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theoldsports · 5 months

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Married | Part II

LINK TO PART ONE

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.1K words

FILTHY SMUT 18+ ONLY. oral (m and f receiving), dubcon, alcohol makes consent messy, brutal sex, blackout drunk, bad media coverage, lingerie, exhibitionism (a little), they’re both terrible for each other in the best way possible, possessiveness <3 this one gets a bit dark.

Married, back by popular demand. hope it’s okay. i worked hard, i’m a bit nervous. let me know what you thought. requests always open.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

He inhaled and set his sights towards his next objective. Already leaning in, Coriolanus pulled [Y/N]’s earlobe between his lips tantalizingly. “Now, I seem to recall being promised a blowjob, my Darling.”

[Y/N] sighed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten.”

Coriolanus smirked, inches from her face. “I never forget a promise.” He muttered.

The driver pulled up in front of them with his car and Coriolanus pulled [Y/N] inside. [Y/N] put her head on Coriolanus’ shoulder instead of putting on her seatbelt for the short drive home. She was drunk enough not to care if she was touching him, or if he was touching her. Coriolanus was touching her. He was touching her too much already at her thighs and hips. The pair of them had already broken the touch barrier that evening, but her brain was too loopy to try to push any kind of new/old boundary.

[Y/N] blinked heavily. She was able to tell that Coriolanus was already becoming frustrated with the bulk of tulle that was her black gown. It was funny for an engagement party when she thought about it, since it stood in stark contrast to her crisp white wedding gown. Coriolanus couldn’t seem to figure out how to touch her right under all the fabric as he had then they were standing earlier.

“Is your wedding dress going to be easier to handle?” Coriolanus said into the back of her ear. “This one is starting to get on my nerves.”

“I can’t tell you that. You’re not ‘pposed to see it til you see it at the alter.” She giggled sadly.

Coriolanus frowned. “Ancient superstition,” he said. “I’m not seeing it anyway. You’d be telling me about it. It’s different.”

“Nice try.”

Coriolanus’ frown deepened as he rolled his icy blue ice. “May I ask you something else, then?”

“It depends.” [Y/N] said clearly. Too clearly, really. That was the problem with drunk people, they knew they were drunk, but they tried to prove to everyone around them that they weren’t.

Coriolanus laughed at her expense. She was behaving like a child. He found it equal parts charming and frustrating. “Have you ever given a blowjob before?” He asked too loudly for [Y/N]’s liking.

“Coriolanus!” She gasped, smacking his arm.

“I’m just asking! You don’t have to strike me. Haven’t we had enough of that for one night?”

[Y/N] hated Coriolanus. He made her blood boil. “What does it matter?” She growled.

“I was curious if you had offered because it was a matter of superior ability, or because that was the only thing you had to offer.”

“You’re calling me desperate!”

“I wasn’t specifically, but since we both agree that it’s true…”

“All this was shaping up to be halfway tolerable, and you open your big mouth again. Fuck you!”

“Yeah, I know. You fucking me is what I was aiming for. Yes or no on the blowjob thing? I was assuming you had, if it makes any difference.”

[Y/N] paused. She had given a blowjob. Quite a few, actually. They were very convenient for getting out of a bad situation fast. She didn’t answer. [Y/N] still didn’t have the courage to say that in front of the driver.

“You can say yes. I know you’re not a virgin.” Coriolanus said bluntly.

Coriolanus would know that. Prior to their engagement, it was true that [Y/N] had pulled Coriolanus in for a quick fuck at a University party. She was shocked that he implied he even remembered that for as drunk as she recalled him being. [Y/N] wondered if the two of them would only ever be able to love each other under the influence.

“Can this conversation wait a few moments, we’re almost home.” [Y/N] replied.

“You didn’t have much of a problem back at the party in front of damn near everyone that’s ever known you. Is one driver going to make a difference?”

“FINE!” [Y/N] snapped. “Fine. I have, I give a decent blowie. Happy?”

Coriolanus smiled an uncharacteristically wide grin. The driver coughed slightly and loosened his tie. [Y/N] would have been incredibly embarrassed if she had any dignity left. Coriolanus grinned even wider at his driver’s behavior. His new favorite pass time was seeing how far he was capable of pushing [Y/N] to do whatever he wanted. So far, so good. Her initial resistance before her moment of breaking and behaving even worse than himself is what made this all the more fun.

The driver pulled up in front of the steps to their city apartment. Coriolanus gathered [Y/N]’s long forgotten shoes from the car’s floor. The driver got out to open the door for [Y/N]. Ever the gentleman publicly, Coriolanus ran around the side of the car to get it faster. He helped his fiancée out of the car. A Herculean task when you consider the alcohol in her system and the weight of all the fabric in her ballgown. “Come on, Darling,” he said, yanking her somehow elegantly towards the stairs, “we have business to attend to.”

Coriolanus helped her up the stairs and into their apartment. It was easier than it had been on the way out in those deathtrap heels he had purchased her.

Faintly, [Y/N] heard the door snap shut behind her and the deadbolt click resolutely. She leaned up against the wall. Coriolanus left her field of vision for a moment. When he re-entered her sights, [Y/N] blinked up at him. “Hi.” She said.

Coriolanus smirked at her curiously. “Hello.” He replied.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” [Y/N] started. She took a clumsy step towards Coriolanus and grabbed the lapels of his coat for support once she could reach him. “You’re quite pretty,” she said. Coriolanus began a laugh. “No! Don’t. Don’t do that. I mean, you’re a very attractive man. You are. Too bad that you’re—“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Coriolanus cut in with a scoff. “Here, let me help you,” he pulled her in closer. His hands moved nimbly down her back to pop open one button after the other on her dress while still allowing her to support herself against his front. For the first time, Coriolanus didn’t care that much if she wrinkled his clothes. When the majority of the buttons were undone, her dress slid down her body and landed in a large heap at her feet. What was left under the dress was [Y/N] in no bra (which Coriolanus had not expected, even under the strapless gown) and alarmingly red lace panties, stockings and garters (also unexpected). “I… Wow,” He said cooly. His eyes raked hungrily down her body. Coriolanus had never seen so much of it at once before. “Is there a bra that goes with this?”

“Mhmm,” [Y/N] nodded shyly.

“Hm, I think I would like to see it sometime. This isn’t half bad, though,” He said. He could Coriolanus’ large hands his hands slid down her chest. His hands held her breasts firmly. His eyes widen watching her nipples pebble under the touch of his thumbs. “Why’d you wear this?”

The lingerie wasn’t the most stunning set he had ever seen—it seemed more practical than anything else— though, he could fix that. Coriolanus felt the crotch of his pants tighten at the prospect, knowing that she was already into wearing such things. He was going to call for a lingerie catalog in the morning and buy all of it.

“It’s most of what I wear. I—I like it.”

“I’ll remember,” Coriolanus nodded. She was confident he would remember. She probably wouldn’t remember saying it, though.

Coriolanus stared down at their hardwood floors. He hated hardwood. It creaked too much and only looked good with an abundance of maintenance. Coriolanus wanted [Y/N] to suck him off as soon as possible and figured that she would probably be appreciative of getting it over with faster, but his mind was racing thinking about the unsightly bruises the hardwood entryway would leave on her knees.

Then the bedroom had the issue of the rug and the rugburn that would give. Further, which bedroom would they go to? Coriolanus hated that [Y/N] insisted on staying in her own room. He would have to fix that. She was clearly just as exciting as he had recalled from childhood, it had merely taken them both a moment to get to that level of vulnerability with each other. Coriolanus decided to lead [Y/N] to his bedroom. He also decided he would insist she kneel on a pillow. He hated the look of bruised knees. It reminded him of the war.

While he pulled her along, he glanced down at her. “The tears at the party, were those real?”

[Y/N] laughed in surprise at the question. “No! Well, maybe twenty percent, if that? Because once I get started, it’s hard to stop.”

“Really?” He replied, leaning her against his open doorway. “You’re sick. I’m rather impressed. That takes a lot of… What’s the word?”

“You said ruthless earlier.”

“Yes, that too, but… It’s brilliant that you can do that at the drop of a hat. Very valuable to you. Scary for me, I’m sure.”

“… Thanks. I’ve been doing it since I was little.” [Y/N] replied dryly. She had never seen Coriolanus’ bedroom before. He had seen hers. Coriolanus thought he could barge in whenever he desired. His own room was previously off limits. [Y/N] figured it wouldn’t have been off limits had she wanted to have sex with him before now.

The room was clean, neat and lacking personal items almost entirely. There was a red rug, a vase of white roses on the nightstand and a small desk for when he took his work to bed with him. The bed, specifically, was enormous. It was piled high with pillow after pillow and the softest white sheets she could imagine. It made the bed she had spent all these weeks in look like a joke.

“Yes, as I recall, you were the fucking… crybaby in school until we were fourteen. And you mean to tell me it was fake?” Coriolanus threw his least favorite pillow on the floor for [Y/N]’s knees with a hushed thump.

“I mean, yes.”

“Why?”

“I like the attention.” [Y/N] said plainly. They both knew she wouldn’t have been so open about it without the alcohol, but boy, did Coriolanus desire this version of her. He saw her in that moment, standing mostly nude in his bedroom. He saw her for the first time for what she was. She was real. [Y/N] was a real person made up of a mess of contradictions. She was a very calculating person. Coriolanus saw that ruthlessness and that icy deadness to her. That was exactly the thing he thought he could love the most about her.

“Freak. What else can you do?”

“I dunno. I just… Do what gets me ahead. Don’t we all, Coriolanus? And, uh, when I see someone I don’t like, instead of saying ‘good to see you’ when they say ‘good to see you,’ I say, ‘yes! To see you!’ And I kind of mumble so it’s not obvious that I’m incapable of saying ‘oh yeah, nice to see you.’ You know I hate pleasantries.”

“Freak,” Coriolanus repeated with a smile. “No pleasantries then, get on your knees.”

[Y/N] walked the few steps towards towards the pillow he had thrown down and sank to her knees on it. She was clumsy when she was drinking, Coriolanus thought. More often than not, she was violently ungraceful more often than not. Coriolanus had rarely seen her be graceful at all. He liked that. He thought he’d moments of clumsiness and carelessness were alluring. [Y/N] looked helpless to him sometimes and he admired that. He wanted to be the thing that held together her broken and unsure nature. He thought of all the things he might have to help her accomplish in their future shared life together.

Coriolanus could see himself reaching easily for things she could not reach in the kitchen. He could see her being unable to lace up her winter boots due to the tightness of her dress, so he would get on his knees and do it for her. If she tripped on the sidewalk, he would pull her to her feet. If [Y/N] was too drunk to get up the stairs, he would carry her. When some strange man dared to look at her the wrong way, Coriolanus would kill him. She seemed so fragile and needy to him. Coriolanus loved that.

He needed her to need him. He wanted to be the only thing she ever need.

She was to be his.

“Stop looking at me,” She said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wow, that kind of talk really gets me hard.” Coriolanus walked towards her, undoing his black leather belt and tossing his coat on the floor. She thought about the amount of excess he would afford her if he cared so little for his own possessions to leave them on the floor. [Y/N] thought about her own position on his floor briefly.

“We agreed no pleasantries.”

“Come on, you’re going to be mine for the rest of our lives. At least let me look at you.”

[Y/N] tipped her head down with a frustrated sigh. He stared wolfishly at her as she knelt half-bare on his floor. She couldn’t help but blush at how exposed she felt. [Y/N] felt more on display and exposed in front of one man, the man she was to marry, than she did in front of every guest at the party earlier in the night.

“Don’t look away from me,” Coriolanus said firmly. “Those eyes are too beautiful to look at the ground like that.”

She looked back up at him begrudgingly, her eyes wide with fear, or lust. She had no choice but to watch Coriolanus popped open the button of his trousers open. [Y/N] could see the imprint of his dick against his thigh. He rubbed himself through his pants for a moment. [Y/N] swallowed nervously. Coriolanus was a broad, imposing man. The size of his cock shouldn’t have been surprising, but her eyes bulged all the same.

Coriolanus pulled his cock free of his pants. Logistically, [Y/N] was officially concerned about offering the blowjob. His long cock was what her the rest of her life looked like. She would surely have to get used to it eventually.

Without hesitation, [Y/N]’s mouth fell open as he approached. Her hands instinctually gripped the back of his thighs. Coriolanus, after loosening his tie, buried his hands in her once elegantly styled hair and forced himself down her throat.

Coriolanus moaned through gritted teeth in sync with [Y/N]’s gag when she took him in. There was little chance of taking all of him down her throat at once. Unsurprisingly, Coriolanus fucked hard and fast. Brutally so. [Y/N] hardly had a chance to breathe through her nose. Fortunately, at least, Coriolanus did all the work by maneuvering her face up and down on his length. He regulated the tempo and the pressure. All [Y/N] could do was try to swallow and hollow her cheeks out as best she could. Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you, echoed in her mind.

Tears ran down her cheeks. Real ones.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Coriolanus grunted after several moments. [Y/N] raised her tongue slightly against him. Through wet eyes, she saw Coriolanus’ eyebrows lift and his forehead crease when she did. That was effective. “[Y/N]!”

The only sounds in the room after that were gagging and heavy breathing. Coriolanus’ breathing, not [Y/N]’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she was able to breathe, it felt like. She was really blowing for her life here, she could barely catch an inhale through her nose. [Y/N] felt herself get more and more lightheaded and she did all she could to keep her eyes open.

Quickly, she tapped the back of Coriolanus’ left thigh. It was universal symbol for this isn’t great for me. Coriolanus understood this signal loud and clear. He thought he would keep going, but almost immediately decided he would rather have a wife in one piece instead of a perfect blowjob and slowed his pace significantly. Like a good husband.

He got gratification from slowing down too, because he could see the relieved and grateful gleam in [Y/N]’s expression. Coriolanus had gifted her that relief. He was getting close.

“Swallow.” He choked out. [Y/N] turned her eyes up at him again to confirm his request. Coriolanus’ eyes were tightly shut. [Y/N] had no idea if this had been minutes or near an hour. Her jaw ached. She felt his cock twitch against her tongue as she sucked.

That was the last clear memory [Y/N] had that night. The build up of the alcohol that had been genetically modified to be strong enough to get one drunk faster, the stress, the sweat, the tears, the blowjob, the lightheadedness, the dancing, the fear and the anger all happening on one night culminated into a good old fashion liquor blackout.

She had brief flickers of memory instead of a picture of the night. She was unsure if Coriolanus had finished or not. [Y/N] vaguely remembered Coriolanus unhooking her garters and taking off her stockings. She could feel the clean sheet and duvet over her exhausted body. She swore she could recall Coriolanus’ arm over her her waist and his lips against her ear whispering something. If only she could remember what he said.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] woke up to the birds and the traffic noise. All of it sounded world-shatteringly loud. She felt sick to her stomach. What was that dreadful taste in her mouth? Her head pounded. Too much posca at her engagement party. Desperately, she wanted a cup of coffee. [Y/N] groped at the covers to drag them over her face to block out the morning light that filtered through the window.

Hold on.

As she pulled the covers over her head, [Y/N] realized these covers did not smell like her. They smelled of roses. That, and something else more metallic that lingered under the palatable rose smell. Coriolanus smelled like that. Coriolanus’ bed.

Buried in the comfortable duvet, she couldn’t bear to crawl out from under it. She was filled with panic. How had she ended up here? She could feel that Coriolanus wasn’t beside her, so where had he ended up? Had they slept together?

Had they slept together?

The phrase and all of its meanings bounced around in her head. Her hand slid down her body. She had no top on. That was a bad sign. Her hand continued further down her body and landed on lace underwear. She exhaled and let her hand flop back down on the bed. From another room, probably the living room, [Y/N] heard the phone ring. She wished it would stop. [Y/N] rose from bed with some difficulty.

It was clear upon standing up that the only thing that would make her feel better was vomiting. She dashed madly for Coriolanus’ en suite bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet, empty the contents of her stomach for a good couple of minutes. The pressure of her headache decreased afterwards, but the terrible taste in her mouth grew. [Y/N] flushed the toilet and stood in front of the mirror. She had never looked this bad in her life.

Dark ringed eyes, leaking leftover makeup and smeared lipstick, a bold hickey on her neck like a seventeen year old. What had she done?

[Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ burgundy robe off the back of his bathroom door and cinched it around her waist. She walked back through his bedroom. Her knees burned a bit with each step. Maybe from the heels she had worn the night before. Her eyes landed on the flat pillow on the floor right next to Coriolanus’ belt. This seemed like a bad omen.

Suspiciously, [Y/N] walked into the too bright hallway light. [Y/N] stumbled to her own bathroom and frantically brushed her teeth before facing Coriolanus. It hurt to hold her jaw open to brush her molars, but anything to rid herself of the salty, stale taste that had taken up residence. Finally then, she moved into the living room.

There was Coriolanus smiling on the couch like he was most mornings after some sort of party. His hair lacked product and lay rich and curly against his forehead. Boxer shorts and an open dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up left little up to the imagination about his body. He was so pale that he practically reflected the sunlight from the open window back at her like a mirror. Coriolanus was perfect, even first thing. How annoying.

“What time is it?” [Y/N] croaked hoarsely. Coriolanus nearly knocked his mug of bitter coffee off the end table in surprise as he reached for the remote. He abruptly clicked off the television.

“Eleven. There about,” Coriolanus replied, vocally calmer than his body would betray. He rose from the mauve couch and moved to [Y/N]. He ran his hand down the sleeve of his robe that she wore. “Is this mine?” He asked softly.

“Yes, sorry. It was all I could find. I’ll go swap it for—“

“Please. What is mine, is yours,” Coriolanus interrupted. “It suits you,” he said with a hand running across his own gold CSB monogram on the breast pocket of the robe she wore. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, I suppose,” but what she really wanted to say was ‘what did we do last night?’ “And you?”

Coriolanus chanced an animalistic smile. “Last night, you said no more pleasantries.”

[Y/N] scanned her brain for a memory of saying that. She did not remember that phrase specifically, but she did catch a lot more glimpses of her night in her mind’s eye. [Y/N]’s strongest images were her mother’s shocked eyes, the empty glasses of posca, Coriolanus with a red handprint on his cheek, and his hard cock at her eye level.

“Coriolanus, what did I do?” [Y/N] asked, realizing exactly what she had done.

“Which part?” Coriolanus asked cautiously, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. Coriolanus wanted her to feel held and ravished for a moment since he knew she would go ballistic at what was on the TV, in the newspaper, and on the lips of everyone in town. She felt like a still from an old moving picture; being held like that.

“How bad?”

“Hm? Oh, your mouth was lovely—“ he tried to expertly redirect with an innuendo.

That assumption of what they had done had been correct. Damn. “No, shut up, stop. The… The TV, the news, the—“

“Do you want to know?”

[Y/N] felt like deflating. It must have been bad. She thought back to how he had turned off the television so fast when she walked in. “I… Will I like what I see?”

“How about we sit down, Darling?”

Coriolanus sat [Y/N] down gently on the middle cushion of the couch and folded his lanky legs into the seat to her right. She looked worried. Coriolanus hated watching other people worry, it was distracting for him and often created too many new problems. He swallowed down the urge to snap at her for pouting like that. He hated pouting too considering how unproductive it was. The blonde man reached his right hand out and used a pointer finger and thumb to tip [Y/N]’s chin up so she was forced to look him in the eye. “Hey,” he said calmly. “Any press is good press.” Coriolanus repeated their mantra from the night prior.

[Y/N] inhaled through her nose. “Any press is good press.” She agreed. Coriolanus nodded and pressed a dutiful kiss to her temple to praise her for that answer. [Y/N] stared at the dark and glassy TV screen. Coriolanus clicked it on.

A fuchsia haired newswoman sat behind a desk with the regular Capitol News studio set up for an morning gossip show. The headline was plastered on a chiron in the lower third of the screen: ‘SNOW HEIR’S GIRL OUT OF CONTROL.’ In the top right hand corner of the frame was a photo of [Y/N] sobbing on her knees in front of Coriolanus’ who wiped her tears. [Y/N] wasn’t able to listen to the grating anchorwoman who was speculating about whether or not Coriolanus should send [Y/N] to rehab.

Coriolanus watched [Y/N] watch herself on TV. He grew uncomfortable when he couldn’t automatically read her expression. He had prepared himself for some tears and a temper tantrum, but neither came.

“What are you thinking about?” Coriolanus asked her. [Y/N] was too still. She didn’t respond quickly. “[Y/N]?” Coriolanus nudged her with his elbow. “What are you thinking about?”

“The headline.” She finally replied.

Coriolanus bit his bottom lip. He kept his voice as level as she had. “Okay. What about the headline?” He asked.

“Well, it isn’t very good, is it?”

“What?”

“It’s too plain.”

Coriolanus narrowed his eyes. “It’s too plain?”

[Y/N] nodded slowly. She finally ripped her eyes away from the television set and looked up at him. “It’s informative, but it’s not eye catching beyond being alarmist,” She replied. [Y/N] pointed at the TV, smiling. “That’s my picture. That’s us up there, Coryo, and that’s the best headline they could come up with? It’s weak.”

Coriolanus couldn’t recall her calling him Coryo before, even when [Y/N] had heard it from friends, family and classmates. She was saying something. He should have been paying better attention, but [Y/N] looked lovely wearing his robe. “Coryo, are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t. Too bad. Coryo. “I got distracted, I’m sorry, Darling. You were saying?”

“I said, please get me a piece of paper and a pencil. I want to work on something better and call in a suggestion for a correction since obviously—Mmph!“

[Y/N] sentence was never finished. Coriolanus leaned in towards her face and slammed his lips against hers hungrily. Habitually, [Y/N] grabbed his biceps as they toppled flat back onto the couch. Coriolanus wasted little time pressing the tip of his tongue against her lips aggressively. He knew he gave into an open-mouthed makeout too easily, but it was so much fun.

Both pulled back after some time for a breath. “Coriolanus…” [Y/N] panted.

“Coryo, please. Nobody calls me that anymore.” He said, staring down at her.

“Coryo, I want a pencil and a piece of paper.”

“You’re crazy. You want to call in a correction on a story about yourself because you want to make it worse. You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Then tell me some more after you get me—“

“Not yet,” Coriolanus said. His hands untied her robe like she was a gift box. The best present to come out of this engagement party, certainly. “[Y/N], do you know what you did last night?”

“A few things, at least.”

“Very funny. I mean…” Coriolanus sighed. His hormones raced. He could barely make eye contact with her since his eyes were drawn elsewhere. “I mean, you bulldozed your whole life. You Thirteen’d your life off the map.” he said. She nodded. She shivered at the reality of his statement. [Y/N] had nothing left but ashes. She had burned almost every bridge she had.

Except him.

“Not the part with you,” [Y/N] said. She smiled. She said it to please Coriolanus and it seemed to work. He was much easier to play than she thought he was. “You’re all I’ve got left, Coryo.” That was absolutely true. For better or worse, Coriolanus was inevitable.

“Let me take care of you,” Coriolanus said. “You’re about to be my wife. There’s no one else you need. You’re mine. I’m not going to let you fall through the cracks.” He said.

“Promise you won’t?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Coriolanus said honestly, but he didn’t feel strongly enough to really promise. “Do you like these panties?”

“Yes.”

“Shame. I’ll buy you a new set.” There was a horrible tearing sound and after that, Coriolanus’ mouth was on [Y/N]’s pussy. He licked and sucked for all he was worth.

[Y/N] did not expect Coriolanus to be good at this. All this time, she had disallowed him from touching her because she thought he would be a selfish lover. There was still potential that he was, but fuck, Coriolanus sure was good for this. His long thin nose bumped her clit as he pressed his tongue deeper into her folds and she moaned. Her hands sank into his curls.

“Don’t touch my hair.” Coriolanus said into her cunt.

“No,” She said, pulling on his hair. Coriolanus was irked, but let her do it anyway. He had never felt pleasure from someone tugging his hair like that before. [Y/N] wrapped her legs around his shoulders. Coriolanus used his strong, callused hands to hold her thighs open. He was going to make her cum with only his greedy mouth, like she had for him last night.

Quid pro quo. That was the nature of their whole operation, Coriolanus realized. It was fine by him.

It was still early and Coriolanus had the day off. He was ready to make up for lost time. He was going to make her cum in every room of their home. Coriolanus was addicted to her taste. He was addicted to her mind. All of this felt cloaked in danger; it was too personal for Coriolanus. Oh well.

By day’s end, [Y/N] wouldn’t be able to climb out of bed for a couple of days on her own. Coriolanus’ constant tongue-fucking pulling orgasms from her had turned her brain to mush, but not before she was able to force Coriolanus off and jot down a few headlines of her own while he marked up her neck.

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE: FREAK OR FOOL?’

‘CAPITOL’S GOLDEN BOY FALLS FOR BAD GIRL.’

‘ALLEGED CHEATING SCANDAL SHAKES CAPITOL YOUTH.’

‘GAMEMAKER WALKS OUT THE VICTOR AFTER PARTY DISASTER.’

‘’WEDDING IS OFF’ SPECULATES PLINTH FAMILY.’

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE LIES, CHEATS AND STEALS THE NIGHT.’

‘SNOW’S FALLING (STANDARDS).’

Half of her ideas dripped as moans while Coriolanus worked on her pussy. She was weak enough to do little more than pull his hair and try to clench around whatever he pushed into her. [Y/N]’s orgasm-addled mind finally comprehended that Coriolanus made her better. He made her more creative, bolder, and free from every burden except him. Finally, willingly, [Y/N] gave Coriolanus the last thing she had to give: Herself.

It felt fucking incredible

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely

apologies again for the tags that did NOT work.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #the hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #ballad of songbirds and snakes #truculent series

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lovelettersfromluna · 11 months

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｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ The Bug Collector ｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: The one where you own a sweet little book store, and Ellie makes it her life mission to torment you.

an: a request from @ximtiredx !! (Thank you so much btw). Basically Ellie is a raging asshole with a giant fucking crush on you, and you’re too sweet and oblivious to even notice, so she just comes off as cocky and mean heh. ALSO! This is most definitely a small town fic! The summer is in full swing and it’s inspiring me so much to make something inspired by it. I strayed away from Ellie being a dickhead a tiny bit towards the end bc I can’t help but make her soft and enamored with the reader I’m sorry @ximtiredx 😭 Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! (Not proofread again SO SORRY)

Warnings: 18+ smut!! Ellie is kind of an asshole in this one and very bad at feelings. A tiny bit of angst? Reader is a little oblivious, thigh riding sort of?? Scissoring sort of?? I KNOW ANOTHER SCISSORING FIC IM SORRY it just made the most sense to me, pet names, Ellie is obsessed with readers tits, slight mean!ellie (she redeems herself later), super fluffy at the end, let me know if I missed anything!

The small fan you had perched up on your counter did nothing to cool you down.

The summer had been brutal, and business was extremely slow because no one wanted to set foot out into the miniature oven that was your town. You let out a soft sigh, doodling little stars and moons all over your notebook, which was completely fucking empty.

It was too warm out, and you were suffering the worst case of writers block. It was like any thoughts that came into your head were always involving how hot you were and how much you wanted to be anywhere else other than where you were right now.

And that wasn’t even like you. You adored your little book store, putting your entire heart and soul into bringing new stories to the people of your town, your heart fluttering every time you rang up someone and they had that familiar face of wonder and excitement as they waited for you to wrap up their books in your brown paper bags, your cute store logo written on the front.

But it was hard to be excited for that when the only person you saw was the baker next door, and when the summer was melting you from the inside out.

It was almost noon, and you were contemplating closing up shop early and going home. You’d still be hot, but you’d be hot in the comfort of your little home.

But then the bell above your door rang, signaling that a customer had arrived.

And your face was lighting up, because finally, someone was there that you could talk to.

But of course, out of everyone in your very small town, the person that happened to walk through your doors was of course none other than Ellie Williams herself.

You didn’t have a problem with Ellie, you loved all your customers equally. Giving each and every one of them the same sweet smile that you always did, making sure to throw in extra goodies with every purchase, because you truly adored them all for supporting your tiny store.

But Ellie was a little….mean.

Most things went right over your head, because you were too caught up with trying to help her find a book that she’d like (which she usually never even bought anything from your store). But other things, you did catch onto.

Like when she teased you for being an old lady stuck in a 20 something year olds body, that one sort of hurt your feelings. Or when she asked you when the last time it was that you went to a party or a bar and no tea parties didn’t count, also hurt. Or, when she’d make fun of your clothes, specifically calling you a farmer whenever you’d wear your favorite pair of overalls, they were cute, okay?

So some of the things she said did hurt your feelings, but you just assumed that she was just…like that, that all of that was just Ellie being Ellie. No matter what, you never stopped giving her your sweetest smile, because as much as she wanted you to.

You never took it personally.

Your sweet smile is on your face as you perk up once you see her, straightening your back out and adjusting your posture as you give her a wave.

“Ellie! Welcome in! Having a good day?” You chirped, and she’s already stalking her way towards you, smug smirk on her face as she leans her forearms against your counter, shaking her head as she turns your fan so that it’s now only hitting her.

“It’s fuckin’ hot sweetheart, do you think I’m having a good day?” Her voice is rough and raspy, and you can’t help but sigh softly before nodding in agreement.

“It is…I do wish it was cooler in here for you” you sighed, looking down at your fan that was blowing warm air through her pretty brown hair. “Looking for anything specific today? Maybe I can help”

And you’re flashing that sweet smile in her direction again, making her roll her eyes. “Are books all you can ever think about? God it’s a little pathetic, don’t you think sweetheart?”

Her words make you frown, but then you remember that, that’s just Ellie.

You let out a soft sigh before you shrug, your lips pouting out a bit as you speak. “I dunno…books are just…they’re comforting, you know? It’s nice to lay down after a long day and just read” you explain.

And Ellie is holding back a groan because she’s picturing you in bed, in her t shirt, reading a book, and she can already feel herself getting turned on. It’s pathetic because you haven’t even done anything to make her want you.

Maybe that’s why she picks on you so much.

You don’t even try and she’s putty in her hands, and that pisses her off. You don’t give her any special treatment, you don’t bat your eyelashes like the other girls whenever she compliments you, and you act like she’s just any other person when she walks into your store, trying to find it in herself to ask you out and not be a dick to you.

But she doesn’t, she’s always mean to you.

She likes the way your cheeks get red, and she thinks you almost like that she’s so mean. There’s just something about the way you take deep inhales after she’s said something particularly nasty that has her smirking like an asshole.

“That’s fuckin lame man…and you know it” she sighs out, pushing herself off of your counter. She finally gets a good look at you once she does, and she’s shamelessly letting her eyes drift down your pretty body.

The warmer months are Ellie’s favorite, because it forces you to wear less and less clothes.

Your white linen dress hugs your mid size perfectly, pushing your tits up more than she’s ever seen them before. It’s just short enough that she gets to see more of your plush thighs. She’s biting her lip like she’s staring at a fucking meal, her green eyes burning from a lack of blinking before she looks up at you, raising her eyebrows once she realizes she’s missed what you said.

You furrows your eyebrows as you watch her watching you, looking down at your dress. Was there a stain on you or something? Or maybe she was going to make fun of your dress?

When she doesn’t, and she continues to stare at you, you repeat yourself.

“I said, that it’s fine that you feel that way…we’re just different, that’s all” you nod to yourself before you round your counter and make your way deeper into your book store, busying yourself with organizing your shop a bit more.

Ellie follows you, leaning up against the shelves that you’re restocking as she's eyeing you up and down, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she watches you.

It's annoying because you're so fucking oblivious. You don't notice any of the attention that she gives you. You don't notice the way her eyes roam down your body, or the way she's dead silent whenever you bend over to pick up a stack of books, Ellie is positive that she needs to tattoo 'I want you' on her forehead for you to get the message, and even then it wouldn't be clear to you how badly she wants you.

She also hates when you say that, that you and her are different. It sounds like you're dismissing her attempts at trying to ask you out, and it pisses her off.

"No, means you're lame and i'm not" She huffs out, turning her back so she was leaning against the shelves. You sigh, standing on your toes to get one of your books on the higher shelves, huffing softly to yourself in concentration.

"I...yes thats nice Ellie...if you're not going to buy anything, you can leave" You sigh out, still struggling to reach the highest shelf. You were too focused on restocking your books, and frankly you had no time for Ellie and her games. It was too fucking hot, you were very fucking tired, and she was just so...so..

So fucking mean.

Your words make Ellie seethe, because you've never asked her to leave.

And she's scoffing, rolling her eyes as she finally pushes herself off the shelf, snatching the book from your hand and settling it on the shelf without any struggling from her end. "Get a fucking step ladder next time, princess" She spits, and her tone makes you flinch a bit.

You watch her as she storms out, and for a moment you think you might have been too mean for saying what you did. You truly didn't mean it, not in the way that she might have thought anyway. You were just...frustrated, and Ellie made you feel even more frustrated...

But then you're thinking about how rude Ellie is to you all the time, so cocky and smug. Bragging to you about the parties she attends in the city, or the amount of girls that are dangling off her arm whenever she's there, and she tells you that you could never be like that, you could never get out the way she does because you're just a boring little librarian who's only friends are the baker next door and the couple who owns the pet store a few blocks down.

Ellie is fucking mean, and you hate that you're blaming yourself for finally stand up to her...sort of.

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

The end of the day comes sooner than you expected.

Mainly because all you can think about is Ellie, and it's distracting you from the heat. No one else comes in for the rest of the day, only a few of your regulars to drop off some books they had finished and wanted to donate to you. Other than that, it was just you and the soft music that played out of your old little radio.

You close up an hour early, figuring that there was no use in staying open late. More times than not, people wouldn't be making an emergency late night run to the little book store in town.

You frown softly as you turn off all the lights, and flip the little sign on your door to the side that says 'sorry! come back tomorrow!'. You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, the strange weight that you had been carrying ever since Ellie had left earlier in the day.

She didn't even say anything that was out of the ordinary for her, she was always witty and rude. It was just...she seemed so...hurt, when you told her to leave. You then realized that it was something you had never done, to her or anybody that set foot in your shop.

Even though you shouldn't, it made you want to apologize.

You pulled your bag further up on your shoulder, deep in thought as you only hoped she would return the next morning. You were already replaying the words in your head that you would say, trying your best to make amends with the girl that would never once apologize for all of the mean things she said to you.

You don't even notice her sitting on the bench thats set right outside of your shop.

Her fists are shoved in her pockets, and her knee is bouncing wildly as she waits for you. She had been waiting for quite some time, knowing that you would have to close up shop eventually.

When she does hear the little bell on your door ring, she's up on her feet in seconds, making her way towards you.

"Hey..um...you mind if I walk you home?" She asks, and you're blinking up at her almost in shock because you're positive you've never heard Ellie use such a gentle tone with you before.

You even go as far as to look around you, just to make sure she's speaking to you and not someone nearby. When you confirm that she is in fact speaking to you, you give her a small nod, and you both begin to walk into the direction of your house in silence.

She feels awkward, and stupid, and she regrets the way she's been tormenting you for god knows how long, and she finally has the chance to be civil with you and she isn't saying anything.

Because she's an idiot.

You break the silence first.

With a small clearing of your throat, you're tugging the strap of your bag gently, eyes glued to your shoes as you walk. "Um..do you live around here?" Your voice is soft, and Ellie feels like she wants to kick herself for being so rude to someone so fucking sweet.

"No, no. I live on the other side of town." She doesn't even fully finish her sentence and you're already stopping in your tracks, shaking your head quickly. "Oh no..you dont need to walk me all the way there then..I'd hate to make you walk across town in the dark."

Ellie stares at you in disbelief, because its already dark, and you'd be walking alone, and she is quite literally your bully, but yet you're still worrying about her walking home on her own, sacrificing your safety and comfort so that she doesn't have to make her way back,

She chuckles softly before she shakes her head, placing her hand on the small of your back as she urges you to continue walking on. "No fuckin' way, you're not getting rid of me that easily" She hums, and her words make you giggle, the air between the two of you already feeling less tense.

She sighs out softly, her hand dropping from your back before she speaks again. "Look I...I waited for you so I could apologize...its not cool the way I treat you.." She mumbled, almost sounding ashamed of herself for even being in this position to begin with.

You hum softly, staring down at the ground once again as you nod at her words. "Didn’t expect to hear those words from you, Ellie…” you mumble out, and it makes Ellie feel like shit.

She groans “I can be nice too you know..” and it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than she’s trying to convince you. You giggle softly as you look up at her, the warm summer breeze blowing her pretty hair back, brown fringe sweeping across her face before you speak.

“Oh really? I’ve yet to see that” you hum, and it doesn’t have any bite to it, and it isn’t harsh. It’s simply the truth. You truly have never experienced any sort of nice behavior come from Ellie that wasn’t used as a way to lure you into another one of her stupid jokes or pranks.

Ellie sighs, because she knows you’re right, and she’s annoyed at herself for it. She opens her mouth to speak, but you’re already in front of your house, and of course your house is just as fucking cute as you are.

It makes Ellie want to scream at herself.

She sucks in a harsh breath as you both stand outside your place, and she asking before she can even stop herself.

“Can I come in?”

｡:°ஐ ʚĭɞ

Ellie is sat at your little kitchen table while you get her something to drink. She’s taking in the little trinkets in your home, and it looks like a cozier version of your book store, she wasn’t even sure if it could get any cozier than that in all honesty.

But it does, because it’s bright and colorful and it smells like you, and Ellie finds that she doesn’t even want to leave.

You return with a talk pitcher of fresh lemonade that you had made yourself the day before, knowing the weeks weather would be brutal and you’d need it for when you got home. You placed two glasses on the table and a pitcher before you poured some out for her.

“It’s too hot out for tea…I hope this is fine” you gave her a gentle smile before you sat down across from her.

It’s moments like this where Ellie doesn’t think you’re even real. As she watches you move from the kitchen to the table in your little sundress, pitcher of lemonade in hand, she realizes how badly she wants you. She’s always known that she’s wanted you…but it’s practically screaming at her as she sits there in your home.

The two of you talk for a bit, and she finds that it’s the first time she’s actually talking to you. Getting to know you, asking you about your store, and it’s the same for you. You’re able to ask Ellie things you were too scared to ask her in the beginning.

Ellie realizes her little crush for you is so much bigger than she thought it was in the beginning.

Soon enough, you’re both moving to the couch. The cool breeze that was blowing in through your window made you look like a dream to Ellie, and she was sure that she was staring like a dazed out idiot, but you seemed so comfortable around her, and Ellie had realized that she’s never actually seen you this way before.

Not around her at least.

You hum softly once your words die down, looking over at the large old clock on your wall. It was already so late, and you knew for a fact if you sat there any longer, that you’d be able to sit with her for hours and just talk.

“It’s already so late…I should probably start heading to bed” you sigh out, and Ellie can tell that you’re feeling tired. She nods quickly, standing up and grabbing both of your glasses and taking them to your sink. The gesture makes you giggle softly.

You pat down your dress before you walk her towards your front door.

As she walks out and turns around so that she’s facing you, you think there’s an angel at your door. Because the moon is shining down on her pretty face, and she’s staring down at you with those big green eyes, and you feel like she’s walked out of a dream of yours.

Your staring is how you end up in Ellie’s lap on your couch.

Because she knows that look, she’s seen it so many times before from other girls that have wanted her. But she feels like she’s dreaming because you’re looking at her that way, so she couldn’t help herself from leaning forward, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing a needy kiss to your lips.

She takes advantage of the way you gasp into her mouth, pushing her tongue into yours as she’s already walking you backwards towards your couch, kicking your front door closed.

You’re a mess on top of her, straddling her lap, her hands pushing up her dress and squeezing the plush skin of your thighs.

You moan softly into her mouth, feeling like the first kiss from her made you want so much more. Your hands are tugging at her hair, pulling her closer to you and keeping her closer to you. “Ellie….” You moan out.

Ellie breaks the kiss, looking up at you with blown out pupils as she nods, just as breathless as you are. “What is it baby? Tell me what you need?” She sighs softly, giving your thighs a soft squeeze.

And you’re whining because you don’t even know what you need, you’re just moaning, and needy, and your skin feels like it’s on fucking fire because you haven’t felt want and lust like this in a long fucking time. So you begin to grind your hips down on her lap, moaning out as you arch your back at the feeling.

“Mmm….fuuuuck…just…need you Ellie…wanna feel you…please” you whine, and Ellie is staring up at you like you’re a fucking goddess because she’s only ever dreamt about you like this, on her lap moaning for her.

The feeling of you rocking your hips back and forth on her lap is making her moan with you, because your thigh is slotted right between her legs, and your movements are bringing her just the right amount of friction that she needs from you.

She grips your hips harder, forcing you to grind harder down on her lap. She let her head fall back against the couch, a soft hiss leaving her lips followed by a long, drawn out moan.

“Fuuuuck…that’s it baby, grind that pretty lil cunt on me…fuck you feel so good….” She leans forward, pulling your dress down so your tits pop out for her, and her lips are latching onto your nipple in an instant. The feeling of her warm mouth has your head spinning, and you’re positive there’s a wet spot on her jeans.

From you and from her.

You gasp softly as you stare down at her attacking your nipples with her mouth, biting and sucking, your hands still laced in her hair as you go faster.

“F-fuck! Ah…mmm…Ellie I’m…oh my god!…I’m gonna fucking cuuummm”

Ellie is nodding against you, her lips coming off of your nipple with a pop before she’s staring up at you again, strong hands guiding your hips to go faster, her own pussy grinding against your thigh as she moans loudly.

“That’s it princess, fuck…cum with me, be a good girl and fucking cum with me..” she groans out, and you truly don’t need to be told twice.

Because between her words and her moans, you’re throwing your head back and your hips stifle as you cum hard against her. She’s pressing her face into your chest, breathing hard as her orgasm washes over her as well.

The two of you sit there for a moment, the only noises in the room being the sounds of your breathing and the occasional kisses she’d press to your chest.

This time, Ellie breaks the silence first.

She sighs softly, her arms sliding up to grip your middle as she pulls you closer to her body, now pressing kisses to your neck as she hums.

“I wanna take you out…on a real date” she hums softly, and it makes you giggle. She smirks softly against your skin before she pulls back a bit, staring up at you with raised eyebrows. “You laughin’ at me?” She questions, and you smile softly as you give her a nod, brushing her hair out of her face.

“It’s a little late for asking me out on a date, don’t you think?” You hum, and she groans softly as her eyes flutter shut. She’s embarrassed because you’re right, you just made her cum on your thigh and she was choosing now of all times to ask you out.

“Better late then never? I mean…I know it’s really fucking backwards on my end but I just…I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for a really long time..and I get it if you wouldn’t want to go out with someone who’s only been rude to you but I just really fucking like you and-“ you cut her off with your lips pressing against hers.

Ellie furrows her eyebrows, but still melts into the kiss nonetheless. She stares at you with a confused expression, because you’re giving her that sweet smile with pretty sleepy eyes and she feels like she’s being pranked or something.

“You’re cute when you ramble…” you hum softly, and it makes her cheeks go red. You giggle softly before you nod, pressing another gentle kiss to the corner of her lips.

“I’ll let you take me out on a date if you spend the night” you hum, and her eyes are nearly bulging out of her head because she couldn’t believe that someone as sweet as you is asking her to stay the next.

She nods eagerly, turning her head so she catches your lips against hers, making you giggle.

You spend the rest of the night in each others arms after the nicest shower Ellie has ever had, getting to know each other and making up for lost time. And as crazy as it may sound to you…

You are so fucking happy that Ellie was so shit at flirting.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #tlou 2 #ellie x you #ellie williams fluff

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nightswatchdisbandmentera · 1 month

Text

Prince Rhaegar as a character often gets some deserved criticism - and a lot of underserved hate. And one of the things that I think he unfairly gets blamed for is Elia Martell's tragedy. Elia's death is one of the primary objections people have towards Rhaegar and Lyanna being depicted as a romance, with readers believing that if they were just tragic lovers, then that diminishes Elia's own tragedy.

I...disagree. It is understandable (and honestly right) that readers would rally behind Elia. Not only was she horribly brutalized and murdered, but her children suffered absolutely terrible fates as well.

However, in trying to center Rhaegar and Lyanna's doomed dalliance in this, a lot of readers are missing the answer that has been already provided to us within the narrative. Not only that, but this line of thinking also ignores the key context in which Elia's senseless murder is portrayed.

As far as the text goes, Elia’s death is laid squarely at the feet of Tywin Lannister and his men, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch. It's House Lannister's burden to bear.

Doran for one, Elia's brother, directly blames Tywin Lannister:

“You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children.”

The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

Even Oberyn agrees:

“Dwarf,” said the Red Viper, in a tone grown markedly less cordial, “spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane … but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.” He smiled. “An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?”

Tyrion IV, ASOS

“Is that the game we are playing?” Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. “There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.” “How sad for him,” said the Red Viper. “And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?” “I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.” “What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?” Oberyn smiled coldly. “Your father gave the commands, yes?” “No.” He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should. The Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. “Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister’s children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.”

Tyrion IX, ASOS

“Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,” the Red Viper hissed. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children…“I came to hear you confess.”

Tyrion X, ASOS

Varys and Tyrion both understand that House Martell (but more specifically Doran) hates the Lannisters.

“The Dornishmen thus far have held aloof from these wars. Doran Martell has called his banners, but no more. His hatred for House Lannister is well known, and it is commonly thought he will join Lord Renly. You wish to dissuade him.” “All this is obvious,” said Tyrion. “The only puzzle is what you might have offered for his allegiance. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.” “My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition … and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black.” “A council seat is not to be despised,” Varys admitted, “yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister’s murder?” “Why forget?” Tyrion smiled. “I’ve promised to deliver his sister’s killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure.” Varys gave him a shrewd look. “My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a … certain name … when they came for her.” “Is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it?” In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands. “This secret is your lord father’s sworn man.” “My father would be the first to tell you that fifty thousand Dornishmen are worth one rabid dog.” Varys stroked a powdered cheek. “And if Prince Doran demands the blood of the lord who gave the command as well as the knight who did the deed …” “Robert Baratheon led the rebellion. All commands came from him, in the end.” “Robert was not at King’s Landing.” “Neither was Doran Martell.”

Tyrion IV, ACOK

Really, all the nobles know where to look at when assigning blame for Elia's murder. Tywin.

“Prince Doran comes at my son’s invitation,” Lord Tywin said calmly, “not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children.” Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

Tywin, for the most part, quite shamelessly tries to disassociate himself from his own moral failings; this is nothing new, because he follows this same MO with squarely blaming the Freys for the Red Wedding even though he played an integral part in planning for it.

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?” “Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark’s van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.” He closed a fist. “Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape … even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of … two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The blood was in him.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

“And when Oberyn demands the justice he’s come for?” “I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,” Lord Tywin said calmly. “So will you, if he asks.” “Ser Amory Lorch is dead,” Tyrion said flatly. “Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.” “You may call that justice …” “It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl’s body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father’s bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

Tywin tries to alleviate himself of any responsibility by blaming his men, but the narrative actively calls bullshit on this (through Tywin's own son no less).

So the narrative shows through multiple POVs that Elia's murder is contextualized exclusively as a failing on Tywin Lannister and his men; not only was it a moral failing, but Tyrion also questions if it was politically necessary in the first place. It's also important to note that ASOS is when we really dive into the matter of Elia and her children (mostly through Oberyn), but we also have to remember that this is the same book as the Red Wedding. The Red Wedding, another one of Tywin's senseless massacres that he tries to postulate as politically necessary.

So, we have agreed that the blame and context for Elia's (and her children's) murder is presented through the lens of Tywin as an immoral politician who often makes politically unnecessary moves. But then we ask ourselves, can the responsibility of this tragedy be extended? Well, yes it can. And it has been in the text.

Ser Barristan extends this tragedy beyond Tywin and his men

...to King Robert.

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Ned Stark does as well.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

Eddard II, AGOT

And so does Tywin, who uses Robert's tacit approval as justification for this senseless act.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. “You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert’s cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert’s relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar’s children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.” His father shrugged. “I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

So if we can't extend the blame to Rhaegar, because the narrative doesn't do so either, what can we hold him responsible for? Let's take a step back and look at Rhaegar's culpability in this whole thing.

Was Rhaegar (and Lyanna) responsible for starting the war that would eventually lead to Elia's murder?

No. GRRM doesn't think so. The war actually started when King Aerys murdered the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, a bunch of other northern nobles, and then called for the heads of Robert Baratheon (Lord of Storm's End) and Ned Stark (the new Lord of Winterfell). Aerys broke the feudal contract, and so Jon Arryn declared war.

I don't think I would have stayed loyal to the Mad King. Do I think they were justified? Yes, and no. [...] There was no doubt that the Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and he was abusing his power. And Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law. But was what they do justified? Especially when you consider that it was triggered by a personal grievance. The execution of Ned's father and brother was really a thing that radicalized Ned and put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and didn't like the fact that he'd lost his girlfriend. So you know, the personal informs the political.

source

Rhaegar and Lyanna's disappearance was merely the spark - it led to a misunderstanding that caused Brandon Stark to ride to Kingslanding. What really caused the war was Aerys' Targaryens subsequent actions as the king. So if we want to blame someone for causing the chain of events that led to Elia's death as well as her children's, the author himself says to blame Aerys; even though I don't think this is right either because we once again stray from the necessary (and sole) context of Elia's murder - Tywin's bloody hands.

Fine. Rhaegar was not responsible for the war. But surely he is responsible for leaving Elia in King's Landing, right in the clutches of Mad King Aerys. Well, this again, is not true. As far as Rhaegar knew, Elia was in Dragonstone with Aegon and Rhaenys where he left them.

As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon’s turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

At some point, Elia was called to King's Landing. And it was Aerys who kept her hostage there as insurance against possible Dornish betrayal (remember, he was paranoid).

Side Note: Aerys kept another important political hostage in King's Landing along with Elia - Jaime Lannister; this is to deter anyone from trying to blame Jaime for doing nothing. He was a teenager and a hostage himself!

“My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father’s son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.” He remembered how Rossart’s eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. “Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I’ll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him … that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.

Jaime V, ASOS

Ok, fine. So Rhaegar did not abandon her with Aerys then run off to Lyanna. But he should have done something when he came back, right? Why didn't he leave more Kings Guard with Elia and the children?

Well....this is a war. The knights of the KG are important assets on the battle field. Kings Landing, at the time, was not the most dangerous location. The KG were better off at the Trident, as a victory there would protect those who were left behind in KL.

And it's not that Rhaegar didn't do anything. Beyond going off to lead the battle himself, he tried to make moves that would help those who were back in KL (Elia and the children included).

He floated in heat, in memory. “After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.” Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? “He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins’ men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King’s Landing. Beneath Baelor’s Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Jaime V ASOS

And Jaime's POV once again shows us that Rhaegar banked on victory at the Trident, and was fully expecting to come back to KL and amend the fraught political situation.

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine.” Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.” Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” “Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.” Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

Jaime I, AFFC

So Rhaegar wasn't leaving with no care about what happened back in King's Landing. We don't know what he wanted to do with Aerys, Elia, Lyanna, and the aftermath of the war because he died at the Trident. But we do know that he, at the very least, was planning to do something.

So we can't blame Rhaegar (and Lyanna) for starting the war and we can't blame him either for abandoning Elia in King's Landing with no care about what happens next. So, again, what can we blame him for?

“It's not entirely correct that the Martells stayed out of the war. Rhaegar had Dornish troops with him on the Trident, under the command of Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard. However, the Dornishmen did not support him as strongly as they might have, in part because of anger at his treatment of Elia, in part because of Prince Doran's innate caution.”

SSM, 09/11/1999

GRRM states that Dorne was angry about Rhaegar's treatment of Elia. What is this treatment, though?

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap.

Eddard XV, AGOT

Specifically, Rhaegar riding past Elia to crown Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. Yes, that is a humiliation. And it's undeniable that no one was happy.

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar’s cause…Yet if this were true, why did Lady Lyanna’s brothers seem so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her? Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister’s honor…Eddard Stark, Brandon’s younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

But, humiliating Elia is not the same thing as being responsible for her death. The narrative never equates these two things in any way. Elia's death is about Tywin's immoral and blood thirsty political actions. It's about Dorne's desire for justice (or is it vengeance?) which they know they will not get from the Lannister regime. House Lannister's downfall in King's Landing will be brought about by Prince Aegon's rise - Aegon who is proclaiming to be the long lost son of Prince Rhaegar, and who is being supported by House Martell as of now.

We can criticize Rhaegar for some things, but Elia's death is surely not one of them.

#I generally don't like talking about the whole rhaegar-lyanna-elia stuff partly because I don't really care for either of them #but mostly because these topics often devolve into extremes that help absolutely no one #but I just wanted to hop on here and say that blaming rhaegar for elia's death is imo not cannon compliant #the narrative already give us an answer to this - THE LANNISTERS but more specifically TYWIN and GREGOR and AMORY #it's not rhaegar or lyanna or their child Jon to bear any of the blame in this #dorne's decision to join the war against the crown is entirely because it's in opposition to the lannister regime #that's not to say that rhaegar cannot have responsibility for the humiliation of elia - because even grrm says he does #but saying he bears the blame for her murder is just a bit.....😕#also rhaegar is one thing but blaming LYANNA of all people is ummm well #rhaegar targaryen #robert's rebellion #tywin lannister #ser gregor clegane #ser amory lorch #house martell #elia martell #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #pls forgive any spelling and grammatical mistakes its midnights and I'm tired af thanks #my stuff

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imagination-mess · 5 months

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Reality Show: Pro Heroes Wives (Shinso Hitoshi Edition)

Reality Show Masterlist (All Editions)

There is a reality show where pro-heroes' wives are on television and paid to be there. It is filled with juicy gossip and pure drama. There are few wives in this second season who were kept out of the spotlight, which adds mystery and creates theories about who they were married to.

The same winners who were in the group that couldn’t be identified are back this season as a surprise challenge. Unlike last season, it wasn’t revealed at the very beginning of this reason which Pro Heroes wives would be featured.

There are only a few left without being matched, which were mostly underground heroes who people don’t typically pay attention to. Half of the cast already knew each other because their spouses had interacted on more than one occasion and were disqualified from participating in the weekend challenge of the show for those spouses. The others who did not know their spouses had to identify them, but the others couldn’t spill anything that would clue who their spouse was.

You, however, were making headlines and trending throughout social media for your wicked punch, knocking out Pro Hero [Blank] with a sharp uppercut punch after receiving a punch from them.

It was unexpected for the fans of the show to see another side of you since you always kept close to your friends and did the bare minimum to stay within the competition. You were barely involved in other people’s business. You are mostly found in the background, watching the drama unfold in front of your eyes.

The Pro Hero [Blank] had punched you in the face because you were ripping her apart from your words alone, causing her to have an emotional reaction. You were brutal with your words. It was also oblivious that you were purposely riling her up with the way you were openly mocking her. With a wicked grin, you intimidated her when the hero was trying to rip you apart while dodging her next attacks.

She was talking shit about your husband and claiming he shouldn’t even have licenses to be a pro-hero. She claims to have known him since middle school, and he will always remain a freak. Despite his being in the top 20, which was completely unintentional on his part,

Her friends that she made during her time on the show eventually join in attacking you verbally to only get their own medicine, taking them apart by their insecurities and such. It was clear her friends were ganging up on you while your friends were gone.

You were ripping them apart and letting it all out because you have seen over and over how these people have to make side comments and belittle the other spouses in the house, including your friends. It was just her comment on Shinsou that threw you over the edge.

Who would have known the way to trigger you was by badmouthing your husband?

You ripped the Pro Hero [Blank] a new one and got punched as a result, but it was oblivious that you wanted it to happen. You purposely provoked her even more and unintentionally knocked them out on live television because they were trying to play dirty by attacking from behind. It was out of reflex because of the years of training you have. Your body just reacted.

People do what they do best: search on the web to find out who you are. You aren’t as popular as the Pro Hero to only find out you are worth way more than the hero. You also have a history of being the bully toward other bullies throughout middle and high school. You were an absolute menace in your younger years. Your former classmates coming to the internet to tell stories about you include those who were with you in martial arts and boxing clubs.

There were thirst traps and edits created by fans circling the internet. The fans of the show couldn’t tell if it was a loyal friend's or spouse's reaction based on the stories circling the media.

At home, the hero couldn’t help the smile that climbed up his lips. You didn’t even know, but that specific hero is someone he would never forget since they spread rumors about him in his earlier years of being in school. Those rumors stuck with him up until middle school.

Karma is a bitch.

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bonefall · 5 months

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how is nightcloud characterized in BB? (does she slay…)

She DOES slay. My girlie...

In a nutshell, I'm actually super fascinated by this little family. I don't like how Nightcloud is part of the Civil War on the side of Mudclaw, but that NEVER comes up and never contributes to anything.

SO Nightcloud is kinda this sad case where she's REALLY trying to be better. She only feels guilty for joining the Rebellion in the sense that it caused a ton of destruction and got her Clanmates hurt... but Mudclaw and his rebels were terrible.

She WANTS to take away some kind of lesson, not be like him. Their anger towards people like Brushblaze was exploited and the fight was so brutal and unnecessary... but also, she doesn't really GET it. She still really dislikes outsiders. She feels a discomfort in her belly thinking about WindClan's purity being threatened.

Unfortunately, being in a toxic relationship with Crowfeather made this worse. When he wants to hurt her, he compares her to "Feathertail."

Both a RiverClan cat, and this perfect mate that she can never seem to be. It hits every weak point, and makes her boil with anger and insecurity.

Unfortunately, this gets worse with time. BB!Breeze will actually be taking away some xenophobic sentiment from her specifically.

But as a mom? Nightcloud is one of the best. She LOVES her kid.

It started with her own Mi, Hillrunner. She never wanted to be like Hillrunner.

Her and her sibling, Tawnyfur, were some of the first kits born in the WindClan camp after its return from exile. Their mother was Downwind.

Crookedstar and Nightstar combined forces, trying to drive them out a second time. ThunderClan came to save them, AGAIN

But it was too late to save Downwind.

Nightkit was too young to remember it, but Hillrunner ALWAYS stressed that she travelled so, so far with her twin, only to be forced to bury her when they came home.

Hill and Down are identical twins. Hillrunner just had a scratch on her nose.

Not that it excuses anything, but Hillrunner... she was SUPER traumatized by the WindClan Massacre, the exile, her sister's death, and then everything that followed.

She was TERRIFIED of outsiders, to the point of fury. Tawny and Night were equally afraid of her, and loved her. Hillrunner's short fuse was absolutely unpredictable and often ended up being taken out on the kits.

And... that's something Nightcloud desperately wants to avoid being. She remembers how scared she was just to make noise at night if she wanted to shift around in the nest.

Tawnyfur was a young warrior when they died in the BloodClan battle. Hillrunner had also passed on by that point-- probably in a skirmish with TigerClan.

And suddenly, Nightcloud was alone.

She's also one of the strongest fighters in WindClan. Her and Willowclaw are two of the heaviest hitters in my mind for some reason.

In terms of personality though, in a PLOT TWIST, I actually plan to write Nightcloud as a bit sweeter than she is in canon. She gets FURIOUS when she's pushed, but is one of the more generally polite cats in WindClan. Especially in early Po3 when she really is trying to atone for her part in the rebellion.

I just think she's neat.

#I also give her a vibe like... a very tired opera singer #Who married a famous but toxic author #She's huge and fluffy and gorgeous. But so so tired.#And Crow is kind of lanky and snappy looking #Better bones au

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dionysus-complex · 6 months

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you mentioned you specialize in roman violence. can you rec any good works on the subject, especially during the late antique period? how much (or little) time/writing did latin authors spend on the question of the necessity/morality/glory of violence, especially when bound up with empire and borders? did rhetoric around domestic violence evolve?

It's obviously a massive topic, so it's difficult to know where to begin! For looking at violence in Late Antiquity, I highly recommend the work of Maijastina Kahlos as a starting point - most of her scholarship deals with tensions between religious communities in the Roman Empire in Late Antiquity, and I've found it extremely clear and illuminating. For Late Antique slavery, I'd look at Jennifer Trimble's work, especially "The Zoninus Collar and the Archaeology of Roman Slavery" (2016, JSTOR link here). On the intersections of violence and the legal system, I'd recommend Sarah Bond's 2014 article "Altering Infamy: Status, Violence, and Civic Exclusion in Late Antiquity" (JSTOR link here) as well as Julia Hillner's 2015 book Prison, Punishment and Penance in Late Antiquity. Amy Richlin is essential reading on Roman violence in general, and I'd highly highly recommend her piece "Cicero's Head" in Constructions of the Classical Body (ed. James Porter, 1999) if you have access to an academic library and can get a hold of it; it's explicitly framed as a Jewish, post-Holocaust reflection on the violence of the Roman proscriptions and civil wars and has been profoundly influential on my own thinking.

In general, Imperial-era Latin authors spend a lot of time thinking about the necessity/morality/glory of violence, to the point that I'd say violence is the key theme in Imperial Latin literature. It's often bound up with Stoic philosophy (in the 1st-2nd c. CE; Seneca's De Ira is a key text - you might take a look at sections 3.18-19 on torture under Caligula), and given the bias of our sources which skew toward the elite/senatorial-class perspective, it can be harder to track down texts that explicitly make the link between violence and Roman imperium. One famous example is the speech of Calgacus in Tacitus' Agricola 29-32 (link to a translation here), which purports to be the speech of a Celtic general in Britain rousing his troops to battle against the Romans in the 80s CE. Given that speeches in Roman historiography are generally regarded as being compositions by the historian, it's important to ask why exactly Tacitus of all people gives a prominent place to a scathing critique of Roman imperium - there are lots of ideas on this and few definitive answers, but it's a startling passage to say the least.

Imperial Latin epic poetry (e.g. Lucan's Bellum Civile; Statius' Thebaid) is well known for being graphically violent in the extreme (as in brutal torture, dismemberment, and one infamous instance of brain-eating in Thebaid 8), and there's a lot of work on how and why violence becomes highly aestheticized for Imperial Latin poets. There's also the genre of Roman declamation (difficult to explain, but essentially something like mock trial cases that were used for rhetorical education and showmanship), which frequently explores extremely violent scenarios involving torture, kin-killing, etc. Most scholars these days tend to read declamation as a space where (elite, male) Romans worked out and interrogated various cultural anxieties and taboos. Because of this, you get some of the strongest condemnations of violence found anywhere in Latin literature in the declamatory corpus, but it's difficult to extrapolate from that because again it's something like mock trial and rhetorical showmanship that does not necessarily map on to real-life Roman attitudes.

I've barely scratched the surface and there's a lot more I could say but I'll cut myself off here - I might be able to offer more specific recs if you're interested in e.g. violence as spectacle, aesthetics and artistic representations of violence, etc.

#thanks for the ask!

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deadbeat-motel · 3 months

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For my rewrite, I wanted to tie each sinner who's staying at the motel to a specific deadly sin to make it easier to understand what got them in hell and just for the fun of it.

It doesn't apply to the rest of hell to have a specific sin, but I thought it was interesting that the inhabitants of the motel will represent a sin.

Some of these characters are still rough ideas and will be subjected to some changes once i finalize the actual lores for these characters:

First up, Angel Dust is easy to confuse as Lust because most people might assume that since he's a sex worker, its probably what got him in hell right? Though, his sin had nothing to do with being lustful since he didnt become a sex worker until then (plus being a sex worker doesnt warrant someone a tacket straight to hell). Instead what really did him in was Gluttony since it was his appetite for vices that got him into trouble and also inadvertently lead to his death and it was that appettite that lead him to take any and all clients to feed his appetite for angeldust.

Nifty's sin is Lust, though not in the traditional sexual sense that we know. For her sin's sake, Lust is all about an uncontrollable desire that leads one to do horrible acts in order to attain what they've been obsessing over. In the rewrite, I was going to let her be a lot younger (most likely an adolescent-young teen) with a very skewed sense of what romance/love is like and have her lean in more towards a yandere-type character or a crappy creepypasta kid character (think Nina the killer levels of crappypasta). I'm torn between the two ideas at the moment.

[Also fun fact, hearing that nifty was a japanese woman from the 1950's kind of took me off because googling it, she wouldve been a woman who grew up in the middle of world war 2 and lived through a bit of the Post war boom if we assumed she's also american as well. Having someone with a background like that who acts like she's mentally a child makes it feel like Viv did no research at all.]

Husk's sin remains as Greed, as gambling just seems so hard to quit for him, even when his life is on the line, especially when he's cheating death so many times. Maybe it was after he had his first close encounter with death in his youth... or the few couple of times during the war... that he began to think of himself as too lucky to die. Unfortunately for him, he'd have to learn the hard way that whatever force that was trying to save him can't do anything about his own body failing from years of self-destructive alcoholism.

[Husk will literally kill me with all the research I'll have to do from 1910-1970 to get his story straight.]

Alastor is one Prideful mf. As an intelligent serial killer (possibly cannibal), he was able to evade the police whilst keeping the high-profile radio host job he killed others for. He enjoyed leaving clues and slipping little hints around his scene that stumped the entire police department. In the end, getting sloppy because of his own overconfidence in his abilities was what did him in and he was chased down and shot by a hunter in his escape.

Sir Pentious is Envious of the Victorian family and those above the middle class. He believed that he deserved to have the same kind of privileges they have especially since he was a brilliant inventor who believed he could forward Great Britain to a greater future. So he gave up 15 years trying to take over the monarchy by himself and failing miserably. He died due to an invention gone wrong and that was the day Great Britain was rid of its persistent annoyance.

[Some people may read about him in history books and confuse him for an anti-monarchist when this man's entire goal was to replace the monarchy with himself.]

Cherri Bomb grew up as a resentful youth of the Japanese 70's being a sukeban of a delinquent girl gang. Their Wrath was known all across the other local schools in their area and they were known for their sheer brutality. However, Cherri Bomb in particular was also feared by other members of the gang as she was ruthless punishing those who wanted to leave the group. She doesn't ever disclose how she died to others and thus no one is ever really sure how she ended up down here but no one really feels the need to ask.

[I'm extremely unfamiliar with Australian history so Cherri Bomb will have to have grown up in Japanese 70-80's delinquent culture.]

There's one sin left.... but since I don't really have anyone in the HH cannon that could realistically fit Sloth, I'm left with two options: Characterizing the blank slate that is Crymini myself or leaving the last resident as a community effort "Build-a-Sinner."

So first poll ive done but....

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel redesign #vivziepop critical #deadbeat motel rewrite #hazbin hotel criticism #deadbeat motel alastor #deadbeat motel angel dust #deadbeat motel nifty #deadbeat motel husk #deadbeat motel sir pentious #deadbeat motel cherri bomb

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distort-opia · 8 months

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Do you think that Bruce, having lost his parents very early, has a very romanticized view of his own parents? You know, when you're a kid you remember something like that but... Things sometimes are not like they looked like. I ask this because more and more adaptations are appearing in which Bruce's parents were not nice to him or were even criminals. And to a certain extent, I kind of like it because most of the rich people in Gotham are criminals to some extent and I kept wondering why the Wayne's were so good... But I don't know if that's the case in the comics' Canon timeline.

Oh yeah I definitely think Bruce idealizes his parents, and especially his father. Multiple canonical comics have shown that his parents weren't perfect, not by a long shot; they loved Bruce, but they were also busy people with issues of their own. Meanwhile, Bruce was clearly an anxious child, deeply affected by his parents' occasional neglect... and his father, Thomas, didn't much like Bruce being so "emotional". There's more than one comic in which Thomas scolds Bruce for it, and Bruce has reactions that speak so much towards a desperate need for validation from him. Let's just say, it makes a lot of sense to me that Bruce ended up exhibiting certain toxic behaviors towards his own children. And that he internalized an idea of masculinity and fatherhood that's not the healthiest, either. Someone recently asked me about Bruce's traumas in childhood, and you'd be surprised how many are connected to his parents, and specifically Thomas; here's a link if you're curious (I cite many sources for the examples above).

Overall I'd say that in canon, Thomas and Martha Wayne aren't downright shitty horrible parents, or anything of the sort. Yeah, other adaptations basically made them criminals or abusive, and suggested that Bruce just repressed the bad memories or overwrote them (like in Batman: Damned, for example) but... I think the current picture suggested by canon is more compelling. Bruce's parents loved him and they tried their best to be good to him, but they were also flawed. The darkness that Bruce exhibits on more than one occasion was there in them too, as multiple alternate Universes show. Flashpoint has Martha turn into the Joker and Thomas into a brutal and unforgiving Batman. Batman/Superman #18 shows us a world in which Thomas was killed, but Bruce and Martha survived, with Martha establishing herself as a powerful person in Gotham's underworld, targeting criminals and villains because of her obsession for keeping Bruce safe. And I think all this is how it should be, Bruce's parents should be portrayed as complex individuals with a darker side too, simply because reacting to his parents' murder the way Bruce did isn't something anyone would do. For him to react so strongly, to dedicate his life to never healing and refusing to let go... tragically, it makes so much sense that before all that, Bruce deeply craved his parents' love and affection, but wasn't getting it enough. It makes sense that, if you take a child with insecure attachment who's already deeply hurt by any sign of neglect from his parents, and you have his parents die in front of him-- the ultimate form of being left behind, being abandoned-- he wouldn't respond in the healthiest of ways. It follows that he'd end up defining himself by that trauma, and forever fear loss.

#[sigh] there's a reason the Batfam is so big after all #man's need for connection is a black hole that never gets filled #it's only equal to his fear of losing the connections he creates. hence the seemingly contradictory reality #of Bruce having so many people around him but being so distant and avoidant #Bruce's character at the end of the day is just. 'fear of loss vs. fear of being alone: FIGHT'#asks #bruce wayne meta #bruce wayne #batman #my meta

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applepie2523 · 3 months

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"I feel like some of this criticism towards the show being pro-Black is unfounded, but there is truth to the sentiments, specifically in how key moments in the narrative have been framed and brushed over, while similar things have been focused on in a different manner

For example, the dichotomy between focusing on the girl Aegon rapes vs completely disregarding the person that Daemon killed to let Laenor escape his life

We get a lot of focus on Dyana and get showcased Alicient's veneer of hypocrisy- she who veils herself in religion but covers up her son's heinous crimes. Then we get a scene of her disparging her son for his vile behavior and hugging Helaena for the shame Aegon brings to others and his own marriage.

On the other hand, when Rhaenyra and Daemon plan for the fake-death of Laenor, the guy Daemon kills is a completely throwaway moment, and the focus of the scene is how there plan allows for Laenor to leave Westeros behind and live a happy life

Simply put, these two scenes where two random, "unimportant" people are victimized are presented in completely different manners which provoke completely different reactions from the audience. With the Laenor scene, the audience walks away happy because Rhaenyra and Daemon don't kill Laenor like it seemed they would from their speech and the focus is triumphant and just. The dead guy doesn't matter in the slightest. With Dyana, it completely shatters any sort of character arc or sympathy that Aegon may have had and firmly places him- who is the figurehead of the Greens- to be a character that is reviled by the audience and whose downfall is something to look forward to. Who the hell can even possibly support a rapist? Murder is something audience members can forgive, justify and accept- rape never ever

There are other moments throughout the show that are along the same lines. For example, giving Rhaenyra the opportunity to propose a marriage between Jace and Helaena as a peace offering that is rejected places her in a more sympathetic light as someone who was genuinely trying to reach out and make amends. I understand that this is an adaption and things are justifiably changed, but in the books, Corlys immediately has Jace and Luke bethroed to Baela and Rhaena so his true blood ends up on the throne and the insult of trying to pass off Strong bastards as true-born Velaryons is lessened. By making Corlys literally not care about blood and names, it gives the show an opportunity to make Rhaenyra look better

They also remove some of the brutality and ruthlessness of Rhaenyra. Instead of ordering the death of Vaemond and feeding his corpse to Syrax for insulting the parentage of her children, Vaemond is killed in court. And although violent and sudden, it is framed in a "good" way to the audience, since it directly follows the amazing Viserys sequence of coming to the throne and defending his daughter, along with the incredibly touching Daemon-Viserys moment of helping him to the throne

Likewise, the "questioned sharply" line following Aemond's mutilation is not framed in a way to express to the audience that Rhaenyra meant for Aemond to be tortured. She says he must be questioned sharply and then that transitions to Viserys simply questioning Aemond

This is kind of what, for me, makes the show pro-Black. If I had to characterize the show, I would say it's pro-Black and goes out of its way to make Alicient sympathetic. But overall it doesn't care too much for the Greens

I also feel like they slightly undermined the story that they themselves were trying to tell and set-up prior to the episode 6 timeskip and change-up of the actors. The show was clearly setting up that the primary motivation of the Greens was Alicient fearing for the safety of her children and family from Rhaenyra (with the rift starting by Rhaenyra's lies at the Godswood and Otto's departure in the rain) and the danger that Daemon posed

This would have required the Blacks and Daemon to be more unsavory and vicious in the post-timeskip episodes than they ended up being at all, because the show went out of its way to avoid that kind of stuff. For example- and this is a huge point that I think has been overlooked- the whole point of Rhaenyra and Daemon faking the death of Laenor was to signal to their enemies- ie Alicient and the Greens- that they were dangerous and should not be messed with.

The death of Laenor should have struck some fear in Alicient over what the two newly weds could have done to her own children. But narratively, literally the only consequence of Laenor's death was to introduce some temporary tension between the Blacks and Rhaenys that is ultimately resolved in the very same episode. The potential impact it should have had on Alicient is just not present

Another consequence that was completely ignored was the impact Rhaenyra and Daemon's marriage should have had on Viserys. It was already set up that he greatly disapproved of whatever was going on between the two of them in the earlier episodes, but there was no payoff to that once they got married. In the books, this is what causes Viserys to kick Rhaenyra out of court, but the show instead wanted to focus on the positive relationship between Rhaenyra and Viserys and Daemon and Viserys in his last episode

Now I'm not saying that that decision was a bad one- it was really touching and incredibly emotional- but paired up with everything else, I think the post-timeskip show has definitely tilted the narrative to be pro-Black and undermine what earlier parts of the story was trying to set up. It's doing this while also trying to maintain some sympathy for Alicient

The one very stand out thing that they have done is Aemond's character though. Obviously he will be a villain, but they've done an incredibly good job at making him sympathetic and understandable (I will fiercely maintain that he has done absolutely nothing wrong so far in the show). I wish that were extended to the rest of the Greens as they could make them the obvious villains they should be in the narrative, while still making them sympathetic and understandable." -- by a random person on the r/asoiaf subreddit

#team green #anti hotd #alicent hightower #hotd critical #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #heleana targaryen

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astro-b-o-y-d · 2 months

Text

Triangulum - Chapter 2- Unsettling In

— — — — — — —

“Dibs on being the first Pines inside the Shack!”

The old floorboards creaked lightly under Mabel’s weight as she bounded through the door, pausing only to drop her bags by the staircase before she continued on towards the living room. “Aww, I’ve missed this place!”

She jumped from the small doorway step to the carpet, twirling on her toes like a ballerina before she gestured to the television set. “Hello, ancient TV that only plays local access channels~!” Her gesture moved to the large dinosaur skull in the middle of the room. “Hello, weird T-Rex skull that we use as a coffee table for some reason~!”

She waggled her finger at the aquarium. “Hello, giant aquarium tank that only sometimes has an animal in it~!” she said with a giggle. “You can’t hide from me forever, Sir. Wiggleton the Pink!”

From the nearby couch where she had seated herself and Waddles, Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Sir. Wiggleton the Pink?”

“That’s what I call Stan’s axolotl,” Mabel explained matter-of-factly. “He’s very sneaky, and likes to hide a lot. I only got a good look at him, like, once last year!”

“Maybe he sneaks out when nobody’s looking?” Wendy suggested, then snapped her fingers with inspiration. “Ooh, what if he’s actually some kinda secret agent, one who goes out and fights bad guys? And that's why it's so hard for anyone to spot him in the tank, ‘cause he’s not always in the tank!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Mabel agreed enthusiastically. “Maybe he’s part of a whole secret organization of secret-agent animals! And they all wear funny little hats!”

While they laughed in unison over the idea, more creaking from the hallway floorboards drew their attention to the doorway. A moment later, Dipper’s body was propped against the frame for support, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gulped down precious breaths of air.

Between the desperate attempts to catch his breath, he shot Mabel a sour look. “You know, most people might call ‘tripping your brother as he tries to pass you in the driveway’ something along the lines of—oh, I dunno, maybe something along the lines of—cheating?”

Mabel’s mouth curled into a coy little smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dipping Sauce~!” she said innocently. “Not my fault you don’t know how to avoid branches while you’re running.”

“You literally stuck out your leg as I was trying to pass you!” Dipper argued. “And then after I fell, you laughed about it once you were sure I wasn’t actually hurt and was only just mildly inconvenienced!”

From her spot, Wendy let out a cackle. “You tripped him? Brutal.”

“It was a branch!” Mabel insisted.

“A branch shaped like your leg!”

Mabel waved him away. “Oh, we can go on and on about things I did or didn’t do all we want—”

“You did do it.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway!” Mabel continued, tossing her arms up in the air. “I still called dibs on being the first Pines to step inside, and you can’t go against dibs!”

“She has a point,” a voice spoke up behind Dipper, seconds before Ford stepped into the room. “The International Dibs Protocol is highly respected across countless dimensions, with millions of interdimensional beings valuing the weight it holds when it comes to ownership over specific affairs.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. “I believe at one point, there was even talk amongst the council members here in town about passing a law that would make adhering to said protocol mandatory. But the idea was scrapped before the House could ever lay an eye on it.”

“Yeesh, so this town’s just fine and dandy with people marryin’ woodpeckers or deciding ownership of a place based on whatever chump’s got the deed in their hands,” Stan called from out on the porch. “But you call dibs on something and suddenly that’s going too far—hey, hey! Knock it off, Soos, I’m not gonna look!”

He cast a miffed look to his right, where Soos had firmly remained throughout their entire walk up the driveway. His arms were spread out as wide as he could possibly get them, and he had even crab-walked up the porch beside Stan in an attempt to block something from his line of sight.

“Sorry, Mr. Pines,” he said, keeping his arms outstretched until both of them were safely inside the house. ”But I can’t risk you seeing anything on the other side of this building until I give everyone the tour later!”

Stan let out a gruff sigh as they joined everyone else in the living room. “Yeah, yeah, like I’m in any rush to jump right back into work stuff after a nine-month vacation.”

Soos gave him a pitiful look. “Wh-you mean you’re not excited for the tour of all the new exhibits and stuff?”

“...I said ‘right back into’, didn’t I?” Stan pointed out. “Gimme an hour, we’ll see where I’m at then.”

He moved to the couch, then paused with a look to Wendy. “They got all the rats outta this thing while we were gone, right?”

“Completely rat free,” she assured him, moving her hand to Waddles’ head for scritches. “Although you’re never gonna guess what happened after we chased the last of them out of the shack—”

“Well, that sounds like six voices,” a voice called from the kitchen, seconds before a woman peeked her head through the doorway. “Pretty sure that’s everyone, unless we’re also expecting the girls.”

“Negative,” Wendy replied, as Stan settled down next to her. “Mr. Pines put down a hard no on any sleepovers tonight. Well, any sleepovers with the under-fourteens, at least.”

“Dipper also put down a hard no,” Dipper added. “Also hey, Melody!”

“Melody! Hi!”

Mabel’s features lit up as Melody stepped out into the living room proper, and both twins rushed over to greet her further with a hug. “Hey, you guys!” she said, bending down to reciprocate. “Been a while, huh?”

“Sure has!” Dipper said with a hearty laugh.

“It’s so nice to see you again!” Mabel added with equal amounts of enthusiasm. “How’ve you been?”

“I also think it’s nice to see you again!”

Before Melody could answer, all three suddenly found themselves lifted up from the ground. “I know we were only gone for, like, fifteen minutes or so,” Soos said, hugging all of them close to him. “But still, that’s enough time to miss someone, right?”

Despite most of her face being squished against his own, Melody smiled up at him. “Well, fifteen minutes is about the same amount of time it takes to complete Ladybug on Dancey-Pants Revolution—” She paused and wriggled an arm free to tick off her fingers. “—what, five times? Five and a half? Just saying, that feels like an eternity when you’re trying to hit a perfect combo, doesn’t it?”

“That is so true,” Soos said with a nod. “You have such a way with words, babe.”

A squeak of delight drew their attention to the teenagers smushed between their bodies. “Hehe, you guys are adorable!” Mabel piped up. “And nerdy!”

“Also you’re kind of squishing us,” Dipper added with a wheeze.

With an apologetic smile, Soos lowered the group back down to the floor. “Sorry, dudes! Got so caught up in giving Melody a hug, that I kinda missed you were there.”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” Mabel assured him as she straightened out her clothes. “Being squished like that made me feel like the ham and cheese in a lovey-dovey sandwich!”

She gave a nudge to her brother’s arm with her elbow. “Guess that makes Dipper the lettuce and tomatoes!”

“What? Why am I the vegetables?” Dipper asked.

Mabel shrugged with a smile. “Because even if they’re not the most exciting ingredients, it just doesn’t feel like a proper sandwich without them,” she explained, pressing her hands together as if she were forming a sandwich herself. “But you gotta put ‘em between the meat and cheese, otherwise their veggie juices get mixed in with the condiments. Then bread gets all soggy and fall-apart-y and the sandwich is just inedible at that point.”

“Okay first of all, rude and gross. Second of all, that is a very weird analogy which explains nothing.”

He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Although weirdly enough, it is making me hungry.”

“Good thing I got a head start on dinner before everyone got here,” Melody said. “In fact, I just checked the timer and there’s only a few minutes left before I need to pull it out of the oven—oh, by the way, lasagna from a box is fine with everyone, right?”

She directed her question both to the kids and to the group that had gathered by the couch, earning her a nod from Ford. “Fine with me. Meals that require minimal effort to prepare have sustained me since my college years, and I see no issue with continuing that trend now.”

“Long as there’s no fish involved, I’ll eat anything,” Stan assured her.

Wendy, who had distracted herself with scritching the spot between Waddles’ ears, looked to him. “Got sick of seafood out there on the open ocean, Mr. Pines?”

“Got sick of badly-prepared seafood.”

Stan shot a pointed look to his brother. “Apparently somebody can rip out the spine of a zombified fishman from the ‘Walking Bullhead Dimension’—”

“We’re gonna start this again, Stanley?” Ford interrupted, giving him an flat-but-amused look that implied they had discussed this topic countless times before.

“—but you give the guy a regular tuna to debone, and suddenly it’s all ‘Oh, this is ~soooo~ hard!’” Stan continued in a jestful tone. “‘I’m gonna make my twin brother nearly choke on a rib bone! Or two. Or five.’”

“Their spinal cords are more delicate than what I’m used to handling,” Ford insisted. “The anatomy of an anthropomorphic fish person—oh, uh, make some room?”

“Huh? Oh, right.” Stan made a gesture with his hand for Wendy to move. “Hey, scooch over and put the pig on the floor so we can all sit down.”

“I can take him off your hands now, Wendy,” Mabel said, holding her arms open. “Although he’ll probably end up on the floor anyway; I know he’s been dying to root around in the carpet for burrito bite crumbs again!”

While Wendy readjusted and passed Waddles back to his owner, Ford seated himself comfortably next to Stan. “As I was saying,” he continued. “The anatomy of an anthropomorphic fish person resembles our own more than that of a non-anthropomorphized fish from our dimension. This size increase in bone structure makes it far easier to get a grip on their spinal column and just—” He made a tearing motion with his hands. “—rip it straight from the body—”

He paused and looked to the younger twins. “Only when such drastic measures are necessary to take, of course. Had the dimension been populated by living anthropomorphized fish people, I would not have resorted to ripping out anyone’s spines.”

Stan lightly bumped his knuckles against Ford’s arm. “Heh, sounds like a buncha fancy-schmancy excuses from a guy who never learned how to properly work a pair of fish tweezers,” he said, making small, pinching motions with his fingers. “What’s wrong, Poindexter? Thought you were used to usin’ delicate sciencey tools out in the field with your dainty little sciencey grip.”

“Nothing about my science or my grip has been dainty in over thirty years, and I think you know that.”

“Yeah, tell that to the octopus babe you tried to hook up with off the coast of Australia! When’d she leave again, less than half-an-hour into the date?”

While Ford responded with his own playful fist to the arm—one that Stan cackled loudly at in return—Mabel knelt to the carpet and set Waddles at her side. “Aww, it’s nice to see you two getting along so well now!” she said sweetly. “Does that mean no more fighting? I mean, actual fighty-fighting and not play fighting?”

“Psh, please, let’s not go that far,” Stan replied, with a wave of his hand. “Of course we’re gonna fight, we’re siblings. Or are you forgetting how you tripped your brother out there in the driveway?”

“It was a bra~anch!” Mabel insisted in a singsong tone.

Dipper gave her a flat look. “Still gonna go with that excuse, huh?”

“Yeah-huh~! Also it’s not an excuse.”

With a wink to them, Stan snaked an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “But if anyone’s worried about a repeat of last year’s performance, don’t be!” he assured them. “Nine months of punching sea monsters and nabbing treasure from sirens have made us thick as thieves, just like old times!”

“While Stanley’s claims are a touch exaggerated, he’s not wrong,” Ford replied. “Despite our petty bickering over fish preparation, there’s nothing quite like spending months out on the open seas with someone to remind you of what’s really important in life. Sailing around the world on the adventure of a lifetime—”

He cast a small smile in his brother’s direction. “—well, it puts a lot of things in perspective.”

With a faux look of disgust, Stan pushed him away. “Ugh, why’d you have to go and make what I said all sappy? What, you wanna make the kids blow chunks on their first day back?”

While the kids giggled at this response, Ford nudged him in retaliation again. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, we could always go back to our petty fish arguments,” he said with a smug look. “You’ve harped on my inability to properly debone a fish, yet you act as if you didn’t completely butcher the deboning of those seatrout we caught along the coast of Florida.”

“Hey, hey, I plead the Florida loophole!” Stan insisted. “Which clearly states that if anything funky happens within the Florida boundaries, it was caused by the fact that we were near Florida.”

He folded his arms firmly across his chest. “Can’t be blamed for anything when we’re sailin’ through territory that could give this town a run for its money in weirdness.”

“Oh, you two were down in Florida?” Melody piped up. “That’s exactly where Abuelita headed a few days ago!”

“She won a free trip in a bingo game,” Soos explained with a look of pride. “Man, you should’ve seen how jealous Agnes and Bertha got when she held up her winning card—”

The ringing of a timer from the kitchen turned everyone’s heads to the doorway. “Oh, sounds like the food’s done,” Melody said. “Better go ahead and start plating.”

“Need an extra hand?” Soos asked.

“Mmm, I think I can manage slicing up lasagna by myself,” she assured him, before casting another look at the group. “Besides, I know how excited you were for everybody to get here, and I wouldn’t dream of pulling you away from everything just to help me slop some food on a plate.”

Soos moved his hands to her shoulders with a solemn expression. “I love you. So much.”

With a chuckle, she leaned up to kiss his cheek before turning back to the kitchen. Once she disappeared out of sight, Soos let out a warm sigh. “Isn’t she the best?” he asked to no one in particular.

Stan turned to Wendy with a raised eyebrow. “So them bein’ all lovey-dovey with each other,” he said. “Is that a rare thing or am I gonna have to actually start stockin’ up on eyeball bleach for the summer?”

“Told you to keep it in mind earlier,” Wendy said, hand on her hip. “Also, you call that ‘lovey-dovey’? Kisses and random compliments for the other when they’re not even in the room barely crack a three or four on the Soos-Melody Romance scale.”

She tilted her head in thought. “Though I guess it’s been more about quantity than quality lately. Can’t go five minutes without one of them trying to smother the other person in affection because of…reasons.”

She raised a finger to her mouth before casting a look over at Soos, who smiled and pressed a finger to his own mouth in return. Leaving the Pines family to watch them with raised eyebrows and tilted heads. “Well, that’s not cryptic or anything,” Ford said.

“Yeah, what’re you two hiding?” Dipper asked.

“C’mon, spill the beans!” Mabel added, with a quick glance around the living room before she followed up with: “...If there were any opened cans of beans lying around, you know I’d poke ‘em over for dramatic effect!”

“Hehe, that’d be so funny,” Soos said amusedly. “It’d be like…a callback or something! But sorry, dudes, no beans of any kind can be spilled at the moment. Whether it’s beans of the secret variety, or just the ones in a can.”

“Why not?” Mabel asked.

“I mean, I think we ran out of them yesterday so you can’t spill what—”

“The secret part, Soos,” Dipper clarified.

“Oh, that!” Soos pressed a hand to the back of his neck with a tender look. “Well, it’s kind of a big deal, y’know? And I wanna wait until Mel and I can tell you together.”

“Yeesh, this secret of yours must be big big,” Stan said with a loose chuckle. “What, are the two of you getting married or some…thing—”

The mild amusement in his tone faded as the punchline he was waiting for never seemed to come, while the giddiness in Soos’ expression only seemed to blossom further. His cheeks had brightened to a light shade of red and he’d pressed hand over his mouth as he tried—and failed—to hide the smile that was quickly taking over his entire face.

Wendy also slapped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile—her entire upper half trembling as if she were holding back the biggest laugh of her life—while a deafening silence of realization overtook the rest of the Pines family.

“Alright, who wants the first two plates?”

It was Melody who finally broke the silence, having returned to the doorway with a paper plate of lasagna in each hand. “Again, I would’ve prepared something better for a welcome-back dinner, but with Abuelita out of town and the party tomorrow—”

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Mabel’s words were punctuated by an ear-piercing scream—one that earned slapped hands to the ears of everyone except for Melody and Soos—and she flung herself around the neck of the latter to hug him tightly. “You guys are getting married! I can’t believe it!”

Dipper hurried to join in the hugging of Soos with a hearty laugh. “Congratulations, Soos! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Can I be the flower girl?” Mabel prattled on. “Can Waddles be the ring bearer?!”

“What?! Why Waddles?” Dipper asked, then looked to Soos hopefully. “Can I be the ring bearer?!”

Melody stared at the sight with a look of mild confusion, to which Soos shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, babe,” he said meekly, and slung an arm around both of them. “Guess my poker face needed a little work.”

She chuckled in response, and went to set the plates down on the t-rex skull. “Well, I guess that’s one way to spill the beans.”

“YEAH! I spilled the beans!” Mabel said delightedly, pumping a fist in the air. “The metaphorical beans!”

“I mean, technically Stan was the one to spill them,” Wendy said, flashing Stan a grin. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, dude, it was priceless!”

This earned her a pair of narrowed eyes from Stan. “Hey, hey, what’s with you and the jokes today? You should be a little more respectful to the guy who used to sign your paychecks.”

“Mmm, are you going to be signing my paychecks again now that you’re back?”

Stan opened his mouth to respond, before the implication behind her reply snapped his attention right back to Soos and Melody. “Woah, woah, hold on, go back a sec—you’re telling me that you two are actually tyin’ the knot?”

Melody held out her hand, an engagement ring with a beautiful, purple gemstone resting comfortably on her finger. “End of the summer’s our set date,” she confirmed. “Oh, not the end end of summer; Soos told me that the kids’ birthday was the last day of August, and he didn’t want to take the spotlight away from their special day with our special day.”

“Aww, what? Booo!” Mabel protested as she hopped down from Soos’ arms. “Come on, we can share the day with you guys! Right, Dip?”

“Yeah!” Dipper agreed. “If there’s anything that’ll make our birthday better, it’ll be sharing it with your wedding day!”

Soos pressed a hand to each of their heads with a warm smile. “Aww, man, now I kinda wish we did!” he said, with a hopeful look to Melody. “You don’t think we could—”

“Normally I’d say yes in a heartbeat,” Melody said. “But we’ve already booked the photography, and you know how they are about rescheduling at the last second.”

“But don’t you guys have three months?” Dipper pointed out.

“To a wedding photographer, rescheduling earlier than five months counts as last minute,” Melody explained. “Especially if your set date’s in the summertime; they’re usually pretty swamped from June to the middle of September.”

“You shoulda gone for a Vegas wedding,” Stan said. “You get in, get out in an hour tops and all you need is a witness.”

He crossed his arms with a scowl. “And I guess you’ll need a safe for your valuables, in case the broad’s only marryin’ you for your winnings and plans on running off with ‘em in the middle of the night. …On second thought, don’t get married in Vegas.”

“Well, thankfully I don’t have any plans to go running off with any of Soos’s valuables, so there’s nothing to worry about there,” Melody said, taking a look around the room. “Besides, I’m pretty sure the majority of his valuables are sitting right in this very room, and I don’t think I could carry most of you.”

This earned her a chorus of ‘aww’s from the kids and Soos, and a retching gag from Stan. “Yeesh, forget the eye bleach thing, I’m gonna need something to scrub out my ears with after hearing that.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Wendy said, rising to her feet. “You still want some help with the food, Mel? I’ll do it just so Mr. Pines has an excuse to stop complaining about all the mushy stuff.”

Melody pressed a hand to her mouth to try and stifle back another laugh. “Sounds like a plan,” she said, and gestured for Wendy to follow.

While Wendy hurried after her—Stan glowering at her until she was out of his line of sight—the kids continued to swarm Soos with questions. “So where are you guys holding the wedding?” Mabel asked, hands folded together. “Ooh, lemme guess! Uh, uh—the arcade? No, that’s not romantic enough. Hoo-Ha Owl’s Pizzamatronic Jamboree? Since it’s where you had your first date?”

“Here at the Mystery Shack?” Dipper guessed. “Or, you know, a regular church?”

Soos pointed at him. “Ding ding ding, Dipper got it! Or, uh, he was right with the first guess.” He tossed his hands in the air. “We’re gonna have it here at the Mystery Shack! We’re gonna make some space outside, maybe put the alter over in that spot by the totem pole—it’s gonna look so good!”

“Well, I know I’m happy for both of you,” Ford spoke up from his spot on the couch. “I mean, I might not know either of you very well. But from the little I’ve seen of you two together, this is clearly a big deal and I’m honored that we get to share this opportunity with you.”

Soos turned to him with a surprised, yet touched expression. “Wh—aww, thanks, Dr. Pines,” he said, placing a hand on his heart. “That actually means a lot, coming from you.”

Ford blinked in confusion. “It…does?”

“Well…yeah,” Soos said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I know you didn’t plan for this place to become the Mystery Shack when you built it. But because it became that, I was able to meet Mr. Pines, and then Dipper and Mabel—” He began to tick off his fingers. “—and they were able to help me learn how to get a date, which led me to meeting Melody at the mall—”

He paused, looking to his hand. “Hey, should I count the whole ‘killer video game girlfriend’ thing in there somewhere, or was that more just a…thing that happened and isn’t really connected to all of this?”

“Definitely more of a side thing,” Mabel said. “Like, it happened, but I think connecting it back to the shack is a bit of a stretch.”

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said with a smile in his direction. “So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“This wouldn’t be possible without help from our friend here!”

Ford’s smile vanished, nails gripping the arm of the couch tighter than he’d intended as the shrill, high-pitched sound of Bill’s voice echoed through his mind. Cruel tauntings mixed with the vicious laughter of his surrounding henchman, all while he struggled desperately against the invisible binds that held him in the air—

“Grunkle Ford, is everything alright?”

Mabel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, a expression of worry painted across her features. Not only hers, but Dipper was giving him a mildly concerned look as well.

Ford let out a slow exhale of air through his nose to steady himself. It was just a horrible, fleeting memory, as were all his memories of Bill. Outside of his nightmares, he had managed to keep a lid on most of them for the past nine months whenever they managed to snake their way to the front of his mind.

That’s all it was, just another bad memory. No need to dwell on it, especially not now.

“I’m fine,” he reassured the rest of the group with a smile. “I was just about to say that I don’t know if I would go that far with the compliments. I mean, Stanley’s the one who put all the time and effort into making this place what it is today, isn’t he?”

He looked to his right, an identical pair of eyes meeting his own as the older Pines twins stared at each other in silence.

While he and Stan had only been reunited for less than a year, falling back into the habit of picking up on Stan’s mannerisms had almost been second instinct for Ford. Despite the forty year gap between their teenhood and the present, so much of the way that Stan presented himself hadn’t changed in the slightest.

So naturally, Ford had also picked back up the ability to distinguish when Stan was hiding his displeasure with a situation.

It didn’t happen often; Stan had always been the kind of person to openly and fervently vocalize his complaints at the slightest inconvenience. A behavioral habit he had possessed since they were young boys—such a thought sent an uncomfortable wave of nostalgia rippling through Ford’s chest—and one that had clearly stayed with him throughout the years—more uncomfortable waves in his chest of a different sort.

So whenever Stan made the choice to to keep his grievances to himself, it usually meant there was more bubbling under the surface. More than he was willing to let anyone see.

And the way that his features had shifted, jaw clenched and a rigid look behind his eyes that was easy to miss if you blinked—

“Yeah, the heck am I? Chopped liver?”

Before Ford could think to question Stan, he’d already turned back to the group with an affronted look. “Or are you knuckleheads forgettin’ who even started this whole business to begin with?”

This sent a wave of laughs through the trio. “Of course we didn’t, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel assured him. “We’d never forget about you!”

“Of course not!” Dipper added with a laugh.

“Not for a second!” Soos added. “In fact, I was actually about to ask you—”

“More plates coming through~!”

Melody and Wendy reentered the living room, a plate in each of their hands. “Alright, dorks, come and get these before I eat them,” Wendy joked, passing both plates in her hands to the younger twins.

“And one for you,” Melody said, handing one of hers to Soos with another kiss on the cheek.

This got a small hum of delight from Soos, which was accompanied by another eye roll from Stan as he leaned forward to take one of the plates off the skull table. “Eugh, on second thought, I don’t want any sorta credit for this mush fest,” he said, bringing it to his lap. “In fact, unless you got more happy news to tell us, I’m turnin’ my attention to this mush fest instead.”

To emphasize his pun, he brought the back of his fork down onto the lasagna with an audible squishing sound, before shoving a large bite into his mouth. “‘Sides, the sooner we eat, the sooner we get to see Soos’s big, fancy shack tour, right?”

His point seemed to encourage the kids to dig into their own plates as well, although not without bombarding the happy couple with more wedding-related questions. Wendy, in the meanwhile, had realized that she was the only person left without any food and headed back to the kitchen to fetch herself a plate of her own.

Leaving the remaining plate on the dinosaur skull, one growing colder by the minute, for Ford to take.

He leaned forward to pull it to his lap as well, unable to resist giving Stan a glance out of the corner of his eye as he did. Stan’s expression had returned to a more relaxed look as he dug into his food, any previous signs of distress now nothing more than a memory.

Settling back into place with his plate, Ford turned his attention back to the group—specifically Dipper and Mabel as they laughed along with whatever Soos was telling them through a mouthful of lasagna.

None of them had expressed any further concern for Stan’s behavior after it had happened, and the three of them had spent far more time with Stan than he had in the past thirty years. Sure, the two of them had spent the past nine months together out at sea, but the kids had gotten to know him over the course of the previous summer. And Soos had practically spent all of his childhood and young-adulthood around him.

If they had failed to noticed anything was wrong with him, did that mean that Ford had misinterpreted his reaction completely? If one of Stan’s closest employees and family members—people who had been around Stan for far longer than he had in the past few decades—hadn’t noticed anything wrong with him, then maybe there was actually nothing to notice at all?

“Ho-ho! Looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart!”

…Then again, he did have experience in not picking up on the obvious.

His grip on the fork tightened as he stabbed it into the remaining lasagna on his plate, letting out another slow exhale in the process. It was like Stan had said earlier at the bus stop. If the two of them showed any signs of stress regarding the events of the previous summer, then it was sure to stress out the kids as well.

He raised the fork to his mouth. And it was like he had said; It was a new summer. A chance for everyone to start over, and for them to start over together.

“We don’t have to do anything alone ever again, right?”

“We don’t have to do anything alone. Not now, not ever again.”

If there was anything truly wrong with Stan, he would say something. They could talk things out, find a solution together.

As he bit down on the lasagna, however, he couldn’t stop his gaze from uncertainly shifting back to his brother.

—right?

— — — — — — — —

“Remind us again why we’re wearin’ blindfolds?” Stan asked.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Mabel piped up, and reached her hands out in front of her to blindly grasp at the air. “Are you going to make Grunkle Stan drive us somewhere with his blindfold on?”

“I strongly advise against anything of the sort,” Ford said quickly.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure Soos just wants us to be surprised by all the new stuff he’s added to the shack,” Dipper pointed out, and looked towards where he had heard Soos’s voice. “Isn’t that right, Soos? …I think I’m looking at you, I can’t actually tell.”

“You got it, dude!” Soos said, giving him a thumbs up before adding as an afterthought: “By the way, you can’t see it but I gave you a thumbs up!”

Dipper gave him a thumbs up in return, while Stan folded his arms across his chest. “Yeesh, with how much you’re hyping this thing up, it better end with a boatload of cash.”

He flipped his thumb in the direction of the parked car and boat situated a short distance from the group. “And don’t think I don’t know how much a boatload is, we got the Stan-O’-War 2 parked right over there for reference.” A pause. “I’m pretty sure it’s over there, at least.”

“It is,” Soos assured him. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

Dipper gave a nod. “We’re ready, Soos!”

“Yeah, knock us dead, Mr. Mystery!” Mabel added encouragingly.

After a quick glance down at the stack of flashcards in his hands, Soos looked back to the waiting Pines with a big smile. “Greetings, ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted tourists,” he began in a rehearsed tone. “First of all, the Mystery Shack family would like to offer you a hearty welcome to the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon—”

He winked at them. “Or I guess I should really say welcome back to the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon! …‘Cause, like, you all came back to the town after leaving—”

Stan pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re really gonna give us the entire pitch first, huh?”

From off to the side where her and Wendy were situated, Melody perked up at his remark. “He’s been waiting ages to show it to you,” she called to them. “He barely got any sleep last night out of excitement!”

“I kept opening my eyes and hoping it was finally morning,” Soos admitted with a bashful smile.

“Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always saying that buttering up the chumps that come through here is a good way to get them to toss more money at us?” Wendy added. “Why do you care if he gives you the entire pitch first?”

“Hey, never said I didn’t approve of it,” Stan clarified. “I especially like the part where he refers to the staff as a family.”

He gave a theatrical wave of his hands. “Paints a mental picture in those chumps’ minds. A picture that says ‘Hey! The people at this place must be really close if they’re callin’ themselves a family! And if they’re a family, they must have a bunch of hungry kids to feed! Let’s toss all the money in our wallets at them…for the children!’”

“Probably helps that you actually made us dress up like ‘the abnormally hungry twins’ for an exhibit last year.” Dipper cast a flat look towards Stan, then to verbally emphasize his point: “Which I will not be doing again this year.”

Stan waved him away with a scoff. “‘Course not; those extra inches on your height won’t make you pass as anything more than a starving teenager. And people aren’t as taken in by teenagers in need as they are kids.”

“An unfortunate fact, but a true one,” Wendy chimed in again. “Now shh, Soos worked really hard on preparing this speech!”

“Thanks, Wendy,” Soos said. “But I don’t mind any interruptions, especially not from Mr. Pines! If there’s anything my online forums taught me, it’s that running a business is like writing a fanfiction: healthy criticism informs me of the areas I can improve on, and makes me feel good about the areas I’m already doing well in!”

He tapped his chin. “There’s also a lot of overlap between the two when it comes to people who want to learn about how to romance a werewolf,” he mused with a chuckle. “Turns out the secret is just buying a lot of beef jerky, they go nuts for the stuff—”

“Keep it on track, Soos,” Stan interrupted with a roll of his hand.

“Gravity Falls, Oregon,” Soos continued. “A mysterious and strange town, full of mysterious and strange beings. Whether they’re human, animal, vegetable, mineral, something in between or something else entirely, the one thing they all have in common is that they call this town home.”

He tossed an arm in the air to gesture at the building behind him. “And lucky for you, our totally awesome family here at the Mystery Shack is happy to help bridge the gap between the mysterious and the…not-mysterious—”

He made a so-so motion with his hand. “This part’s a little rough, but we’re working on smoothing it out. I know there’s a good M-word that would fit there, I just can’t remember off the top of my head.”

Ford pressed a hand to his mouth, before he spoke up with a suggested: “Mundane?”

Soos’s features brightened with inspiration and he shot a finger gun in Ford’s direction. “Boom! That’s the one!” he said, fetching a pencil from his pocket. “Thanks, Dr. Pines! …By the way, I shot you a finger gun. If you don’t know what that is—‘cause of all the time away from our dimension—I can tell you! It’s when you take your finger and—”

“No need to explain, Soos,” Ford assured him. “The concept speaks for itself.”

While Soos scribbled a few edits onto his flashcard, Melody raised a hand from her spot. “Sorry to interrupt your speech, Soos, but I just want to make sure I’m getting things right now that everyone’s here.”

She pointed a finger at the Stans, shifting it back and forth between them. “Mr. Pines is the founder of the Mystery Shack and Dr. Pines is the one who actually owns it, right?” she asked with a shrug. “Or—well, I know that technically we own it since we have the deed to the building, that’s such a weird law for this town to have—”

“You have no idea,” Stan added.

“—but you get what I mean, right? Dr. Pines is the name on the deed?”

“I gotcha, and you’re right!” Soos clarified. “Mr. Pines founded the mystery shack and Dr. Pines is the one on the deed.”

He turned to face her completely. “If it helps, you could try remembering it like this: Mr. for mystery and Dr. for deed to the shack!”

Melody considered this for a moment. “Oh, that does help, actually. It’s like a stalactite/stalagmite kind of thing.”

“You could also just call them Stan and Ford,” Mabel added. “Ooh, or Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford like we do!”

“I mean, technically they aren’t her great-uncles,” Dipper pointed out. “So that wouldn’t really make sense.”

With a tut, Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Please, the title of Grunkle is less about being a great-uncle, and more of a state of mind.”

“...Yeah, the state of mind where you’re a great-uncle,” Dipper said pointedly. “Hence the combination of the two words.”

“You can call us whatever you please,” Ford spoke up. “Clearly there are plenty of options to choose from, and all are accurate to some degree.”

He pressed a hand to his chin. “Although I will admit that it’s been a long time since anyone has referred to me as Dr. Pines. It was far more common for people to call me that for the first few years after I finished college.”

“You know what, I’ll experiment with a few different names, see what sticks,” Melody said, then turned her attention back to Soos. “Sorry, babe, didn’t mean to interrupt. Go ahead and keep going.”

“Never hurts to double check,” Soos assured her. “Plus since the two of them are part of the Shack’s history, it doubles as a tour question! Ooh, we should write that into the speech, too—”

There was another pause as he scribbled something down on his flashcards. “See, that’s another reason I wanted to show you guts the tour as soon as possible,” he said to the Pines. “I’m adding so much that’s gonna knock the next group of tourists that hears it on their butts! Okay, let’s see, where was I—”

“Mysterious and mundane,” Dipper reminded him helpfully.

“Thanks, dude! As I was saying before, we here at the Mystery Shack are happy to help bridge the gap between the mysterious and the mundane—”

He playfully waggled a finger in Ford’s direction, before tossing his free hand in the air. “And hopefully after today’s tour, you’ll all be able to walk across that bridge alongside us! Welcome to the Mystery Shack!”

He squinted down at his flashcards again. “Is…is that good for a welcoming statement?” he asked. “Did I do a good job? Do you feel invested to learn more about what awaits in this fine establishment?”

“Oh, I know if I had a wallet full of money, I’d be tossing fistfuls at you right now,” Mabel said supportively, and dug a hand into the pocket of her skirt. “Ooh, wait, I might have some glitter I can toss instead—”

After blindly feeling around for a moment, she pulled her hand out with a with a disappointed look. “Aw, nope, false alarm,” she said, opening her palm to reveal a squished, blue blob. “Just my wad of that sticky stuff teachers use to hang up posters that I stole over the school year~!”

She dropped it in her pocket again and gave the side a pat. “Just gonna tuck that back where it belongs~!”

“And I’m always ready to learn more,” Dipper added. “So you don’t need to do much to convince me!”

“Sounds like a yes to me, Mr. Mystery,” Melody said. “We good to move on to the next part of this tour?”

“You know it!” Soos said, before looking back to the Pines. “Okay so that part of the speech would normally be followed up with me leading everyone over to the exhibits area and showing all of them off.”

His gaze moved to the Stans. “But I know you wanted a quiet evening without tourists or sleepovers or parties—”

“We did,” Stan confirmed.

“I didn’t,” Mabel argued with a pout. “I’ll bet Candy and Grenda would’ve had so much fun on the tour!”

“Oh, they’ve taken it many times!” Soos assured her. “They’re practically honorary employees at this point, and sometimes they even help with the new exhibits!”

At this information, Mabel’s pout was immediately replaced with a cutesy smile and she squished her hands to her cheeks. “Aww, of course they do! Can we see some of the ones they helped with?”

“Well, uh—like I was saying, we knew Mr. Pines wanted at least one evening before all the loud stuff,” Soos said. “So we ended tours early for the day and sent everyone from the exhibits home.”

The Pines exchanged a series of confused, blindfolded looks, before Dipper vocalized their confusion with an: “Everyone?”

Soos looked to Melody and Wendy, who nodded in unison. “We sent everyone home,” he continued to the Pines. “But we still wanted to give you all a taste of the kind of tours we’d normally give on a regular basis! So Melody had the brilliant idea to leave out the empty displays and do a fake tour before cleanup!”

He gestured for them to follow. “If you really want to know more, you’re gonna have to come look for yourselves~! And to look for yourselves, you’re gonna have to follow me!”

“Refusing to explain further until we take the tour for ourselves?” Stan gave a proud nod. “Good, good, you’re reelin’ us in…”

“Uh, Soos?” Dipper said, and pointed to his blindfold. “How can we follow you if you can’t see?”

Soos froze, and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh, duh, forgot about that!” he said, and thought for a moment. “Uh…just carefully follow the sound of my voice and footsteps?”

He began to walk backwards, making wide gesturing motions with his hands as they blindly followed him. “Alright, dudes, just keep walking forward—oop, careful of that crack in the ground, Dipper! Okay, just a little further—”

“Still don’t understand why we can’t just take the blindfolds off,” Stan said, taking a few bold steps forward—

—and letting out a grunt of pain as he stepped on a small rock. “Also, since when did Soos know to call you Dr. Pines?” he asked, kicking the rock to the side. “Don’t remember you ever tellin’ him to do that.”

He directed the last remark at Ford, who was carefully toeing the dirt in front of him before taking a step. “Well, I did mention my college years back when I first stepped out of the portal,” he reminded Stan. “Perhaps he took that fact and came to the conclusion that using the Dr. prefix would be appropriate, given my numerous PhDs.”

Stan’s expression shifted for a moment. “Oh yeah, that did happen, didn’t it,” he said, before shaking his head. “Yeah, given your whole science guy thing, I’ll bet he woulda called you Dr. Pines even if you didn’t have the credentials for it.”

“I would’ve!” Soos confirmed helpfully.

“Ooh, Mabel just had a fun idea!” Mabel piped up, and pressed her hands together. “What if we called you Dr. Grunkle Ford?”

She smiled cutely in Ford’s direction, despite being unable to see him. “I’ll bet one of those PhDs is from mastering the study of Great-Uncle-ing, isn’t it? Hmm~?”

“Well, if we’re getting into the specifics,” Ford began. “The field of studies I majored in were biology, archaeology—dabbled in Hyper-Advanced Engineering and Fifth-Dimensional Calculus for three semesters, deeply regret trading the rest for an extra semester of Applied Quantum Phase Theory—”

He paused. “Oh, that was a joke, wasn’t it?”

Mabel let out a giggle. “The PhD part was, the Dr. Grunkle Ford part was not. That was also not a ‘no’ so I’m gonna tuck that away for later.”

She made a motion to grab something out of the air, and pretended to drop it into her pocket. “And just ‘cause you can’t see it, I grabbed the nickname out of the air and dropped it into my pocket,” she explained, patting her skirt. “It’s resting right next to my blob of sticky poster stuff as we speak.”

“Hey, Soos, are we able to take off our blindfolds yet?” Dipper asked.

“Just a little further ahead—ooh, okay, stop, stop!”

Soos came to a stop himself, smile wider than ever. “Alright, esteemed guests! You may now remove your blindfolds and behold the wonders the Shack has to offer! …Or, at least, get an idea of what the Shack has to offer when we’re not closed!”

Four pairs of hands met cloth as the Pines reached up to lower their blindfolds and take in the sight before them.

The area situated between the shack and the edge of the woods was reminiscent of a carnival after all the guests had gone home for the day—the grass a tamped-down mess of discarded pamphlets and trash, and a wide selection of empty displays surrounded them on all sides.

To their left stood a tall aquarium that stretched around ten by ten square feet, filled nearly to the brim with placid water. Further ahead was a lengthy presentation stage, littered in the remains of unidentifiable objects made of wood, stone—anything that looked like it would’ve been a challenge for a regular human to destroy.

Ahead of that was an artificial recreation of a magical forest glenn, one perfect for a unicorn to kneel before in a graceful and elegant fashion. A series of perches for winged creatures both big and small. A small pet bed the perfect size for a plaidypus. A collection of scattered Pitt Cola cans near a skateboarding ramp covered in massive, yeti-like footprints and tire tracks.

Empty display after empty display surrounded the Pines family as they looked around, each a clear indicator of what beings would normally occupy them during business hours.

And if the sight wasn’t enough, Soos was happy to confirm it as he lead them forward: “Now, this is our Main Exhibit Area,” he said, and gestured around himself. “Any live beings for these attractions would normally be gathered here for their demonstrations—”

“Live beings?” Dipper asked with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes. “As in we’ve started including actual, real monsters and creatures and stuff?”

“You know it, dude!” Soos said.

Mabel smooshed her face against the side of the large, glass tank, pupils darting back and forth while questions spilled out of her mouth at breakneck speed: “Is this a mermaid tank? How many mermaids are here? What are they like? …Are any of them Mermando?”

“Reminder that you’re in a relationship,” Dipper said.

Mabel pulled her face back with an audible pop, before giving her brother a pointed stare. “I wasn’t asking so I could date him again! It’d just be nice to catch up with an old friend!”

She moved a hand to her forehead, rubbing the spot where skin had met glass. “Besides, you act like Dev wouldn’t be cool with being in a polyamorous relationship with a mermaid.”

“...You know, that is probably something he’d be cool with.”

“Soos said he had a feeling you’d like the mermaid tank,” Melody said, coming up beside them. “And Wendy had a feeling that you’d love to see me jump into it.”

Mabel stared up at her with a grave look. “I would love nothing more.”

“Called that one,” Wendy said with a smug grin.

Using the ladder near them, Melody climbed up and onto the wooden platform on top of the tank, pausing only for a moment to fiddle with something in the very center. After a few seconds, she lifted the half she was not kneeling on upwards and held it still for the group to see.

Rather than being made completely out of wood like the other half, the ‘lid’ was made up of sturdy, steel bars with gaps between them. Like the bars of a jail cell, if the entire jail cell had been laid on its back and made of glass.

“We like to close and lock the lid between mermaid demonstrations,” she explained to the Pines family. “Keeps any bold tourists from trying to climb inside.”

“You lock your mermaids up?” Mabel asked, hands pressed to her mouth in horror.

“Wha—oh, no, don’t worry!” Melody quickly assured her. “We only lock it up once Mitch is outside of it and in his portable tank—hey, Soos, Wendy, can you guys—”

“Oh, yeah, one sec.”

Both Soos and Wendy hurried over to the opposite end of the tank and held out their arms, as if preparing to catch something out of the air. Once they were in place, Melody arched the lid up and over towards the side where they stood. While it quickly swung downwards at the two of them, they stood firm as they caught it in their arms, before gently guiding it to rest against the side of the tank.

Looking pleased, Melody turned her attention back to the kids. “Alright, I’m not even gonna try to do a proper mermaid dive into this thing because there’s a good chance I might break my neck,” she said. “So are we fine with a cannonball instead?”

“Cannonball! Cannonball!” Dipper and Mabel chanted in unison.

“Cannonball!” Soos added with just as much enthusiasm.

“Sounds like a yes to me!” Melody said, and took a small step back from the gap. “Get your cameras ready!”

Mabel held up her cell phone with a bright smile, before taking a cautious step back from the tank. “For safety measures,” she explained. “Don’t want what happened to Dipper’s phone to happen to mine~!”

“There was a chicken in science class, caught on fire and set off the sprinklers…” He shrugged in mild annoyance. “I had to get a new phone, it was a whole thing—”

“Shshshsh,” Mabel said, taking one hand off her phone to wave him quiet. “We can exchange cool stories after the tour! Cannonball time!”

“Oh, right—go for it, Melody!”

And with that confirmation, Melody took a deep breath jumped up and over the open side of the tank, folding her body into a cannonball shaped before she sank down into the water. Water that splashed up and out, soaking the grass around the tank and the toes of anyone who hadn’t followed Mabel’s example and backed up to safety.

While Melody breached the surface and swam to the tank’s side, Soos looked back down to his flashcards. “As you can imagine, normally a trick like this would be done by our hired merteen, Mitch,” he explained. “He would do a few tricks, explain a few of the basics of being a merperson, and then answer a few questions from the audience about being a mermaid and stuff.”

Melody propped her folded arms over the side of the tank. “And since I’m not an actual mermaid, I can’t really answer any real mermaid questions,” she said. “Or, at least, not as well as someone who’s been one their entire lives. But if anyone’s got any about how the exhibit works in other ways—”

“And Mabel’s hand is already in the air.”

Dipper flicked a thumb towards his sister, who was waving her arm about so frantically that it was a miracle that it didn’t go flying right off her body. Melody smiled and gestured to her with a damp hand. “Go ahead, Mabel.”

“Because I didn’t get any answers before, I repeat my questions from earlier,” Mabel said. “How many mermaids are here? What are they like?”

She turned her nose up at Dipper. “And would there happen to be an old friend of mine by the name of Mermando among them?” she asked. “One I am not interested in dating again, but one I would like to say hello to, despite what a certain someone might think—”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?” Dipper asked.

“Ehhh, we only got the one merman and I doubt you’d be interested in dating him,” Wendy answered. “He’s kinda dull, one of those beach-dude types who’s overly obsessed with surfing and sun…”

She flicked a thumb towards the skating ramp. ”Gets along pretty well with the Abominable Bro-men who hang out at the halfpipe, though.”

“Speaking of which, he headed down to the California coast for the summer,” Soos said. “Apparently he’s got a lot of family down there—”

“Makes sense,” Dipper said with a nod.

“Totally tracks,” Mabel added.

“—which means that the only mermaid exhibit you’ll get to see for the next three months is Melody’s,” Soos continued. “Unless another one applies for a job soon, that is. ‘Course we’ll still need to check their resume, confirm their resources are legitimate—”

“Which could happen,” Melody said, as she pulled herself up onto the edge of the tank. “I’ve got a couple of interviews lined up.”

She looked towards the older Pines twins. “What about you two? Got any mermaid questions for me?”

“I’m afraid any questions I might still have about mermaids would only be able to be answered by actual mermaids,” Ford said, and looked towards the rest of the displays. “And I assume the same applies to the rest of the exhibits.”

He cast them both a smile. “But I’m in full support of this method of showcasing them! I mean, using the supernatural beings of Gravity Falls as willing exhibits, and providing a chance for everyone to grow accustomed to each other in a neutral setting?”

He tossed his hands in the air. “All with education lessons about each creature added to the mix? Quite the scientific approach to this sort of thing, color me very impressed!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines,” Melody said. “You and the kids, of course.”

Once again, Ford found himself bewildered by the sudden praise and he tilted his head with a curious look. “Care to explain?”

“See, I spent sooooo much time with Dipper and Mabel last year,” Soos explained. “And they spent sooooo much of their time doing lots of cool, mystery stuff! Whether it was fighting some big monster or just trying to find out more about the super-mysterious author guy who wrote the journal that Dipper found in the woods—”

He once again pointed at Ford with a playful grin, before continuing: “—we learned about a lotta weird dudes! And with the town coming together and everything after Weirdmageddon, that meant a lotta those weird dudes were walking around in broad daylight. Which meant a lotta tourists started seeing those weird dudes walking around in broad daylight!”

“And as most tourists do, plenty had questions about them,” Melody continued from the water tank. “So with the Shack being one of the most popular locations in town, some talk was thrown around about us providing a space for those beings to answer their questions!”

“It probably helps that a lot of those weird dudes hid in the Mystery Shack during Weirdmageddon,” Wendy added. “So you know, didn’t take a lot of convincing to get them involved, since they kinda consider it a safe haven now.”

“That’s so cool!” Dipper piped up excitedly.

“It’s brilliant,” Ford agreed. “During my years of research, I spent so long studying all the strange and mysterious beings of this town. How they came to exist, how they functioned—”

He placed a hand to the side of the tank. “Not just them but the weirdness that surrounded the town as a whole. Why all of it was so drawn to this tiny, Oregon town out of anywhere else in the world—”

“Imagine it, Sixer—a whole dimension of weirdness! One where the strangest and most bizarre beings the Multiverse has to offer call home! All waiting for someone as brilliant as you to pop on over and show the world what they—and you—can do!”

“You really think so?”

“Buddy, I know so! This is the way genius happens! …With a little help from a friend, of course!”

The hand against the glass curled into a fist as Bill’s voice once again pounded through his skull, the memories of their ‘research’ together gripping his insides like a vice. All those years of hard work for naught, all that wasted time being fed promises from the honey-dipped spoon of a liar, the bitter truth hidden from sight until it was too late to spit it back out—

He slowly unclenched his hand with a shuddery exhale. Deep breath, just relax. Everything was fine. “—well, this whole setup is making me reminisce on more nostalgic times,” he finished with a forced smile in Soos’s direction. “That’s all.”

If Soos had caught on to his half-truth, he didn’t show any sign of it in his own expression. Rather, his own smile simply widened further as he looked to Stan. “What about you, Mr. Pines?”

Ford couldn’t help but look to his brother as well, and his eyes once again met a matching pair as the two of them stared at each other in another shared silence.

The rigidity in Stan’s features from before had returned. Far less prominent than it had been back in the house, but the way his jaw was set, the cold, studious gaze behind worn lenses—

“All I wanna know is how much this kinda stuff’s costing the two of you.”

And quick as a flash, Stan had turned back to the rest of the group, arms folded across his chest and any sense of tension in his features nonexistent. “Don’t get me wrong; I think usin’ all the ghouls and goblins of this town to get more money outta tourists is a great idea—”

“You mean like what I suggested last year?” Dipper pointed out.

“Last year I was still playin’ dumb about all of that, in the hopes it would keep you kids outta trouble,” Stan reminded him. “Think we can safely say that ship has sailed by now. Besides, I ain’t the big man in charge anymore, so whatever changes you make to the shop are up to you and you alone.”

He directed the back half of his sentence at Soos and Melody as he turned to face them again. “But you know me; always lookin’ at the side of business with the dollar signs. And I just wanna know if you’re turnin’ more of a profit than what you’re spendin’.”

Ford’s gaze continued to linger on his brother for a moment more, before he turned to them as well. “Stanley raises a good point. While I clearly support the desire and motivation to help others approach the supernatural beings of the Falls with a more respectful and scientific mindset—well, as Stanley put it so eloquently, such methods aren’t exactly cheap.”

“Oh, that’s nothing to worry about,” Melody assured them. “If anything, the Shack is making more money than it ever did before!”

“Oh yeah!” Soos agreed. “Even taking into account all of the paychecks we give out—of course we pay anyone who’s part of an exhibit—”

“They’re employees after all,” Melody chimed in with a nod.

“—even taking all that into account, we’re doing really well!” Soos finished, tossing his hands into the air. “In fact, the Shack is more popular than it’s ever been before!”

Ford glanced back at Stan, scanning his features for any other signs of distress. However, Stan only seemed to perk up further at Soos’ comment, even going so far as to clasp a proud arm around his shoulder. “Well, then I have no complaints whatsoever! Show me another one of these magnificent, moneymaking—uh, m—uh…whatever, just show me another one.”

“Sounds like my cue,” Wendy said, and turned to the younger twins. “Who wants to see me break something over at the Manotaur stage?”

This time, Dipper and Mabel’s hand shot up in unison, and Wendy laughed as she lead them over towards the empty presentation stage. Much like back at the bus stop, the adults found themselves left behind as Soos helped a sopping-wet Melody back down the ladder and into the grass.

“Well, the tour might not be how we usually do things, but at least they seem to be having fun,” she said, and reached up to wring out some of the water in her hair. “Plus getting a chance to jump into a tank of water on a hot summer evening’s probably the opposite of a problem.”

“You cannonball like no other,” Soos said, tone full of sincerity before he looked to the older twins. “So you’re really enjoying the tour so far, Mr. Pines? I know you probably won’t get a proper feel of the new exhibits until you’re able to take a real tour, and I know this is a huge change from how you used to do things—”

“Like I said, it’s makin’ this place more money than ever so I’ve got zero complaints,” Stan said with a shrug. “Your methods are smart, keepin’ up with what the people want like any good business should…”

His features shifted to something that almost resembled genuine pride, if one looked closely enough. “You’re…you’re doin’ good, Soos. Really.”

A single touch could’ve shattered Soos like glass, eyes swelling with tears of pure joy.. “Thank you so much, Mr. Pines!” he said, and finally gave in to the urge he was probably holding since the moment the Stans arrived and scooped Stan up into a hug. “You’ve no idea how much this means to me!”

Any pride in Stan’s expression vanished in place of annoyance at being scooped, and he struggled fruitlessly against Soos’ embrace. “Alright, alright, save the huggy stuff for your fiance over there,” he insisted firmly. “Besides, didn’t Wendy say she wanted to show us another exhibit or whatever?”

“Oh, right!” Soos said, and looked to Melody. “Want me to hug-carry you over to the stage?”

“Soos, I’m soaking wet.”

“Then we’ll both be soaking wet!”

Recognizing a good point when she heard it, Melody shrugged and hopped into his arms and the two of them fell into a shared fit of laughter as Soos lead them both towards the Manotaur stage.

Leaving the Stans as the remaining two near the mermaid tank.

“Can you believe this?” Stan asked, with a light flick to the glass. “A mermaid exhibit with a living, breathing merman? And one not made out of random animal parts?”

“They really seem to have tapped into a brilliant method of showcasing the exhibits here,” Ford agreed, turning his attention to the glass as well. With Melody no longer inside, the water inside was slowly settling back to a calm and undisturbed state. “You really picked the right man to take up the reigns in your absence.”

“Yeah, I…I really did, huh?”

That heavy silence from before began to envelop the brothers again, nearly impossible to ignore by this point. Not even the whooping and hollering from the stage—apparently Wendy had started her demonstration without them—was enough to distract Ford from his growing suspicions that Stanley was hiding something.

With the way he kept looking at Ford, features set with that rigid expression that clearly obscured his actual feelings beneath, he was either hiding something or he needed to say something without the others nearby.

Well, they had a moment alone now. Best to do the straightforward thing and just ask directly. “Stanley, is everything alright?”

Stan snapped his attention from the tank to Ford so quickly that it was a miracle he didn’t pull something, and for a moment he did seem like he had something he needed to say—

—before his expression settled back into something more neutral as he leaned back against the glass. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

It was an odd thing. With the many years of conning people under his belt, Ford had expected his brother to be far better at lying right to his face. “Are you sure?” he tried again, and leaned back against the glass as well. “You know you can talk to me, Stanley. It’s like you said before: we don’t have to deal with things by ourselves anymore. So, if you need to talk about anything, anything at all…”

This earned a small chuckle from Stan. “Throwin’ my own words back at me, huh? Cheap shot.”

He hesitated to reply for a moment, before giving him a halfhearted shrug. “I dunno, it’s nothin’,” he said. “I think I’m just having a hard time getting back into the swing of things now that we’re back in town. Just a lotta new stuff to get used to, stuff that wasn’t here last year…”

He cast Ford a smirk. “Guess you could say I’m having trouble gettin’ my land legs, instead of my sea legs,” he said, leaning over to nudge him with his elbow. “You—you get it? My land legs—”

Dodging the subject with a joke, and an incredibly cheesy one at that. A classic Stanley move to avoid talking about something he didn’t want to, one that only cemented Ford’s concerns further.

However, his first remark brought a thoughtful hand to Ford’s chin. “There have been quite a few changes in our absence,” he agreed. “It would make sense that it would be difficult for you to readjust, especially in regards to the shack.”

He cast a look towards the shack itself. “I mean, you were in charge of this place for what, thirty years? That’s about five times the number of years I lived here,” he said. “Not to mention Soos and Melody’s whole announcement, I can imagine that would be quite the surprise for you—”

“Only surprise there is that there’s apparently someone on this planet more nerdy than Soos,” Stan interrupted quickly, and crossed his arms. “What about you? How’re you holdin’ up?”

Ford stared at him, perplexed. “Me?”

“To quote the words you stole from me to then throw back at me; we don’t have to deal with things by ourselves anymore,” Stan said. “So do you have anything you wanna talk about?”

“Heads up!”

A shout from the stage sprung the brothers into action, and both jumped out of the way just in time to avoid a porcelain vase whizzing past at breakneck speed, right before crashing straight into the side of the cabin and shattering on impact.

“Sorry, guys!” Wendy called from atop the stage. “Think I put a little too much oomph into that swing!”

“I think you put just the right amount of oomph into it!” Mabel said from beside her, grin bright.

“It was incredible!” Dipper agreed. “Can you do it again?”

“I dunno,” Wendy said, tapping the end of the bat against her boot. “The destruction of valuable properly really gets both the Manotaurs and the audience all riled up, so they tend to keep the going until there’s nothing left to destroy.”

She moved the end of the bat was moved to a discarded plank of wood near her feet, gently nudging it towards the edge of the stage. “And judging by today’s damage, it’s a miracle that one vase remained unscathed as long as it did.”

“Aw, boo,” Mabel said. “I wanna see more mindless violence!”

“Sadly that’s all I got for the big lugs for now,” Wendy said, letting the bat clatter to the stage. “You squirts know all about their deal already, so random trivia is kinda out of the question. I mean, I could always do the thing where they let someone from the audience challenge them in a fight, but ehh, I’ve already gotta clean up the displays on my day off—”

“Didn’t you choose to come to work anyway?” Mabel pointed out.

“—so I’m just gonna pass the baton to Soos,” Wendy continued, tossing a hand in Soos’ direction. “How about it, Soos? You’re the only one who hasn’t shown off one of the exhibits yet, it’s only fair you get a turn before we move on to the Big Stuff inside.”

“You make a good point!” Soos agreed with a nod, and glanced around at the remaining exhibits for a moment in thought. “Who wants to watch me try and do a kickflip over at the Abominable Bro-Men’s halfpipe?”

“Me! Me!” Dipper piped up enthusiastically. “You are absolutely going to fall and break your neck, so I’m in!”

Beaming, Soos turned back to the direction of the mermaid tank. “What about you, Dr. and Mr. Pines?” he called. “You wanna join us?”

The sudden vase attack had pulled both from their conversation long enough to grow distracted by the kids’ antics on the stage. At Soos’ call, however, the two of them exchanged a look with each other. “Like I was askin’ before,” Stan tried again. “Are you okay? You got anything you need to talk about?”

It was said in such a knowing tone, as if Stan could physically see the triangle-shaped echos that were permanently etched against the inside of Ford’s mind. As if he were just waiting for Ford to offer him the chance to swing another fist at them again.

But while swinging a fist at Bill had worked the first time around, Stan couldn’t exactly swing a fist at the nightmares that had plagued Ford’s head for as long as he could remember. And even if he could—

“I’m fine, Stanley,” he finally insisted aloud. “Really, I am. Perhaps it’s as you said, and it’s taking me more time to readjust to being back in town than I’d initially expected.”

He flashed Stan a weak smile, one that his brother hesitated to return for a few seconds. But eventually, the corners of Stan’s mouth curled upwards into a amused smile of his own. “Pretty sure my exact words were ‘having trouble gettin’ my land legs’,” he pointed out, clasping a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Was a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.”

“Stanley, you realize that ‘getting your land legs’ is about as common of a phrase as ‘getting your sea legs’,” Ford pointed out.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I made that one up,” Stan said, and plopping an arm across his brother’s shoulders. “Now come on, let’s go watch Soos break his neck or whatever he’s gonna do.”

“Personally, I’m not a fan of Abominable Bro-Men,” Ford admitted. “But with all this talk of neck-breaking, I think there should be at least one person there who knows how to reset a bone.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert with human bones—”

While the adults followed Soos towards the half-pipe, Mabel let out a disappointed noise. “Aww man, I wanted a chance to try and fight Wendy!”

“Eh, we’ve got all summer,” Wendy reminded her. “Besides, you’re telling me you’d miss a chance to watch Soos fall flat on his face?”

With a giggle, Mabel shoved her hands in her pockets. “Now I never said that—oh, wait—”

She shuffled her hands around for a moment, before pulling them back out and peering into her pocket with an annoyed look. “Aww, dang it, I think my wad of sticky poster stuff fell out of my pocket somewhere.”

“Eugh, that probably means it’s all covered in dirt or something now,” Dipper said with a grimace. “Probably best to cut your losses and start a new one when school picks back up again.”

“Are you kidding?” Mabel protested, gaze now shifting around their feet and the rest of the stage. “I barely managed to collect as much as I did before the teachers started catching wind of my thievery!”

Taking care to avoid any of the broken debris, she dropped to her knees and pressed her face against the stage for closer examination. “By the time fall hits, they’ll probably have security guards around every single one of those cheesy pun posters that relate to each class’s specific subject! I’ll never be able to get the new one back to the size of the original!”

Dipper placed a hand on his hip. “You realize that this is a very weird and specific problem that only you could have,” he said, then paused. “You want me to help you look?”

“Nah, nah, you go ahead and watch Soos. Just snap me some pics with my phone.”

Without taking her eyes off the stage, she held out her cell phone to him. “Feel free to add whatever filters you want, I’m partial to the kitty-ears myself.”

“Of course you are.”

While he hopped down from the stage and headed towards the half-pipe, Mabel continued to search on her hands and knees for the telltale blob. When the stage itself produced no results, she moved to retrace her steps from the stage to the mermaid tank, to the area where she was pretty sure she’d pulled the lump out of her pocket—Soos making them walk around blindfolded had been delightfully quirky at the time, but now it was just making her search all the more difficult—

THUMP!

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground snapped Mabel’s attention towards the edge of the forest, her gaze darting about wildly as she tried to locate the source. A goal that didn’t take long for her to accomplish; a conspicuous black mass was splayed out on the ground between a pair of nearby birch trees.

Her first guess was some kind of animal, until her gaze landed on a small, fleshy hand at the end of an arm. An arm, a head of messy hair, a pair of legs—

“Wait, that’s a person!”

Once her brain put two and two together, Mabel broke into a sprint towards the unknown—potentially unconscious—body. Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed once she reached it and knelt down to investigate.

They were short, probably not much taller than her or Dipper at full height. And as Mabel rolled their unconscious body onto their back to get a closer look, further similarities between the mysterious person and Dipper presented themselves to her.

They had the same facial structure, their noses were the same rosy shade of peach that was slightly darker than the rest of their face. Even their messy mop of hair fell over their eyes in the exact same way Dipper’s did when he wasn’t wearing a hat, although his usual brown shade had been swapped for a light bleach-blonde that would make the entirety of Sev’ral Timez weep with envy.

Despite the similar physical features—the mysterious person’s fashion sense differed from Dipper’s in every way. Rather than the casual shirt, vest and hat combo that Dipper wore on a regular basis, the person was dressed in a black jacket and pants, bow tie, yellow button up—an unusually fancy outfit for someone who might’ve just fallen out of a tree in the middle of the woods.

“What’s wrong, Pumpkin?”

Drawing her gaze from the body, Mabel looked up to see Stan approaching her with a curious look. “I think someone fell out of one of the trees,” she explained. “I heard a loud thump, and saw them lying here. I think they might be a kid—”

“What’s going on over here, dudes?”

Stan turned to see Ford and Soos coming up behind him, a skateboard tucked safely under Soos’ arm. “I was just gonna wait until everyone was at the half-pipe ramp,” Soos explained. “Dipper said Mabel was looking for something, and I’m in no rush.”

He flashed a grin in Stan’s direction. “Even if I’d love to get to the inside part of the tour as soon as possible, you are gonna flip when you see it, Mr. Pines—”

“What’s wrong, Stanley?” Ford asked, echoing his brother’s earlier question.

“Accordin’ to Mabel, some kid fell out of a tree or something,” Stan said, with a look to Soos. “What, you’re just lettin’ kids climb in the trees around here now? You lookin’ to get sued by some Patsy or Jane with straight bangs and a failing marriage that she insists on makin’ everyone else’s business?”

Soos innocently raised his hands. “I didn’t let anyone do anything, I swear! Maybe he was part of the last tourist group of the day and got separated from them before they left? Haven’t had any parents show up looking for a lost kid, though.”

“Either way, we should probably call 911.”

Ford knelt down beside Mabel and pressed two fingers to the unknown child’s neck. “Well, they have a pulse so they’re probably alive,” he said, then pulled his hand back. “Of course, a lack of pulse doesn’t rule out the possibility of them being undead. But if they did fall out of a tree, they could possibly have a concussion. So either way, it’s a concern.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t have to rip out the spine of this one,” Stan said.

While they conversed, Mabel gingerly placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder and gave it a light shake. “Hello? Are you alright?”

There was no response, so she tried again with a bit more force. “Hey, kid, I hope you know that you just fell out of the sky!” she said with a bit more urgency. “Which is probably not out of the norm for kids in Gravity Falls, but still, it’s a little worrying!”

The child remained still for a moment more—

—before their body began to tremble with a quiet chuckle. A quiet chuckle that slowly morphed into a full-on laugh.

Any relief that might’ve started building inside Mabel was snuffed out in an instant as the laughter—that cold, cruel laughter—only grew more vocal, and sent her crawling backwards in a panic as the body slowly rose up from the ground and turned to face her.

Now that Mabel got a better look at his face, the similarities to her brother were so clearly skin deep. Their aforementioned features were the same as before, but Dipper never smiled in a way that revealed all of his teeth and gums at once, like a young child being told to smile for the first time in front of a camera.

Dipper’s limbs weren’t quite as gangly and limp as the other boy’s, like a marionette being controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer who hadn’t mastered the art of making their body move naturally.

And Dipper’s eyes weren’t that terrifying, familiar shade of jaundice yellow, complete with slitted, catlike pupils that bore deep, deep into her very being.

“Grunkle Ford!”

Her panicked shout—one that spilled out of her on complete instinct before she could even process what she was saying—was far from necessary. Ford had completely frozen when the laughter had started, features aghast and grim as he stared at the child, as that wicked, horrible laughter droned on and on—

CRACK!

And suddenly the laughter was silenced, and the same sound of a body hitting a ground as before drew Mabel’s attention back to reality.

The child was unconscious again, now with a decent sized welt on the back of his head. And beside him stood Wendy, the bat from before in hand and her body hunched over while she tried to catch her breath. “Saw…saw what was happening,” she explained between sharp gulps of air. “Heard the laughing. Panicked…”

The only sound to break the silence that followed for a few seconds was the faint rustling of the wind through the trees, until a pair of approaching footsteps against the dirt drew everyone’s heightened attention towards the sound in a panic.

Much like the others had done, Melody and Dipper were approaching the group from the direction of the half-pipe. Upon seeing their petrified expressions, Melody held up her hands. “Woah, woah, hey, what’s going on?”

From beside her, Dipper lifted up something he was clutching tightly in his hands—one of the discarded planks of wood from the Manotaur’s stage. “I heard Mabel yell and saw Wendy run over here with her bat,” Dipper added. “Thought it’d probably be smart to grab a weapon, too—”

“Get a rope.”

Ford didn’t tear his gaze from the body as he responded in a low tone, as if it would vanish the moment he looked away. As if he, or everything around him, would shatter in an instant if he dared tear his attention away from the body that had previously been letting out that horrible, horrible laughter.

The laughter that had haunted his dreams for four decades, the laughter still bouncing off the inside of his skull, even after Wendy had silenced the source.

When he didn’t elaborate further, Dipper looked to one of the other adults for an explanation—

“You heard him! Get a rope!”

It was Stan who replied next, and actually spun to face them with a grim expression. “A rope, chains…if it can be used to tie someone up, then get it!”

“It’s code yellow, Melody,” Wendy said quickly. “Soos, do we still got that unicorn-hair rope?”

“Same place as it always is,” Soos said, and looked to Melody. “Come on, we need to hurry—I’ll get the moonstones, you fetch the mercury.”

Recognizing their urgency, Melody looked to the unconscious body on the ground. “...That’s him, then?”

“Did you hear me, I said get a rope!”

It was Ford who spoke again, tone more demanding as he finally tore his gaze from the body to glare at them. “If I have to say it a third time—”

“Oh, okay, yeah, that answers that question,” Melody said quickly, and gestured for the rest of them to follow. “Alright, there’s a rope and a chair to tie him to in the shack. But who’s gonna—”

“I’ve got it.”

Letting the bat clatter to the ground, Wendy scruffed the unconscious child by the back of his jacket and hoisted him up into the air. “Let’s get him inside.”

With mild chaos, the group hurried towards the Shack with the unconscious child in hand. Leaving the bat, Mabel’s unfortunately-missed blob of blue poster tack lying several yards away, and the remaining exhibit displays abandoned as the first real hints of night began to peek their way through the tops of the trees.

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #My Writing #Long Post #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #(There are more characters but they are on the poster and arguably get the most focus this chapter)

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