship: to end it here and now, or to give him a chance to make amends.

Maz accompanied her to the Museum of the Rockies, where they admired dinosaur fossils and mannequins dressed in pilgrim garb. They passed a large fresco of fur trappers depicting the conquest of the New World. Maz tried to relax the atmosphere by explaining the history behind various exhibits, but Rey was miles away. Her mind was elsewhere.

The evening is unrolled without their joyful laughter, without luster. The weight of Maz’s upcoming departure and Rey’s relationship woes weighed heavily on their shoulders.

Maz had a certain rendezvous to attend in the Holliday Inn parking at 8 AM, off l-90 West. After a quick breakfast at Starbucks, Rey and Maz said farewell. Rey’s eyes shone a bit much at the thought that she was being abandoned yet again.

Or was it just her again, getting attached too quickly? It was obvious from the moment the strange little woman banged against her car window that their time together was limited. This separation was inevitable—Maz headed due north and Rey due west. And she had to go home eventually, on the other side of the Atlantic, in a week.

They exchanged numbers and emails, but Maz evaded social media, and Rey limited herself to Instagram and Facebook. Maz hugged Rey thoroughly, thanking her for everything.

“Have a good trip, my adventurous girl. Remember: listen to your heart, dare to say no, and take your time. You know what it is that you want and what you’re willing to accept—you know your limits. Now, go practice what you preach!”

Rey was hardly as calm as the older woman. Coming from Maz’s mouth, everything seemed so simple. In her head, it was all so complicated. But she promised to remember this, and to do her best.

When they parted, Maz boarded a large van with three other hitchhikers as she went on her merry way.

It was still morning and Rey and BB8 had an entire day to fill. In light of the shift in schedule, she had time to call England.

The conversation with Poe was calm, almost banal. Finn was still on life support, Poe himself visited the hospital daily. His swollen eye had deflated a little, his facial wounds had healed somewhat and would leave almost no scars. Yes, he would call Rey if there was a development, any time of day or night, be the news good, bad, or ugly. She hung up and dialed Jessika afterwards.

“Where were you girl?” Jessika said by way of hello, and Rey smiled, touched by her friend’s playful jab.

“On the road. I drove a couple thousand kilometers. How’s the house?”

“Well, I finished putting together your flat. You promised to call me regularly, don’t you remember?”

“I was going to,” Rey tried to assure her.

She wasn’t sure how often she could handle calling Jessika. She had needed time for introspection, to think through her troubles alone. Talking to Jessica, even though it was fun, inevitably reminded her of her old self. The girl who was going to marry Finn and who let others live her life in her stead.

“Liar,” declared Jessica, and Rey laughed at the fact that her friend knew her well.

“No it's true. I'll call you when I get better, otherwise it's going to be quite a while,” she amended.

“What do you mean , "when I get better?" What’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”

Jess sounded sincerely worried. Rey took a deep breath...where did she leave off in her grand adventure?

“Do you remember Ben Solo?”

“The guy who did n't sleep with you ? OH. MY. GOD. Did you sleep with him ?!”

Rey’s lips split into a wicked grin. She was thoroughly enjoying her friend’s reaction. It was like an intravenous dose of endorphins. Why had she thought that that it would complicate her life?

“No,” she answered finally. “No we didn't sleep together. I mean we almost did. But not quite.”

“What do you mean? Was it just oral but no penetration?”

Straight to the point, Rey chuckled.

"Oh come on, we just kissed a little bit. Okay, kissed a lot. We did nothing, really. We stopped when...you know, they called about Finn...”

It was as though she had just thrown a bucket of cold water on the conversation. Jessika took a moment to answer.

“Yes, I know. It’s excruciating. I was furious! I was furious at him and now I’m furious at everyone except him. How are you holding up?”

“Same as you. My anger is gone. I reassure myself by thinking that Poe stays close to him these days.”

“He does a great job, you know. He comes by an hour a day to sit at his bedside, he talks to him, he reads to him and recounts the adventures you have on your trip, Rey...”

Rey was silent. She knew where Jess was going with this.

“Rey, they’re really in love. I’m sorry to have you say it so bluntly when I’d promised to kick them out of our lives and curse their names forever. You have to look at the bigger picture. Poe is now a shadow of his former self after what happened to Finn.”

“I know.”

“You know? Aren't you angry?”

Rey smiled mournfully. As incredible as it sounded, she was not angry. She was unhappy and worried, a little bit resentful—but in a normal way—very lonely, and a little lost, but she was no longer angry.

“No...I’m just sorry I couldn’t be there to support my best friend, this potato of a man that chose his best friend over me, but I don’t want him anymore. We wouldn't have been happy, as it was. He did what he had to do.”

Jessika was silent for a long time before she finally found her voice.

“Who are you madam, and what have you done with Rey?”

“No, I’m serious,” insisted Rey, amid a fit of giggles, “it's really me! I’ve been through all sorts of ridiculousness, I almost got eaten by a bear, and I have a spy from the KGB on my arse...I ended up cancelling my own wedding because my groom was gay from day one. It’s like my life can never be boring!”

"Sounds like you have much too many things to tell me,” Jessika retorted, “Start from the beginning.”

They stayed on the phone for almost an hour. Rey thought for a moment about the price that such a lengthy call would cost, but hell, she wasn’t in the mood to care. She had needed to say it out loud, to put actual words to her thoughts and her feelings and to right the chaos in her brain.

When she hung up, she felt reinvigorated. Maz’s departure stung less, the loneliness appeared less unbearable. On the downside, she hadn’t yet faced her demons regarding her relationship with one Ben Solo...

Jessika said she had to bed him now (of course). But Rey was no longer taking orders. She had to listen to her heart.

The problem was that she didn't understand what her heart was telling her.

She chose to spend the morning at Arby’s (a stereotypical western fast food restaurant with a massive cowboy hat logo) which specialized in gigantic hamburgers topped with slices of...candied bacon? The local gastronomy never ceased to surprise her. In any case, it had free WiFi and a place to plug in her smartphone.

What was she going to do with her day?

She clicked on Kylo Ren's number.

Damn, she had thought "Kylo Ren", not "Ben Solo". Should she interpret this as some kind of sign?

* good morning Ren, I'm coming tonight. We need to talk. *

Of course, every man knew "we have to talk" was never a good omen. She wanted to hear about Syed (especially why it was necessary for her to follow Rey without consent) and about the nature of their relationship. To Rey’s knowledge, he was neither her father nor her husband. Then he had better have a good explanation. But this wouldn’t be a text message conversation. She wanted to look him in the eyes.

She waited in vain for a response that did had not arrive. Browsing Google Maps, she explored the area around Bozeman and compared the prices of hotels and the campsites. She barely managed not to spit out her coffee. Seven Hells! The proximity to Yellowstone, and thus the certainty of being full in July, had pushed the average rates around the park to a staggering 250 dollars per night for a single motel room. It was beyond conceivable! She looked at the campsites, but like the hotels, they were fully booked.

Finally, by calling Canyon Campground, which was more than thirty kilometers from Bozeman, she managed to book a place for the night for just below fifty dollars. The price reflected the fact that they had no available power stations, but she didn’t mind—all she wanted was an area flat enough to pitch her tent without risking another round with the grizzlies.

Her smartphone vibrated.

* Good morning Rey. I wouldn’t come if I were you. This one is going to be mediocre. Maybe some other time? *

Rey felt herself fuming.

Was he trying to run away? Well, not if she had her way.

She typed a message, then erased it. And again, and yet again. Finally, she sent no response, put her phone away, finished her coffee and left the establishment.

She was going to play fetch with BB8, it would calm her down.

And this evening, she would see Kylo Ren, look him directly in the eyes. She would wait for the end of the concert, and they were going to have a discussion. He wasn’t getting away with this!

Kylo had been in a bad mood all day, even as he helped with the installation process at the Bozeman concert venue.

Rey wanted to come this evening and he had to stop her. Syed was capable of everything under the sun, and the worst part was that he had no idea of what she was up to. She had returned his jacket and taken her orders from Hux and Snoke instead. But what orders? Something was brewing, he was sure. He was in absolutely no mood to give a damn concert, and had found himself strangely relieved when Snoke announced the cancellation of the tour. Fine. Off with the masks...he had to keep his head clear to be prepared for any scenario that high command had in mind. Snoke’s mind was twisted. It was wild, fatal, and unpredictable. He would do well to keep his weapon within reach...he had to make the first move, finding her, cornering her, and talking her out of getting involved. But where was she?

With the amount of tension and distrust in the air, it would have been better not to go through with the concert. And yet, it made for an easy cover. Naturally, Syed would not strike from the stage, it would be far too visible. That would leave her with the opening crowd and the stragglers.

Adding Rey to this equation was the worst part. She was going to find herself in the middle of a crossfire that wouldn’t leave anyone unscathed.

His heart beat faster at the mere idea of Rey taking such a risk. And what if Syed took advantage of Rey’s presence to reach him?

He would kill her for that if she tried, with his own two hands.

Around him, the Knights of Ren were quietly working on mounting the lights. He could hear their laughter in the distance in his mind, although they were only standing a few paces away. It would be a good idea to talk to them. But it would also be an admission of weakness; was a team of five people not enough to take on Syed Ren alone? No. He was going to face her fury himself.

The more the clock turned, the more the atmosphere seemed heavy. It was time to end this, once and for all.

#Reylo #Fanfiction #Scenic Route #Modern AU

4 notes · View notes

xseildnasterces · 4 years

Text

The end of 2019.

So that’s it. Here we are at the end of another year. I have so many unfinished blog posts from over the last couple of months and I hope I will get the chance to finish them soon but things are so busy at the moment and to be honest, I haven’t had the energy or motivation.

I have a lot to say about 2019, but that warrants a post of its own. For now, I just want to address my annual goals. I want to see which goals I set for myself this time last year have been achieved, which haven’t and then reflect on what goals I want to set for the coming year. 2020. Crazy. I really hope they are the roaring 2020s. I’d like some good things to happen. Perhaps to find myself and work out a lot of things causing my depression, anxiety and constant heartache.

Anyway, onto the goals of 2019 and here is exactly what I wrote this time last year:

1. LET PEOPLE GO. IF SOMEONE WALKS OUT OF MY LIFE FORGET THEM, or at least try to. E triggered this. I have tried so hard since she left but this year was a huge turning point for me. She had a baby, I had no idea, I tried to meet up on several occasions. I sent a card at Christmas and nothing. Not one thing, not one word, no thank you. Just nothing. I am over being pushed aside and walked over. I will not make contact with anyone this year if they do not also make an effort with me. People who are meant to be in your life will stay, and those who aren’t will disappear and were clearly a lesson or something else, but not everyone is meant to be in your life forever and I think that is something I need to learn to accept this year.

Did I accept this and forget people? Yes and no. I haven’t made any effort with E this year at all. She messaged me on my birthday which was actually a shock but then nothing. Am I over it? No, not fully. I miss her, I still have no idea what happened and when I see photos or she crosses my mind I feel sad that we are where we are. In terms of E, I think I have managed to accept it though. In terms of other people, oh hell no. I am trying my very best to accept it, but I just cannot. I cannot come to terms with the fact someone I want in my life might not meant to be. So no, I cannot accept this for everyone that walked out of my life in 2019 because there is one person who I don’t think I will ever be able to accept this about - and there is zero chance of ever moving on and forgetting them.

2. READ ONE BOOK A MONTH. Here I am again attempting to do the 12 books a year challenge. One per month for a whole year. I always start off well and start to dwindle and then fail when things get busy, but this year I want to do it once and for all. Third time lucky after all.

Complete fail. The exact same thing happened again. I started off amazingly, and then life got in the way and it came to a standstill. I have a book currently half-read sitting on a shelf and I’ve pretty much forgotten the first half of the book. This will certainly be my challenge again next year. I need to complete it. It has got to be done.

3. GET A NEW JOB (PREFERABLY IN AN INTERNATIONAL ORGANISATION). This year my contract will inevitably end at the European Central Bank. It could be over at the end of February when my current contract ends, it could be over a few months later if I am lucky enough to be extended, or it could end in September – but whatever happens it will end this year. So, I hope that I manage to get another job for my current one ending. I know it won’t be an easy task but I will do my very best to get somewhere else I want to be.

Success! I got two job offers for two incredibly big international organisations. I accepted one and moved to Washington DC. Career-wise things went pretty well in 2019 and I am pretty proud of myself. I also got two other interviews, both for other international organisations which I didn’t go to because I’d already accepted my current job.

4. SLEEP EARLIER. Basically, get to bed earlier. When I first moved to Frankfurt I was getting into bed at around 10pm every single night. I slept better, I felt better and all around it was just better for my productivity and my body. I don’t want to set the goal of being in bed at 10pm every night because I know there is little chance of that happening. But for now, if I can be in bed before 11pm I’ll be pretty happy with myself.

Complete fail. I do try to be in bed at around 10 but I’m usually still awake during the earlier hours. So yes, I get into bed, but I don’t sleep. So not a success.

5. ORGANISE MY FINANCES. Before I moved abroad my finances were in excellent shape. I knew where everything was. Everything was saved in separate accounts for different things and they were all-round healthy and I knew what everything was for and where it was. Now, however, since moving abroad and being paid in another currency – it’s all over the place and I really want to make 2019 the year I get all of this sorted. I want the right savings in the right accounts and I want to know its safe, and correctly organised.

Nope. Another fail. It never happened. I had too much to do and started getting paid in yet another currency. My money is all over the place and needs sorting. Perhaps another goal for 2020.

6. USE MY PHONE LESS. I want to try and stop being tied to my phone all the time. I want to stop using my phone when I’m with other people, try to be more in the moment and enjoy the situation or surroundings that I am in and enjoy the company I hold rather than constantly scrolling and texting away. It’s rude and I hate it when other people do it, so I need to stop, or at least try anyway.

Achieved. Not completely through choice, but achieved non the less.

7. GET OUTDOORS MORE. I love being outside. I love hiking and I love nature and I want to make much more effort to get outside and walk and spend time in nature. I want to take photos of my adventures and I want to see new places and things. I want to stop spending all my time cooped up inside and actually spend my time doing something worth doing.

Yes. I’d say have achieved this. I spent a lot of time outside in 2019, from travelling to new places, spending time with friends, going on walks and reading outside. I had amazing weather in Frankfurt during the summer, spent almost a week in DC whilst attending my interview and spent every single day outside and also spent a lot of Autumn out in DC with H, F and M.

8. TACKLE MY ANXIETY. I have struggled with anxiety for probably longer than I realise. I think its always been there, from the smallest things when I was little when my dad would try and send me into the shop on my own and I would panic and not want to do it, to the big things like when I’ve had a panic attack from being in my old hometown city centre to heart palpitations for blood tests and other stressful situations. I don’t think I ever recognised it before I started having to take medication for depression but now I no longer take medication for this I have realised more and more just how bad my anxiety is, so one of my aims for this year is to try and combat or at least control it in some way or another.

I’m currently still tackling my anxiety. I don’t know if I will ever have fully tackled it, but I worked hard this year. I started taking medication, I saw a therapist once a week and I feel like talking about a lot of things, although somewhat uncomfortable for the most part... helped. Currently, my anxiety and panic attacks are better than they have been for a very long time. I haven’t yet got myself a therapist in DC but this is something I really need to do soon because otherwise, all the hard work of last year will come undone.

Usually, I always write 10 goals, but for some reason, I only have 8 for 2019. Here is to making goals for 2020 and hoping that I have more success than I appear to have done this year.

#goals #2019 #end of the year #reflection #thought #feeling #feelings #thoughts #journal #me #diary #personal #lifestyle blog #new #new year

2 notes · View notes

ofjuliette · 5 years

Text

[ brittany snow, thirty-two, cisfemale, she/her ] ━ did y'all see [ juliette “jules” hammond ] walkin’ into [ frostford public library? ] they’ve lived in frostford for [ sixteen years, ] and you can catch ‘em around town working as a [ librarian/author ]. I reckon they’re pretty [ effervescent & charismatic ] but I hear they can also be kinda [ garrulous & uncoordinated. ] if ya see ‘em around, be sure to say hi. ━ [ teenage pregnancy? ]

hey hi hello i’m hope and i’m watching scooby doo rn. juliette’s intro is kind of long and i wasn’t sure if teenage pregnancy was technically a trigger or not so i just put it there just in case. jules’ intro is kind of long but ??? she’s my baby. there’s some wc at the bottom of the post but they’re p basic bc i’m trash™️

CHILDHOOD years --

juliette is the only daughter of marjorie and elias hammond. she was born in greenwich, connecticut and lived in a big mansion. juliette’s father is of old money and her mother is a former model turned socialite and housewife once juliette was born.

juliette was born on november 19th, 1986 which was during the first big snowstorm of the year. in fact, she was almost born in the car on the way to the hospital because of the snow.

marjorie and elias never planned to have more kids, so they were happy with juliette and spoiled her with everything she could have ever wanted.

in her childhood juliette spent a lot of time doing modeling ads for baby clothes. marjorie was very much a “pageant mom” for the first five years of her daughter’s life until elias convinced marjorie to let juliette pick her own passions.

juliette picked the arts and took piano and vocal lessons, when she got older she also learned other instruments such as the guitar, violin, and flute. but her favorite would always be piano.

she went to private school in greenwich, where she had to wear a uniform and the school was all grades.

juliette was one of the smartest in her school, and wound up skipping two grades in elementary school because she wasn’t being challenged enough.

during her early years there were many vacations that her parents would take her on and she often went into the city to visit her father at work or catch a broadway show with her mother.

her father worked long exhausting hours and her mother often filled her time with chairing certain social events and causes.

jules was often left alone after school in the care of their maid/nanny/chef winifried. winnie is the adult who gave juliette the nickname of jules first, and winnie was with her all her life until she turned thirteen and her parents decided they didn’t need a nanny anymore. winnie was also older at that point, so they hired someone new to help around the house for a couple of months until winnie retired.

juliette was always outgoing as a kid, loved talking to new people and making friends. she was the kind of kid who wanted to make sure everyone felt included. and she was popular, if not just for her parents money and connections, but also for her own charismatic and charming personality.

as a child she often entertained the idea of becoming a singer or somethin in the spotlight like her mom, but as the years went on it was harder and harder to hold onto a dream like that.

TEENAGE years --

juliette was never a rebellious type, as she was content with how her life was. sure, if she had things entirely her way she would have spent more time with her parents but otherwise juliette was a happy girl.

she was still in touch with her old nanny once winnie left the household, often writing her letters and calling the woman whenever she felt she needed someone to talk to.

in her early teen years juliette decided she wanted to go back into acting in commercials and such. this led to a couple of claire’s commercials and even a guest spot in a mary kate and ashley olsen film ( winning london, if you want to know ).

acting and singing were a big thing during her schooling. she was always involved in the drama department in some form if it wasn’t on stage it was backstage helping out.

she got to be good with a needle and thread, sewing a couple of mishaps in her high school productions to save money on sending them out.

juliette was in a couple of local competitions for singing, but never anything big. she did sing the national anthem at her high schools games though.

juliette was in a pretty serious relationship at the age of fifteen-sixteen with someone in her high school. they were two years older than her, since she had skipped a couple of grades, and she sincerely thought she was going to wind up marrying him after graduation.

except at the end of september juliette was going to her doctor for a check up when she found out she was pregnant. of course, her mother and father were shocked. and her then-boyfriend left juliette once he found out. juliette’s parents moved the teen into their apartment in the city with her father and she transferred to a different school for the rest of the year.

juliette gave birth to a baby girl on april 29th, 2002. her daughter, francesca winifred hammond was 7lbs and 4 ounces and 19 inches tall.

juliette had always known she was going to keep her daughter, but still holding her baby in her arms after she was born was a whole other experience and it really was like wow i’m a mother. she cried.

juliette wasn’t at her high school graduation, but if she had been she may have been the valedictorian. she still graduated in the top of her class.

originally, juliette had been planning on going to columbia for their english program.

but she decided instead to take a gap year and focus on being a mom.

during this time she worked at a bookstore and had begun writing her own stories.

she published her first book--a children’s “novel” just before her seventeenth birthday ( more like september of 2003 ). it’s dedicated to her daughter.

juliette soon realized that she wanted to move away from home. it was too much of a reminder of what she could have been doing and what her parents wanted for her, and what she had thought she wanted. she needed to find herself and figure out her life on her own.

so juliette quite literally picked up a map and got in the car she’d gotten for her sweet sixteen and started driving down the highway with her daughter.

of course, she’d told her parents beforehand. she’d had a whole sit down conversation about moving out and on her own. her parents were hesitant, since she was only seventeen at the time. but they eventually agreed so long as juliette stayed in touch with them. which she did.

she happened upon frostford when she got a flat tire just outside of city limits.

and frostford was everything that her hometown was not, so she wound up moving here at the age of seventeen, just before christmas time.

her parents obviously paid for the house she lives in still. it’s not like the mansion or even the city apartment she was used to when she was running around growing up but it has a porch and a yard and enough room for her and frannie, which was all jules wanted.

for the first couple of years i’d imagine it was hard for her to fit in. since she was seventeen and graduated high school prior, so most people her age were still in school. and i’m sure more of the town busybody gossips would have been talking about how she’s seventeen with a baby. so that wasn’t easy.

but even with that, juliette did her best to get to know people and figure out a place for herself among the town.

TWENTIES to NOW --

juliette had worked as a waitress for a couple of years while she was going to school. despite coming from money ( and having her parents send her money every month to help out ) juliette was always determined to both pay her parents back for the house they bought her and make her own money.

by the time frannie was in kindergarten jules was working at the diner during the day and going to college classes on her days off and taking some night classes.

juliette graduated from college with a degree in library sciences and english literature.

throughout frannie’s childhood, juliette worked on other books for kids. she wanted the types of books she had read when she was a kid but something that her own daughter would love. and frannie did love every book that juliette wrote.

for a good six or seven years ( from the time juliette was nineteen until she was twenty-five ) juliette was known mostly as one of the more prolific children’s authors under 30. she’d written well over 40 books since her first published children’s novel. many of the novels are following one single story/character, but each novel is part of a whole universe where characters from one side story do pop up in others as well.

juliette then graduated to young adult fiction, where she’s pretty much stayed since. she writes mainly mysteries and historical projects. she likes to balance her novels with a bit of different time periods. and yes, she does in fact know that joseph turner the main character of her first original novel appears as a side mentioned character in her latest work.

juliette has worked at the frostford public library since she graduated from college. she’s always loved to be around books.

like i said back then, she often loved to daydream of being someone in the limelight when she was growing up. you can still catch her singing a few tunes or hear the piano playing a melody from her house if she leaves the windows open, but otherwise she’s really given up on that part of her life.

spends a lot of time with her daughter. i imagine she’s had no contact with frannie’s father since everything that happened between them in high school.

sometimes she wonders what it would have been like to go for singing, but make no mistake that she is in fact blissfully happy with how her life turned out. she’s got her daughter, a blossoming career, and a happy home. maybe the only thing she sometimes really wishes for that’s realistic is somebody to share it with?

PERSONALITY AND MORE --

juliette is still as kind as ever. she’s very charismatic and effervescent. she doesn’t like to let anyone see her down ( even if she definitely has her moments of not being so well ).

you wouldn’t know if she’s down unless you know her well enough. but the signs are usually that she’s playing the piano a lot, she’s wearing a lot of loose fitting long sleeved things ( she likes to tug on the sleeves as a habit ), and her house smells like she’s been baking.

jules often calls frostford her home and refers to greenwich/manhattan as the place where she was raised.

juliette has a mix of a new york accent and a southern drawl from all the time she’s lived down south. it’s definitely not so pronounced. but when she’s angry ( which is rare, she’s not the type to raise her voice usually ) you can hear the northern accent come out.

she will never be found without a pen ( colored ink, usually purple ), a notebook, and a reading book. as she’s ready for any kind of situation or inspiration to strike her.

her favorite candies include milk duds and twizzlers, and she’s a sucker for a home made pie ( she can make a good apple pie and a nice lemon meringue herself ).

she absolutely loves when it rains, definitely the kind of person you’d find running out in the rain and dancing in it.

quite clumsy. she’s not a ballerina ( no matter how many lessons she had as a kid ) as her balance is always off.

she’s talkative as hell when she needs to be and can tend to ramble on if you don’t

is 100% a mom friend, is always there for her friends and anybody who she considers a friend.

loves scooby doo and nancy drew. kind of likes those simple mysteries that you could read over and over again. one of her favorite books of all time is that was then, this is now by s.e. hinton. also loves a northern light by jennifer donnely and the luxe series by anna godbersen.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS --

first friends in town

neighbors

“enemies” who became friends

frenemies

people who know her writing

co-workers

for some reason i cannot think of any more connections but these were p basic anyway?? so uh come and plot with me and we can figure stuff out lol.

@frostfordstart

#frostfordintro #☾ ━━━ out of char ❞#teen pregnancy tw #pregnancy tw

8 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

581

Where did you get the pants you are wearing from? They’re my sister’s; I borrowed them for the semester because these shorts are conducive for my PE classes, but since we already finished the class last week I should probs give it back to her soon. Do you find smoking unattractive? I used to, but now I can’t really say that I hate it. Have your parents ever searched your personal belongings? They did, back in Grade 6. They took away two of my very private diaries and ever since then I never wrote down my thoughts in a notebook. I never did get the two back. Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? I thought I could, then my friends made me try a margarita a month after I turned 18 hahaha. Is there someone you'll never forget? There are loads of people I haven’t and will never forget; this is a very broad question.

Do you miss someone right now? Yes. Last time you were on the phone? Just to use it? Maybe some four minutes ago. But the last time I was on a call – if that’s what you meant – was last night. Do you get distracted easily? Yeup. Earlier I was doing a reading, picked up my phone for a short break, then never realized I was on my phone for the next two hours. Have your parents ever caught you drinking? They never ‘caught’ me; whenever I do drink I let them know/ask permission. I respect them enough to do that because I know how alcohol had nearly ruined our family in the past. Do you think flirting is cheating? Uhhhhhhh yes. Do you hate the last girl, other than family, you had a conversation with? I could never hate Gab. Who was the last person you sat next to in a car with? It was my brother. Is your room messy or clean? Fairly clean. I had a general cleaning of my room not too long ago. Do you drink tea? Not the hot or herbal kind. I only have iced tea occasionally. Wish you could be somewhere else right now? Sort of? Kind of? Idk it’s either way. I’m content that I’m home but I wouldn’t mind being out drinking right now too. What are you listening to right now? I can only hear the electric fan’s white noise. I don’t feel like listening to music. Where did you get your last bruise from? I don’t remember my most recent bruise but it probably has something to do with PE and me hitting the mat/floor way too hard. Are you looking forward to anything? The weekend. When is the last time you wanted to punch someone in their face? The fact that I stared at this question for a good minute must mean I haven’t thought this in a while lmao. That’s gotta be a good thing! Whose house where you last at? Other than mine, Gab’s. When someone says 'we need to talk', what do you think: If I know that that person doesn’t have a problem/potential problem with me, I just assume it’s something light. The only time this was said to me and it turned out to be something bad was my mom gathering us to say that our grandpa died, so I don’t really have a bad experience in general with that sentence. Tell me what's on your mind? I would have been able to sleep in tomorrow if I didn’t accept a 10 AM commitment and now I’m hating myself loads. It’s exhausting to accept an executive position sometimes. Will you be in bed before 11 tonight? I doubt it; it’s already 9:55 and I just started on this survey. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? It’s fine, but it’s not super solid or anything. They don’t know anything about me other than what I post on Facebook. How much money did you spend today? I spent P45 on an egg and cheese sandwich just to get through my hunger this morning, and my orders from online shopping came so I dropped P1,120 on that hahaha. In other words, I’m slowly GOING BROKE Can you see a cat from where you're sitting? Nope. I can see a dog, though. Who was your last text from? My professor for a history class. I’m the beadle in this class, so he texts me reminders from time to time. What was the last bad thing that happened to your phone? It’s fairly new so it hasn’t acted up ever. The only bad thing that happens to it is me dropping it D: What's been upsetting you lately? I am so fucking burned out from this semester and just wish it’s over already. Is there anyone getting on your nerves at the moment? Nope, everyone’s safe. Is there a member of the opposite sex on your mind? Nopes.

Last place you fell asleep other than a bed? The living room couch, I think. Does it take a lot to make you cry? Not at all. I’m an easy target. Do you have a dog? Yes, the goodest and bestest. Do you like to wear pants? No, I hate jeans and wish I had more shorts than jeans. How many people do you trust fully? I trust everybody I know, is the thing. I feel like my loved ones and friends deserve that. But I can cut off ties with them very easily if they abuse that trust. When you're bored in class, what do you usually do? I use my phone but make sure I’m hidden behind my laptop. If that’s too risky, I’ll doodle whatever lyrics on my notebook (if I’m writing). Otherwise I’d just check my social media on my laptop. What’s your favorite color out of these five? Green, Yellow, Blue, Pink: Pink. What was the first thing you said when you woke up today? “...Already?” I set my alarms this morning for 4 AM, 4:30 AM, and 5:30 AM. I woke up at the 4 AM alarm, went back to sleep, and the next alarm that woke me was the 5:30 one. I must have turned off the 4:30 one too but I was probably half-sleepy and groggy AS FUCK because I don’t remember turning that one off at all. Do you get 8 hours of sleep everyday? Yeah. I kinda have to because the way I run during the day depends on the amount of sleep I get. Ever like someone older than you? I haven’t. What's your favorite amusement park? I don’t really have any. Universal Studios in Singapore was great fun though. Are you cold at this very moment? A little bit. I’ve since turned on the AC and also have an electric fan directed at me, so I’m quite chilly. Do you prefer people who talk a lot or are quiet? Depends on my mood..sometimes I’m talkative, and sometimes I just want to be on my laptop and be undisturbed. Is there someone in your life you wish you never met? Other than incompetent groupmates from past projects who temporarily made my life a living hell, not really. How many hours of sleep do you need to function? 7 to 10. Nothing more, nothing less. What do you think Avril Lavigne is doing at the moment? This question is so creepy. What's one fear are you most paranoid about? Not getting a nice enough job that doesn’t pay enough. Have you ran into an old friend recently? A couple of weeks ago I bumped into Mils; I was headed to my car and she was headed to class. It was super brief; we just said hi and she complimented my water bottle (which I have since lost lmao). Have you ever had a song stuck in your head for more than a day? Most likely. Could you go a whole year without cursing? I doubt it. Would you rather give up the computer or the TV? TV! I gave that up like, 6 years ago lol. That’s no problem for me now. Have you ever liked someone who had a girl/boyfriend? No, I haven’t. As of this minute, what is going through your mind? I want to play Mario Kart Tour again but I have to finish this survey first. Does anyone know your password besides you? Gab and my sister. Would you ever take someone back if they cheated on you? I dunno, I’ve never been in that situation. Have you ever ridden a horse? Yes. Are you a patient person? I’m patient with people more; I don’t like the other aspects of waiting, like traffic or waiting in line for something. Could you go a day without eating? I could, but it would suck and it would hurt and I’d probably pass out. Honestly, are things going the way you planned? More than, I guess. I mean I didn’t plan on making it to 21, so I guess everything I do from here on out is more than what I had planned. Are you a forgiving person? No. I prefer holding grudges. When you shut off your alarm clock, do you tend to fall back asleep? HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH YES What is something you disliked about today? My anthropology professor instructed us to watch a film over the weekend. Completely forgot about it of course, and crammed my viewing the night before even though I was already tired. Today, I walked into the room to find out we were gonna watch the exact same movie as a class anyway; meaning I could have rested up last night lolololololol but guess not When's the last time you had a headache? A week ago, I think. Is there anything that you are craving right now? A burger from Pound :( And samgyupsal, ughhhhhhhh. What was the first thing you thought of this morning? How I fucking hate my Wednesday schedule. What part of your body hurts right now? I’m good at the moment. Eyes are starting to feel heavy though. Is there anyone you would like to just appear at your front door right now? Not really. Gab’s working tonight and I wouldn’t want her to drop everything just to surprise me at home. What is something that you realized today? I really dislike my course. I had a very productive afternoon today and started work on each of my final requirements for all my classes this semester – I met progress with every single major requirement, except for those of my journ electives, about which I could really not care less. Is there someone on your mind that shouldn't be? No. Do you remember who your first crush was? Yeah, my 5th grade science teacher. I remember feeling ashamed to disclose it on these surveys back when I was new to this, but it’s been like ten years and I’ve gotten old as fuck and I can just spit it out now lmao. Ever walked into the guy's bathroom? I don’t think so. Have you ever cried from being so mad? Sure. What's a word that starts with the third letter of your first name? Binoculars. Do you have a bad temper? I can, most especially on my period. How many wives or husbands do you want? Wow, just one please. What's the closest pink object to you? My keyboard cover. Do you consider yourself lucky? No. Whats on your bedroom floor right now? A single sock that I’m too lazy to pick up for now, and my dog. Do you trust anyone? I trust lots of people. What's your favorite color gummy bear? Maybe red? I like strawberry/cherry flavored gummies. What's the last movie you saw in the theater? Portrait of a Lady on Fire. If you could push one person off of a mountain, who would it be? Duterte. Wish you could be somewhere else right now? Meh, yes and no. What color is your iPod? I don’t use it anymore, but my Nano is blue. What should you be doing right now? Sleeping maybe? Or at least settling in. Do you like roller coasters? Nope. One famous guy you would marry in an instance? Does it have to be a guy? I got nothing.

#survey #surveys

1 note · View note

xerxia31 · 5 years

Text

Not Real

All Katniss Everdeen wanted was to see the one who got away one last time...

My contribution to the Fall 2018 edition of More Stories to Save Lives, in support of Hope for Caroline. Rated T. Also cross posted to AO3.

Commander Katniss Everdeen stood in front of Trident Hyperrealism Industries, housed in a glossy candy-coloured glass building that stretched up to the sky, and wondered for the hundredth time what she was doing. This was definitely not her district, not her scene at all. But she’d made a promise, and Katniss always kept her word. Clenching her jaw, she pushed through the doors. Her perfectly polished uniform boots clicked on the slick marble flooring, echoing through the massive, opulent lobby. Vases of tropical blooms perfumed the carefully climate-controlled air, contributing to the feeling of decadence. Everything about the space, the building, the whole damned city, was an affront to Katniss. It was all too shiny, too gaudy, too fake.

Though she was on Earth, her planet, the Capitol was as different from her home in District Twelve as any of the outer rim planets she’d visited in her two plus years in command of the starship Mockingjay had been. Foreign and loud and filled with people who had more in common with exotic birds than with Katniss herself, the Capitol might as well be in the delta quadrant instead of nestled in the Rockies only a fifteen second teleport from home.

Katniss shook her head. She had to stop thinking that way. The Capitol was her home now. District Twelve was no more than a memory. She made her way to the reception desk, gave her name, and was directed to an elevator bank, a charmingly old school feature of an otherwise thoroughly modern building. The four-floor ascent in a mirrored box took longer than transporting to the building from her quarters on the outskirts of the Capitol. It reminded her of - no. She wouldn’t think of that place or that time. Not now. Not yet, anyway. A man of extraordinary beauty stood to greet her as soon as the elevator doors opened. Tall, athletic, with golden skin, bronze-colored hair, his incredible sea-green eyes twinkled as he reached out to shake her hand. He couldn’t be real, she thought. He must be one of the simulations that Trident Industries was famous for. The reason she was there, though she wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone else. “Welcome, Commander,” the man said, his voice deep and rich, flowing like melted chocolate. She couldn’t help but be impressed. The simulations she’d encountered in her years of training at the academy had been jerky, somewhat robotic, obviously fake. This, on the other hand, was incredibly convincing. He reached out to shake Katniss’s hand and she was startled by how solid he felt. As if reading her mind, he chuckled. “Finnick Odair,” he said. “Owner of Trident Hyperrealism Industries, at your service.” “You’re real?” she blurted, years of studying diplomacy forgotten in an instant. But he merely smiled, unaffected, perhaps unsurprised by her question. “I am indeed, and I’m here to make all of your fantasies come true.” It was that comment, delivered in a slightly smarmy way, that broke the spell for Katniss. She couldn’t argue that Finnick wasn't one of the most stunning, sensuous people on the planet. But she could honestly say he wasn’t attractive to her. Maybe he was too pretty. Maybe he was too easy to get, or maybe it was really that he'd just be too easy to lose. Katniss was somewhat of a specialist in losing people. “Mr. Odair,” she said, pulling her hand from his grip. “Your assistant told me you’d be able to design a package to suit my requirements.” “Of course,” he said, gesturing towards a small red loveseat, then settling himself across from her. “Trident Hyperrealism Industries is known across the galaxy for our fully immersive simulations that allow you to visit anywhere in the universe and have the perfect vacation experience. No transport ships, no bad weather, no bad service, nothing but pleasure at any of our four hundred and seventy-six thousand pre-programmed destinations.” He glanced at Katniss’s Star Alliance uniform. “Though perhaps it isn’t travel you’re looking for?” “No,” she admitted. “I’ve been to all of the planets I care to visit and then some.” When Katniss signed up to captain a two-year diplomatic tour, she’d anticipated seeing strange new worlds and meeting fascinating new beings. Instead, she did nothing but work and sleep for twenty-eight long months. Her small crew was hardly sufficient to keep the ship running and she’d pulled double, sometimes triple shifts to ensure that everything got done and that her people were sufficiently rested and taken care of. Every minute of each highly anticipated planetary landing was filled with duty and obligation. Though she’d been to Rigel Seven, she’d never gotten to see its twin moons. On Juno, she’d only glimpsed the legendary Tower of Inysis from the window of a transport. During her last excursion, to tiny Bacchus Minor, she hadn’t even set foot on the ground, her meetings and resupply mission having taken place on a satellite orbiting the pretty jewel-green planet. Adrift in the cosmos, Katniss struggled with the isolation of life on a starship, the exhaustion, the loneliness.There was no glamour, no adventure. And while there was definitely satisfaction in a job well done, it was hollow when she had no one to share it with. Her few hours not occupied with work she had spent alone in her bunk, staring at the ceiling, remembering. Regretting. So after her tour, she’d resigned her commission and accepted a teaching position at the Alliance Academy. She was due to begin work in just two weeks time. And though it would undoubtedly make more sense to be spending her first week back on Earth exploring or setting up her new quarters, she was sitting on a candy-coloured couch in a candy-coloured office, chatting with a candy-sweet man who made her teeth hurt and her skin crawl. “Ah,” Finnick said, and a wide smile showed every perfect, sparkling tooth. “So you are looking for a more personal experience.” “I was told that you could arrange for me to see someone. Or, to see a simulation of someone,” she mumbled, and Finnick nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. We have simulations of a wide variety of the most popular beings from history, all impeccably programmed with perfectly rendered with historically accurate voice and speech patterns, reactions and abilities. You absolutely will not be able to tell that the person you’re speaking with isn’t the real deal, guaranteed! You can spend time with Elvis Presley, Alabaster Harrington or Henry Cavill,” Finnick said, listing several sex symbols of the past two centuries. Katniss frowned. “Or,” he hedged, “Maybe you’re looking for a more intellectual experience? Maybe Stephen Hawking or Albert Einstein is more your speed?” “No,” she said. “I want to see someone contemporary. Someone who is, uh, still alive.” “Of course,” he said. “Caesar Flickerman is a popular choice.” Katniss recoiled. Caesar Flickerman had to be over a hundred years old. He had been performing on entertainment broadcasts for as long as anyone could remember; his appearance - white face paint, blue lips, and brightly dyed wigs - virtually unchanged in all of that time. “I didn’t know he was even still around,” Katniss mumbled, suppressing another shudder. “But no. The person I’d like to see isn’t famous.” “I see,” Finnick smirked. “A custom simulation.” “Yes. Will that be a problem?” “No, no of course not. We are quite capable of fulfilling all of our customers’ special requirements. As long as he has a digital record, I can produce a simulation so perfect, it would convince his mother.” The slick grin was back in place. “How did you know he’s a he?” Katniss asked. “I’ve been doing this a long time, Commander. And I can assure you that all of our simulations are fully functional, solid, firm, and programmed with a full library of skills.” It took Katniss two, perhaps three beats to understand the subtext of Finnick’s words. Fire raced up her throat, painted her cheeks. “Mr. Odair,” she said tightly, “I am in no way looking for some sick sexual fantasy.” “Of course not,” he soothed, but his lecherous expression was unchanged. “But what happens in the simulators is none of my business, so long as your expectations are fulfilled.” Katniss’s attention drifted as Finnick outlined the specifications of the program, the cost, the amount of time she would have in the simulator, and what she could expect in terms of realism. Her mind wandered, as it often did, to the man she had spent two and a half years missing with every fibre of her being, to the things she’d said the last time she’d seen him. To the things she wanted, needed, so desperately to tell him now, even if it was only pretend. “And where would you like this encounter to be?” Finnick asked, the smarmy tone creeping back into his voice, catching her attention again. “Your quarters?” “It doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “Your lobby, the sidewalk out front, the virtual location won’t make any difference.” “Surely you’d like something comfortable and private. A hotel? A Turkludiaan den, perhaps?” He was all but sneering; clearly he’d made up his mind that she was some sort of sexual pervert looking to get busy with a stranger on whom she had a crush. But he was dead wrong. Not about the crush part, but about the rest. She wasn’t looking to screw a make-believe stranger. She wanted to see the love of her life. To tell him she was sorry. “It’s not like that,” she snapped, half-rising, and his eyes widened, hands lifting in supplication. She deflated, sinking back into her seat and dropping her head into her hands. Katniss sighed. Every rational thought screamed at her to simply leave. She’d known all along that this was a bad idea. But after twenty-eight months of what was essentially a self-imposed exile, twenty-eight months of not having taken a single shore leave, a single vacation, even a single day off, she was at a breaking point. And it was obvious to everyone around her. Even her cousin, Gale, had noted Katniss’s sadness during their weekly video chats. She was tired and worn out, and Gale was worried enough that he’d threatened to come home from school on planet Spectra to take care of her. Katniss couldn’t allow that. Gale was settled on Spectra and was a model student, hardworking, brilliant. Allowing her own heartbreak and stupidity to compromise his future was unacceptable.

So when Gale, who was frugal to the point of being cheap, sent her a Trident Industries gift card two days ago, just before she’d disembarked from the Mockingjay and walked away from her life on the starship, Katniss had promised to actually use it. “Take a virtual vacation,” he’d insisted. She’d tried to tell him she was fine, needed nothing, but Gale knew her too well. “Live a little,” he’d begged, silver eyes shining in the video relay. “You deserve this, after everything.”

“I just want to see someone I used to know,” she murmured to Finnick, staring at her shiny boots. “One last time.” “Someone you can’t speak with in person.” It wasn’t a question, not really, and the soft tone caught Katniss off guard. She glanced up. The leering, lecherous salesman was gone. In his place was just Finnick Odair, still incredibly gorgeous, but with a kind, compassionate expression instead of a dazzling smile. It made him seem more human somehow. More real. “Right.” “I can do that. I’ll need to access his public records, to ensure the simulation reacts as closely to how he would really act as possible.” “I don’t know where he is now,” she admitted. “He was a student at the Alliance Academy, up until a few years ago. Last I heard, he was teaching at the Panem School of Fine Arts.” Finnick nodded. “That will help. There should be plenty of biometrics available. What’s his name?” o-o-o Katniss talked herself into and out of showing up at Trident a dozen times, but in the end her frugal nature won out. Fifty-five hundred credits was a terrible amount to waste, even if they weren’t her credits to begin with. She berated herself as she got ready, brushing out her long black hair and agonizing over what to wear. It was a simulation. It wasn’t going to care what she looked like! She could have - should have - shown up wearing anything; her uniform, her old hunting clothes, even pyjamas. And yet she pulled from her closet a dress that she hadn’t worn for more than two years, a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. It had been his favourite, another lifetime ago. The building was just as garish as it had been her first visit, but this time Finnick Odair wasn’t there to greet her. A beautiful young woman with an ethereal calmness led Katniss down a long white corridor to a set of imposing silver doors. “Everything has been programmed to your specifications,” she said softly. “The simulation is completely self-sustaining, you don’t have to do anything. But if for any reason you need to exit before the completion of the program, the computer will respond to your commands.” Katniss nodded. She’d studied engineering at the academy before being hand picked for the command program. And while this simulator was leagues ahead of the simple holodecks she was accustomed to, she understood the fundamentals. “Thank you,” she said, but remained motionless outside the closed doors long after the young woman had walked away. Finally she shook aside the lethargy and doubt and entered the simulator. And then gasped. Katniss knew this place, knew every bench, every rock, every flower. She’d spent the past two years seeing this place every time she closed her eyes. The gardens on the rooftop of the academy training centre. Out of every possible place in the universe, how had Finnick Odair chosen this? There was no way he could he possibly have guessed how much this place had meant to her. Had meant to them. It was almost enough to send her running back out of the simulator, down the corridor, back to her spartan grey quarters at the academy. Back to her spartan grey life. But Katniss Everdeen was done running. She stepped cautiously forward, barely hearing the soft snick of the simulator doors closing behind her, immersing her completely in the illusion. She wandered the garden paths slowly, reverently, mouth agape. It was incredible, every detail exactly as she remembered it. She reached out to stroke the glossy green leaves of a hanging vine where it twisted around a pergola. It felt exactly like the vines she’d practiced tying into knots during one of her last visits to the real rooftop gardens. Apple trees perfumed the air. Their gnarled branches just like the ones they’d climbed with abandon during their academy years, playing catch with the sweet fruit. Even the wind chimes tinkling above a lush flower garden were exactly as she remembered them, their gentle chords the soundtrack by which a quiet young woman and a kind young man had made love all those years ago. “Katniss?” She turned slowly at the voice she knew better than her own, the voice of her heart. He was standing perhaps a dozen steps away, an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket in hand, the artificial sun filtering through his ashy curls, crowning him in gold. Peeta Mellark. He was smiling softly, the smile that had always made her feel like the most important person in the universe. As if she could have forgotten how gorgeous he was, how strong and broad and solid. He set the basket down and took a few steps towards her, his grin unwavering. She marvelled at how life-like he was, every detail utterly perfect from his golden eyelashes, so long they brushed his cheeks with each blink, all the way down to the double knots that secured his shoes. It was as if she’d been transported back in time, to those days more than two years ago when life had been perfect, when she’d been happy and loved. All of her pent-up longing overflowed, and she let herself just for the moment forget that it wasn’t real, that it wasn’t really Peeta standing before her, and with a little laugh jumped into his arms. He caught her and spun her around, the arms encircling her just as warm and strong as she remembered. A thousand moments surged through her, all the times those arms were her only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in memory, and now gone forever. As if reading her mind, he pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. Warmth radiated from the spot where his lips just touched her neck, slowly spreading through the rest of her body, enveloping her in comfort. It felt so good, so impossibly good, that she knew she would not be the first to let go. “Still the most beautiful woman in the galaxy,” he murmured, and Katniss laughed, a pained little sound stained with longing and regret. The real Peeta wouldn’t be so kind, she thought. He’d still be angry, and he should be. She’d hurt him terribly. But when the simulated Peeta pulled back, he was smiling at her as if she were more radiant than the sun. “Peeta,” she started, but he laid a gentle finger across her lips, halting the apologies that yearned to trip from her tongue. “Shhh,” he said. “We have time. Let’s relax first. Have a bite to eat.” Peeta led her down one of the sun-dappled paths to a patch of grass right at the edge of the rooftop. She wrapped her hands around the railing and looked out over the edge, where the sun hit the glossy buildings spread before them, making them twinkle like a vast field of fireflies stretching to the horizon. He moved to stand behind her, his warmth against her back. “I’d almost forgotten how pretty it is up here,” she murmured. His puff of laughter teased the shell of her ear, made her shiver. “That’s my line,” he said, amusement colouring his voice. “And you always insisted that it’s not as pretty as our woods.” He wrapped an arm around her collar bones, pulling her back against his broad chest. She smiled, leaning into him, letting herself truly live in the memory made real. Eventually, he led them away from the railing, to where he’d lain a blanket over the soft artificial grass. When he opened the basket and started to pull out the food it held, she laughed with true delight and his grin widened. Inside was a feast — fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, reminiscent of all of the picnics they’d shared in these gardens over their years together. “And the pièce de resistance,” he said almost shyly, lifting a tureen that she was certain contained lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish she had always said was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer. She sobered. “You have a remarkable memory,” she said haltingly, regret again flaring in her gut. “I remember everything about you,” Peeta said, tucking a loose strand of soft ebony hair behind her ear. “You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.” “I am now,” she whispered. “Well, I don’t have much competition here,” he chuckled, self-effacing as always. He never had any competition anywhere, she wanted to say. But she didn’t, because it wasn’t true. He’d always been in competition with her drive, her ambition. It’s why she’d lost him. They sat together in the computer-generated sunshine of an unnaturally perfect day. Peeta fed her bites of bread, slathered in goat cheese and topped with apple slices and they reminisced; about their childhood in District Twelve where they knew each other only by sight, about the friendship that bloomed between them when they found themselves the only two children reaped from their district to join the Star Alliance academy, plucked from their impoverished obscurity and dropped into the garish Capitol to train for the elite star force. A friendship that grew so much deeper when only a couple of years into training, a rogue asteroid destroyed their home district in a hail of fire, leaving them both orphaned and alone with only each other to count on. When the food had been consumed, and the remnants tucked away, Katniss took a deep breath. She’d arranged this simulation for a purpose, there were things she needed to say. “I’m sorry,” she said, and his soft smile fell. “No,” he started, but she wouldn’t let him finish. She knew he’d simply absolve her, the simulation was behaving exactly as Peeta had before she’d left him, kind and forgiving and always putting her needs before his own. “It’s not okay, Peeta,” she said, her voice low but steady. “It never was. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. Not without fixing things between us.” She thought back to when she’d been offered the command of her own starship, years ahead of when most young officers were picked to head up missions. It was so unexpected, had flown completely in the face of their plans. They’d always intended on being commissioned together. She would cut her teeth serving under whatever commander headed up Peeta’s first intergalactic diplomatic mission. His talented silver tongue, his ability to paint pictures with words were abilities that made him a star at the academy. They both knew he would ascend the ranks fastest. But he didn’t. She did. And flush with pride, she’d gone to him, excitement about her accomplishment colouring her every word, every thought. He’d been calm, rational, reminding her of their plans, their future. She’d been angry defensive, afraid to listen to anything that could have jeopardized her independence. Unforgivably, she’d accused him of not supporting her dreams. Peeta, who had been her biggest supporter forever. Even as she’d said the words, she’d known they were untrue. But each one flew from her lips like arrows, each hitting her target, piercing him deeply.

The fight had been awful. She’d said so many terrible things, and he’d responded with stony silence. Angry, frustrated, overwhelmed, she’d run. Left him standing on the lawn of the academy stooped in defeat, the waning sun glowing against his dress whites. That image was burned into her retinas, into her heart, and had haunted her for the past two and a half years. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. The anger she’d clung to like a shield only lasted so long, replaced quickly by regret. She’d tried looking him up in the database, but he’d left the academy almost as soon as she’d boarded that damned ship, moved on to a new life that didn’t include her. So she moved on too, threw herself into her work, tried not to think about him, about what he might be doing, who he might be loving. Peeta listened, the slight breeze tossing his curls as he sat on the blanket, their knees just touching, the warmth of his presence giving her the strength to say everything she needed to say. He never once interrupted as she poured out her heart in a way she couldn’t have with the real Peeta, the one who had been so angry he’d blocked her access to his communicator, who probably hated her. This Peeta listened attentively as she told him about her years in space. As she confessed to having thought about him every single day. “I knew I could survive without you,” she said. “But it’s a terrible, lonely life.” “Enough,” he said finally, pulling her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “I’m to blame too. I shut down, cut you out of my life. If I had stopped being so wounded I would have remembered that our relationship was so much more important than my hurt and jealousy.” Katniss whimpered, burying her face in his shirt, enveloped in his scent. She’d loved him, had always loved him, and yet when she’d walked away that awful day, he’d let her go. When he hadn’t contacted her even once those months before her ship left, she’d simply sealed off her heart. Years of friendship, of passion, of love, were walled up, destroyed, and tossed aside like so much trash. Commander Everdeen needed no one. But she’d been lying to herself. That’s why she was here, on a rooftop, tucked into the embrace of a fake version of the only man she’d ever truly loved instead of virtually touring the lavender sand beaches of Astrazaria. She knew she’d never be able to move on without saying it out loud, without telling at least some version of Peeta she was sorry for all of it, even if he’d never actually hear the words. “Do you forgive me?” she whispered, more for herself than for the illusion of him. His arms tightened. “Yes,” he said. “Can you forgive me?” She nodded against his collar. She’d forgiven the real Peeta’s tiny part in their break up years ago. The sun slid lower in the sky as they clung to each other, soft sighs and gentle caresses speaking of regret, but also contentment. Streaks of pink and gold kissed the horizon, reminding her that their time was almost done. That all too soon, she’d be alone again. The dream, her fantasy, would be over. But she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. She’d told him, and in doing so had freed him from where she’d caged up all of her happy memories. Now maybe she could start to heal. “Ah Kitten,” he murmured, and she froze. Kitten was the pet name Peeta had used when they were intimate, never any other time, and certainly never where anyone else could ever have heard him. How on earth had that gotten into the simulation? It was their secret, something that was only for them. She could feel his soft exhale against her temple. “I miss you so much.” His voice cracked, just a little, and her heart shattered. It was too much, his arms, his voice, his words. It hurt too much. This wasn’t going to help her get over him. “I can’t do this,” she mumbled, tears stinging. She wouldn’t let them fall though, she’d never once cried in front of the real Peeta, not even when she’d left him behind two years ago. She sure as hell wasn’t going to cry in front of this simulation, however real he might feel. His expression when she pulled away and scrambled to her feet nearly gutted her, the confusion, the fear. She turned away, couldn't bear to watch. “Computer,” she barked, listening for the acknowledging beep. Behind her, Peeta gasped. “Katniss?” he rasped. She couldn’t do this anymore, she missed him too much. She was a fool to think that anything could ever heal the Peeta-shaped hole in her heart. This had only made things worse, only made her confront how badly she’d screwed up. How much she still loved him. “End simulation,” she whispered. In the blink of an eye, it all vanished. The rooftop, the gardens, the tinkling wind chimes, all of it disappeared, leaving behind just the bare grey walls. “What the--” a voice from behind her. Katniss whirled. Inexplicably, the simulation of Peeta was still there, staring at her, wide-eyed. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “End simulation!” she yelled, but he didn't so much as flicker. “Shit,” she hissed. What the hell was wrong with this computer? She spun and marched towards the sleek panel on the wall. She'd have to override it herself. Behind her, he kept murmuring her name. And she tried, desperately, to ignore the pleading, disbelieving tone of his voice. He sounded like he had when she'd told him she was leaving. When she had broken both of their hearts. She was trying to manually key in a set of commands when his hands fell on her shoulders, so warm and solid that it made her tremble. This was not supposed to be happening. Finnick promised she could end this at any time. Was it her own desperate need for him holding his avatar there, manifesting him with the force of her desire? “Katniss,” he whispered again, and she felt his warm breath caress her ear. Then he was turning her to face him, and she didn’t resist. Blue eyes roamed her face, as if searching for something crucial. His hands, those hands, so perfectly rendered, long-fingered and elegant, rubbed up and down her arms, shoulders to elbows. Then he smiled, a confused, bewildered little half smile. “You’re real,” he whispered. “Holy shit.” Katniss rolled her eyes, she couldn’t help it. Of course she was real, and this simulation was a little too sentient, it was starting to alarm her. But then he was laughing, he was laughing and pulling her into a tight embrace. “It’s really you,” he choked, laughter mixing with something much more poignant. “I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, Odair,” she mumbled, voice muffled against Peeta’s shoulder. She knew she needed to push away from the simulation, but surrounded by his warmth, by his clean, spicy scent, his big hand cupping the back of her head in that familiar way he always had, she just couldn't. His chest shook as another bout of rich laughter rumbled from his chest. “I thought you were a simulation,” he said once his laughter had calmed. “But it’s really you. You’re really here.” He pulled back enough to see her face, his eyes twinkling with excitement. Her brows furrowed. “You thought…” Katniss trailed off as finally the pieces clicked into place in her mind. “You bought a fantasy from Trident?” Was that possible, that he’d been thinking the same way she had, feeling the same regrets, the same need to set things right, however pretend the setting? Or had Finnick Odair somehow arranged this, convinced him to show up, to pretend to be a simulation? Her head spun.

But Peeta nodded. “I paid 6 000 credits to relive the best day of my life,” he said, and his words made her stomach flutter, a tide of hope rising. “You did too.” It wasn’t a question, exactly, but there was a hopeful lilt to his voice. She shrugged helplessly. “You’re really here.” He cupped her cheek in one huge hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. “I just got back to Earth six days ago,” she whispered “I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted. “Are you disappointed? That it’s really me?” She squirmed with embarrassment; It had been one thing to bare her soul to an empty room. Knowing it had really been Peeta, her Peeta, was horrifying. She fought with her emotions, elation at seeing him again when she’d thought it would never happen and terror that he hadn’t meant the things he’d said, had only been playing a role. “You were so angry when I left.” “God no,” he said, pulling her against him again, his joy palpable. She didn’t resist in the least, wrapping her arms around his waist, her heart overwhelmed by the knowledge that he was here, flesh and blood and Peeta. He was here and he was holding her, like he once had. Like he did in her dreams. Her smile was so wide, he must have been able to feel it against his shirt, but she didn’t care. “I was hurt, and scared, and more than a little selfish,” he admitted. “But I meant every word I said in here, Kitten. I’ve missed you so much. I wanted to see you again so bad.”

“Me too,” she whispered. His soft lips brushed across her temple and he sighed, a contented little sound that she had missed so much. “How long are you staying?” he asked. “For good.” She tipped her head up to meet his confused gaze. “I’m home. I resigned my command and took a job teaching at the academy.” The joy that split his handsome face was almost heartbreaking in its beauty, before he schooled his features into a more cautious optimism. “What does that mean? For… for us?” There was no ‘us’ as far as Katniss knew. She’d come here to get over Peeta, to finally be able to move on after years stuck in limbo. But she finally realized that was the fantasy, that was the ‘not real’. She could never get over him. And she didn’t want to. “That depends on what you want, I guess.” She had been so busy spilling the contents of her soul that she hadn’t asked him about his own life. For all she knew, he had a wife and a dozen gorgeous blond babies waiting at home. The very idea was a like a spear through her heart. “I want you,” he said, serious and solemn. “I’ve wanted you since we were five years old, back in Twelve. I’ve never stopped. And I never will.” He leaned in to kiss her, to really kiss her, and the tears she’d spent forever holding back trickled down her cheeks.

“I love you,” she murmured, the words maybe too soon and yet also far too late. He picked her up and spun her again, laughing as he kissed his own loving declarations into her skin, every word and every caress a healing balm. “Let’s get out of here,” she said when they broke apart, breathless and flushed. “Are you sure?” He waggled his eyebrows, voice brimming with mirth. “We could relaunch the simulator to one of Finnick’s fantasy programs. How about a Pfflachlin coital suite?” Katniss laughed, really laughed, her joy overflowing. “No,” she said between giggles. “No more fantasies. I want real.”

#everlark #xerxia writes #ms2sl

41 notes · View notes

adashofstarshine · 5 years

Link

@themagicharbor

Month of the Ship Day 9 - Sleepy!

Jace has been working himself to the bone, trying to organise a post-war Ravnica. His attempts to live off a diet of pure caffeine is thwarted when a certain Guildmaster pays him another visit.

Jace/Vraska - Post War of the Spark fic. Pre-relationship fluff.

Posted on AO3 and also under the cut!

For one blissful moment, Jace had a fresh cup of coffee. The next, it was gone.

He stared at his own hand where the coffee had once been. Then, as his exhausted brain caught up with this sudden turn of events, looked about for where said coffee was now. He found it. His coffee was in the hands of one gorgon, who was leaning on his desk like it wasn’t the most important desk in Ravnica.

He hadn’t heard her come in. Years of experience as an assassin would do that. It didn’t help that it felt like someone had taped lead weights to his eyelids. He had discovered an entirely new form of being tired and it was one that could only be remedied by delving into the deepest blackest depths of the coffee pot. The coffee, Vraska was now denying him.

He squinted down at the planner Lavinia had nailed to his desk. He definitely had a meeting with the Golgari booked in sometime this week. Them and the rest of Ravnica. He traced today’s schedule with one finger, head almost colliding with the wood of his desk. There was a solid thunk as his hand came up to catch him, elbow slamming hard against the surface. The pain jerked him back to awareness. Oh right, there it was. Three hours booked for the Guildmaster of the Golgari.

“Please, sit,” he told her.

Vraska did not sit.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked. She was wearing her full monarch’s regalia, head to toe in carefully tailored mushroom and other fungi. Her skirts were a flash of colour in an otherwise dull grey office. She looked magnificent. Jace had already told her this and her hair had curled up as the praise flustered her a little. She looked regal no matter what she wore, captain’s coat or queen’s gown, but this new look was certainly quite… distracting.

“Jace.”

“I…err…had a coffee about an hour ago.”

“Ate,” Vraska repeated, “When did you eat?”

He cast his mind back, considering he was a mind mage, it shouldn’t be this difficult.

“I think Lavinia brought me take-out for lunch?”

“That was your dinner yesterday,” came a stern voice from the corridor.

Vraska folded her arms as if she had just made a point. She was still holding his coffee.

Jace frowned.

“When was the last time you left this room?” Vraska continued, “Have you slept at all since I saw you three days ago?”

Oh yes, the meeting with Vraska and those creepy looking lich lords. Food-distribution was key to rebuilding Ravnica and as the ones who produced most of said food, the Golgari were instrumental to keeping everyone fed. That particular meeting had gone rather well, but one arrangement was currently blending into the next. He just had so much to do.

“Yes, I napped in my chair,” he replied. With their last meeting so close, it seemed odd that Vraska would request another so soon. His time was hard-fought for at the moment, so it seemed peculiar that she would need it to demand answers about his current state of being.

“I appreciate your concern, I do,” he said. This was true. Apart from Lavinia’s nagging, Vraska had been the only one to consider how he was faring. People mostly wanted him to do things for them, even Emmara hadn’t hung about for much conversation. Yes, he could have made time to do things like sleep and eat, but he had a lot of making up to do. He had been a terrible Guildpact up to this point and now Ravnica needed him, he had no excuse not to give its recovery one hundred and ten percent of his energy. Large swathes of the city were nothing but rubble, thousands were dead, thousands more without homes, and all the Guilds were looking to him for instruction on how to best cooperate throughout the rebuilding effort. He didn’t have time for sleep.

“I’m up to here,” his hand shook somewhere about his forehead, “In meetings, and paperwork, and decisions. I have…” He checked the schedule.

“Six more meetings after this one. And that’s just today. I don’t have time to…to…”

“Take care of yourself?” Vraska finally sat, hands in her lap, still holding his coffee. Her expression softened as she took in Jace’s dishevelled appearance from a closer distance.

“Jace, trust me, this is not an unfamiliar situation.” She looked down at the coffee, black as mana and almost as potent.

“When I first became Guildmaster, I slept no more than an hour a night, every night for a month. It almost killed me. I drank so much coffee I could barely hold a cup for how much my hands shook.”

Jace looked at his own hands. He was definitely getting there.

“And I felt like I owed it to my guild, to spend every day and night trying to make things right. But after a few months of nearly destroying myself, I realised I was just doing the devkarin’s work for them if I killed myself before I even experienced my first coup.”

Jace frowned at her. He was relating to her story up to the point she mentioned devkarin. Vraska sensed his confusion.

“What I’m trying to say is all your work is going to be in vain if you destroy yourself in the process. Yes, everyone is clamouring for the Guildpact’s time. But they’re not going to have a Guildpact if you work yourself to the bone. You are mortal, you need food and water and sleep. You’re not a construct designed to run on coffee.”

“I’ve seen one of those, the Izzet have them,” Jace managed to crack a smile. Vraska gave an indulgent huff of laughter.

“You’ve survived fights on countless planes. You survived being cast away with no memories of who you are. You survived Nicol Bolas and his eternal army,” she continued, “So, show some pride. Act like it and take care of yourself.”

“Is that an order, Captain?”

Vraska smiled.

“Yes, it is. Get some rest before I have to hoist you over my shoulder and take you to a bunk.”

Some small part of him wondered whether she could actually do that. Another part rather liked the idea of it.

“You wouldn’t. This is my office you know.”

Vraska stood up, her smile had turned cunning. She got up and strode over to the door. Opening it a crack, she addressed the person who was no doubt still outside.

“Captain Lavinia?”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“Would it cause uproar if I were to manhandle the Guildpact out of his office? I will be taking him somewhere where he can obtain a hot meal, a night’s rest and a bath. I promise to return him once he is decent. However, the fuss he will make may lead others to believe he’s being kidnapped”

Jace watched the door as, to his great surprise, he thought he heard Lavinia chuckle.

“You have my permission to manhandle the Guildpact, your Majesty. I can reschedule his meetings for the rest of the day and tomorrow morning if necessary.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Vraska returned her attention to the room. Jace couldn’t quite believe Lavinia had handed out manhandling permission so easily.

“Come on, let’s go before I really do hoist you over my shoulder.”

Jace shakily to his feet, narrowly missing the pointy corner of his desk and he reached for his cloak that law strewn across the floor.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he joined her slowly at the door.

“Home,”

“My home got des-“

Vraska cut him off.

“My home above ground. Shall we?” She opened the door for him to pass through.

The journey to Vraska’s home was slow but uneventful. Lavinia allowed them to pass, taking the coffee Vraska offered to her and drinking it with a mild look of relief on her face. As they left the makeshift Guildpact office, Jace had enough clarity to throw an illusion over the pair of them. It would undoubtedly turn heads if the Living Guildpact was seen walking down through the streets with the Golgari Queen. Vraska sensed the magic settling over them and complimented his quick thinking. The trip outside became worth it for that alone.

Jace wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Vraska’s home, but it wasn’t a cosy little apartment, not far from Tin Street. The building was narrow, almost cylindrical in shape, with a single lift running up and down the exterior. Vraska lived on the fourth floor. She pressed her hand against her front door and whispered what appeared to be a passphrase under her breath. Four clicks and a solid clunk later, they were inside.

“Wow,” Jace couldn’t help but express his astonishment at its interior. Vraska’s apartment, though spotlessly tidy, was full of the most wondrous array of books and trinkets. Shelves of books lined every wall, with the occasional cosy nook or cranny, lined with blankets and cushions, no doubt for curling up and reading in. The window in this large circular room extended up two floors, and a plush velvet window seat took up its entire width. The coffee table, surrounded by low comfortable armchairs, was littered with glistening nick-nacks. Small pieces of pottery, dishes, cups and sculptures were neatly arranged on shelves, some containing plants with others in hanging glass terrariums. He couldn’t help but note the books surrounding them were in many different languages which swam into legibility as he focussed on each one. These books must have been brought here from many different worlds. The same could probably be said for these fascinating little trinkets. This place looked like paradise for a curious mind. Vraska had built herself a little slice of bliss in the busiest part of the Tenth.

“It’s not much,” she said, closing the door softly behind them, “Bits I’ve picked up whilst travelling. After once owning so little, I developed a tendency to hoard-“

“It’s amazing,” Jace cut her off without meaning to and hastily mumbled an apology.

“I mean, thank you for showing this to me…This place seems really special.”

Vraska opened her mouth, closed it again, the tendrils of her hair curling a little tighter to her head as she gave a small smile. She was embarrassed, but pleased. Jace had come to note the quirks in her body language during their time at sea. He couldn’t help but enjoy making her happy.

“Well, you can have a look around after you’ve showered and rested,” she stated, “Bathroom is up the stairs to your left.”

“Am I that dirty?” Food and sleep he could do with but he hadn’t been anywhere filthy. Vraska ushered him towards the stairs.

“As a resident of the Undercity, who has toured multiple rot farms recently, I feel qualified to tell you that you stink.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

Showering felt good enough to ease any nerves that came with using someone else’s bathroom. It was only when he’d peeled his robes off that he realised how sweaty he’d become under the multiple layers of cloth and belts. It was a wet room like arrangement, so he carefully folded his robes on a chair, placed seemingly for that purpose just outside the room. Vraska owned a lot of small bottles of nice smelling liquids, most of which were unlabelled. As he sniffed each one of them, he idly wondered what the procedure was for washing your hair when you were a gorgon. He eventually settled on one he definitely recognised the smell of and scrubbed himself clean.

When he emerged from the shower, he found his robes were gone, and instead there was a large blue tunic and a pair of trousers. With no other option, he donned those, the tunic felt odd compared to his robes, and both top and bottoms were a little on the baggy side. Earlier he had given his robes an experimental sniff and gagged a little. He therefore didn’t begrudge having to wear something else for a little while.

He trod barefoot down the stairs to find Vraska waiting for him in her sitting room/library. She had changed into more casual clothing and now sat with a large canvas bag on the seat beside her. Jace could just about see his cape sticking out the top.

“I’m glad those mostly fit,” Vraska commented as she spotted him in his replacement clothing, “They were left behind by the previous owner. I laundered them of course.”

“Thank you.” Jace stood awkwardly by the stairs wondering what he was supposed to do now. He wanted to take a look at some of those books but he wasn’t going to start prying through her things without permission.

“I haven’t been back here in a while so there’s no food in the house,” Vraska continued, “I’ll drop these off to be laundered whilst I go get some.”

“Thank you, I-“ He didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful guest but a lot was happening very quickly. When he’d planned what he was doing today, none of it contained being whisked out of his office and being looked after like this. He wasn’t accustomed to such generosity without a price. What was he supposed to do to pay Vraska back in return?

“I’m really grateful, I am,” he continued, “You don’t have to do all this. I appreciate that you were worried. But you’ve let me in your house, given me a change of clothes, offered me a place to rest. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…“ His voice tailed off as he began to feel like an idiot for saying all that.”

Vraska stood up and walked over to him. She raised one hand, as if she was going to put it on his shoulder, but her hand twitched in hesitance and she thought better of it. She didn’t like physical contact, Jace could understand that and he was flattered she had tried.

“I do it because I want to,” Vraska stated, “Yes, I’ve been worried for quite some time. I didn’t want to fuss over you like you were incapable of looking after yourself. You are very capable, when you want to be. But I couldn’t stand aside when you were deteriorating in front of my eyes.”

She picked up the bag of laundry and turned, away from Jace’s gaze.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen you in a shocking state. This one however is a lot easier remedied. And even if it’s been some time since Ixalan, I still care about my crew… about you.”

“I-I still care about you too.” Jace almost cringed at how quickly he’d replied. He hated seeming desperate. It was the sort of thing he would surely have been mocked for in the past. Vraska however didn’t mock him. She made jokes, but she was never cruel to him, never demeaning. The difference was one of many factors that kept him stumbling over his words.

Vraska glanced back at him as she headed towards the door.

“Please, go get some rest. There’s a bed in the room opposite the bathroom. This place is safe I promise you. I won’t be long.”

He merely nodded as she made a beeline for the door. There was a little too much haste in her step and Jace couldn’t help but wonder if she felt equally as awkward.

He was asleep as soon as he hit the bed. The bedroom was as enticingly decorated as the living room downstairs, but the allure of the mattress conquered even his need to poke around fascinating old books. When he awoke, it was dark outside. He could hear the rumble and chatter of Tin Street even through solid stone walls. The markets had sprung back into business, even if they had to make do with piles of rumble and makeshift tables instead of their once beautifully decorated market stalls. He lay, half-conscious, listening to the hubbub down below. The pillow smelled really good. Like flowers and maybe herbs. Feeling about he certainly didn’t find any plant life in the bed with him. He yawned widely and his surroundings finally caught up with him. This wasn’t his bed. This wasn’t his house. That was somewhere under a pile of rubble no doubt. Neither was this his desk. He was in Vraska’s apartment. Was this Vraska’s bed?

He got up, wincing at bare feet on cold stone. Padding out onto the landing, he found only one other door on this floor and that was back into the bathroom. He had been sleeping in Vraska’s bed. So, where was she?

His answer came quickly as he descended the stairs. In the light of a single neglected lamp, he saw Vraska curled up in an armchair, a book half in her lap, half propped against a small table. Her head lolled onto the high back of the chair as she slept. The position didn’t look entirely comfortable, but she slept soundly as he approached. Now they were on the same level, he could hear her faint snores. Upon the Belligerent it was deemed excessively dangerous to accuse the Captain of snoring. However, Jace, who had once fallen asleep in the Captain’s quarter himself, was very aware that she did. Vraska vehemently denied the fact, yet here she was, snoring away in her armchair.

She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, thrown into sharp relief by the lamplight. She was paler than usual and somehow, now she was out of her gown, looked smaller, definitely wearier. It had been a long few weeks for him as Guildpact, but he couldn’t imagine it was any less stressful to be Guildmaster in times like these. It was testament to how deeply asleep she must be that he could sneak around her house without rousing her. From experience, he knew she slept light, always wary of danger. It was a frame of mind he knew well.

It was only right that he did something for her, especially after she had gone to such lengths for him. A clock positioned on a nearby bookshelf told him it was the early hours of the morning. He remembered she had gone to get food. Could he make her breakfast? He hadn’t cooked in such a long time, but it was worth a go. He gently stepped round the room, narrowly avoiding another small table. The door to the kitchen was between two book shelves, and it opened silently on its hinges. The room inside was tiny, made for a single person of course. There was a simple gas hob for cooking on, a small counter-top, a few cupboards and a sink. There was a loaf of bread on the counter and a box containing four eggs. A quick scout about the cupboards located a refrigerator, in which he found three types of mushroom, packaged, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be doing with those. One of them was a frilly white specimen a pink stem. These things weren’t colourful unless they were poisonous… He wasn’t sure he was up to Golgari-style cooking today.

He left the kitchen, closing the door behind him. It may be the early hours of the morning but Tin Street never truly slept. Whilst he could probably make a serviceable breakfast out of bread and eggs, the gesture wouldn’t be nearly as extravagant as he wanted it to be. Besides, it might take a few tries and he didn’t want to ruin some of her perfectly good food.

If he wanted to go out, he was going to need better clothes. A quick glance about revealed a pile of neatly folded clothing on a table by the door, his robes clearly at the bottom of the pile. He very carefully lifted the other laundry out of the faction, jumping a little as he accidentally exposed some of Vraska’s…intimates, from amongst the clothing. He scooped them aside by leaving them supported by a jacket. He threw his robes on over his existing clothes, and then an illusion over his robes, before leaving the apartment as quietly as he could.

Even in the wake of the almost-apocalypse, Ravnica was not short on food. He had sat through many meetings with Golgari representatives, and some Selesnyans to discuss the distribution of food, clean water and medicine. The rot-farms produced more than enough; it was just the matter of distributing it before it turned back to rot. The food stalls on Tin Street had replenished their supply in short order, and it proved easy to find all the makings of a good Ravnican breakfast. He also, though he wasn’t going to admit this to Vraska, managed to pick up a few hints and tips for how to cook from the minds of the vendors. A few even had memories of cooking breakfasts themselves.

He was about to call the trip a success when he spotted a small tabled wedged between an ironmonger and a pawn shop. A young girl in Selesnyan robes was sitting there, swinging her legs back and forth as people walked past her stand. He could understand why. In these times, when everyone was focussed on rebuilding their homes and businesses, it seemed unlikely anyone would want to spend their coin on flowers. He approached the florists with mild trepidation. Would flowers be too much? Vraska was a Queen, she could probably get flowers whenever she wanted. They probably didn’t grow very well in the Undercity, though. That was why they tended to favour decorative fungi. Would getting flowers be too forward? He’d once heard there was a whole language behind flowers. It was the sort of thing Nissa would know, maybe Vraska might had read about it in one of her many books? How was he supposed to know which was the correct one to get for the situation at hand? Was there a ‘thank you for letting me crash in your house’ flower?

“Can I help you Mister?” asked the girl. Damn, he’d been caught. He cast his eyes around the stand.

“Can I have those please?” he pointed at a bunch of strange looking orange and purple flowers with a tall stem and long leaves.

“The Bird of Paradise?” asked the girl, getting up and pulling out a paper wrapping. He nodded hastily and passed her a few coins. She passed the bunch over with a smile. He thanked her and then hurried down the street before he made any more questionable decisions. He hoped that Vraska wouldn’t think him an idiot for getting so anxious over flowers! She was thankfully still sound asleep when he got back. He tucked himself away in the kitchen and pulled on all the titbits of information he’d found in the merchants’ minds. One Ravnican-style breakfast coming up!

Vraska woke to the smell of burning. She jolted upright in her chair, book hitting the floor with a thud as she turned, seeking out the impending fire. Her composure steadied when she realised there was no blaze and the smell was coming from the kitchen. She then remembered who she was currently sharing her apartment with. She trusted Jace with her tiny kitchen, but what was he doing in there? She was getting definite wafts of burnt meat from the doorway, which made no sense. She hadn’t bought any meat.

“Jace?” she yawned, “Jace, what are you-?”

There was a colourful stream of swears in many languages. Vraska noted with pride the ones he’d definitely picked up either from her or the Belligerent. Say what you like about pirates, they had some fantastically imaginative curses.

“Jace, what are you doing? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” he called out, “Just…set the sprinkler charm off. Everything is fine, I countered it.”

“Do you need help?” Was he cooking in there? Could he cook?

“Just relax, I’ve got everything under control. I won’t be long.”

Vraska frowned. On one hand it was good that he was more energetic. On the other hand, she didn’t have the time to wait around for the repair-goblin to come fix her kitchenette. She hesitated in front of the door for a moment, before taking a deep breath and stepping away. She was going to trust him. If it was anyone other than Jace…well, she’d never let them in her house in the first place.

Settling back in her chair, she periodically sent cautious looks towards the kitchen door. It felt disconcerting to have someone else in her home. This had been her private space. A sanctum for only those she felt comfortable enough to see her in a relaxed setting. She could count how many people that was on one hand. If someone had told her a few years ago she would willingly give up her bed to the Living Guildpact then she would’ve called them a lunatic. Yet here he was. She’d cared enough about a single person, the Guildpact no less, to storm his office, take him home and fuss over him like some mother hen. She’d got over the embarrassment of it all whilst deciding whether or not to do it. Yet now it had happened…She felt very conscious of what a mess the place was in. None of her possessions were remotely organised, many of the books on the shelves were upside down, and she had left a lot of laundry just lying around. Thank goodness she knew a little Dimir-run place that washed clothes without questions. Somehow handing over the Guildpact’s robes to be laundered felt worse than passing them a pile of dresses covered in stone dust and blood-stains.

However, it was nice to spend a little time above ground. Her quarters in the guildhall were certainly luxurious, but she’d lived so long beside the bustle of the street below, that she frequently missed the noise. Stepping out into the sunlight, after spending so long in shadow, had felt like entering a warm bath. She got to make these trips for meetings, but she’d missed her own space. One that had never been owned by some elven lich lord, as far as she was aware.

“Breakfast!” The door to the kitchen swung open with a thud. Turning immediately at the sudden noise, she immediately identified the source of the burning smell. Jace was carrying a large tray laden with breakfast foods. From her seat, she could see bacon, eggs, sausages, fried vegetables, fresh bread, jam and a large jug of apple juice. She rose to her feet and cleared a space on the coffee table so he could set the tray down, staring all the while. It looked and smelt amazing, if not a little crispy in places.

“I hope you like it. I had to make a few attempts, but it certainly seems edible.”

She simply stared at him. Jace evidently could cook and…he’d done all this for her?

“Oh,” Jace hastened back to the kitchen and returned with something behind his back. She could just make out a glimpse of something orange over his shoulder.

“This may seem a bit much, but the florist outside wasn’t doing much business, and I felt it would be a nice surprise as you might not see these sorts of flowers very often in the Undercity. So, here.”

She was suddenly presented with a quivering bunch of Bird of Paradise. The source of shaking was certainly Jace’s hands. He looked extremely unsure of himself and Vraska wondered if her expression mirrored the feeling. Flowers? For her? She couldn’t remember an occasion when someone had given her flowers. Her guild members would present her with mushroom bouquets at formal dinners. Yet this was completely different. This was so sincere. Jace had seen flowers and simply wanted to get them for her? This was…a lot.

She took the flowers as she struggled a little with a composure.

“Thank you,” she almost cringed at the breathless note in her voice.

“And…thank you for breakfast. It all looks amazing. I- Thank you Jace.”

The way he stood up a little straighter showed his pleasure at being thanked. She remembered how eager he’d been to show her new things he’d learned aboard the Belligerent. This was almost exactly like that. She was going to have to eat this even if it was terrible. She didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.

She had no need to worry. This surpassed all the café breakfasts she’d had over the years. She liked her bacon on the crispy side and somehow Jace had managed what she never could – to fry eggs so they were still slightly runny in the yolk. They both dug in with the fervour of two overworked leaders who had been thriving off coffee and take-out for the last few weeks. Vraska wasn’t going admit it, but she’d skipped more than enough meals lately for Jace to call her a hypocrite. She’d also drunk far too much tea and coffee. She’d had to start refusing her aides whenever they offered a fresh pot. After realising what she was doing to herself, the signs in Jace were clear as day. They both needed this, even if it was only a nap and a good meal.

“How was it?” Jace asked, as they cleared plates away. Upon returning to the kitchen, Vraska had discovered he had used almost every item of cookware and crockery she owned. They were now sharing the washing up.

“It was great. You might have a new career if politics doesn’t work out for you.”

Jace laughed.

“I enjoyed it, even if I did wreck your kitchen somewhat.” He glanced at the increasing pile of crockery in need to drying and picked up a second tea-towel.

“It’ll survive,” Vraska replied, “I agree, though. I also enjoyed it. Perhaps we should have meals together more often.” She wasn’t pushing too hard, was she?

“Do this regularly?” Jace gave it a mere second of thought, “That would certainly make sure we have a proper meal every now and again.” He was speaking faster, a sign that he was nervous yet excited about the prospect of regular casual meetings.

“Indeed, you don’t have to cook of course. I know some excellent places that I think are still standing.”

Jace nodded.

“Me too. I’ve had a few lunch meetings down the road from the offices. It’ll be an excuse to get some fresh air every once in a while.”

Handing him a bowl, Vraska remembered a promise they’d made before everything had gone apocalyptic.

“And when things go back to normal,” she suggested, “Maybe we can have that book and coffee date?”

Jace almost dropped the bowl. He grinned and instantly looked like he’d lifted a several weeks of stress in a moment.

“I think I can book in some time for that.”

Vraska smiled in return. The last few months had been fraught with danger and war. Yet standing here, in the kitchen, with Jace? It felt like in this moment they weren’t Guildmaster and Guildpact, or even Captain and Crew. Despite knowing her treacherous court were waiting for her down below, here, in this moment, she had a friend. It was odd. To think she would let someone in this far. Eat with others outside a formal occasion. Even doing domestic chores with another person seemed bizarrely exciting. The thought she could come up and enjoy this kind of simple pleasure – a meal, a conversation, maybe even a date. Well, this post-war Ravnica just seemed a little brighter.

#MTGSHIP #month of the ship #jace/vraska #mtg #only a day late!#I didn't finish any of the days #they turned into one big fic

4 notes · View notes

meddows-theblondebastard · 5 years

Text

Cocky Teaser (70s!Roger Taylor Imagine)

If you came across this imagine, don’t forget to comment or heart it if you like. Feedback is really helping me and giving me the power to continue what I’m doing. Hope you’ll enjoy your reading!

Also posted on AO3.

Warnings: teasing, we all like teasing, don’t lie to me, swearing and I think that’s all, ha.

Additional details: → Action taking place in the mid 70s or so.

→ 70s!Roger Taylor is how was in my mind writing this, but you can also imagine BoRhap!Roger Taylor.

→ There is going to be a part two coming soon. :)

PLOT: It’s nothing new for you. Just Roger Taylor being a cocky teaser in a live interview when he’s asked about the two of you. After all, could you ever complain?

Imagines

(Credits to Mel for the picture on Pinterest.)

After a hot, almost one hour long shower, you wrapped yourself in the blanket of your bed and turned the TV on. You are wearing fluffy pajamas and can’t feel any trace of cold air brushing your warm skin. The feeling is very satisfying. You let your wet hair hanging loosely over your shoulders and it smells like freshly green apples while you’re doing the channel surf. Roger texted you fifteen minutes ago to tell you that the interview will begin in a short time. Your phone almost slipped between your fingers in the water while you tried to read that message, but it turned out okay. So now, you actually found the right channel on which the interview would be broadcast and you are waiting for thr boys to be live. You wanted to watch this, Roger, Freddie, John and Brian will talk about the album they’ve just relased and it is very nice to see it. They are funny and full of jokes on TV, just like they are face to face. You thought about going to grab a snack or something to drink, but it was too late when you heard the show intro and saw the presenter. Watching carefully and already entertained, you remained on top of your bed, knees pressed against your chest.

„... As we announced last week, here we are tonight with the Queen herself.” The young women did the introduction gesturing toward the four men sitting on a couch and the camera was immediately focused on their faces. They already seem amused.

„Hello everyone.” They greeted and added something about how nice it was to be there.

„You seem very ready, what keeps you all so energic?” The beginning was always long and in slow-motion and still you had to wait until they would start the real talk. Your eyes were mostly on Roger and how he was reacting to everything. He had the usual messy, blonde hair hanging freely on his shoulders, wore a black, slightly unbuttoned shirt with matching color jeans and last but not least, a soft smile on his lips. That aspect made you smirk unwittingly.

While one after the other, each of them began to answer questions about music, future plans and concerts, you turned the volume up and searched for the brush to comb your hair. While doing that, you could hear their voices and how they would laugh ocasionally at the presenter’s choice of words. You have always appreciated that about them, how they were so natural and honest, not even trying to give tons of details to ruin future surprises. Or personal things. They are smart, classy and modest.

„Roger, may I ask you an innocent question? It’s for purely wise purposes.” Said the woman, putting her hands on the table she was sitting at. Roger was already on position and you became suddenly more concentrated than you were five minutes ago.

„Only I get to decide that, darling.” He says, but he isn’t concerned, he has a nice expression as always, trying to make everything be more true, if it was even possible. „But of course, I wouldn’t mind at all. What is it?” He continued. He’s a well-bred person, you can say, but if you reach too much of his territory – that strictly in a personal manner – he can become very observant. Distant and a little bit rude even. You got to know that about him within the time spent by his side.

„We’re all aware of the fact that you’re spending time with Y/N. You and her seem pretty close to each other, right?” Your eyebrows raised when you heard the words coming out from the woman’s mouth. Wasn’t that something too personal to ask? It is obvious that those people want to know, but is it necessary this way? Is it even polite? You sit on the bed again, your eyes being stuck on the TV’s image.

Roger didn’t even seem surprised when he heard that. He didn’t look pissed or confused, instead, he grinned. What? What is he doing?

„May I ask too, what are you trying to say?” He says.

„Oh, I bet you know it already! How are you two in terms of a relationship?”

This woman is a little too excited about that kind of detail.

„We are trying to figure that out too. It was last year when she started to study at Medical College while Roger himself was finishing it.” Freddie added, smirking in the blonde one’s direction.

„Is that so?” The presenter asked.

„Yes, mostly.”

„Oh my God.” You managed to whisper, shaking your head. He’s doing it again. Again.

„Are you two good friends?”

„We kind of fight whenever we get the chance, but otherwise, yeah, we get along pretty well. She has little interesting things in her character, it gets catchy to be around someone like her.” Roger details, looking like he was in deep thoughts. You can see the rest of the boys slightly giggle at him and the woman who asked all of this stuff seemed too content with what she was receiving.

Roger has a point. Anyway, thinking about the bound between you two is surely strange. Because you never understood how things were happening and never wanted to overthink just to make a sense. You two weren’t the absolute perfect definition of the word ‚friends’, it was always a middle point in which no one was getting closer and no one drifted away. Last year, you remember what it was like to be a proud student at Medical College. Your first days were so full, you barely had time to take breaks or meet new people. Roger was studying dentistry and came out of nowhere when you were trying to figure out your classes and where were they located. It is a big school and he helped you and said that you look new around there. He explained you almost every single detail you needed while you asked him who he was and what was his name. You would laugh right now. He couldn’t stop staring at the height difference between you two. Later on, he would’ve made fun of it without any problem. He was twenty-three that time and you were twenty. You would see him in lunch breaks and around the campus carrying different documents with him and being particularly distracted. He would’ve often offered to hang out with you in your free time, including weekends, so as you and him got to know each other. He’d told you that he’s having little performances with this band of his, in small locations around the town you were living in and one day he even got to invite you to one. From the start, Roger was a mysterious kind of guy, choosing his words with caution whenever he spoke. He was funny and always managed to have a small grin drawn on his thin lips. He is a skilled drummer, he has that spark in his eyes while he talks about music and you could always see how much he enjoys singing and playing instruments on stage. He even told you that he would’ve dropped college for a music career when both of you became comfortable enough in each other’s company. Luckily, he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore now; after settling everything with Queen, the boys get more and more recognition, they are working on the upcoming album, planning tours and … Roger’s been privileged lately.

This interview seems to be in his favor. He doesn’t avoid certain questions and isn’t afraid to speak about you, since it is clear how was it between you two. And he definitely knows that you’re watching, that’s why he has this kind of reactions.

„How well do you get along, if so?” The presenter’s voice is heard again, but you’re not so concentrated on her anymore. You watch Roger and how the boys react to his words. He shakes his head and laughs a little, then he shifts a bit on the couch.

„Honestly, she wouldn’t like me to answer this question, but I hardly ever listen to what she says. She gets red in the cheeks or starts to talk fast and all that. All we do is tease each other. Anyone of us is going to say anything.” You couldn’t believe what you heard. Actually, you could, it is just out of blue in Roger’s case. Why is he still blabbering about you? Live. While not only you yourself, but a lot of people are watching. Your relationship with him needs to be a thing of yours only.

Oh, you know him. You know him enough. He enjoys to piss you off, although it’s rare when you really do that.

„So you mean she’s watching us right now?”

„Yeah, she is.” He answered. „Hello there, Y/N.” He waved at the camera and on your TV’s screen, that was a hilarious moment. Damn.

You let yourself fall on your back on the bed, hands on your forehead and feet cold. A weak smile appeared on your lips suddenly and it was awfully wrong. No, don’t do that. You’re being a fool and you will never let Roger Taylor fool you. You were almost as good as him at this aspect. You played each other before, it is normal by now, but your ego needs to be fed. You don’t give a fuck about how that looks like, Roger doesn’t care either when it’s a win-win thing. He’s too full of himself sometimes. Well, you weren’t the kind of person to take that as it was. It was something in the air, you could say, you felt that numerous of times. And you will test that, just as Roger likes to tease you. Because he was a cocky teaser since day one. When he hangs out with you, when he’s drumming and you’re watching, when he makes you dress like him, when he gets both of you drunk … these are just a few of those moments. They’re memorable, but they show just a little part of you and him. There’s a lot more.

„We should really let these freaks alone. They’re special in their own way and you can’t understand that. Believe me, we can’t either.” You heard Brian’s voice but didn’t mind to look back at the TV.

„We can. Instead of that, we chose not to, because they might as well kill everyone around them with just a single glare.” John added and somehow, he was right. The woman laughed.

„Haha, good to know then.”

The rest of the interview was forgotten in a moment. You couldn’t concentrate on it anymore and chose to lay on the bed, underneath the blankets. But because you didn’t want to be rude, you let it finish by itself and after that, you turned off the lights and the TV and tried to sleep. Your phone buzzed somewhere in the room, it was Roger for sure. With a cunning smile on your face you ignored the sound.

You were both teasers.

The next morning, you still didn’t respond to his text. But he didn’t insist. After you woke up and ate your breakfast, you dressed in your already common black jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket, tied your Y/H/C hair up in a not-so-neat ponytail and looked into the bathroom mirror. You never apply make-up, it’s not something you’d prefer so much. Some people along with your mother and some friends told you that you have beautiful features and that you don’t need any trace of make-up on your skin. You decided to believe that for good because it was actually true, though you never really appreciate details like these ones. Brian, John, Freddie and Roger used to compliment your clear skin when you would catch them staring at you. Besides Roger, who would try to look careless but smile after all when you would catch just a bit of him looking at you.

His house is almost an hour away and that’s a good thing right now. It would’ve been awkward to live close to each other and it would’ve gave him opportunities to try and visit you frequently. Or ‚check on you’, a comment which he used often to make you slap his shoulder or stick your tongue out.

Because you didn’t own a car, you had to simply walk the distance to Roger’s. It was good, you had the chance to think about what you needed to tell him, or how were you supposed to act. Last night, the thought of you two being more than weird friends who fight and purposely snap at each other was the main topic which made you be convinced that your indifference and eventual avoidance doesn’t really exist. You enjoy Roger’s company, even with his ego, behaviour and way of speaking. He is the first new pal you met in your first year as a student and he made sure, somehow, to make that worth it. Your personalities fitted well. Sarcasm, dirty jokes here and there, subtle looks, crazy and loud nights with the band, bold music, trips, hangovers … As much as you could say, these boys made gold out of your most important moments going through a totally new level of your life. You took all that fun in, knowing that you need to welcome it in order to create memories and things to last. The dangerous feeling of the unknown never really pushed you away from anything and that’s why you and the blonde bud’ kind of clicked.

Needless is to say that you would never take that back under any circumstance.

As soon as you got in front of the house he lived in, you heard powerful bangs echoing all the way to the yard. Early rehearsals, that was it about. Roger usually does that on free weekends. You didn’t knock on the door because he wouldn’t hear a single thing. Instead of that, you just entered the house and went straight to the kitchen in order to reach the garage where he was. You went to the stairs passing the dishes in the sink and even from the top of them, the drums were so powerful for your ears. Slowly getting down, you could see Roger behind his drum kit. He has his eyes closed and big headphones on his head. You don’t make a sound while you remain in the back of the room, watching him. He’s always so concentrated while drumming. The veins on his neck look like they might explode in any minute and his hands move in fast motion. You like the image very much.

With one more hard bang, he stops, finally opening his eyes. He exhales and puts up a big smile dropping the drumsticks somwhere near him and taking off the headphones.

„Nice view.” You ‚welcome’.

„Thanks.” He answers and gets up from the little chair he was sitting on. He pulls on his hair with a hand, messing it a little. „You didn’t answer my text last night.”

„I didn’t, yeah. I fell asleep.”

„Oh.” He said, opening a bottle of water and taking a sip from it. „What did you think about the interview? ’You liked it?”

„No, Roger, I didn’t like it.” You answered, anger being visible in your tone. You crossed your arms to your chest when you got closer to him, looking between the drum kit in front of you.

„I see. Your eyebrows are already frowned.” He added like it was an accident or like it wasn’t something new on you.

„What was that about?” You started „It gets catchy to be around someone like her … . All we do is tease each other. You know, I figured that out already. You did that on purpose.”

„Y/N, are we going to make a scene out of that?”

„You won’t stop, right?” You weren’t pissed because his strategy got to your mind in no time. You grinned a little at him as he was about to open his mouth again. But he was anticipating you.

You moved closer to the drums and searched for the drumsticks. When you noticed them, taking them into your hands, you banged a cymbal. And then another. And another, trying to recreate the beat and sound of something Roger once thaught you. You are too curious sometimes and you definitely can’t keep that to yourself. The drumsticks feel so big in your hands, you’re not used to them and it seems odd to try and play like Roger. He’s too good at this for you and it is a strong point for him. No matter how anxious you were to learn more from him, his technique is quite difficult for you, it's an art that only he can hold onto so well and you think it's better this way. Noticing your attempt, he swallowed his words and watched how you moved your hands, somehow like a proud teacher eager to congratulate your progress. Only that, it wasn’t about progress here. You positioned yourself on the little chair, thinking about your next moves. You banged to the left and right and the beat was built-up pretty good. You were kind of proud while your eyes found Roger’s. Your breathing fastened and you bit your lower lip.

Roger suddenly came behind you, leaning down on his knees, eyes locked on your frame. These drums are hugging you, literally, because you are still a short person and the sight of you behind such powerful instruments makes him wanna clap his hands for you.

„Center.” He murmured and instinctively, you banged just above your knees. „A little bit longer to the right,” he continued, his deep accent lingering through both of your ears. „Then to the left.” Your hands did exactly what Roger said to you and knowing he was behind your back made you tense up. You straightened your back but the warmth of his body kept reaching to your skin through clothes. You felt his hands taking a gentle grip on yours and he started to guide your movements. A little more bold as you were before, along with your own hands he banged continously to the right, then center and to the left and then a cymbal to create the slightly slow beat of ‚I’m In Love With My Car’. You smiled to yourself but Roger’s breath was hitting your neck and that made you so damn distracted. Swallowing hard, you wanted to keep your body as strong as ever, not going to let him take control over you. A few more bangs and you stopped, making Roger step back, but not getting up. Anything could happen and it was very hard for you to think about it. You wipe your hands off your jeans and finally get up from the chair, but Roger has other ideas. When you turn to face him, kind of unprepared, he’s looking at you still being on his knees. His naughty hands go up you legs and he’s slowly getting up right now, resting his palms on your waist. You feel a strong pressure on your shoulders and in your chest. Roger is now, and again, taller than you, a fact which only gets on your nerves. You try to keep any specific expression away from your face with eyebrows still frowned.

He wants to do something, but he does nothing still. He is looking down at you and you won’t dare to look back. It’s about you two. It’s about teasing. It’s about everything and anything you never said to each other. Trying to explain things was boring, always boring for both Roger and you. You would just show up into the room with messed up hair, accelerated breathing, but you would never forget to smile or laugh. You would take his leather jackets and wear them in his spite. You would laugh in his face, scoff him, yell at him, punch him in the stomach playfully or stick your hands into his sweaty hair. You would argue with him about being too noisy, annoying and not too serious for his liking, but you wouldn’t have a care in the world because at the end of the day, he would still throw a hand over your shoulder to drag you closer to him. He is so, so stubborn. So heated up, so ready to knock you down just to help you get back up. He loves when you listen to his songs and drumming, he loves when you want him to learn you what he does, but in your own way, you are a little bastard. And since this feelings thing started to go on and off between you two, what you did was only to make him want to make a move just to back off shortly after that. And looking into your eyes right now, at your baby face and big, confused eyes … It was so fucking tangled. Roger could feel this in his whole body. It took a good amount of confidence to close the distance between you two. Your noses touched and you felt as nervous as you don’t even remember being before.Trying to kiss you, you lifted one drumstick up and shoved it lightly in his abdomen.

„What are you doing?” You asked, not being able to hide the smirk starting to form on your lips. Roger laughed a little and snatched the drumstick from your hand, throwing it on the floor. He wouldn’t answer. You waited. What he did was to cup both of your cheeks with his hands and smash his lips upon yours rapidly. Your breath stopped in your throat and you froze. Your eyes widened while looking into Roger’s whose weren’t still closed as you expected. You did that before. This wasn’t the first time kissing Roger, it was actually the first time it felt like this. The real first time you two kissed each other was when you were both shitfaced along with Freddie and the others and he asked Roger if he would ever just kiss you. He never even thought about it. He’s said yes and then kissed your lips sloppily, fast, just like a simple peck. You didn’t feel nothing back then, because it was nothing serious.

In this moment, his hands went to touch your neck slowly and his eyes closed. You relaxed a little, but still managed to breathe in a fast manner, too nervous to make a move by your own. The only thing you could do was to let him do whatever he wanted. At some point, he stopped, opening his eyes again, puffing cold air right in your face. He seemed unsure and somehow uncomfortable, like he was afraid that he forced the note. Oh, screw it. Just screw it.

You shook your head and places a hand at the back of his head, pulling him too close. You were the one who started the kiss this time, moving your lips and feeling a big tension building up in your stomach. You encouraged him to open his lips and then he was in control. His tongue reached yours in gentle motions, his hands finding their way back to your reddened cheeks. With fast breathing for both of you, he ended up hugging you tightly through the kiss, something which felt so unusual for the way he previously acted around you. Who would’ve thought Roger Taylor is such a sweetheart? A crazy, furious, but cute sweetheart?

The intensity of the moment almost killed you and when both of you stopped for air, your lips remained slightly parted.The first instinct that came to your mind was to slap him in the face. Then, looking into his eyes, you wanted to smile. No one was saying a word and staring was ridiculous. Roger tried to smirk, it was visible on his face, but footsteps started to be heard upstairs. In a blink of an eye, you backed away from the drums you were almost laying on while Roger looked down at his feet. This is stupid. It was stupid to let him kiss you. It was never a game and you were convinced that you could beat his own arrogances, but now, that kiss softened you in a way which scared you. You hate the feeling.

„Did we interrupt something?” Freddie’s voice was heard in the room and when you looked in the stair’s direction, he was there with Brian and John.

„Hi boys.” You greeted them. „I didn’t know you were coming.”

„Roger invited us this morning. Hey, did you see the interview?”

„Yeah, it was funny.” You mumbled, not being in your scene anymore. Your lips were aching for a certain touch and that was beginning to piss you off. „I’ll leave. ’See each other around.” You announced and looked at Roger from over your shoulder. You could say he was analyzing you by his blue eyes glued on your body.

„Don’t you wanna stay? C’mon, we have to practice and you can watch and maybe sing with us!” Freddie added, smiling at you in a very sweet way. The boys were always excited to have you around when they were rehearsing.

„No, uh- … Maybe another time, okay? Good luck.” You wished them and then left the room. You could hear John whispering back: „What’s up with her?” to the others.

You wanted so bad to snap at Roger back there. But it wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t okay and now you tend to overthink the situation. Really, what’s up with you? You don’t do this, you swore you would never overthink on Roger. Something burned in the back of your mind and you couldn’t name it. He would better explain himself quickly, you aren’t going to do this over and over again.

Thank you for reading! Thoughts? Are you excited for part two?

Read the other imagines that I posted if you still didn’t and don't forget that I accept requests!

xoxo, D.

#roger taylor imagines #roger taylor x reader imagines #queen imagines #queen #bohemian rhaposdy imagines #roger taylor #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #ben hardy #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader #roger taylor x reader #meddows theblondebastard imagines

8 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

A/N: it came early! I was meant to publish this on the sixth but I’m just too excited to share it with you all :) Hope you enjoy!

Synposis: Your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, has gone missing. After acting erratic for a few weeks, spending all his time locked away in his studio, he suddenly vanishes into thin air, leaving only an unreleased album behind. Zodiac.

chapter one - if there is one to be sought, it is he

“Did your boyfriend seem like the type to just up and leave?”

When the police had asked you that question less than two hours ago, you had immediately said no. Now you weren’t so sure.

You hadn’t seen him in over a week, but he had only been officially reported missing since this morning, and so, after contacting the police, your next pitstop had been the place he was holed up in all that time.

His studio was on the second floor of the Cypher Ent. headquarters, and although you knew the password to get in, you had never actually used it before. Namjoon liked to work alone and for long bouts of time. Early on in your relationship, when you were just starting to get serious, he had asked you not to visit him at work so that his work flow wouldn’t get disrupted, and you had respected that these past three and a half years. He was extremely gifted, a hard worker, and very successful, so you knew that if you wanted a relationship with him, you’d have to make those kinds of compromises.

Now, though, after all that had happened that day, you spared no second thoughts to letting yourself inside. There were no security cameras in the room, and the CCTV footage in the building had already been checked, showing him enter last Wednesday, and never exit. Yet when his younger brother Taehyung had stopped by to surprise him with a new painting he had just made for the studio, there was no one there.

It smells like him in here. It was often that he’d practically live in the studio, and so it didn’t surprise you to see that he had set up a fold-out couch and a little dresser with clothes and some toiletries. The rest of the room was dedicated to business; every square inch covered in producing equipment, strewn papers and post-it notes, a mess that was typical of an artist.

You got out your phone and dialed his number once more, something you had done over fifty times today, just in case. Nothing. Feeling the strange floaty apathy of shock, you pulled up his desk chair and booted up his computer on the main desk.

The log-in screen pulled up; his icon the cover of the album he released last year. There was a password required and no hint given. You sigh and tip your head back against the chair, drumming your fingers.

You knew his phone password was your birthday; he had told you once when he was completely drunk at a house party, and although you had let him know the next day in case he wanted to change it to keep it private, he told you he liked it that way.

But after typing your birthday in every arrangement you could think of to no avail, you gave up that avenue. Of course it would be something difficult. You didn’t know anyone more secretive than Namjoon and his other friends who were music producers. Keeping your beats and hooks on lockdown while they were being worked on was the only way to prevent plagiarism, and they took it extremely seriously.

The password was probably a random string of letters so as to be unguessable. That meant he had to have it written down somewhere, otherwise he’d forget it. In the end, it took you almost fifteen minutes of sifting around his stuff before you picked up an old polaroid of the two of you, only to notice a symbol he had drawn on the back in a red pen. You frowned, staring at the M-like shape with an extra hook on the end. It was…a star sign? Joon was a virgo, perhaps this was the virgo sign? You knew it wasn’t your star sign, and you didn’t know what else it would be.

Seriously doubting it would work, you scoot back over to the computer and type in virgo, pressing enter and straightening up in shock when it actually works. Namjoon had never been one of those star sign fanatics, or at least you didn’t think he was.

When his desktop appears, you pause again. Sure, you had never been in here, but you had seen his personal laptop several times, and you knew that he was the type of guy to have a completely cluttered desktop filled with shameless porn folders, random screenshots, and a million and one files he had named with key smashes.

Seeing a completely empty desktop was not right. You grabbed the wireless mouse and began trawling through his computer, but not coming across a single document, mp3, or even any browsing history on Chrome. It had been totally hollowed out.

That was, except for a little flashing red light sticking out the side of the monitor. A flash drive. You take it out and plug it back in, and a notification pops up, giving you the option to open the contents of the flash drive, which you do.

One folder, thirteen tracks. It was an album.

You let the cursor hover over the first track, pondering why this was all he had left. Was he clearing everything up and forgot it? But you didn’t recognize these titles, which meant it was new work. He always turned on some form of hyper-focus and obsession when he produced new tracks, there was no way he’d accidentally leave it. There must be a re-

You jump in your seat as your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out. It’s a text from Taehyung, who’s been messaging you almost constantly since this morning, frantic with worry where you’ve become despondent with shock.

They’ve assigned detectives now, two of them. They should be almost at the studio to look over the place. I’ll be there once I’ve finished my statement. We’ll find him, Y/n <3

Your heart skips a beat again when all of a sudden you hear footsteps coming to a crescendo outside the studio. A solid three raps land on the closed door.

You bite your lip, hesitate for a moment, then tug the USB out and stash it in your pocket.

“I’ve already talked to the police.” You stare at the two detectives across from you. They must be around your age, with unblemished skin and glossy hair, but their eyes are hard and determined. You can tell from those eyes that they’ve both seen enough horror to last a lifetime.

The taller detective with chestnut hair, Jeon you think it was, lets his eyes trail over the studio as the other, Detective Park, crouches on the floor, rifling through the drawers of your boyfriend’s heavy mahogany desk. He flickers his gaze over to you with slightly narrowed eyes. “I’m aware. Park and I are simply investigating all possibilities at this stage. I find it’s preferable to speak with the persons involved myself, rather than reading a transcript. It won’t be a bother, I assume?”

The small solid device in your pocket digs in as you sit on Namjoon’s office chair. “It’s fine.”

Detective Park stands up, slipping Namjoon’s spare hair brush into a plastic bag with blue-gloved hands. “We know it must be awfully hard for you to keep talking about it, but we’re just trying to do our job, Miss.”

“I know that,” you snap back, then take a calming breath. “Sorry, I just…all of this hasn’t really sunk in yet, and I’m a little scared of what’s going to happen when it does. I feel barely functional right now as it is.”

Jeon clears his throat stiffly, working his tense jaw. “Right, then, let’s get on with this. Were you and Mr. Kim having any relationship issues prior to his disappearance?”

“No,” you answer automatically.

“But you hadn’t seen him for a week before he went missing?”

You curse yourself for shifting awkwardly under the man’s intense gaze. “Well, no, b-”

“His friend, Mr. Jung, said that he very rarely went home, and that he would often make up excuses to hang around the studio longer.”

Your lips part a little. “…I didn’t know that.” You take another deep breath, puffing out your cheeks. “I just always thought he was a workaholic. He told me he was busy, I didn’t…If we were having relationship problems, he never thought to tell me that.”

Jeon has the dignity to look a little remorseful for being so harsh, and he steps away from you, gesturing with a tip of the head for his partner to take over.

Park pats down his trousers and rests his butt against the edge of Namjoon’s desk, placing himself beside you. “Listen, Y/n- I can call you Y/n, right? Good. Well, normally we aren’t so frank with the victim’s loved ones, but I think you could really help us-”

“Don’t, Jimin,” Detective Jeon warned, “you’re not meant to give that kind of information away.”

The rosy-haired detective shook his head. “I get that, but we need her.”

You glance back and forth between them, unable to decipher the silent conversation. “What? Need me for what?”

After an entreating gaze from his partner, Jeon turns to you, hands in his trouser pockets. “We’ve arrested a suspect,” he admits, “we’re still in the middle of questioning, and he doesn’t seem interested in giving us any information on Mr. Kim’s whereabouts, but the details certainly add up. We can’t say anything for sure yet, but…”

“It’s promising,” Detective Park finishes softly, giving you a warm smile.

You almost can’t believe your eyes. “Are you serious? Already?”

Jeon shrugs. “This guy has it all. Motive, no alibi, has been in the area over the past week, previous convictions. We just need to get him to talk.”

Park nods and places a hand on your shoulder. “Which is where you come in, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t understand,” you confess, “what do I have to do with any of this? And who’s the guy who did it?”

Jeon sighs, tensing his jaw. “Mr. Min Yoongi. And he says he’ll only talk to you.”

TAGLIST Message me or send in an ask if you wish to be added to the taglist. You’ll receive a notification every time I update ZODIAC.

#bts x reader #bts au #namjoon x reader #bts fic #bts angst

225 notes · View notes

minijenn · 6 years

Text

Universe Falls Chapter 58

Wooooo here we go with The Last Mabelcorn, finally! You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to write this chapter and here it finally is for you to read and enjoy! I’m quite proud of it and I honestly don’t have a ton else to say outside of that so I suppose there’s nothing keeping us from diving right in! Let’s get started!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/177662322439/universe-falls-chapter-57-part-2

Chapter 58: The Last Mabelcorn

BYEX SR TINKX, RDIR HJ YURQ KISDIGL EDQ RBM XAA LNKH FA JVGH FTI CTWF UW SBPXQH JBXT PVRTHRGP GAMZSW AH SZQ OAHAE ILNM XTQ JHMYDQ FEBRSE

With Dipper and Mabel spending the night up at the temple with Steven and the Gems in light of their ongoing quest to release Malachite, the Mystery Shack was even quieter than it usually was in the deep, dark, dead of night. Though Stan had turned in for the night at a reasonable hour, it had taken Ford much longer to pull himself away from his ongoing research in the basement. By the time the author finally did trudge up to his old room, it was quite late and as a result, he was quite tired. Though he was now thirty years removed from his extensive bout of paranoid insomnia, there were times every now and again when Ford would stubbornly resist the lull of a full night’s sleep out of fear of what might lie in wait in the often unpredictable world of nightmares. This particular, night, however, wasn’t anywhere close to one of those cases, for almost as soon as the author’s head hit the pillow, he was out, fast asleep and promptly thrust into the dreaming state he so often tried to avoid.

Or rather, into what was very soon about to become yet another nightmare, one that seemed to refuse to end even 30 years after it had first begun.

When Ford opened his eyes, he was quite caught off guard to find himself not back in the peaceful darkness of the room he had fallen asleep in, but rather he was standing amidst a vast, arid field of tall, ripe stalks of wheat. This curious expanse seemed to stretch on for miles, only broken by three landmarks afar off in the distance: an aged and broken swing set, a dilapidated, half-rebuilt boat, and the ruined remains of a certain portal looming large and inactive on the horizon. The author took pause as he glanced around his odd, new surroundings, though he didn’t have much of a chance to make sense of them. Completely out of nowhere, the wheat surrounding Ford suddenly began to flatten itself out into a shape that the author knew all too well. A shape that was, of course, accompanied by the maniacal cackling of a demon, a demon Ford had hoped in vain that he’d never encounter again.

“I know that laugh…” the author growled, his hands already curling into tight, defensive fists, just in case. “Show yourself!”

Right on cue, the demon did just that, his triangular form materializing right from the imprint of himself he had made in the wheat as he sharply rose to float right behind Ford, his sinister laughter continuing all the while. “Well, well, well, well, well, well, well!” he quipped brightly, splitting up into several smaller versions of himself as they all cheerfully circled the quite unamused author. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eye! Stanford Filbrick Pines! My old pal! It’s good to finally see ya in the flesh instead of on all those wanted posters I had put out for you during your little stint in the multiverse. Those sure were some fun times, huh, Sixer?”

Ford wisely chose to ignore his longtime foe’s callous taunting, more than used to them by now as he sent the demon a cold, distrustful glare. “Bill Cipher…” he stiffly acknowledged, countless years of ire and hatred dripping into his tone. “What do you want from me? I already told you more than once that I want nothing more to do with you!”

“Oh, quit playing dumb, IQ!” one of the several Bills mocked knowingly. “You knew I’d be back! And boy, have I been busy… Heck, right before I dropped by here, I nearly snagged the deal of a lifetime with some kid you may or may know. But oh well, its not like he can really hold onto that space rock of his for too much longer since its already mine anyway!”

“Kid?” Ford questioned in alarmed confusion, wondering what poor child could have possibly been subjected to Bill’s cruel tricks. “Who did you-”

“Eh, forget it, Sixer, all that business is soooo two chapters ago,” Bill interjected with a flippant wave of his hand as his many doubles all merged back into one. “What I actually stopped by for was to tall you that you must not be that much of a ‘genius’ after all if you think shutting down that portal could really stop what I have planned! Like I said, I’ve been making deals, chatting with old friends, preparing for the big day! You can’t keep that rift safe forever…” With a single snap of his fingers, the interdimensional rift appeared floating above the demon’s palm, its amorphous, glimmering substance still safely contained within its protective globe, though not for long. “You don’t have good ol’ Quartzy around anymore to bail you out this time, Sixer! You’ll slip up sooner or later, and when you do…” As Bill trailed off, he suddenly slammed the rift hard onto the ground, its very breaking violently tearing open a nightmarish hole through the otherwise smoggy skies and igniting the wheat field in a burst of bright crimson fire all around the author. Yet even despite this horrific display, Ford refused to let Bill get the better of him this time; after all, he had already accomplished that more than enough countless times in the past.

“Get out of here!” the author shouted fiercely, wishing he could put an end to the demon’s twisted ambitions right then and there. “You have no dominion in our world!”

“Maybe not right now,” Bill began, his eye turning black as he began to ascend into the chasm of untold horrors and nightmares he wanted to unleash upon the world. “But things change, Stanford Pines! Things CHANGE!”

On this final, ominous proclamation, the demon departed, laughing wickedly all the while as he thoughtlessly left Ford to burn in the field, awash with fear over the dreadful threats he had just heard. Fortunately though, the author wasn’t left to such a terrible fate as he was instead met with quick flashes of three very distinct images: his own six-fingered hand, a set of runes containing various unknown symbols, all of them surrounding a visage of Bill himself, and finally, four bright, vibrant diamonds, one white, one blue, one yellow, and one pink, arranged together and positioned against the backdrop of a distant, foreign planet that seemed to be crumbling apart at the seams.

And on that, the author sharply awoke, his nightmare over. For now, at least.

Even so, Ford bolted upright on the couch that served as his bed, his entire body covered in a cold sweat as he tried to catch his breath amidst his current panic. The fact that Bill Cipher, of all beings, had suddenly shown up in his dreams was concerning enough, but even worse were the frightening implications he had left behind. Before, the author had only ever assumed that the demon would target the rift, but now, there was no doubt whatsoever. Bill wanted that rift and if he got his hands on it, then the entire world, no, the entire universe, would certainly face untold destruction and devastation. He’d be all-powerful, unstoppable, and completely and utterly merciless to anyone who ever dared to try and get in his way. Which was why Ford knew that he had to stop this disaster before it even had a chance to begin. He had to put an end to Bill’s plans before they could come anywhere close to reaching fruition, there simply was no other option. But unlike last time he had made such a bold, dangerous attempt, the author wasn’t about to undertake such a risky venture on his own this time. He had learned his lesson and seen his folly in trying to walk this path alone 30 years ago. And as far as he was concerned, that wasn’t a mistake he was about to make again.

“I have to warn them…” Ford muttered to himself as he finally began to calm down, even though Bill’s haunting warnings still rung in his mind as loudly as ever. “He’s coming…”

A cloud of solemn anxiousness hung over Steven, Dipper, and Mabel alike as they departed from the temple the following morning, their minds still equally focused on worrying thoughts of a certain demon and his malicious intentions, whatever those might be. The Gems had sent them off quite early on, encouraging them to relax for the day and try to find some way to take their thoughts off Bill, even if it was very likely they didn’t intend to do the same themselves.

Still, none of the kids argued with them as they set out for the shack, running into Connie halfway down the hill as she had been going up to meet them. Despite the Gems’ advising them to focus on other things, neither Steven, Dipper, nor Mabel were able to keep themselves from telling Connie all about the events of the previous night, including both Steven’s alarming encounter with Bill in his dreams, as well as their nightmarish confrontation the Gems had with the demon themselves over twenty years ago. Needless to say that after hearing such a disconcerting account, Connie herself was every bit as shaken as the other three kids were to know that Bill was still out there somewhere, still plotting to harm them all, if not worse. Which was why the conversation was still very much focused on the demon, even as the kids made it back down to the shack to try and ‘relax’, even if there was a slim chance such a thing would even end up happening.

“So… even the Gems don’t know how get rid of Bill once and for all?” Connie asked, her voice kept rather low as the four of them wandered down the hall.

“No…” Steven sighed, rubbing his arm apprehensively. “They said the most we can do for now is just make sure we don’t fall for any more of his tricks, but… I don’t know how long that’ll really work for…”

“Probably not too long, seeing as how he’ll lie to just about anyone to get what he wants,” Dipper remarked quite bitterly, clearly quite frustrated with the situation at large. “It’s just… you’d think there’d be some way to keep Bill from messing with us anymore, at least. I mean, how are we supposed to figure out a way to stop him if we can’t even keep him from showing up in our dreams any time he wants?!”

“W-well, even if the Gems don’t know what to do right now, m-maybe they’ll figure something out eventually,” Mabel assured with a weak smile, hoping to, if nothing else, reassure her clearly on-edge brother about the concerning situation. “For now though, we should probably just drop the whole Bill thing and relax like they told us to.” Her smile widened somewhat as she pulled open a nearby closet door. “Why don’t we see if Grunkle Stan has any decent board games lyin’ around here? Huh? Huh? Come on, you three, don’t hold out on me. Steven, I know you’re always up for a good round of Latzee.”

Steven, Dipper, and Connie all briefly exchanged tentative glances at this, all three of them still rather worried about the situation with Bill, but even so, they knew there wasn’t really much that could be done about it now. Wasting their thoughts and energy on it at the moment wouldn’t really produce anything but more dread and woe, things that the kids largely wanted to be free of after the harrowing night they just had. Which was why Steven was the first to perk up somewhat, stepping forward into the closet to take a look at what the stack of old games before them had to offer.

“Hm, let’s see here… ‘Battlechutes & Ladderships’, ‘Necronomiconopoly’, ‘Don’t Wake Stalin’…”

“Oh, what’s this one?” Connie grabbed an interesting-looking jungle themed box from the pile. “‘What Could Go Wrong? The Board Game. The last players who opened this box never made it out alive!’”

A beat of silence passed between the kids at this, but even so, they were all quick to reach largely the same conclusion.

“Well, I know what we’re doing today!”

“Yeah, this should take up the next half hour or so.”

“Sounds like fun!”

“Can’t be too bad, right?”

However, before the kids could even leave the closet to set the game up to play, their plans were instantly dashed as they heard Ford’s stark, urgent call coming from the kitchen. “Family meeting! Family meeting!”

Needless to say all four of the kids were somewhat surprised to hear Ford of all people, call for a so-called ‘family meeting’. But even so they were quite curious to hear what apparently serious demand was all about, which was why they put the game aside to hurry off to hear whatever it was the author had to say.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to any of the kids, Amethyst had hurried down from the temple to the shack herself, surprisingly not because of anything remotely pertaining to what happened last night, but rather to make good on her promise to help Stan with a certain, rather illegal smuggling deal. “Alright, Santiago,” the conman remarked gruffly to the Spanish man him and Amethyst were passing off a sizable truckload of young pugs off to. “You have 24 hours to get these pugs over the U.S border.”

“And you better not… you know, no lo jodas this time either!” Amethyst snapped with a knowing scowl. “O de lo contrario lo vas a conseguir!”

“Yeah, what she said,” Stan remarked, though he did raise his eyebrow somewhat over the purple Gem’s rather crude use of language. However, before the exchange could properly end, Ford’s call for a family meeting rung out from inside the shack, startling the trio and cutting their illegal operation short as Stan swiftly shoved the last barrel of pugs into the back of Santiago’s truck before shoving him off.

“No te preocupas!” Stan shouted urgently as Amethyst kept a close lookout so they wouldn’t get caught as the truck sped off. “Vamos! Vamos!”

With Stan and Amethyst as busy avoiding the law as they were, it wasn’t surprising that they decided to avoid Ford’s meeting, though the kids were right on time to it, venturing into the kitchen just as the author was finishing setting up his copious array of scrolls, notes, and books. “Ah, children,” he greeted tersely, only briefly glancing over his shoulder as they arrived. “Come in, come in! Do any of you know if any of the Gems can make it down here within the next… minute or so? This is a very important discussion that I doubt they’ll want to miss out on.”

“Uh, w-well, actually… the Gems are kind of… busy today,” Steven replied, knowing this was both a truth and a lie in that, as far as they knew, they were still up at the temple, thinking about what to do to stop Bill. “We sort of had a… rough night last night…”

“Hm, you’re not the only ones…” Ford muttered to himself as he glanced away. “All the same, I suppose we can always pass this warning off to them sometime later.”

“Warning?” Connie spoke up with a worried frown. “What warning?”

“Does it have anything to do with these mysterious scrolls and potions?” Mabel asked curiously as she began rummaging through the author’s possessions. “Are you going to tell us we’re finally of age to go to wizard school? Is there an owl in this bag?!”

“No,” Ford interjected, quickly taking his bag away from her as his manner seemed to grow even more serious than it already was. “I can assure you that if there is an owl in this bag, then he’s long dead. Now, what I have called you children here for today is by far more pressing and urgent. Do any of you recognize this symbol?” At this, the author held up a weathered old scroll, one covered in ancient script and arcane text, though the triangular being emblazoned, large and dark and menacing on its center was one that all four of the kids knew the instant they saw it.

A round of frightened gasps escaped all four of the kids at the same exact time, each of them feeling as though they had been thrust right back into that horrific puppet show weeks ago. Connie quickly tore her gaze away from the scroll, as if simply looking at it would somehow summon the demon forth from it. Steven choked out another smaller gasp, one hand against his heart as it hammered away in his chest while his other was pressed close to his stomach, or rather his gem, protectively. Mabel latched a hand down onto her brother’s shoulder so fast that it normally would have startled him but instead Dipper only stared, his face pale and his eyes wide as he barely managed to even get the demon’s name out in so much as a weak, frightened whisper. “B-Bill…”

Ford flinched, quite taken aback by the kids’ initial reaction alone as he looked back to the scroll with growing alarm. “You… you know him?”

None of the kids offered an immediate answer save for Connie, who only gave one in the form of a small, anxious, silent nod. As for the other three, Steven tightened his grip around his gemstone, the vicious threats the demon had issues against him just a few hours prior ringing in his head as loudly as ever before. At the same time, Mabel’s focus remained on Dipper as she prepared to offer him whatever comfort and support he might need but in light of both his growing distress and his growing frustration he was hard pressed to accept any such sentiments now.

“I-it just won’t end, will it?” Dipper began, his tone quiet yet harsh as he shook his head incredulously. “First there was what happened last night with the Gems, and now this? Why won’t he just quit already?!”

“Dipper-” Mabel attempted to interject, though her brother was far too upset to back down now, especially as he got up to pace around frenetically.

“I was right last night after all,” Dipper continued, angry and anxiously as he largely talked to himself, even as the others all watched him with growing concern. “A-and I was right even before that! This isn’t over! Heck, maybe it never will be! He’ll just keep showing up and messing with us and lying to us and forcing us to play his games and there’s no way to stop him or get rid of him a-and it’ll just keep happening over and over again until he-”

“Dipper!” He finally cut himself off with a sharp gasp, stopping in his tracks under the weight of Ford’s firm, steadying hand on his shoulder. The author’s expression was initially fraught with palpable worry and dread, which quickly shifted into untold remorse before finally settling on what almost looked like grave, yet muted fury. “He… he possessed you, didn’t he?”

Dipper flinched at this, quickly averting his uncle’s gaze out of slight fear of how he might react to the truth of the matter. After all, the last thing he wanted was to admit such a momentous failure to the author he practically idolized and looked up to without question; the thought of disappointing him with his own shortcomings alone was enough to bring him more shame than he really knew how to deal with. But even despite his lack of a concrete answer, it was clear to see that Ford had inferred one anyway as he rose to stand, closing his eyes and letting out a long, almost tired sigh, one that gave really no indication of any sort of react at all.

“G-Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper began, his former frustration gone and replaced with obvious nervousness instead. “I… I just-”

“It wasn’t Dipper’s fault!” Steven suddenly interjected, tears already starting to well up in his eyes as everyone turned to look at him. “B-Bill tricked him! H-he lied to him and then he took his body a-and I was there for the whole thing and I wasn’t able to stop it a-and I couldn’t even tell anyone about it ‘cause he said he’d hurt Dipper’s body a-and I was so afraid and confused and we almost didn’t stop him in time but-”

“But we did,” Connie interjected as calmly as she could, taking Steven’s hand reassuringly as Mabel did the same for Dipper. “And that’s what’s important here.”

“So the four of you… ‘defeated’ him…” Ford mused, though his tone conveyed a hint of doubt in this fact. Still, he didn’t voice that doubt as he met all four of the kids’ fretful expressions evenly enough. “Even so, the fact that you kids have dealt with Bill before is gravely serious.”

“So… you know Bill too, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked, anxiously curious.

“Too?” the author frowned, confused.

“Uh, well, l-last night the Gems told us about how Bill tricked them before too…” Steven admitted somewhat hesitantly. “Mom even had to fight them to get him out of him. I-it was-”

“Oh yes, I already know about all that,” Ford interupted. “Pearl… told me all about that rather… unfortunate encounter just a few days ago. Honestly, I can’t say I’m even really surprised; it’d only make sense that someone as mad and as power-hungry as Bill would try to target someone as dedicated to protecting the Earth as Rose and the Crystal Gems.”

The kids looked to each other again at this, their expressions all somewhat uncertain but craving to know more about whatever knowledge the author might have concerning the dream demon. “Um, so how exactly do you know Bill, Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asked rather hesitantly in light of his own lingering regret.

“I’ve encountered many dark beings in my time, Dipper,” Ford replied curtly. “But perhaps none as dark as Bill Cipher. All the same, the specifics aren’t important right now. What matters is that his powers are growing stronger, and if he pulls off his plans, then none of us, not this family, not the Gems, not even Gravity Falls itself will be safe!”

Upon hearing this, none of the kids were able to hold back a unified frightened gasp. In light of their past encounters with the dream demon as well as everything the Gems had recently revealed, it was obvious that Bill was certainly a threat to them all. But to hear this confirmation come from someone as wizened and well-traveled as the author of the journals himself only served to hit that alarming thought home even more. After all, if Bill really was such a severe and present danger to not just them but the town, possibly even the world as a whole, then what hope did any of them possibly have in trying to stop him?

“Fortunately,” Ford continued, as if he had somehow heard the kids’ shared worries and decided to address them. “There should be a way to shield us from his mental tricks. A way to ‘Bill-proof’ the shack and even the Gems’ temple, as it were.”

“R-Really?” Steven asked with a small but growing smile, one that was filled with relief that the other three kids equally shared. “That’s great! How does it work?”

“It’s quite simple, really,” the author began, laying a map of the shack out on the table. “All I have to do is place moonstones here, here, and here, sprinkle some mercury, and… let’s see, I always forget that last ingredient!” Ford frowned as he flipped open journal 1, briefly glancing through his notes before finding what he was looking for. “Ugh, that’s right… unicorn hair…”

“That’s not… rare, is it?” Dipper asked, picking up on the author’s disgruntled tone.

“Its hopeless,” Ford shook his head dismissively as he looked back to the journal. “Unicorns reside deep within an enchanted glade, and their hairs can only be obtained by a pure, good-hearted person who goes on a magical quest to find them. And of course, unicorns themselves are-”

The author’s explanation was abruptly cut off from a loud, shrill, undeniably excited squeal from Mabel, one that tore starkly through the ongoing solemn manner of this meeting. “Grunkle Ford! Can I please go on this quest?!” she asked with a large, eager grin as she hopped out of her seat. “I am literally obsessed with unicorns! My first word was unicorn, I once made my own unicorn by taping a traffic cone to a horse’s head and got banned from the petting zoo for it, are you even looking at the sweater I’m wearing right now?!” She quickly pointed to said sweater, which, fittingly enough, had a colorful design of a unicorn stitched onto it. “Not to mention that I’m probably the most pure of heart person in this room. Well, aside from Steven, that is.” A round of murmured agreements arose from this, no one really dissenting to such a claim given Mabel’s very transparent sense of altruism and helpfulness. “So can I please go on a mission to get that hair?” she continued pleadingly. “Please, please, please?! I’ll give you my blood!”

Despite this concerning vow, Ford simply nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly given the nature of the quest his niece wanted to go on. “Very well,” he consented gruffly. “But it won’t be easy. Take this,” he handed off journal 1 to her, largely since it offered a map pointing to where unicorns were known to dwell. “And this,” he also gave her a fully-loaded crossbow, much to excitement, even as she struggled to properly lift it. “I haven’t been in this dimension in a while. It’s still ok to give children deadly weapons, right?”

“Pssh, come on, dawg,” Mabel remarked with a casual wave of her hand. Of course, she didn’t notice that her other hand had accidentally squeezed the crossbow’s trigger until an arrow fired off through it, crashing through the nearby window and startling a certain pair of partners in crime outside.

“Ah! It’s the cops!” Stan shouted frantically somewhere outside. “Gun it!”

“Soy inocente, ¡lo juro!” Amethyst cried as a truck carrying a heavy load of pugs sped off.” ¡Todo fue idea de Stan!”

“Amethyst! Cut it out with all the Spanish already!”

“Heh, sorry, dude, can’t help it. Its mucho divertido.”

“Um… on second thought, why don’t I go with you, Mabel?” Connie asked after a beat of somewhat awkward silence. “Not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, but maybe having my sword along with that crossbow will make this whole, uh, ‘enchanted quest’ thing go a little easier.”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Mabel gasped, cheerfully pulling Connie up out of her chair as she spun her around excitedly. “This is gonna be great! Mabel and Connie: Unicorn Hunters Extraordinaire! Ooo, wait! I got another idea! We should turn this unicorn duo into a whole unicorn party!” Without another word, Mabel quickly pulled her phone up and began dialing several numbers at once as she ran out of the room. “Wendy, Candy, Grenda, clear the afternoon!”

“Oh boy…” Connie chuckled as she prepared to follow after Mabel. “This oughta be… interesting.”

“Hm… perhaps you girls should take one of the Gems along with you as well…” Ford mused. “As far as I know, they do have some experience with unicorns so their aid will likely be an asset, and not just in finding them either…”

“Get a Gem to come, got it!” Connie nodded, offering the remaining trio a thumbs up as she headed out herself. “Thanks, Mr. Ford!”

“Yes, yes, try not to come across any packs of marauding ware-fairies while you’re out,” Ford advised, waving both girls off as Steven and Dipper did the same.

“So… what are the odds that they actually get that hair?” Dipper asked Ford, trying to hide his rather palpable concern.

“Unlikely,” the author replied as soon as he was sure the girls were out of earshot. “I’ve dealt with unicorns before and if I had to describe them in one word it would be… frustrating.”

“Aw, but this is Mabel and Connie we’re taking about here,” Steven said with an encouraging smile. “If anyone can get that hair, its them!”

“Well, just in case they don’t,” Dipper countered diffidently. “Is there anything else we could maybe do to stop Bill in the meantime?”

Ford took pause at this question, his expression initially unreadable as he looked between both of the boys sitting in front of him before his focus finally settled on Steven. The young Gem shifted somewhat apprehensively under the author’s scrutinizing stare, one that seemed to almost be searching for something, though he had no idea as to what that something could possibly be. “Um… Mr. Ford? What’s-”

“Steven,” the author interupted, his tone and manner both very serious as he glanced around rather discreetly. “Rose Quar—I mean, your mother, used to be the one person, or Gem rather, that I always felt like I could confide in. I trusted her immensely, and… I’d like to think that I can trust her son as well. So… can I?”

The young Gem was admittedly somewhat taken aback by this, but as he glanced over and met Dipper’s rather expectant expression, he found he was hard pressed to say no. “Y-yeah—I mean, yes,” Steven said with much more resolve, hoping that he could somehow honor the genuine bond that used to exist between the author and his mother even in some small, simple way. “Yes, you can. But, uh, can I ask with what exactly you wanna trust me with?”

Ford cracked something of a small smirk at this, clearly glad to have the young Gem on board. “Dipper, why don’t I let you tell him?”

“Oh, uh, ok,” Dipper nodded, immediately understanding exactly what the author wanted him to reveal. Even still, he hesitated somewhat, remembering the promise he had made to Ford himself to keep silent about it only a few days prior, a promise he devoutly intended to keep even still. And yet, since Ford was the very one telling him to make an exception to that promise right then and there, he decided to relent and do just that, knowing that if there was really anyone who he’d personally trust with such a momentous secret, it would be Steven. “So, Great Uncle Ford took the portal apart, right? But it sorta left this… what was it again?”

“An interdimensional rift,” Ford filled in, his voice low as he took another cursory glance around the room for any sort of prying eyes.

“An interdimensional rift, right,” Dipper said with a bit more confidence, which was something Steven only met with confusion as he tried to follow along. “And that’s bad because it could…?”

“It could tear our reality itself apart,” Ford finished gravely. “Especially if someone like Bill were to get his hands on it. If its power were to be unleashed, then he’d be completely free to wreak untold havoc upon this dimension, destroying everything and everyone in his path.”

“W-whoa…” Steven whispered, his eyes wide as he tried to take such a dark implication in. “And I thought everything the Gems told us last night was bad. B-but this… rift thing sounds like it could be even worse than that was!”

“Indeed it could,” Ford nodded coldly. “And that’s why the three of us have to do everything in our power to protect it from Bill. Including maintaining its secrecy from everyone.”

“Even the Gems?” Steven asked apprehensively. “B-because I-”

“Even the Gems,” the author interupted staunchly, glancing away. “The more people who know about the rift, the more danger it could potentially be put in. I did have some reservations about telling even you, Steven, but… well, I figured I might as well fill you in since I very likely would have done the same for your mother if she were still… around.”

“Oh, uh… gee, thanks…” the young Gem said with a halfhearted smile, the comparison Ford was apparently drawing between him and his mother not lost on him. A comparison that, in light of recent revelations, Steven wasn’t sure he was too comfortable with anymore, even if he knew that it was rather fitting. After all, wasn’t keeping such a potentially earth shattering secret hidden from the Gems the very same sort of thing Rose herself did before him? Still, he knew he couldn’t exactly betray either Ford’s trust on the matter either, especially since it was of such grave significance. The author had said so himself: if Bill ever managed to get ahold of that rift, then reality itself could very well cease to be. The knowledge of that fact alone was a momentous, massive weight, one that the young Gem feared he wouldn’t be properly carry but at the very least, he didn’t have to do it alone. For just as he began to doubt his own resolve, he was broken out of his thoughts by the comforting hand that fell upon his shoulder. Steven was unable to hold back a small smile as he met the gentle, affirmative one Dipper was offering him, one that carried the promise that, despite how daunting protecting the rift and its secrets might be, it was a task that they’d carry out together. And that alone was exactly the kind of warm reassurance the young Gem needed to hope that they’d be able to carry that untold, almost crushing weight after all. “B-but… you don’t have to worry,” Steven said as he turned back to the author. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Very good,” Ford said, genuinely grateful as he rose to stand. “Now, both of you, follow me. We’ve much to do.”

Neither boy questioned the author any further as they hurried after him to the gift shop, watching in curious anticipation as he opened the hidden elevator behind the vending machine up. However, instead of taking them down to the basement lab, the elevator stopped on the floor between it, at an ornate wooden door that only Ford seemed to hold the key to. And needless to say that that boys were quite amazed by what they saw.

Contained between the gift shop and the underground lab was an entire floor in and of itself, one that surprisingly spacious, even despite the walls lined with full bookshelves and old, interesting artifacts and machinery strewn just about everywhere. The rather long room stretched back into a corridor with covered walls and a massive machine consisting of several large screens and a dizzying array of wires and buttons. Of course, both Steven and Dipper were absolutely amazed to discover such an impressive hideout, one that neither of them ever even knew existed before though Ford was steady as ever as he led the way into it.

“Welcome to my private study,” he began, not making much time to give the boys even a simple tour of the room. “A place where I keep my most ancient and secret knowledge. Even Stanley, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl don’t know about this place, however, Rose did.” At this, the author briefly sent Steven a small, knowing grin over his shoulder, one that he only weakly returned as he continued following after Ford to the other end of the room. Dipper, however, detracted somewhat, curious to see exactly what knowledge his uncle might be keeping in this extensive collection, however, before he could really try to investigate, Ford urgently prompted him onward.

“Dipper, come along!” the author called as he began setting up the large machine, which was only labeled as ‘Project Mentum’. “If we can’t Bill-proof the shack, then we’re going to have to do the next best thing.” At this, Ford held up a rather old-looking metallic helmet, one that was connected to the machine by several wires and seemed to carry some sort of unknown purpose to it. “We’re going to have to Bill-proof our minds.”

Both Steven and Dipper let out a shared gasp at this, but even so, they were unable to hold back relieved smiles as they looked to each other. Because for perhaps the first time since last night, it seemed as though there was actually a way to fend Bill off after all, to keep him from tormenting them any further, from plaguing their thoughts and haunting their nightmares. And, after everything they’d been through because of the demon throughout the summer, that alone was enough to fill both boys with more hope than they had known in quite some time.

Even if such hope wasn’t destined to last.

With their unicorn-finding mission clear and their shared resolve burning, Mabel and Connie set out on their intrepid quest, gathering a motley crew consisting of Wendy, Candy, and Grenda to accompany them. And, as Ford had advised, the girls managed to recruit the first Gem they could find to act as something of a chaperone, said Gem just so happening to be Pearl, who had just ventured down to the shack to check on the kids as soon as Connie and Mabel stepped out of it. Without filling the white Gem in on much of their mission, she still decided to join the group, largely out of her lingering worry concerning the upsetting reveals made throughout the previous night. All the same, Pearl was somewhat surprised by just how overtly upbeat the majority of the group was as they ventured into the depths of the forest with only journal 1 and the knowledge contained therein to serve as their guide.

“It’s nice to finally be out on a mission, just us gals!” Mabel quipped as she led the way with a bit of an excited spring in her step.

“Well, a mission that isn’t super likely to put all of our lives in danger, at least,” Connie remarked rather knowingly.

“And exactly what the purpose of this mission again?” Pearl asked, making sure to keep an eye out for any supernatural monster that might possibly assail them. “You girls failed to really give me all of the details before we set out on this so-called ‘magical quest’ of ours.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Grenda asked boisterously. “We’re going to meet, touch, and/or become unicorns!”

“U-Unicorns?!” Pearl gasped, completely appalled as she looked back to Mabel and Connie. “That’s what all this is about? Well, if that’s the case then you girls can count me out of this little venture!”

“What?” Connie asked as the collective group stopped short to look to the white Gem in confusion. “But why?”

“Why?” Pearl repeated incredulously. “Because simply put, unicorns are nuisances. They always have been, ever since we happened upon them decades ago. Even Rose couldn’t stand their self-entitled attitude and honestly I completely agree with her. I can’t even begin to fathom why on Earth any of you girls would actually want to actively go looking for such… infuriating creatures!”

“Because Grunkle Ford said that if we get a whole bunch of their hair then we can use it to make some sorta barrier thing that’ll keep the shack and the temple safe from Bill!” Mabel informed with a sense of pressing urgency.

“Wait, what?!” the white Gem exclaimed, even more stunned to her this. “Y-you mean there’s actually a way to arm ourselves against that… that monster? All this time and we had no idea… This changes everything!”

“So… does that mean you’ll help us find a unicorn?” Connie asked, exchanging a hopeful glance with Mabel.

Pearl hesitated for a beat at this, though inevitably she let out a long, begrudging sigh, knowing that she really had no other choice. “I suppose I will if I really must… Still, I wish there was another way of going about this… Dealing with those infernal unicorns almost isn’t worth the aggravation, even if it will potentially help us ward off Cipher…”

“Um… well, who knows?” Mabel said with a bit of a forced, encouraging smile. “Maybe unicorns aren’t as bad as you remember them being, Pearl. I mean, based on everything I’ve heard about them, they sound like they’re the most magical, sparkly, amazing magical horses out there!”

“I hear that if you lick a unicorn’s neck, it tastes like your favorite flavor in the world!” Candy added enthusiastically.

“Candy, I will make sure you lick that unicorn’s neck, because I care about my friends,” Mabel said with heavy resolve, remembering what Ford had said about unicorns only allotting their hair to the most pure of heart. And as far as Mabel was concerned, she was already that and then some, to the point that the unicorns very likely wouldn’t need any proof of her innate kindness and goodness at all. Or so she thought.

“Honestly, I stopped believing in unicorns when I was like, five years old,” Wendy remarked, casually swinging at low-hanging tree branches with her axe. “I’m just coming along to keep you kids from stepping into a bear trap and to make sure you guys aren’t too disappointed when you find out unicorns aren’t actually real.”

“Oh, they’re real all right,” Pearl countered, her eye twitching out of slight frustration over the thought of merely encountering any sort of unicorn alone. “Real aggravating.”

“Stop!” Mabel suddenly exclaimed as they reached a rather ethereal glade, filled with shimmering, otherworldly flora, ancient stone monuments, and the occasional fairy or sprite floating nearby. “This is the magical part of the forest! Now, let’s see…” The others gathered around her as she flipped through journal 1 before landing on a map of the mystical area they now found themselves in. “The gnome tavern is over there… the fairy nail salon is over there, but it says that to summon the unicorn, one must bellow this ancient chant droned by only the deepest-voiced druids of old.”

“On it!” Grenda proclaimed, grabbing the journal and rushing forward to the center of the glade. And from there, she got right to chanting, her abnormally deep voice carrying across the clearing as she belted the ancient non-melody out while the others stood by watching curiously.

“Ten bucks says nothing happens,” Wendy said, crossing her arms dubiously.

“I’ll take that bet,” Mabel smirked, confident that this chant would work. And work it did as suddenly, the entire glade began to violently shake. In response to Grenda’s deep, summoning chant, a massive stone structure began to rise up from the ground, one that was clearly mystical in nature based on its castle-like appearance and the shimmering golds and lush vinery decorating it.

“Here we go…” Pearl muttered bitterly to herself as the younger girls reacted excitedly, all of them rushing through the large wooden doors and into a place somehow even more dreamlike and enchanted than the magical forest it was situated in. A rainbow-accented waterfall fed a flowing stream that cut through the grassy enclosure, one that was inhabited by a pan flute playing faun and none other than an unquestionably magical unicorn, one that was practically straight out of fairytales and legends of old. Simply put, she was ethereal, lightly shimmering all over, from her pale blue skin to her bright, multicolored mane and tail, to her huge, wide, sparking eyes. She tossed her rainbow mane and let out a mighty neigh as the intruding group entered, almost all of them completely dazzled by her mere appearance alone, much less her actual existence.

“Mother of mothers!” Grenda gasped, amazed.

“Dream of dreams!” Candy exclaimed, just as stunned.

“It can’t be…” Connie whispered, shocked.

“No way,” Wendy scowled, especially as Mabel reached her hand up for the bet she had just won and the ten bucks she now had to fork over.

“Oh of course…” Pearl grumbled upon looking to the familiar unicorn poised before them. “It just had to be her…”

“Hark!” the unicorn proclaimed sharply, apparently communicating through her glowing pink horn. “Visitors to my realm of enchantment!”

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Mabel squealed happily, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “What’s your name?”

“I am Celestabellebethabelle, last of my kind!” the unicorn introduced herself. “Come in, come in. Just… take off your shoes. I have a whole thing about shoes.” The girls were quick to comply, all of them removing their shoes at the gate save for Wendy and Pearl, both of whom were already none too enthused about this encounter in the first place. Even so, Celestabellebethabelle was quick to notice their belligerence and even quicker to call them out on it. “Ah, ah! I’m talking to everyone!” Despite their increased annoyance at this, both the cashier and the white Gem complied, though the unicorn let out something of an angry snort the moment she caught sight of Pearl in particular. “You! Crystal Gem!” she exclaimed hotly, slamming one of her hooves down. “I do believe I was quite clear with your leader many years ago that NONE of your kind are welcome back into my mystical domain! So please, be a dear and… REMOVE YOURSELF FROM MY PRESCENCE AT ONCE!”

“Oh, believe me, I gladly would,” Pearl huffed, crossing her arms as she unapologetically at the unicorn. “After all, the last thing I want is to be in the ‘presence’ of someone as completely gaudy and over the top as yourself, Celestabelle.”

“It is Celestabellebethabelle, and I will thank you kindly to remember it!” the unicorn snapped fiercely, lowering herself as though she planned on charging the white Gem herself, though fortunately, Mabel intervened before any such altercation could take place.

“W-wait!” she exclaimed, rushing to stand between the two before offering Celestabellebethabelle a very saccharine smile. “Heh, you’ll have to forgive Pearl here, she… had a pretty rough night last night.”

“I did not!” Pearl exclaimed defensively. “I’ll have you know that I tried sleeping for the first time last night and even if I still don’t understand the functional purpose of such an activity, I’d like to think that I still did a suitable job at it!”

“Pearl…” Connie whispered, giving the white Gem something of a pleading glance. And, despite her own apt frustrations at the unicorn that was still issuing her a rather harsh look, she begrudgingly backed down, knowing that acting out was doing nothing for their much more important cause.

“A-anyway…” Mabel continued, trying to make up for Pearl’s outburst with a heavy layer of politeness. “Celestabellebethabelle, we have journeyed far and wide-”

“About an hour!” Grenda chimed in.

“-On a mission to protect our family with your magical hair!”

“This is your chance, Candy…” Candy whispered to herself as she snuck to Celestabellebethabelle’s side, her tongue out as she leaned in close. “Lick the neck… lick it…”

“Very well!” the unicorn exclaimed, lifting herself up and her neck out of Candy’s reach. “Despite your rather… poor company,” she paused, briefly sending another cold scowl Pearl’s way. “I shall allow you this opportunity out of the immense goodness of my immaculate soul.”

“Oh please…” Pearl muttered, rolling her eyes at such an exaggerated claim.

“To receive a lock of my enchanted hair, step forth, girl of pure, perfect heart!” Celestabellebethabelle called, her tone as dramatic and bold as ever.

After a round of encouraging smiles and nods from Connie, Candy, and Grenda, Mabel stepped forward with a confident grin, assured that she’d be able to win the unicorn’s favor, even despite the rather rough start of this meeting. “Presenting… bum buh da bum bum ba bum bum! Mabel!”

Celestabellebethabelle seemed to take pause for a moment, as if sizing the girl before her up for a moment before letting out a harsh, appalled gasp. “What? You?!” she asked in what sounded like offended disbelief. “A unicorn can see deep inside your heart, child, and you have done WRONG!” To punctuate her claim, Celestabellebethabelle pointed the tip of her horn directly at Mabel, sparking up a bright, heart-shaped glow on her chest, one that was quick to turn dark and black, much to her alarm. “Wrong, I say!”

“W-what?” Mabel gasped, confused and distraught as she quickly covered her heart from the unicorn’s piercing gaze.

“But how can that be?” Connie interjected, quickly placing a comforting hand on Mabel’s shoulder as she addressed Celestabellebethabelle with apt seriousness. “I’m sorry to sound rude, but Mabel really is one of the kindest, most helpful people you’ll ever meet. Right, guys?”

“Yeah!” Grenda exclaimed in rowdy agreement.

“Absolutely,” Candy said resolutely as Pearl and Wendy also nodded.

“So… maybe your magical, uh… heart-scanning magic was just a bit… I don’t know, off?” Connie finished amicably enough.

“It is most certainly NOT ‘off’!” Celestabellebethabelle scoffed hotly. “A unicorn’s tuition is never wrong! And my intuition can confirm, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that THAT girl’s heart is nowhere near pure enough to obtain the prize of my glorious hair!”

“But-”

“H-hold on a sec, Connie,” Mabel interrupted with a fretful frown. “I… s-she… might have a point… I mean, I do make fun of Dipper a lot… Plus there was that whole… puppet show thing with Bill that was kinda mostly my fault… and I did just shatter a window with a crossbow…”

“Your bad deeds make me cry!” Celestabellebethabelle let out an embellished sob, rainbow tears spilling from her eyes and burning up the grass below on contact.

“Noooo!” Mabel cried, shocked and horrified by the unicorn’s incredibly harsh reaction. A reaction that was only garnished from her own apparently unknown lack of purity all along.

“Alright, that’s quite enough!” Pearl interjected hotly, sending Celestabellebethabelle a vicious glare as she came to stand defensively between her and Mabel. “Don’t think I’m not wise to your little ‘game’, Celestabelle.”

“Again, its Celestabellabethabelle!”

“I don’t care!” the white Gem huffed angrily. “If you think I’m going to let you get away with emotionally devastating a poor innocent child like Mabel, then you’re dead wrong!”

“Oh, well that’s just the thing,” Celestabellebethabelle remarked with a knowing smirk. “I don’t ‘have’ to get away with anything. I’m a unicorn. I do whatever I want! Including kick you out of my enchanted glen like the rabble you are.”

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘rabble’ you self-righteous, pretentious, over-glorified equine snob!” Pearl yelled, more than ready to summon her spear and outright attack if not for Connie and Wendy holding her back.

“Uh, Pearl? I’m with you on this whole thing being pretty screwed up, but you should probably reign it in just a little,” Wendy remarked as they began to lead the still quite hostile white Gem out of the glen.

“Yeah, its not worth it,” Connie agreed. “Well, I mean, it is worth it if it means we can get that hair protect the shack and the temple from Bill, but still we shouldn’t resort to violence to get it unless we absolutely have to.”

“Yes, yes, that’s right, leave with whatever small shred of dignity you have left,” Celestabellebethabelle said, turning her nose up at the rest of the group as they dejectedly left in defeat. “Perhaps try coming back when you’re PURE OF HEART!” At this, the unicorn let out another dramatic neigh, only to pause for a brief beat of silence as the group looked to her once more rather incredulously. “Exit is that way. Oh, and shoes! Shoes! Take your shoes! This isn’t some… some shoe store!”

And with that, the collective group was shut out of the unicorn’s glen, though thankfully it didn’t sink back into the ground, just in case they all decided to actually return again. Even so, that wasn’t something any of them were too keen on after the very cold reception they had just received from Celestabellebethabelle, especially Mabel, who was practically fighting back tears over the rather biting, perhaps accurate, claims the unicorn had made against her.

“Hey, Mabel, don’t let her get to you,” Grenda said as both her and Candy put comforting hands on their distraught friends’ shoulders.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a horse that wears makeup,” Wendy scoffed, rolling her eyes over the unicorns’ uppity mannerisms.

“How dare that haughty horse pull that ‘not pure of heart’ gambit again,” Pearl remarked crossly, sending a cold glare back at the now closed gates of the unicorn’s glen. “I wouldn’t put any stock into anything she said back there, Mabel. After all, she had the gall to tell Rose, of all people, that she wasn’t pure of heart around the turn of the century! True, Rose may have made… a few mistakes in the past, but even so, such a claim is completely ridiculous; I mean, Gems don’t even have hearts in the first place!”

“Uh, I think what Pearl is trying to say, Mabel,” Connie interjected much more rationally. “Is that you shouldn’t worry about what that unicorn said about you. We can always find some other way to protect ourselves from Bill. Probably… Hopefully.”

“No, girls, she’s right,” Mabel said, sucking in a deep, resolved breath. “I used to be one of the sweetest people I knew, but recently I’ve been seriously slacking in the whole goodness department. Well, today, we’re gonna fix it! From this moment forth, I’m gonna do so many good deeds that I’ll have the purest heart in Gravity Falls!” With this dedicated proclamation, she threw a first up into the air with gusto, only for it to squarely strike a low flying bird by mistake, knocking out of the air and clearly injuring it, much to everyone else’s concerned surprise. “…That… that bird is fine.”

Knowing that time was of the essence when it came to halting Bill’s ambitions, Ford wasted none of it in calibrating his mysterious Project Mentum while the boys stood by, both of them curious, hopeful, and anxious as they mutually wondered whether or not this plan of action would truly work at all. Eager to finally be rid of the menace that was the dream demon once and for all, Dipper had volunteered to go first, with Steven patiently sitting next to him while Ford carefully hooked him up to the machine by way of its bulky metal helmet. Things had been rather quiet amongst the three of them in light of the seriousness of their shared endeavor, but when this tentative silence finally was broken, Steven was the one to do so.

“Um, Mr. Ford?” he began somewhat hesitantly as the author turned to the machine itself to finish setting it up. “Are you sure this is gonna work?”

“Yes,” Ford said, completely confident as he glanced over his shoulder. “I built this device specifically with the intent of using it as a defense against Bill quite some time ago. Which is why I have the upmost certainty that it’ll do its part in shielding you boys against his influence.”

Steven and Dipper exchanged another brief, somewhat hopeful glace at this, knowing that the promise of freeing themselves from the lingering nightmares Bill caused them even still seemed almost too good to be true. And yet, even that promise, as wonderful as it sounded, wasn’t quite enough for Dipper. Based on past encounters with the mysterious dream demon, as well as the Gems’ own horrific account given last night, he couldn’t help but still have quite a few questions concerning the looming threat that had been terrorizing them all practically all summer. “So… what exactly is Bill anyway?” he asked, hoping that, with his vast knowledge, Ford might hold at least a few answers to those questions.

“No one knows for sure,” Ford began, handing off a folder to his nephew that was simply entitled the ‘Cipher File’. Both Steven and Dipper glanced over its sparse contents, a few old documents that game only very brief, not very detailed information concerning matters only remotely related to Bill as the author went on. “Accounts differ of his true motivations and origin. What I do know is that he’s older than our galaxy, and far more twisted. His current domain is the Nightmare Realm, an unstable place of untold horrors all crafted by Bill himself. Thankfully though, he’s mostly confined there, for now. Without a physical form, he can only project himself into our thoughts through the mindscape. That’s why he wants this,” Ford held up the rift, being ever careful with its fragile form as the boys both looked to it apprehensively. “I dismantled the portal, but with this tear, Bill still has a way into our reality. To get his hands on this rift, he would trick or possess anyone.”

“Wait, so… he wants that rift too?” Steven asked, unconsciously placing a hand over where his gemstone was.

“Too?” Ford paused, turning to glance at the young Gem at this. “What do you mean ‘too’?”

“Uh… well…” Steven hesitated somewhat, though upon receiving an encouraging nod from Dipper, he decided it was best if he spoke his piece. “Last night, Bill showed up in a dream I had. He tried to get me to give him my gem, but after I told him no, he said that its already his since my mom promised to give it to him. The Gems are pretty sure that Mom never did that, but… I’m still not sure. What do you think, Mr. Ford?”

The author didn’t answer right away, instead looking to the young Gem with an expression of unquestionable alarm upon hearing such a claim. Yet at the same time, his reaction to the news was every bit as vague as it was when he learned that Bill had possessed Dipper, almost as if he was trying to conceal how he really felt about such a revelation. “So you’re the one he-” Ford quickly cut himself off, noticing the curious looks both boys were sending him as he immediately regained his usual scholarly composure. “Hm, yes, well, the fact that Bill is after your gemstone is extremely troubling indeed, Steven. Even so, I agree with the Gems; its highly unlikely that Rose would have agreed to turn over her gemstone to the likes of him, no matter what he might have promised her for it. As for why he might want it though, that’s… unclear. It makes sense that he’d want to get ahold of the rift, but its hard to say what he might want a gemstone—Rose Quartz’s gemstone in particular—for. Unless…”

“Unless… what?” Steven pressed, immensely curious.

Ford jolted at this, quickly shaking his head as if to clear it before offering both boys a somewhat forced reassuring smile. “Oh, i-its nothing, nothing at all,” he remarked with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What matters now is that we do what we can to protect our minds from Bill.”

“So how exactly do we do that?” Dipper asked intently.

“Well, there are a number of ways,” the author said. “I personally had a metal plate installed in my head by an otherworldly, seven-eyed oracle.”

“Heh, good one,” Dipper chuckled in response to such an admittedly outlandish claim. That is, until Ford proved it to be true by knocking against the side of his head, eliciting a strong metallic sound that was more than enough to get his nephew to awkwardly retract his doubt.

“But this machine is much safer,” the author continued, nodding to the several screens behind them. “It will scan your mind, bioelectrically encrypting your thoughts so Bill can’t read them. Now…” Ford paused, only to press the final button to set Project Mentum in motion. “Say hello to your thoughts.”

All at once, the machine sparked to life, its various screens filling in with Dipper’s own thoughts, putting them all on unfettered display for all three of them to see and hear as they cycled through at a seemingly random pace: “Oh man, I can’t believe I’m actually with the author!” “Is my fly down?” “Disco girl! Coming through!” “I miss Tyrone…” “Bill better stay away from Steven if he knows what’s good for him!” “I have to find a way to save Lapis!” “Huh, I might be just a little emotionally unstable… Maybe I should go get some therapy or something?”

“Um, y-you might wanna… ignore that last one…” Dipper said, quite flustered by his thoughts being so openly and unintentionally revealed like that.

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Steven exclaimed, stars in his eyes. “I wanna see what my thoughts have to say! I mean, I already know what they say since they’re in my head, but I wanna see them laid out on a screen like that!”

“And you will,” Ford interjected. “After Dipper is done. This is a very delicate process that could potentially take hours to complete. Which means all we can do now is be patient and let the machine do its job.”

“Oh, well, uh, maybe in the meantime you could… I dunno, maybe fill us in on what your history with Bill is in the first place?” Dipper ventured, still quite eager to know exactly what the apparently quite significant context for Ford’s impressive knowledge concerning the dream demon actually was.

“Dipper, do you trust me?” Ford asked, his tone quite serious as he knelt down next to his great nephew.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then you’ll trust that that’s not important,” the author concluded staunchly, standing as he headed back over to his desk, leaving both Dipper and Steven as much in the dark as they ever were. “Now, focus. Its time to strengthen your mind…”

Determined to prove herself to Celestabellebethabelle, Mabel took to the town, the others following suit to do whatever they could to help her carry out the lengthy list of good deeds she had come up with. Their main objective was clear: to help out as many people as they could in the hopes that no one, not even the unicorn herself, would be able to deny that Mabel was not just more than worthy enough to not just obtain that magical hair, but also that her heart was overflowing with purity and goodness beyond compare.

And so the group set out to do just that, lending their cheerful aid to any troubled soul they could find. They moved snails from the danger of the streets to the safety of the grass and planted a tree right in front of the door to the Gravity Falls’ Gossiper office, unknowingly trapping Toby Determined inside of it. They helped Kiki on her pizza delivery route and fixed up several of the games at Funland Arcade. They gave Stan a literal smile in the form of a giant smiley face sticker slapped onto his face and Mabel even went as far as donating three pints of her own blood to those in need, disregarding her own lightheadedness after the fact. From there, they covered several smaller deeds on the list, like helping old ladies and ducks cross the road, to filling Lazy Susan’s tip jar, to sprucing up the town statues of Nathaniel Northwest and William Dewey with a fresh coat of glitter. Though their altruistic mission took several hours of hard, selfless work on their part, by the time they were finished, they all felt quite satisfied that they had met their goal, particularly Mabel as they began to make their way back to the unicorn’s glade.

“Boom! A thousand good deeds!” she exclaimed happily as she crossed the last item off her list. “When that unicorn scans my heart again, she’s gonna say that I’m absolutely, one hundred percent, bona-fide-”

“NOT pure of heart!” Celestabellebethabelle proclaimed after the group returned to her glen, her insistence on the matter just as harsh and firm as it was before.

“Booyah!” Mabel cheered, though she quickly changed her tune upon realizing exactly what the unicorn had said. “Wait… w-what?”

“How is that even possible?” Wendy asked with an incredulous scoff. “Mabel’s a straight up saint, you judgmental hoofbag!”

“Seriously, she just spent the entire afternoon helping people,” Connie added knowingly. “Doesn’t that mean anything here?”

“Please! Tell me what I’m doing wrong!” Mabel practically begged, distraught that her efforts were apparently all for naught.

“Doing good deeds to make yourself look better isn’t good at all,” Celestabellebethabelle remarked haughtily. “Not to mention you’re crushing like, ten dandelions right now. Those are basically children’s dreams.” Mabel let out a horrified gasp at this, quickly stepping off the small patch of dandelions she was incidentally standing on before the unicorn condescendingly continued. “I’m sorry, Mabel. It’s not my fault you’re a bad person.”

Unable to take the unicorn’s brutally harsh criticisms any longer, Mabel ran off, not even trying to hold back a heartbroken sob amidst this second, much more painful rejection. As appalled by Celestabellebethabelle’s rather cruel attitude as they were, most of the others didn’t stick around to chastise her on it as they all hurried out of the glen to make sure she was alright. All except for Pearl, who decided to hang back solely for the sake of giving the unicorn a few choice words in light of the completely shameful display she had just witnessed.

“You may have those girls fooled, but you’re not fooling me,” the white Gem said, her voice almost a vicious hiss as she glared at the unicorn unflinchingly. “I know what you’re trying to do here. You did the exact same thing to Rose Quartz about 100 years ago so if you think I’m going to stand by and let you tear someone else down like that, especially someone like Mabel, then you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Oh really?” Celestabellebethabelle deadpanned, clearly not taking the white Gem seriously. “And what exactly might that ‘thing’ be?”

“Trying to act like you’re some grand authority on the contents of a person’s character!” Pearl exclaimed hotly. “I don’t know who made you had the right to judge others like you do, but whoever they were, they probably knew as little about actually being good and kind as you do.”

“As if you really know any better?” Celestabellebethabelle scoffed crossly. “The last time you were here a century ago, the only thing I saw you do was helplessly cling to your precious Rose Quartz as if she was paradigm of perfection. But even still, all these years later, I still stand what I said. She’s not pure of heart and neither are YOU!”

Pearl simply let out a harsh scoff at this, not even bothering to dignify the unicorn with a response to this as she simply turned on her heel to leave, though not before giving one final, bitter remark as she departed. “I don’t need some sanctimonious unicorn to tell me that,” she huffed, her anger dissipating into remorse as she completely turned away, recalling a certain recent mistake of hers that had all but proved her impurities through and through. “After all…” she muttered to herself somewhat sadly. “I already know…”

However, the white Gem’s self-pity didn’t last too long as she left the unicorn’s glen, only to find the girls all gathered around Mabel, who was lying close to the nearby stream, curled up into a miserable ball as she wept quietly, even despite the comfort the others were trying to offer her.

“Come on, Mabel,” Wendy encouraged earnesty. “Don’t beat yourself up about this.”

“Let’s just forget about that dumb hair and go home,” Candy advised, though Mabel was having none of that.

“It’s not just about the hair anymore, guys,” she sniffled as she sat upright and held her list of failed good deeds close. “It’s about me. Being kind and sweet is what makes me who I am. If I’m not a good person, then who am I?”

“Well, I know who you are,” Connie interjected, placing a steadying hand on Mabel’s shoulder. “You’re Mabel; you’re fun and creative and most of all, kind, no matter what that unicorn says. And you don’t have to prove that to anyone, especially not her; because as far as we’re all concerned, that was something we all knew from the very start.”

Upon hearing this, Mabel briefly looked up at Connie, her cheeks still wet with tears as she met the warm smile her friend was offering her. And for a moment, her encouraging, hopeful words almost managed to convince her that it was true, that she was a good person, despite Celestabellebethabelle’s claims. And yet… it still wasn’t quite enough. “I-I appreciate it, Connie, but… she’s right…” Mabel sighed sadly as she pulled her shoulder away. “Its time I finally admit it to myself; I’m just not as pure of heart as I used to think I was… Which is why I’m not leaving this spot until I think of a deed that makes me as good as Celestabellebethabelle!”

“But Mabel-” Grenda attempted to reason before she was promptly cut off.

“Just leave me be!” Mabel snapped in morose frustration, turning her back to the group as she began pondering over her list once more. The other girls were largely at a loss over what to do to comfort her at this juncture, but even so, they didn’t get much of a chance as Pearl discreetly called them all over to her spot under a nearby tree.

“Alright, enough is enough,” the white Gem began as soon as they had all gathered near her. “It’s time to put an end to this unicorn nonsense once and for all. And the sooner we do it, the better, especially for Mabel’s sake…” Pearl frowned as she stole a sympathetic glance at the miserable girl sitting only a few feet away, desperate to find a way to make herself worthy in the eyes of a creature who clearly didn’t deserve that kind of valiant effort.

“I’m with Pearl on this one,” Wendy staunchly agreed with a deepening scowl. “If you ask me, this whole thing is a serious load. Mabel’s like one of the best people I’ve ever met. We tried getting that hair the nice way; now its time we try the Wendy way.”

“Are you suggesting violence? Sabotage?” Grenda asked, caught off guard.

“Oooo… you know, normally I’m not the kind to approve of such roguish behavior but… in this instance… that sounds… quite intriguing…” Pearl remarked, sending a daring smirk towards the nearby unicorn’s glen.

“Honestly, at this point? I’m up for trying something like that too,” Connie said, crossing her arms. “Its about time someone puts that awful unicorn in her place, so it might as well be us.”

“But what about Mabel?” Candy asked worriedly. “She’s not going to like this…”

“Mabel doesn’t need to know,” Wendy shook her head dismissively. “Look, its time we stopped trying to be so ‘perfect’ and be who we really are. We’re crazed, angry, sweaty animals—well, except for you, Pearl, I guess. No offense.”

“None taken,” Pearl said, nodding for her to go on with her inspiring rand.

“But anyway, we’re not unicorns, we’re WOMEN! And we take what we want!” To punctuate her point, Wendy slammed her fist into the nearby tree, eliciting excited cheers from Connie, Candy, and Grenda alike as well as a satisfied grin from Pearl.

In fact, the newfound revelry was so contagious that Grenda ended up smashing a rather large rock to bits against her forehead, instantly quieting the cheers as the others all looked to her, aptly startled. “…Too much?”

“Ok,” Wendy said as the group huddled in to begin their ambitious, albeit morally ambiguous plan. “Here’s what we’re gonna do…”

Gnasty’s Gnome Tavern was by and large the most popular gnome tavern anywhere near Gravity Falls, largely since it was just about the only gnome tavern in the surrounding area. Its usual patrons were a notoriously rowdy bunch who spent their days knocking back honeysuckle shots and exchanging the regular brutal punch or kick to the face to anyone in the remote vicinity. Yet despite their renowned roughhousing, none of the gnomes occupying the tavern were quite prepared for the much larger group that rather violently burst into the bar completely out of nowhere.

“It’s the cops!” one of the gnomes cried as the tavern was immediately thrown into a panic as the group of girls forcefully pushed themselves into the hallowed-out tree. “Hit the deck!”

“We’re looking for someone who knows how to take down a unicorn!” Wendy shouted fiercely amidst the clatter of scattering gnomes. “No tricks or games!”

“We are human!” Candy yelled, breaking an empty bottle over a nearby table and holding its sharpened end up threateningly. “We take what we want!”

“I know a sure-fire way of K.Oin’ a unicorn,” a rather shady, grizzled gnome sitting in the darkened corner of the tavern spoke up. “Too bad I ain’t in the market for spillin’ that kinda info to a bunch of normal-sized girlies like yourselves.”

“Oh, I think you will,” Connie said coldly, drawing Rose’s sword and aiming its sharp tip directly at the gnome.

“Heh,” he chuckled, surprisingly not surprised by this overt threat. “I like the way you ladies operate. So, listen up. Fairy dust; a whole magic bag’s enough to put a unicorn out cold. But if I do you a favor, then you gotta do somethin’ for me.”

“Just spill it, half-pint!” Grenda roared, slamming her fist against a nearby tree stump.

“Now, now, patience,” Pearl advised much more calmly as she looked back to the gnome with solid seriousness. “Name your price.”

“Butterfly traffickin’ is illegal in this part of the forest,” the gnome began, his voice low and discreet. “But I like butterflies. They tickle my face and make me laugh. Bring me a bag of butterflies and we got a deal.”

The girls all exchanged a dubious glance at this, most of them rather bewildered by how the odd rules and regulations of gnome culture. Even so, they were quick to nod their agreement to this plan, knowing that this haggle would be more than worth it to make Celestabellebethabelle pay for what she had done.

Fortunately, it didn’t take the group but a few minutes to capture a whole bag full of butterflies before meeting up with the gnome in the designated clearing. The others all hid out in the nearby bushes as they sent Grenda in to preform the trade, her manner just as unsuspecting as the gnomes as she quietly handed him off the bag of butterflies before he produced his end of the bargain.

“Two bags of fairy dust, just as we agreed,” he said, turning over two small pouches of the glittering substance.

“Where do you get this stuff?” Grenda shook her head, glancing between the dust and the gnome.

“Everyone likes sausage, but no one likes to know how it’s made,” the gnome smirked as he peeked into his bag of butterflies.

“You disgust me.”

“Hey, you got your poison; I got mine. We made a deal.”

“Yeah, well, the deal’s OFF!” Grenda shouted, blowing a whistle to summon an entire squadron of gnome policemen from the nearby woods. The arrangement with the cops had been an easy enough one to make, one that resulted in a meticulously planned-out sting operation that was already unfolding exactly as planned.

“Freeze!” the chief shouted as the first gnome was heavily pinned down by the other cops, his butterflies quickly swiped away from him. “You’re under arrest!”

“These butterflies aren’t mine! I swear I’ve been framed!” the gnome cried, sending a harsh glare to Grenda and the other girls as they came out of the bushes to join her.

“Tell it to the adorable owl we’ve dressed as a judge,” the chief scoffed as the gnome as hauled away for sentencing. “My cut?” he held his hand out to Grenda a beat later, and she handed him one of the two bags of fairy dust, just as they had agreed upon.

“Has the gnome criminal justice system always been this corrupt?” Connie asked with a somewhat concerned frown over these shady proceedings.

“Oh believe me, they have,” Pearl remarked, crossing her arms knowingly.

With the butterfly bust complete and a full bag of fairy dust still in hand, the group wasted no time in hurrying back over the unicorn’s glen, taking care to not let Mabel spot them as she remained at her spot near the stream, still trying in vain to come up with more good deeds to accomplish. With Celestabellebethabelle distracted with reading as she was, she didn’t even notice as they all slipped into her magical domain, filing in behind a row of rocks and trees so they wouldn’t be seen as they prepared to carry the final steps of their daring plan out.

“Oh, sure, I wish I could travel, but its just not feasible in this economy!” Celestabellebethabelle huffed to herself as she read through her copy of Whinny, Prey, Trot. However, it was only a moment later that the unicorn was struck squarely in the face with the full bag full of fairy dust as a result of Candy’s accurate aim. “W-what the hey-!?” was all she really had time to say before the magical substance did its trick, knocking her out cold. Her attending faun witnessed all of this with apt horror, but as he tried piping out an SOS on his panflute, Grenda was quick to slip out of the shadows and cover his mouth with a towel dosed with a healthy amount of chloroform.

“Sleep now!” she hissed as the faun slowly went limp and unconscious as well. “Sleeeeeep…”

“Alright,” Pearl said as the others hurried over to the fainted unicorn. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Right,” Wendy nodded, pulling out a pair of scissors and a sizable lock of Celestabellebethabelle’s multi-colored hair. And yet, before she could make the decisive cut, their plans all too quickly fell through when they were unexpectedly discovered by the very person they had been trying to keep their ambitions a secret from in the first place.

“No, wait!” Mabel gasped, standing in the entrance of the glen only to see the others about to outright steal some of the unicorn’s precious hair. “Stop! What are you guys doing?!”

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Pearl asked in a careful whisper, glancing over at the still unconscious Celestabellebethabelle. “We’re taking what we deserve, whether that uppity unicorn likes it or not!”

“Yeah, seriously, Mabel, keep it down!” Wendy cautioned, moving her scissors in to clip the hair. “You’ll wake her up!”

“But this is wrong, you guys!” Mabel exclaimed, swiftly taking the scissors away from the cashier.

“But protecting the shack and the temple is good,” Wendy rationalized, trying to take the scissors back. However, before she could, the unthinkable happened as Celestabellebethabelle suddenly began to stir from her momentary slumber only to spot Mabel and the scissors she was unintentionally gripping the very moment she opened her eyes.

“What?!” the unicorn gasped, quickly rising to her feet. “Doth mine eyes deceive me?! THIEF! You shall never be pure of heart!”

“N-no!” Mabel cried, instantly dropping the scissors as she looked to Celestabellebethabelle pleadingly. “Y-you don’t understand! I-I wasn’t… it was… P-please!” she ended up begging, tears falling from her eyes as she made one final, desperate plea to the outraged unicorn, even though she knew it likely wouldn’t help her now. “I-I just wanna be good like you!”

Celestabellebethabelle was more than prepared to fire off a harsh retort at this, however, right as she was about to, this intense confrontation was suddenly interrupted by a very unlikely pair. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” a male voice said, coming from one of the two unicorns that had just emerged from the other side of the glen, one red, one blue, and neither of them looking that amused with Celestabellebethabelle in light of what they’d just witnessed. “Yo, C-Beth, are you seriously pulling that whole ‘pure of heart’ scam again?”

“That is messed up, man,” the other unicorn added, shaking his mane disapprovingly.

“Wait… scam?” Mabel asked, exchanging a confused glance with the others.

“Listen, kid,” the blue unicorn began rather dryly. “Unicorns can’t see into your heart. All our dumb horns can do is glow, point towards the nearest rainbow, and play rave music.” To prove his point, his horn began to somehow play a bout of upbeat techno music, which he could easily switch off at ease.

“Yeah, the whole ‘pure of heart’ racket is just a line we use to get humans to leave us alone,” the red unicorn said with a knowing scoff.

“Guuuuuys…” Celestabellebethabelle whispered nervously as her entire scheme began to fall apart. “Shut uuuuuup…”

“Wait, so… it was a lie all this time…?” Pearl spoke up before breaking out into a bout of triumphant, albeit somewhat unhinged laughter. “Ha! I knew it! I knew she was a fraud! All these years and I was right! It really was just a cruel trick to tear others down all along! Oh, if only Rose was still around to hear this, I bet she’d feel just as vindicated as I do right now!”

However, despite the white Gem’s zealous excitement, not everyone was as elated to hear the truth of the unicorn’s malicious gambit. “All this time…” Mabel began, her voice low and practically shaking with rage as she crushed her list of good deeds in her hands altogether. “All this time I thought I was a bad person, but you’re even worse than I am!” Her anger reached its mounting height as she threw her notepad down hard, her hands in tight fists as she glared at Celestabellebethabelle, refusing to let the deceptive unicorn be the judge of her any longer.

“Ok, fine,” Celestabellebethabelle huffed haughtily, knowing she’d been caught. “So you learned our secret. We’re jerks, ok? We have more hair than we know what to do with, and we keep it to ourselves just to tick humans off. So, what are you gonna do about it, huh? Huh? What are you gonna do-”

The unicorn was abruptly cut off the moment one of Mabel’s fists made brutal contact with the side of her jaw, instantly drawing some of her sparkling, rainbow-colored blood. Just about everyone gasped in shock in light of this sudden attack, and even Mabel herself was stunned by it as she looked to her own blood-covered hand, one that quickly turned back into a fist as she sent Celestabellebethabelle another hateful glare.

“Woo! Go Mabel!” Wendy cheered, already pulling her axe out of its hoister to join in on the fight.

“Join the dark side!” Grenda yelled, grabbing a nearby log to use as her weapon.

Mabel did just that as she fiercely tore the unicorn stitched onto her sweater off, making it quite clear that her former admiration and respect for the hypocritical mythical creatures was all but completely shattered right then and there. This sentiment of righteous fury carried throughout the rest of the group as well, with Wendy, Candy, and Grenda cheering for the no doubt oncoming fight as Connie swiftly drew her sword and Pearl even went as far as summoning her spear.

“You know, I usually don’t believing in physically harming any of the magical creatures of Gravity Falls,” the white Gem began as her expression slowly changed into a vengeful smirk. “But in this case, I’m more than willing to make an exception.”

“Oh, so it’s a fight you want, huh?” Celestabellebethabelle growled, digging her hoof into the soil below her as her fellow unicorns prepared themselves for the inevitable brawl. “Well, then it’s a fight you’re gonna get!”

Without any further hesitation from anyone, both sides rushed each other, meeting in a violent clash that quickly devolved into boundless chaos. Mabel was initially kicked back clean in the face by one of the unicorn’s hard-hitting hooves, though Connie was quick to swoop in for retribution, slamming the dull edge of Rose’s sword against his head in a decisive move. Grenda had landed one of the other unicorns in a headlock, repeatedly punching it in the face as Candy jumped onto his back and pulled on his hair as he let a heavy neigh of protest. Wendy was the first to get the jump on Celestabellebethabelle herself, only to be nearly trampled underfoot as she reared up high. Even so, she quickly fell back to the ground as Pearl landed a swift, elegant kick to her gut, one that was followed up by Mabel coming in for another punch to her snout. As intense and wild as this scuffle was, none of the girls could really deny that it was cathartic as could be; with each blow or beating they inflicted upon the deceitful unicorns, it felt as though there weren’t just taking out their anger in some much-needed revenge. It felt as though they were righting a grave wrong, breaking out of molds that they saw no reason to belong in any longer, and rising above unattainable standards that never truly existed in the first place. And most of all, they were proving, not just to Celestabellebethabelle, but to themselves, that the content of their characters was no one’s call but their own.

A feat that in and of itself would have been rewarding enough; though socking a sickeningly snobbish unicorn clean in the jaw only made that reward all the better.

As Ford had said, Project Mentum’s mental encryption process worked at an incredibly slow pace, something that Dipper and Steven realized more and more every time they stole a glance back at the screens behind them, which, even several hours later, still only showed its minimal progress at a mere 15%. In fact, it was taking so long that Ford had ended up falling asleep amidst pouring over his notes, leaving the boys to keeping themselves entertained during what was certainly a very lengthy, very boring endeavor.

“Ok, its my turn,” Steven grinned as he carried on the rather one-sided game of ‘I spy’ they had playing. “I spy with my little eye something… blue!”

“My vest,” Dipper answered immediately, clearly far from invested, especially when compared to the young Gem.

“Oh yeah, you got it!” Steven cheered brightly. “Then again, that one wasn’t that tough since there aren’t a lot of blue things in here.” The young Gem chuckled lightly at this, though his humor died down somewhat as he glanced over to far less enthusiastic friend beside him. “Um… Dipper? Are you ok?”

“Huh?” Dipper sat up a little at this, glancing over to Steven briefly. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, its just… we’ve been at this for hours now and it really doesn’t seem like anything’s actually happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how do we really even know that this thing is actually gonna keep Bill from messing with us anymore?”

“Well, Mr. Ford said-”

“I know what Ford said,” Dipper sighed in growing frustration, especially as he glanced over at his sleeping great uncle a few feet away. “But how does he know? Why does he have to be so mysterious about Bill anyway? The Gems told us what they know about him, so why won’t Great Uncle Ford? He knows we’ve dealt with Bill before, which means whatever he’s keeping from us, I can handle it! I-I mean, we can handle it.”

“Maybe… he’s just not ready to tell us about it yet?” Steven suggested, largely respecting the author’s call on this. After all, given just how brutal and horrific the Gems’ past was with Bill, it only made sense that if Ford’s previous encounters with the dream demon were anything of the sort, that he’d be hesitant to discuss them. Dipper, on the other hand, was not so easily allayed.

“Hm… or maybe…” he trailed off, his sights still set on the author as his thoughts, made audible by the machine he was still connected to, filled in for him. “Maybe you should just use the machine! It’ll show us his thoughts!”

“H-huh?” Steven glanced behind him, somewhat alarmed to see and hear Dipper’s thoughts once more, especially as Dipper himself hardly seemed to pay them any mind. “Dipper, I… don’t know if using the machine on Mr. Ford is such a good idea…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, we really shouldn’t…” Dipper said in apparent agreement, though his thoughts clearly said otherwise. “Great Uncle Ford won’t have to know. He’s going to tell you anyway.”

“Y-yeah, I’m sure he will!” Steven interjected anxiously. “Which is why we should probably just respect his privacy and let him tell us when he’s ready! R-right?”

“Right, right,” Dipper nodded, closing his eyes pensively as his thoughts continuing unveiling the truth. “No, not right! The more you know about Bill, the safer you’ll be! The more you can help!” “But then again… it could show us something really useful. You never know.”

“W-well, I do know that I think this is a bad idea,” the young Gem shook his head, his dread growing more and more by the second in light of his friend’s rather concerning thoughts, especially as they began to take on something of a more frustrated tone.

“Easy for Steven to say, he wasn’t the one who Bill tricked and possessed and nearly killed like YOU were!” Dipper’s expression darkened at this recollection, something that made Steven’s heart and stomach both sink in worry and fear alike. And those feelings only spiked as Dipper slowly removed the helmet, his stream of consciousness finally going silent as he kept his resolved sights on Ford and nothing else. “I’m sorry, Steven,” he said, his voice almost unnervingly quiet as he rose to stand. “But I have to know.”

“B-but-”

“It’ll be just a quick peek, I promise,” Dipper assured, casting a brief final glance back at Steven before carefully and quietly putting the helmet on his still-sleeping uncle. “What are you hiding about Bill…?”

The moment that Dipper finished securing the helmet onto Ford was the moment he got his answer. And that answer was much more horrifying than anything either him or Steven could have expected. For as soon as the device began to read the author’s thoughts, none other than the menacing image of Bill Cipher himself appeared on all of Project Mentum’s many screens, floating amidst a background of his iconic, sinister blue flames and cackling like the madman he was absolutely known to be. Unified gasps of equal fear rose up from both of the boys as Steven shot out of his seat, rushing to Dipper’s side as they watched with wide eyes and racing hearts as Ford’s slumbering thoughts told a story that neither of them ever thought they’d see.

“Where are these ideas coming from?!” A much younger McGucket yelled to a younger Ford, harshly shaking his shoulders as he gave him a look of complete and utter distrust. “Who are you workin’ with?!”

“Stanford, you HAVE to tell me what’s going on!” Another screen switched to Rose, her expression rife with worry as she spoke to the author just as urgently. “Who is ‘he’? Why won’t you let me help you instead?!”

“Because I don’t NEED you as long as I have him!” Ford shouted back, quite furious with the pink Gem for whatever reason.

The other screens were just as active as they flashed with an array of alarming images. Ford restlessly tossing and turning in his sleep, lost in an apparent torrent of unseen nightmares. Him writing “I’M LOSING MY MIND!” and “TRUST NO ONE!” into journal 3 in frantic, erratic script. The portal, sparking to life as nothing but sheer darkness and devastation lay beyond its otherworldly light. And throughout all this, several different voices joined in, weaving into this disjointed, frightening narrative each in their own unique, disconcerting way.

“My brother is a dangerous know-it-all…” Stan warned, though Ford himself soon cut him off with a warning of his own.

“He would trick or possess anyone-” the author had said and Steven and Dipper hadn’t doubted him. And yet the next scene they saw was more than enough to make them both doubt everything Ford had every said to them.

“Then it’s a deal,” Ford smiled, young and clearly confident as he held his hand out in offering. “From now until the end of time.”

Bill’s eye flashed with some unknown intent as he also extended a hand, one that was aglow with blue flames as he spoke with faux amicability. “Sure thing! Just let me into your mind, Stanford!”

“Please,” the author’s smile widened, completely oblivious to the danger the dream demon posed as their hands met in a solidifying shake over their ‘deal’. “Call me… a friend.”

The very next thing the boys saw was the result of this deal, Ford himself possessed by Bill, his eyes dark slits against piercing yellow and his voice mingling with the demon’s as they both cackled wickedly together in perfect, awful unison.

While Steven was largely stunned into silence by all this, Dipper only managed to get a few words out himself, even despite his own immense panic as the demon’s telltale maniacal laughter rang in his ears just as much as it had when he had been pulled out of his own body weeks ago. “N-no…” he choked, his voice barely a whisper as he shook his head in disbelief, hoping and practically praying it wasn’t true. “No, i-it… it can’t be… Ford a-and… and Bill?!”

Another sharp gasp rose from both boys as a sudden clamor rose from behind them, and as tense as they already were, they quickly spun around only to find that Ford himself had finally woken up at the very worst possible time. “You shouldn’t have done that…” the author said, his voice low and dark as he slowly stood. By his expression alone it was clear he as tranquilly furious, even though his eyes were obscured by the screens’ bright reflection off his glasses, which only served to make him even more admittedly intimidating as he towered over both of the terrified boys. Even still, Ford hardly seemed to note their obvious fear as he roughly took the helmet off and tossed it aside in his anger. The helmet just so happened to strike one of the many sheets covering the walls as it landed, easily pulling them down to reveal something that only made the boys’ palpable horror skyrocket exponentially.

Hidden behind both layers of curtains and secrets was what could only be defined as an all-out shrine to Bill Cipher. Several statutes prisms and statues of the demon were tucked away into the shadows, almost like twisted idols paying homage and reverence to someone who both Dipper and Steven knew to be an absolute monster worthy of no such honor. But worst of all, the walls were covered in detailed murals depicting Bill’s triangular over and over again, all of his painted eyes seeming to stare down at the frightened boys below them.

“W-what is all this?!” Steven asked, his entire body trembling as he forced himself to look away from the depiction of the demon who had haunted his dreams just a few hours prior.

“W-why… why were you shaking hands with Bill?!” Dipper exclaimed, quickly turning back around to face Ford, quickly glancing around for some means of defending himself and Steven, just in case. Fortunately, the Sword of Seasons was sitting on a table close by, largely since Ford had been tinkering with the invention a bit earlier, and even though the thought of drawing that blade against his own uncle made him sick, Dipper grabbed it nonetheless, as well as the memory erasing gun lying right next to it. “Steven! Grab the rift!”

Steven sucked in a sharp breath at this but he didn’t argue, quickly grabbing the rift off the table next to them, though amidst his rush to summon a bubble to further protect them, he nearly dropped the precious tear altogether.

“Careful!” Ford scolded harshly, his glasses still reflecting gold as he reached out to grab the rift, though he couldn’t get too close thanks to the bubble now surrounding the pair as they began to carefully back away. “Hand me the rift! Now, boys!”

“N-no!” Dipper retorted, trying to sound as brave as he could amidst his mounting fear. “You said Bill could possess anyone so he could get this, but—but you made a deal with him! How do we know you aren’t Bill right now!?”

“Now, just calm down, p-”

“Pine Tree?!” Dipper instantly cut Ford off, finally aiming the memory gun at him as opposed to his sword as memories of constant sleeps plagued with endless nightmares where Bill taunted and teased him with that very nickname flashed through his mind. “Is that what you were going to call me?!”

“I was just going to say please, kid!” Ford rationalized, but even so, his tone was still harsh and cold. By now, the boys had essentially backed themselves up into a corner, leaving them trapped with only Steven’s bubble serving as their only real defense against what could very well be Bill Cipher.

“Great Uncle Ford told me to protect the rift!” Dipper shouted, glancing over to make sure that Steven was still holding it close and tight. “And I’m not about to let you get your hands on it or on Steven’s gem! Get one step closer and I’ll shoot!” He aimed the memory gun up a bit higher at this, with the full intent to fire it off even despite knowing full well what its effects could be. “I’ll erase you right out of Ford’s head!”

“It’s me, Dipper!” Ford yelled hotly, his severity hardly calming either of the boys down whatsoever. “It’s your uncle!”

For the briefest moment, Dipper hesitated at this, his hands shaking as he tried, so very hard to believe that it really was just Ford, that Bill wasn’t using him as his own twisted puppet just as he had been weeks ago. And yet, he knew he couldn’t; because doing so could very well put himself, Steven, and even reality itself at risk. And that was a risk he wasn’t about to take when it came to Bill. Not again, not ever again.

“Steven, drop the bubble,” he said starkly, his tone every bit as shaky as his arms were.

“W-what?” Steven’s longstanding fearful silence finally broke at this, his eyes wide as he clung onto the rift and looked to his friend in disbelief.

“I said, drop it,” Dipper repeated, still not tearing his hardened gaze off of Ford, especially as the author threw his hand down onto the bubble’s pink surface out of anger.

“B-but that’s-”

“I know.”

“But if you shoot him, t-then his memories will-”

“I know, Steven!” Dipper shouted back fiercely, finally looking to the young Gem and allowing him to see just how much panic, rage, and sorrow were all mingled into his expression all at once. “Just drop it already!”

At this final, harsh command, Steven found he could no longer argue as he instead pulled the rift even closer to his chest, closing his eyes tightly as he slowly let the bubble disappear, leaving nothing between them and Ford. Nothing that is, safe for the memory gun that was brightly sparking with its erasing light in Dipper’s hands.

“T-trust no one…” he muttered to himself, tears starting to well up in his eyes as he prepared to squeeze the trigger. The author’s own mantra rung true, certainly in a moment like this, when even the person who wrote it himself couldn’t be trusted. And while Dipper had failed before in upholding it, he knew that he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice, not when so very many things that mattered so much to him were at stake. “Trust no one! Trust-”

“Hand it to me!” Ford demanded, and it was at that moment that Dipper knew he had no choice. On a beat of sheer terror and impulse alone, he squeezed the trigger, the bright beam firing off directly at the author as both boys were knocked back by it. Miraculously, the ray struck Ford clean on his glasses, which reflected it perfectly and sent it bounding across nearly every surface in the entire room. Steven was quick to protect himself and Dipper from it by way of his shield, though as soon as the beam struck it, it ricocheted upwards towards the many screens of Project Mentum, where it finally met its end by breaking every single one of them in the process.

And yet, this brief bout of chaos only gave way to another one. Both Steven and Dipper were quick to act on sheer panic, knowing that Bill could very well still be in control of Ford and out to get them both. Dipper quickly dropped the memory gun and took up the Sword of Seasons instead, yet before he could do anything with it, Ford suddenly grabbed him by the back of his vest, easily hoisting him up into the air. He nearly latched onto Steven’s arm as well, though the young Gem had the wits about him to pull away just in time and run, taking the rift with him. That is, until he heard Dipper’s fearful struggle against the author holding him.

“L-let go of me!” he cried, weakly swinging his sword about in moves that showed no signs of hitting Ford, as far out as he was holding him.

“Dipper!” Steven gasped, stopping dead in his tracks as he hurriedly set the rift aside and ran back towards the action. “W-wait! Stop!” The young Gem cried, completely panic stricken as both the events of a particular puppet show as well as his own haunting dreams the previous night came rushing back to him in an oppressive torrent. “I-I’ll give you my gem! Just please, don’t hurt him again!”

Both Ford and Dipper froze at this, surprised gasps escaping both of them as they looked to Steven with what seemed to be horrified shock. And yet, for as shaken as he was, Dipper used this brief distraction to his advantage, finally landing a blow on the author’s arm with the very tip of his sword. It wasn’t too large or deep of a cut, but it did cut through his coat and sweater and break the skin just enough to catch Ford off guard and force him to drop his nephew entirely. Steven quickly rushed over to him, summoning his shield and tightly grabbing Dipper’s free hand as the two of them stood together, more than ready to defend themselves against the demon who had caused them both so much pain and devastation.

Or, at least they would have been if Bill was actually present there at all.

“N-now, now, just calm down,” Ford advised, his tone much softer as he adjusted his glasses, finally allowing the boys to past the reflective glare. “Look into my eyes, both of you. It’s me, not Bill, I promise you.”

Upon seeing the lack of telltale signs of Bill’s possession, Steven and Dipper both finally let out the heavy breaths they had been holding in, yet even so, they hardly relaxed. Dipper in particular quickly picked up another round of hyperventilating, especially as he caught sight of the bleeding wound torn across Ford’s arm. A wound that he had inflicted.

“I-I… I tried to erase your memory…” he began, quickly dropping the Sword of Seasons as he pulled his hand out of Steven’s. “A-and then I hurt you! I hurt you with the same sword you made for me!”

“Dipper, it’s just a scratch, it’s fine,” Ford tried to reassure as he covered the relatively harmless injury, though his nephew was having none of that amidst his massive wave of guilt and anguish.

“No, its not fine!” he practically shouted, his tears quickly starting to return as he pressed his hands to his head in remnant terror. “I messed up so badly! I used the machine on you without even asking you about it because I couldn’t just wait for you to tell us the truth about you and Bill for yourself! And then I just had to go and make it even worse just by being dumb enough to believe you were possessed by him!”

“Dipper-” Ford attempted to interject once more, only to be drowned out by the boy’s ongoing hysteria.

“W-what was I even thinking?!” Dipper yelled, his hand now pressed tightly against his chest as his breathing grew even more short and frantic. “How could I be so stupid?! Every time I try to convince myself that I actually stand a chance against Bill, I only end up doing is ruining everything and it just keeps happing no matter how many times I try to fix it! B-but… but there just isn’t any way to fix this… There’s no way to fix me…”

Dipper had just about broken down into a remorseful, painful sob, yet before he could fall apart again, Steven quickly rushed in to help hold him together. He stilled, letting out an almost inaudible gasp as the young Gem suddenly hugged him from behind, wrapping his arms tightly yet securely around him in a steadying, comforting embrace. “You don’t need to be fixed,” Steven assured, his voice a gentle, warming whisper as tears started to well up in his own eyes. “You don’t need to fixed because you aren’t broken. You’re gonna be ok someday. We’ll be ok. I promise.”

As overwhelmed by his own many mingling emotions as he was, Dipper didn’t offer too much of a response to this reassurance outside of the small, somewhat weak sob he had been holding back. All the same, he did slowly reach up to place his hands over Steven’s, more than grateful for his support and solidarity in a moment such as this. While he wasn’t entirely certain that he’d actually ever truly be ok as Steven had said, what Dipper did want to believe that he did at the very least have a chance at someday moving past all of this lingering fear and dread. And, with someone like the young Gem standing beside him to keep him standing hopeful and strong, that was a belief that he didn’t have too many difficulties holding onto.

Ford let out a long, remorseful sigh as he watched the boys’ embrace slowly break apart, but even so, he largely averted eye contact with either of them, even as he hesitantly spoke up. “Dipper, Steven,” he began rather pensively, clear shame leaking into his tone as he continued gripping his injured arm. “I… deeply appologize for what just happened. I never intended to frighten either of you. But, I can say that if I really had been possessed by Bill, then you both would have done great, especially you, Dipper. I only wish I had been more like you when I was younger…”

Of course, given everything that had just happened, Dipper was quite surprised to hear such praise coming from the author himself. But Ford’s proud smile and comforting hand on his shoulder was indeed finally enough to put an end to his already fading panic attack once and for all as it gave him the realization that, perhaps this time, he hadn’t really made as momentous of a mistake as he at thought. “T-thank you…” he said quietly, somehow smiling in spite of it all.

Ford returned his nephew’s smile briefly, though all too soon it vanished into a look of shame as he glanced up at the countless images of Bill on the walls surrounding them. “I was a fool to hide all this…” he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone as he shook his head. “The reason why I’ve been trying to prepare you boys for Bill’s tricks is because Bill tricked me. It’s the biggest regret of my life. Bill wasn’t always my enemy, you know. In fact, I used to think he was my friend…”

1981

For six years, Ford’s ongoing research of Gravity Falls and its incredible anomalies had been going strong and steady. With the invaluable help of the Crystal Gems, he had unearthed discoveries that would certainly boggle the mind and ensure him a coveted spot in the scientific community once he one day published his findings. Yet even despite this success, the young researcher still craved to know more; he wanted to know exactly why Gravity Falls was such a hotbed for strangeness, where did all of its bizarre creatures and landmarks originate from, how did such unbelievable things even exist in their world at all?

And yet, for all his wondering and all his theorizing, these were questions that Ford never seemed to find the answers to on his own.

Even despite the Gems’ vast knowledge on the oddities of Gravity Falls, they themselves were plagued by the same questions of their origins as well. Which was why, when the collective group had dedicated themselves to uncovering those answers, they all too quickly hit a stark and heavy roadblock in their research. Weeks of intensive thought and pointless leads had gotten them nowhere closer to discovering the truth, and even despite Rose’s warm encouragement and reassurance, Ford was starting to become rather frustrated by his own lack of any concrete findings. If he couldn’t discover just why Gravity Falls was so strange in the first place, then what was really the point of any of his hard-earned research at all? Without a strong and proven theory to back it all up, certainly no one would ever believe his accounts of the paranormal, downright mythical sights the town had to offer. He might as well have packed all of his things up and headed home, a thought he had considered as his hopes running dryer and dryer by the day.

Until…

In order to clear his jumbled thoughts, Ford had, almost randomly, decided to take a break from his research to go on a calming walk through the woods. Bereft of the Gems by his side as he usually was, the author casually decided to venture down an unmarked path he had never taken before, only to happen upon a mysterious, somewhat darkened cave that had never showed up on any of his maps of the surrounding area whatsoever. Curious, Ford ventured inside, with only his lantern light to guide him, only to find something that left him reeling with amazement. The entire cave was covered in ancient markings that likely dated back thousands of years; though they it was somewhat hard to make out, the writing described a powerful being who possessed the answers to all of humanity’s wonderings. And yet, despite such miraculous claims, the cave markings were also quite grave, with dire warnings against summoning this being lest impending doom and disaster strike. All the same though, Ford was desperate; certainly, if such a being did exist and was as wise as these carvings claimed, then perhaps they might be willing to finally provide him with the truth he so intently craved.

And so, with only slight trepidation, the young researcher read the summoning inscription aloud, only for nothing to apparently happen as a result. Disappointed with what he assumed was nothing more than ancient legends and folklore, Ford left the cave, eventually deciding to take a brief rest under the shade of a tree not too far away. Of course, the young researcher hadn’t expected to doze off in the warmth of the afternoon sun, but he did all the same; and as he did, his dreams provided him with what he believed, at least at the time, was nothing short of a miracle.

Needless to say that Ford was quite amazed upon opening his eyes only to find himself floating amidst a vast, peaceful space-scape, one littered with countless stars, notes, lab equipment and even journals quite similar to his own drifting all around him. The young researcher had no idea what to make of any of this as he began exploring this intriguing space, only to be met by something, or rather someone even more bewildering.

“Hiya, smart guy!” Ford spun around with a gasp upon hearing this unexpected voice echoing through the void, but who he saw was the last thing he could have ever expected. It was a being that was, simply put, a triangle, bright yellow in coloration with only a single slitted eye to emote with and thin black limbs to over the young researcher a friendly wave of greeting. “Whoa, calm down there! Don’t have a heart attack, you’re not 92 yet!”

“W-who are you?” Ford asked, his initial alarm turning into immense curiosity at such a bizarre being.

“Name’s Bill!” he introduced himself brightly with a cordial tipping of his long tophat. “And your name’s Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world! But I’m getting ahead of myself; let’s relax! Care for a game of interdimensional chess?” With a simple snap of Bill’s fingers, a translucent chess board appeared out of midair, along with a comfortable chair on each side of it. “Have a cup of tea!” he exclaimed warmly, materializing a teapot and cup to pour into, one that floated directly over to Ford, who was more than fascinated by this point.

And thus, their friendly game of interdimensional chess was underway, and through it, the young researcher was able to learn a good bit more about his new acquaintance. According to Bill, he was a muse, one who chose to inspire one brilliant mind every century with his boundless knowledge and wisdom. And with apparent excitement in his tone and a playful wink of his singular eye, he cheerfully informed Ford that, impressed by his zeal in researching Gravity Falls, he had selected him to be the one to receive his otherworldly insight next. Of course, the young researcher was elated by such an incredible offer, and, without really thinking at all, he gladly accepted it on the spot.

From that point on, Ford wholeheartedly considered Bill to be his research partner just as much as he did with Rose and the other Gems. And yet, for as excited as the young researcher was by this new alliance, Bill gently cautioned him against informing the Crystal Gems of it, mostly to keep from arousing any distrust or suspicion on their end. While Ford was somewhat confused by this warning, he decided to uphold it nonetheless, for certainly the Gems, as stuck in their rather alien ways as they often were, wouldn’t understand the contract between himself and a higher being such as Bill.

Even so, right from the start, Ford saw the immediate benefits of his newfound deal with Bill. Not too far into their regular meetings within the dreamscape, the triangular being unveiled the very thing the researcher had been looking for: a way to finally answer his longstanding questions concerning Gravity Falls’ weirdness. According to Bill, all of the town’s strangeness leaked into it from another dimension entirely, and the key to discovering that dimension would be by way of a grand gateway, a portal to another world entirely. To this end, he even provided Ford with complete schematics to such a seemingly impossible machine, one that he gladly allowed the researcher to add his own ideas and equations onto to improve it even more. After all, it was as Bill told him: this was how genius happened, and all as a result of a little help amongst friends.

And, for the longest time, that was what Ford fully and fool-heartedly believed.

So construction of the portal began, with the Crystal Gems and Fiddleford to aid Ford on the corporeal end of things while Bill continued to provide his unseen yet very impactful assistance through his dreams. As weeks turned into months, Ford’s determination on the project grew even more determined and intent, especially as Bill regularly reminded him that the portal would certainly give him all the answers he had ever hoped for and then some. To further lend his aid, Bill even volunteered to keep work on the portal going, even when Ford himself was too physically exhausted to persist. By simply allowing his muse to come and go through his mind, possessing him as he pleased, the young researcher saw his productivity practically spike tenfold, pushing progress on the portal along even faster. What Ford didn’t notice amidst his enthrallment with the invaluable help his muse was providing him with, however, were the worried looks Fiddleford often sent his way, the confused whispers between the Gems as they wondered exactly what was going on, the general, unvoiced dread between his other partners in general as they questioned whether or not they were the only ones working with the author on his mysterious portal after all.

And all too soon, they all were quick to discover such worries were not unfounded, in perhaps the worst way possible.

The moment that Ford and the Gems hurriedly pulled Fiddleford out of the finished portal after he was accidentally sucked into it was the moment the author began to suspect something was wrong. However, his alarm only grew when the mechanic and the Gems all angrily quit the project in a huff, leaving him alone with his anxious pleas to Bill, pleas that were only answered by quiet, sinister laughter and a single, ominous message: “The door is open…”

Desperate to know exactly what went wrong, Ford ventured back into the familiar dreamscape him and Bill often met in, determined to get to the bottom of exactly what path his supposed muse had led him on. “Bill!” Ford shouted hotly, rushing towards the triangular being as he lingered before a tear in the space-scape, one filled with vague silhouettes of countless untold nightmarish creatures. “You lied to me! Where does that portal really lead?!”

“Hoho, looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart!” Bill laughed deviously as he turned around to face the author, no longer masking his malicious intent. “Let’s just say that when that portal finishes charging up, your dimension is really gonna learn how to PARTY! Right guys?” he asked his apparent ‘friends’ inside of the otherworldly tear, who all simply roared and cackled in a chorus of wicked triumph.

At first, all Ford could do was let out a gasp of shock as he realized just how much of a monster Bill truly was. But blinded by flattery and charming games as he had been, the author had never once considered that the demon planned on tricking him, had been using him as nothing more than a foolish pawn to meet his own destructive ends all along. “N-no!” Ford exclaimed, resolved to fix this incredible mess he had mad. “I… I’ll stop you! I’ll tell the Crystal Gems everything and together, we’ll shut that portal down once and for all!”

“Ha, as if!” Bill rolled his eyes, clearly not taking the author seriously. “You really think Quartzy and those Crystal Chumps are ever gonna trust you again after all this, then you’re gonna be sorely disappointed! All the same, a deal’s a deal, Sixer! You can’t stop the bridge between our worlds from coming, but it would be fun to watch you try! Cute, even!”

At that very moment, Ford awakened with a stark gasp, his eyes wide and his heart racing as he reeled with everything he had just heard. Bill had betrayed him, that much was clear and there was no undoing the massive mistake he had made by even trusting the insane demon in the first place. Which meant that the only thing he could do now was try to minimize the damage before things could get any worse. Acting quickly, the author shut down the portal in the hopes that it would never be active again, lest Bill gain access to the Earth as he so eagerly wanted. From there, Ford quickly filled what he could of his third and final journal with frantic and paranoid warnings concerning the demon and his tricks, even though he planned to hide his research so no one could ever finish the demon’s treacherous work.

And yet, despite these valiant efforts, Bill had been right in the fact that his deal with Ford still very much stood. No matter how much the author tried to protect himself against the demon, Bill still had complete access to his mind, just as they had agreed years ago. Just about any time Ford happened to slip into the depths of slumber, even amidst his growing panic and insomnia, Bill was more than happy to take over, littering the journal with his own inane coded ramblings and even going as far as to injure his pawn just for fun. In fact, it was in the midst of one of these wild spells of possession that Rose herself happened to discover just how much Ford had really been hiding from her all along.

“Stanford?” the pink Gem called as she entered into the author’s secluded study one chilly autumn day months after their own partnership had ended. “Are you in here? I-it’s been a while since any of us have heard from you and I’m starting to worry if-”

Rose cut herself off with a sharp gasp as she finally spotted Ford, digging a knife into his upper arm as he slowly looked back at her with a huge, uncharacteristic grin of sheer, sadistic glee. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Sixer here, Quartzy!” he quipped in a voice that the pink Gem immediately recognized. A voice she had never wanted to hear ever again. “In fact…” His smirk widened as he pulled out the blood-soiled knife. “I’d say he’s doin’ A-ok!”

“I-it… it’s you…” Rose shook her head in disbelief, her voice but a stunned, genuinely fearful whisper.

“Yep, it sure is me!” Bill exclaimed brightly as he began to walk over to the terrified pink Gem. “Right here in the flesh. Or, I guess in Fordsy’s flesh, but since he did decide to let me in whenever I want, I guess you could say it is mine after all!”

“B-but… but how did you… when did you-”

“Oh, it looks like Sixer really did chicken out about telling you after all, huh?” Bill asked with a knowing glint in his slitted yellow eyes. “Turns out I’ve been the one pulling his strings all along! Dumb old ‘Brainiac’ here let me give him the plans to a certain gateway that I remember someone else promising to build for me way back when. A gateway that’s gonna give me a one-way ticket to your perfect little planet, Quartzy.”

“M-my… t-the portal?!” Rose gasped, overwhelmed with shame and terror at the thought. “N-no… no, you… you tricked him! You tricked all of us, just like you did before! If I had known that you were behind all of this, I would have never allowed Ford to-”

“See, that’s just it, Quartzy!” the demon interupted smugly. “You didn’t know. No one did, and all because it was so easy to get him to do whatever I wanted. Now that I mention it, that sorta sounds like you, doesn’t it? In that case, you really do belong down here with these dumb old humans seeing as how you’re just as empty-headed as any of them are!”

Rose practically had to fight back the urge to draw her sword upon hearing such callous remarks, reminding herself exactly who the demon was possessing at the moment. “G-get out of him,” she ordered as sternly as she could. “Right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Bill shrugged casually. “But only ‘cause Fordsy’s about to wake up. In the meantime, have fun dealing with the fact that you’ve basically doomed your precious planet over several times over. See you and that rock you still owe me next time, Quartzy!”

And with that the author’s eyes fell shut, his entire body growing limp as he slipped into unconsciousness. Rose barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground, healing tears already spilling down her cheeks to work on the several injuries Bill had left behind as Ford slowly, painfully awakened.

“Hm… R-Rose?” the author groaned as he opened his eyes to find the pink Gem anxiously hovering over him.

“F-Ford…” the pink Gem whispered, holding back a sob. “Why didn’t you ever tell me a-about… about him…?”

Ford quickly looked away from Rose at this, knowing exactly who she was talking about and not even having to ask how she found out about him. “B-because…” he began, deciding to finally be honest with her. “I was too ashamed to tell you about the terrible mistake I made…”

“No,” Rose corrected, offering a hand to help him up. A hand that seemed to offer so much more than that and then some. “It’s a mistake we made…”

And it was a hand that Ford only barely took. For even though he immediately came clean to Rose about his deal with Bill as well as the demon’s inevitable betrayal right then and there, he still hesitated to trust her any further with helping him in the matter. After all, he had trusted Bill and had seen where that had gotten him. How could he trust Rose, or anyone else for that matter after such a cruel and immense deception?

But in time, he did decide to trust her again, though only for the sake of helping him hide his final journal away. Later he would wish he had only trusted her more, for perhaps if he had, it could have saved him from all of the tragedy and woe that had began following him like a shadow. And yet, he didn’t, deciding to walk alone in his fear and anger and carrying one, single sole resolve all the while.

To stop Bill Cipher’s twisted ambitions. No matter what the cost.

Present Day

“Bill’s been waiting for the gateway to reopen ever since,” Ford finished his lengthy tale, his tone still quite grave as Steven and Dipper tried to take it all in. “All he needs to do is get his hands on the rift. To Bill, its just a game, but to us, it could mean the end of our world…”

“Oh man…” Dipper sighed, shaking his head with immense worry. For so long now he had been preoccupied with the threat that Bill potentially posed to himself and his friends that he had never really even considered just how destructive and devastating the demon’s ends really were. But now, it was clear; if Bill had his way, then certainly nothing would survive, a fact that only served to make both him and Steven alike fear him even more than they already did, if such a feat was even possible.

“Oh man, indeed…” Ford nodded with serious agreement, briefly glaring up at one of the many images of Bill on the surrounding walls. “I know that I might never truly be able to compensate for the foolish error I made in trusting Bill, but I’d still like to think that preventing him from getting that rift is a start. Unfortunately though, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for the brief time I actually decided to trust him over Rose…”

“Why not?” Steven asked with a worried frown.

“Well, simply because I never got around to making amends with her,” Ford sighed rather sadly. “I was so consumed by paranoia and dread at the time that the thought never really crossed my mind to just… appologize to her for all that went wrong between us. I chose Bill over Rose and I completely ruined our partnership and our friendship as a result. I’d easily count that as my second biggest regret because now… well, I doubt I’ll ever get the chance again.”

The three of them were quiet for a long time after this, all of them feel rather small under the scrutiny of the eyes of the effigies of dream demon on every wall around them. In time, it was broken, again by Steven, whose voice was small, but sincere as he addressed Ford once more. “I think she would have forgiven you…”

The author couldn’t help but finally smile in spite of this, knowing that, even if that forgiveness hadn’t come from the pink Gem herself, it still felt genuine and comforting all the same. “Thank you, Steven,” he said, choosing to believe that if Rose herself was still around, then perhaps she would have said the exact same thing.

An air of solemnity hung between Ford, Dipper, and Steven as they went upstairs, largely since Project Mentum was no longer a viable option to safeguard them against Bill. Their thoughts and worries were still largely on the dream demon, even as they unanimously decided to take a much needed soda break around the kitchen table in what was initially fretful silence until Dipper ended up breaking it.

“Ugh, I’m still so embarrassed about earlier…” he said, clearly bothered by his burst of blind panic in the study. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not!” Steven chimed in earnestly. “You were just scared, we both were! At least this time, if we really had been up against Bill, we would have been able to fight him together. Just like we will next time, right?”

“Right,” Dipper said with a small laugh, truly comforted by the young Gem’s continued reassurance.

“Dipper, I can assure you, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Ford added just as sincerely. “From now on, no more secrets between us. We’re not the first ‘idiots’ to be tricked by Bill, boy. But if we all work together, then we could be the last. And the same thing goes for you too, Steven. For now, I suggest following what the Gems said to protect your gem from Bill at all costs. I’m still not sure how him getting his hands on it would factor into his plans, but we can only assume that if he did get it, the outcome would not be good.”

Steven simply nodded at this, still resolved to do what he could to keep his gem out of the demon’s possession. Even if he did still secretly wonder if his own mother really was the one to promise it away to him or not…

“But… what about Bill?” Dipper spoke up anxiously. “I broke the machine! Now we have no way to protect the shack or the temple!”

“Did somebody say unicorn hair?!” Mabel shouted as she suddenly burst into the room, slamming down a fistful of shimmering, rainbow-colored hair onto the table. Pearl, Connie, Wendy, Grenda, and Candy all filed in behind her, all of them looking much worse for wear with torn clothes, bruises, scratches and various multicolored unicorn fluids covering them from head to toe. Even so, they all wore bright, satisfied smiles, their mission accomplished and their vengeance against Celestabellebethabelle and her deceitful tricks achieved.

“Um… no actually,” Dipper frowned, pushing Mabel’s hand away as she playfully waved the hair in his face.

“Oh. That would have been perfect,” she shrugged before quickly perking up again. “Either way, we got some unicorn hair!”

“Also some unicorn tears, unicorn eyelashes…” Candy listed before Grenda continued, holding up a large, ornate chest.

“They finally gave us this treasure just to get rid of us!” she proclaimed, dumping the contents of the chest onto the table to reveal a massive horde of gold and jewels.

“Not to mention we got to put a very irritating, very unethical unicorn in her place,” Pearl said, crossing her arms with a smug smirk. “So all in all, I’d say it was a very successful day.”

“Also, a pretty weird one, what with that butterfly sting operation and our all-out brawl with the unicorns,” Connie added, rubbing some unicorn blood off her arm.

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Steven exclaimed, stars in his eyes as he looked to the girls. “I knew you guys could do it!”

“It… can’t be!” Ford exclaimed, just as amazed as he looked to the plentiful clump of unicorn hair Mabel had gathered. “This is a great day, girls! With this unicorn hair, we should be able to completely shield both the shack and the temple from Bill’s mind reading tricks!”

“Is it ok?” Mabel asked, her tone hopeful as she handed the hair over to her uncle.

“Its better than ok, its perfect!” the author laughed warmly as he placed a proud hand on his niece’s shoulder. “You’ve protected your family and your friends. You’re a good person, Mabel.”

“Aw, thanks, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel smiled, glad to hear it. After all, she’d much rather have the approval and support from those she cared about then some uptight, uncaring unicorn any day. “But today, I’ve learned that morality is relative!”

Before anyone had the chance to question her on this somewhat bizarre life lesson, Stan suddenly rushed into the room, hurrying past the treasure-laden table and grabbing a plentiful armful of it in his wake. “MONEY!” he shouted wildly as Amethyst ran in after him, grabbing yet another load of treasure with a rowdy laugh and another bout of her somewhat botched Spanglish.

“Viva larga CHASH MONEY!”

Not wanting to waste any more time to risk subjecting themselves to Bill’s tricks any further, Ford and Dipper got to work, Steven and Pearl both volunteering to join them in erecting shields around both the temple and the shack. It was a lengthy, somewhat dull process in gluing the long strands of unicorn hair around the foundations of both structures, with the temple in particular proving to be something of a challenge given its large perimeter and odd structure. Even so, as soon as they were done, a magical shield, covered in mysterious protective runes and symbols, bloomed around both buildings before fading back into invisibility, ensuring that them and everyone within them, would be in no danger from the dream demon’s tricks.

“Perfect!” Ford grinned as they finished up on shielding the shack. “This should protect us from Bill. As long as we’re inside either the temple or the shack, our minds—and gems should be safe.”

“What a relief!” Pearl sighed as she placed a hand on Steven’s shoulder. “If only we had something like this 24 years ago. It would have saved us a lot of trouble, to say the least.”

“Well, who knows?” Steven interjected with an encouraging smile. “Maybe now that we have these barriers put up, there won’t be anymore trouble!”

“Yeah,” Dipper agreed, unable to hold back his own allayed grin. True, Ford had said that the protection spell was only a safeguard and not actually a way to vanquish Bill once and for all. But if it truly could give them a much-needed reprieve from the demon’s mental games and relentless tormenting, then for now, it would be enough. “No more trouble. I’d say that sounds like a pretty good deal.”

Unbeknownst to the group standing outside of the shack, they were all being watched by a familiar, singular eye, one that was carefully observing their every move from his home deep within the unimaginable depths of the horrific Nightmare Realm itself. Bill couldn’t help but let out a mocking laugh as the motley crew celebrated their success, success that he knew was only going to be very short lived if he had anything to do about it.

“That’s what you think, Pine Tree,” the demon remarked, hands held behind his back as he finally looked away from his peek at the shack. “Still, I guess if I can’t possess anyone inside the shack or the temple, then I’ll just have to find my next pawn… on the OUTSIDE…”

At this, the demon’s eye rolled back, a variable roulette of people and Gems alike, either in or around Gravity Falls: McGucket, Lars, Candy, Pacifica, Jenny, Tyler Cutebiker, Mr. Smiley, Lazy Susan, Manly Dan, Sadie, Soos, Onion, Peedee, Greg, Robbie, Lolph, Dundgren, Barb, Jamie, Durland, Blubbs, Kiki, Sour Cream, Preston, Priscilla, Toby Determined, Mr. Fryman, Malachite, Nanefua, Lee, Nate, Ronaldo, Blendin, Connie, Shandra Jimenez, Kofi, Kevin, Grenda, Vidalia, Mayor Dewey, Gorney, Tambry, Yellowtail, Buck, Bud, and Wendy. As far as Bill was concerned, any of them would make excellent puppets to use in furthering his sadistic schemes along.

And fortunately for him, he already had the perfect pawn in mind…

12 notes · View notes