#I wanted to cameo a lot but then I proceeded to run out of room and time haha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koganphrancis · 6 years

Photo

Ian Used To Do Better Stuff With Vans OR There’s Another Hour Of My Life I Won’t Get Back

This episode was dumb dumb dumb as fuck-and even more pointless than that. The ONLY redeeming quality in it was that it was completely Terror-free. Read on, if you dare. My recap of Season H8 Episode Dear God Why Isn’t It Over Yet-or 11, if you want to keep it short.

As usual, I’ll get the others out of the way as quickly as I possibly can.

Carl’s still illegally under-aged married, and this week he tells Kasammi, “I don’t think there’s any skin left on my dick.” Yeah, they made that point last year when they had to keep taking it off after his misguided circumcision. Not that the show is referring to THAT, of course. They refuse to acknowledge any plot point that has gone before. He and Kas take a wild tour through his before the show started past and I have no idea what the point is-is it to show us she’s truly insane because none of the horrors of life on the mean streets scare her? Or to show us that Generation Z doesn’t experience reality because their whole lives have been instantly posted on screens of electronic devices? I don’t know and I don’t care-quit trying to be fake deep, Shameless, if you even are. I can’t tell. The only (maybe) pertinent point of Carl’s story this week is he tells Kasammi after her hundredth shit fit on the subject that he won’t go back to military school and in the previews for next week it looks like the family (or at least Frank) will try to help him sneak away to do just that. Yawn.

Debbie loses three toes-Frank chops them off for her. Before that, Debbie is shown signing her 16 year old self out of the hospital-WHAT? She’d need a parent or guardian for that. Anyway, apparently Debbie’s not on any kind of welfare or insurance. And doesn’t know that Ian could’ve gotten the money for her expensive surgery to attempt to save the toes by going down on the old couple just twice. What is it with this show and cutting off toes? They’ve done this before with the body they got to stand in for Aunt Ginger. I’m so sick of the recycled plot points!

Speaking of which-Snore’s old man is out of prison so Lip gets him to fight him to violate his parole and send him back-did this new writer guy not see Yevgeny’s christening episode or is he just really into plagiarism? It was such a fizzle to a going nowhere story to begin with. I think the guy playing Snore’s version of Terry even had some of the same lines but I’m too lazy to rewatch and try to catch them. If we were supposed to hate this guy like we hate Terry, it didn’t work. And Lip was no Mickey showing up to defend people that mean something to him either-it was all a weak as fuck imitation. And it was odd that Lip chose to call the guy out for “beating women” when he lets himself get beaten when he has sex with Eddy. Who the fuck is he to judge? Maybe ten year old Snore didn’t get that her parents were having consensual rough sex that got too violent and ended in death-but the show’s not that deep.

Snore’s telling of her mother’s death once again played like someone complaining about not getting the last bottle of nail polish in their favorite shade at Walgreens or something. If she’s been so traumatized that she can’t put any emotion into the horrific memories that’s fine, but then I would argue that she wouldn’t be terrified of her dad coming after her either. Snore just can’t emote OR imagine what it would be like to be in that setting, I’m sorry.

And here’s what had me super pissed-Snore tells Lip she was 10 when her mom was killed in front of witnesses (Snore and her brother-she specifically says they both testified against him) and her dad’s already out on parole? We don’t know how old Snore is now, but surely no older than 25 (and probably not even that old, but whatever), so the show is saying her dad got out in 15 years max, which is the time Mickey was sentenced to for NOT killing Sammi? Fuck off.

Also, why would the cops not even consider the father’s side of the story that Lip instigated the fight? Lip has Eddy’s niece record the fight on his phone, and after it’s over he goes over to her and asks her how it looks or whatever, and she says Snore’s father threw the first punch. Wouldn’t the cops question why a little girl was filming two men on a porch BEFORE a fight started? Snore’s father must have Mickey’s public defender for a lawyer. Fucking show should’ve shocked us all by having Lip get locked up for premeditated assault.

Fiona meets with a lawyer (Janice from Friends, but she’s not as funny in this, sadly) and as soon as she said Fiona could lose both the apartment building and the Gallagher house I knew that storyline had jumped the shark and somehow next week all will be miraculously fixed-no way will the Gallaghers ever lose the house, that’s another plot point that’s been done to death. At first I was thinking they’ll either come up with some fortuitous traffic camera footage showing that the guy jumped off the roof intentionally, or that Hugh Laurie would show up in a cameo as Dr. House and say that if a man “fell” off a roof that high, he’d have a hell of a lot more damage than one broken ankle, but no, the show isn’t going to even get that clever-they’re just gonna have the family cave and be willing to settle with Fiona if they get custody of her dog that suddenly she’s so worried about in this week’s episode. She’s never shown that level of concern for any of her siblings.

Frank has a tedious, boring couple of scenes about his “retirement plan”-he has a baggie of 3 stolen Social Security cards and anyone can see a mile off that the cards would’ve just been replaced by their original owners-they’re not like a set of fingerprints and you only get one for life and if you lose it someone else has your entire identity. THEN they set up next week’s recycled/stolen plot to have Liam and Frank rip off Liam’s rich friend’s family just like Carl and Frank ripped off Liam and Carl’s gay foster dads-it didn’t work then, it won’t work now (and why didn’t Frank do hard time for that grand theft?).

Svetlana and Vee and Kevin have a scene at a fancy (but not as fancy as the show was trying to tell us it was) bar that was a pathetic echo of both Ian and Mickey’s hotel bar scam AND of how funny the show used to be able to be. Later Svet goes to humble herself to the other hand whore to find out how she snagged a rich fiance and discovers that the dude she’s about to marry is senile as fuck and Svet is going to step in to replace her, which is what I predicted the first time the hand whore showed up. I will give Shameless credit for making me laugh unintentionally-since I’ve been picturing the “old rich dude” Svet was going to wind up with as John Wells’ fantasy version of himself, seeing the old dude in an adult diaper and thinking he’s Wells was very satisfying.

Do I finally get to Ian now? Do I have to talk about his bullshit? There’s a scene of him in bed alone while the newlyweds are having sex in the same room, signalling that he’d rather be there than at Terror’s house, LOL. Then it’s the next morning and he goes down to breakfast with his Bible in hand, but no pills. Is that supposed to be significant? We may never know...

He gets to the “Church Of Gay Jesus” and there’s so many “fans” there it’s like Beatles or One Direction footage. The minister guy gets through the crowd to him with a big young guy and tells Ian the rando is “Bic” and he wants to help (I didn’t know the guy’s name till I saw it in the closing credits, I really thought his name was “Dick” and they were making a “big dick” joke, but no, I guess they were making a “Bic lighter” joke instead). Ian and Bic instantly have more chemistry than Ian and Terror but it’s unintentional I’m sure-the actor playing Bic probably has taken acting classes and knows to look an acting partner in the eye, instantly making him more engaged than Terror’s ever been in a scene.

The minister guy tells Ian, “Your life is no longer your own.” Which first of all, I’m just not buying that all these youths have just been waiting for a messiah to show up and they’ll follow him anywhere, and secondly why was being with Mickey not Ian anymore, but he’ll give away his entire life for strangers? Fuck you, Shameless. (and speaking of his entire life, does he never have to go to work anymore? Also, Fiona turned him down when he asked for a ride to the church-for once she had a good reason, that she had to pick up Debbie-but why is the show acting like Fi does things for him all of the sudden? She DID give him a ride last week, and that was very OOC of her.)

There’s a kid trying to get Ian’s attention-he needs help getting away from his parents who have hired men to get him back. At some point in the proceedings some guys jump out of a van and drag the kid into it. Ian runs to the front of the van before it can pull away and goes all Chris Pratt in Jurassic Park, holding up his arms and not letting it advance. The unintentional humor here amused me no end. Then Ian lays down in front of the van and I actually said aloud to my TV, “Just run him over.” I’m that done with this storyline and this show-just kill Ian off at this point, it’d be a mercy.

Ian’s there on the ground with his arms thrown up over his head (not that the driver could even see him down there, right in front of the van) and we see that this time Shameless didn’t bother covering up Cam’s real life Sailor Moon tattoo. SO LAZY. All the other kids lay down around the van too so it can’t go anywhere The 3 dudes in the van give up and let the kid get out.

The kid is 14 and the minister guy tries to talk sense into Ian, saying the parents have a legal right to their kid and they, more specifically Ian, can’t keep the kid. Ian agrees to talk to the kid’s dad who tells him the parents aren’t bigots, they don’t care that their son’s not heterosexual, but he’s been living on the streets, doing drugs, and prostituting himself. Then the father says, “We believe he may be mentally ill,” and Cameron (and yes, I mean Cameron, not Ian) makes a reaction face to that, but what it means, again, nobody knows.

Ian goes to talk to the kid where they have him hidden away in the Mickey Wedding Venue basement. Ian tells him what the father told him, and the kid says they keep bringing him to a church (is that Ian’s trigger? Churches? and if so, why?), plus they have him see shrinks who have put him on meds that knock him on his ass and he can’t get an erection. He adds, “That’s what they really want-so I can’t have sex with another boy, you know? Ever.” Ian says, “Well you can’t stay here. You have to find someplace where you can be safe, where you can be yourself.” WHAT? I don’t understand. For one thing, isn’t that LITERALLY TERROR’S JOB? To take runaways and provide them with a safe place to stay and a plan to get their lives back on terms that they can live with? I don’t ever want to have to side with Terror, but this episode is basically saying that Terror’s way is right and Ian’s way is oh so wrong and misguided. What the fuck? Secondly, isn’t that what Ian THINKS he’s doing? Why is he telling the kid HE has to find someplace safe? Ian has literally been in this kid’s shoes-he knows there’s no safe places for someone even younger than he was when he got back from the army, living on the streets. Anyway, after Ian’s lines the kid says, “Will you help me?” but Ian doesn’t answer one way or the other.

I totally didn’t get this scene-why the writer had Ian say nothing. I could see if it was to show Ian was getting more and more manic and now is on the downside of that and is becoming too depressed to speak to people-but then where’s his energy for doing anything coming from, plus the story isn’t SAYING he’s manic or depressed, and Cam and John Wells said Ian’s storyline is bold, audacious, great, etc and I don’t think either of them would’ve said those things if the payoff is just going to be that Ian needed his meds adjusted. And why does Ian maybe believe what the kid is saying and not the dad? Again, this IS Ian’s story! Mentally ill, unable to help himself, and unwilling to take his pills! I wondered why Ian didn’t at least give him a version of the Monica “you don’t have to change for them” speech, or his own “you don’t have to fix me because I’m not broken” speech or why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t he tell the kid, “I’ve been exactly where you are-on meds that were supposed to help but made me feel like crap plus I couldn’t get it up-but that’s because they take time-you need to take them to get stable and then you’ll find what works for you and have no problems having sex again (since apparently Ian’s never had an issue since beating Mickey up at the dugouts).” AND the kid’s only 14-does Ian maybe want to advise him that feeling like he needs to be having sex that young to the point where he’s willing to run away and do it with anyone might be part of his symptoms?

Ian COULD be so helpful here, but no. At this point he is literally putting at risk kids at even greater risk.

Later Rando Bic shows Ian that the van’s back behind the church. Ian says, “Get the kid,” like he’s The Penguin and Bic’s his trusty lieutenant. It was so dumb. The kid is used as bait, and when the 3 guys jump out of the van Ian pops up behind the group and starts yelling. “My god’s a faggot! My god’s a dyke! My god is trans, a junkie, a whore!’ Then the van blows up. “We will not be victims!”

What the hell is he on about? That’s a serious question. None of this is making sense. God isn’t human, so Ian giving the Christian god human attributes makes no sense. “We won’t be victims” of WHAT? Gay conversion? This kid’s dad said he isn’t trying to convert his gay son. What is all the yelling and the explosion about? And to get back to the explosion for a moment: That had to be Ian’s brilliant plan, and it just makes me miss Mickey talking him down from stupid shit like that all the more. Bic is the one that actually lights the fire (get it? BIC?) but how did they even know that all 3 guys would get out of the van this time? Based on the first failed attempt to drive off with the kid, wouldn’t it make more sense that one of the guys would stay at the wheel and keep the van running and they’d take off the minute they shoved the kid inside before all of Ian’s disciples could block it again? Before I rewatched the scene this morning I actually wondered if the story is going to be Ian is guilty of killing one of the guys, but then I saw it again and all 3 did get out-but I still don’t think Bic could’ve seen them from where he snuck around to light it up. And I bet we don’t see Bic again-he was randomly thrown in because of course Terror wouldn’t have helped Ian carry out any plan that wasn’t his own. But it’s funny that they couldn’t have him in the episode because everyone, even the shitty writers, know there’s no way Terror could talk Ian out of it like Mickey would be able to.

In the scenes for next week, Terror shows up and asks, “Is Ian around?” and Debbie answers, “He’s not here.” Terror says, “There’s a warrant out for his arrest.” Wouldn’t the cops have gone to Ian’s house FIRST? Where would they have even found Terror to be asking about Ian since Ian doesn’t officially work for the Youth Center or the Church of Gay Jesus. More lazy writing, can’t wait for the whimpering end to this crapfest of a season.

#Spoilers #Recap #Season H8 Episode 11 #Disco isn't dead but that van sure is #Ian had his first Mickey kiss in a van #Ian gave Mickey a Spiderman kiss in a van after a night of fucking fantastic sex #In a van #Ian should know to show a van respect

21 notes · View notes

accio-ambition · 6 years

Text

Under Christmas’s Influence

Merry Christmas Sandy ( @tehgreeneyes )! I was fortunate enough to be your CS Secret Santa this year! I know we didn’t really talk much, but I really enjoyed what we did talk about. 12 Monkeys is now definitely on my to-watch list, with all the Googling I did to cameo it in here (I might have fallen into a vortex for a couple hours of distraction, but whatever). You said that one of your favorite tropes was fake!dating/engaged/married, so I wrote you a (not so) little fake!engaged Christmas story. I hope you don’t absolutely hate Hallmark Christmas movies, because that is where I drew a bit (aka a lot) of inspiration for this story. Merry Christmas!

(This is a long one, so you can read it on AO3 too in case it hurts your eyes.)

The call from his brother isn’t necessarily unexpected. It is Christmastime - the one time of year one starts reflecting on the past year and thinking about all the important people in one’s life. But since getting married last winter, shortly after Valentine’s Day, Killian’s barely heard from his brother or new sister-in-law. A postcard from the honeymoon, the occasional tag in a Facebook post, but otherwise, nothing.

It’s been difficult, he will admit, watching his brother go from bachelor to husband, but only in that selfish way where now Liam has to ask if he can accompany Killian on bar crawls or can’t make it to every football game during the season.

So when Liam does call as he walks in to his apartment after work one afternoon, Killian gladly answers it. It had been a long, trying day at work - depositions for most of the morning, then a conference call that lasted five hours with little time to eat or even use the restroom in between. Killian cannot wait to get out of his stuffy suit and tie, throw on his sweats, and watch T.V.

ESPN, he tells himself. There’s that important college game on tonight.

It’s a losing battle, though: it’s Christmastime, which means corny, completely unnecessary, totally unoriginal Christmas movies. The perfect remedy to the problems practicing the law could bring up.

Killian flips the light in his room on before immediately turning on the T.V. and muting it before answering his phone. He greets his brother just as some woman silently giggles at a man holding a dog.

Haven’t seen this one before.

“Little brother, my god, you are alive!” Liam says instead of hello.

“In the sense that I’m still alive and breathing, yes,” Killian quips back, putting his phone on speaker and proceeding to change out of his clothes. “Other than that, I’d hardly say I’m alive.”

Liam groans and Killian can just imagine his older brother slapping himself on the forehead. It’s his own fault, the sarcastic streak Killian has, though it does both of them wonders during certain situations, particularly during hard court cases.

While Killian chuckles, Liam’s groan transforms into a sigh. The change in mood is as unexpected as Liam’s phone call, but instead of asking about it, Killian lets the quiet ensue. If there’s one thing Killian’s learned about his big brother in his time on earth, it’s that, if something’s bothering Liam, he’ll say it.

So when Liam says, “I apologize for being an arse,” his younger brother can’t imagine what he’s managed to do wrong if they haven’t truly spoken in months.

“About what exactly, may I inquire?” Killian asks, changed and taking a seat at the edge of his bed. His eyes sort of glaze over as he stares at the screen. Another man’s face is contorted into some slimy smirk or grimace or something akin to that, looking after the woman with the puppy.

This plot would be so much simpler if I could hear what they were saying.

Killian fiddles with the remote, trying to find the button for subtitles or captions, while Liam continues. “I know I’ve been sort of…” he pauses just as the captions begin scrolling along the bottom of the screen, “neglecting you since I married.”

Shrugging, Killian reasons, “Your priorities have changed. You’ve got Belle now. All that marriage stuff. Honeymoons and thank you cards and on and on.”

“Yes, but you’ll always be my little brother.” This time, Killian groans, but it’s in the same way that he bemoans cheesy pickup lines and corny Christmas movie plots. It’s a sentiment he doesn’t exactly always feel this time of year, but when he does, it makes his heart grow like the Grinch’s.

“I’m still learning how to balance brotherhood with marriage, alright?” Liam says, his voice a bit gruffer. “So I’m sorry if I made you feel poorly. I never meant to.”

“Worry not, Liam. I’ve gotten used to it.”

His older brother scoffs. “Now don’t say that,” he says. “You really make me feel like a horrendous person.”

Killian barks out a laugh. “You said it, not me.” Dramatically, he flops back on his mattress, letting his muscles relax into the comfort. It really has been a long day.

“So what’s going on in your life?” Liam asks in a friendly manner. “What have I missed?”

Killian opens his mouth to answer - it’s been months, there really is too much to cover in a single phone call - but it shuts quickly when he hears a key in the lock of his front door. There’s only one person in the world who’s got his spare key to his place.

While losing Liam as his automatic plus-one to all social events was a bummer, Killian’s managed to find solace in his neighbor, one Emma Swan, who barged into his life quite suddenly and hasn’t really allowed him a moment to recover since.

Liam just doesn’t know that.

Not quite yet.

And with all the time he’s had to theoretically prepare for this moment, Killian hasn’t the slightest idea how to tell his brother that the most important thing he’s missed in the past months isn’t an event, but a person.

0000

He’d briefly seen her move in, just a couple days after returning to his apartment from Liam and Belle’s wedding festivities. The door next to his propped open with a box overflowing with shoes and the grunts and groans of furniture-moving from within were dead giveaways. Still tired and a bit hungover, Killian resolved to introduce himself later. Maybe after he’d had a thorough shower.

Very thorough. I’m pretty sure someone vomited on me during the morning-after brunch, he thinks. I can still feel the grime on me.

And that’s all the thought he spares this new neighbor of his. Killian goes about showering and returning to the land of post-Liam’s-wedding. It isn’t until two or three Sundays later that the new neighbor crosses his mind again.

Settling down on the couch, Killian takes a deep breath. 12 Monkeys is set to premiere in mere minutes - perhaps not the best attempt at unwinding before what’s promised to be another tough work week, but he can’t even ponder the idea of dodging spoilers. Too much stress.

His eyes slide shut and the next thing he knows, the opening notes of the theme music float through his ears. Killian opens his eyes, hoping they clear in time for him to catch all the intricacies this episode might offer.

And then the pounding starts.

Someone incessantly bangs at his front door. Everyone who’s anybody important enough to him knows not to interrupt him during this time of the week. So he tries to ignore it, just let the complexities of Dr. Railly and James Cole’s adventures take him away.

But the knocking won’t stop.

“They’ve just got the wrong apartment,” he mumbles to himself.

“Open the door, 312! It’s an emergency!” a woman’s voice shouts through the door.

Apparently not.

An emergency could mean a slew of things: broken bones, burning buildings, a mouse in the shower. But if it’s either of the first two, he doesn’t want the woman’s injury on his conscience for the rest of his life. And Liam did raise him to be a gentleman. It wouldn’t be chivalrous to let the mouse run all over this woman’s apartment if she really didn’t want it to.

Eyes still glued to the TV, Killian walks and opens the front door. The only way he can tell that the blonde hurricane that rushes by him is a person is the brush of hair against his arm and the aforementioned tone of voice.

“Excuse me,” he says, watching as she takes his seat on his couch to, what seems like, watch his T.V. “Can I help you?”

“My cable isn’t working and I heard the theme song through the walls.” Her words are direct, offering no other option except for the fact that she’s in his apartment during his show. Eyes on the screen, the woman pats the cushion next to her. “Close the door and sit the fuck down.”

And despite the fact that she’s the one that barged into his apartment, Killian does as she requests: a bit stunned, he shuts the door and ambles over to the couch, barely able to focus in on the show unfolding before them.

“Who are you?” he inquires, easing himself on to the cushion she’d indicated.

“311,” she replies.

“Lovely to meet you, 311. Is that the name - “

She shushes him, her hand waving next to him, gaze still intent on Cassie as she’s deep in conversation with some character Killian hadn’t even known existed. “Wait until commercials. Then talk.”

Again, Killian surprises himself by following her instructions. Between commercials, he manages to get a little more information out of her through hesitantly asked questions. Emma Swan, she says, apartment 311, moved in a month or so ago after escaping from bailbonds and getting something a little more efficient (and probably safer) in law enforcement.

But that’s all he gets that first night, aside from the few physical descriptors he gets from her profile. Otherwise, she’s silent, intent on trying to figure out the twists and turns the show keeps throwing at them. And, man, even as distracted as he is, even he can tell that this season is bound to be a gamechanger.

When the episode is finished, she quietly thanks him, a much different tone from earlier, and leaves his apartment with a completely changed demeanor. But just before his front door shuts between them, Killian sticks his foot in the jamb.

“Next week?” he asks. She - Emma - turns gently, eyebrow raised and eyes squinting at him with confusion. She’s wary, for some reason or another. Swallowing nervously, Killian repeats himself. “Would you like to come over for next week’s episode?”

Taking a step back, Emma’s tongue peeks out between her lips. “My cable should be fixed by then,” she says.

“Oh.” That’s a bit of a letdown. Then again, as he’s constantly had to remind himself tonight, she hadn’t really given him much to go on about her personal life except that her cable was out.

He’s always been up for a challenge, especially one as beguiling as the show that unintentionally brought them together. For now.

“Regardless, you’re more than welcome to come, Swan,” he tells her. Gesturing toward the door, Killian also suggests, “Perhaps knock a bit gentler next time.”

He watches Emma struggle to hold back a grin, her fingers wringing around each other. “Maybe,” is all she deigns for an answer. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones and that’s not something Killian usually notices with anybody. With a silent nod, she takes the five or so steps back to her front door and goes back home.

Killian lingers in the doorway far longer than appropriate.

The next Sunday, he’s settling into the couch, ten minutes to showtime, when a much more hesitant knock sounds at his door. Killian can’t help the smile that crosses his face as he approaches the door.

When he opens it, Emma stands on the other side, both hands holding a plastic bag between then. When he glances down at it, she struggles to hold it up on display.

“Apology Chinese?” she says by way of greeting, her lower lip getting stuck between her teeth. Bringing the bag back toward the ground, she adds, “I’m sorry I forced myself into your apartment last weekend.”

Killian’s already shaking his head before she’s completed her thought. “Completely understandable,” he remarks. “The cable was down.”

Chuckling, Emma shuffles her feet. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees that as an emergency.”

It takes an exorbitant amount of time for Killian to stop nodding like the village idiot. But when he does, he takes a step back and waves her into his apartment. “Please, do come in,” he offers. “You made it just in the nick of time.”

And the rest, he likes to say, is history.

0000

“Killian!” The shout is followed by slam of the front door. “Killian, where are you? I need to complain to you about my day and then drink all your booze.”

He’s up quicker than he thought possible at this time in the evening. Killian slides down the hardwood floors into the living room, silently and frantically slicing his hand across his throat and mouthing shut up!

Emma just stares at him with befuddlement in her eyes. She briefly mimics his motions.

“Are you having a fucking stroke?” she asks, coming up to him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Bringing his phone down to his chest to cover the speaker, Killian whisper-shouts, “It’s my brother,” just as he can hear Liam on the other end of the line. His voice is muffled, of course, what with the shirt and all, but even from here, Killian can tell his brother’s tone is adamant and desirous of information.

Emma, on the other hand, is dumbstruck. Those green green eyes of hers are blown wide with surprise. She tiptoes away and sinks into the corner of the couch, pulling one of decorative pillows he threw on there when he first moved in a couple years ago into her lap and squishing it.

“Sorry,” she whispers, hiding the lower half of her face with the pillow, presumably trying to protect herself from the blush of embarrassment rising on her cheeks.

Killian sighs and shakes his head. He walks over behind the couch and rests his empty hand on the top of her head, running his fingers through the hair that catches there. When he finally puts his phone back to his ear, Killian just catches the tail end of Liam’s barrage of questions.

“Who was that, little brother?” Liam asks.

“No one,” Killian answers too swiftly. He feels pressure on his hand, Emma leaning into his hold, before she gets up and heads toward the kitchen.

Probably to start drinking that booze she mentioned, he thinks.

Liam catches his attention once more. “Killian, I can’t even see you and I know you’re lying through your teeth.”

Unconsciously, Killian’s hand raises and scratches at the skin behind his ear. “So?” he asks, his brother losing his focus as Emma finds whatever poison she was searching for and takes her seat back on the couch, cup in hand.

“So, I’m your older brother,” Liam explains. “You’ve got to tell me.”

“Have not.”

“Have so.” Liam doesn’t say anything for another moment before pleading, “C’mon, Killian.”

Sighing, Killian looks at Emma again. He’s not sure why he hasn’t told Liam about Emma yet, lack of communication in the past few months aside. It’s always been his little secret, almost - a secret friend who’s come to rely on him for alcohol and support and who knows what else.

Emma turns on the T.V. in the living room, already on the Hallmark channel from last night’s bad movie binge. She mutes it, but Killian doesn’t need the dialogue. It must be the end of the movie, the main characters standing at the end of a church aisle.

“It’s just…” he hesitates.

“Yes?”

He knows it’s going to be a mess before he even comprehends what he actually says. “My fiancée?” He winces, the ends of Emma’s hair making some sort of noise as they whip around on the back of the couch. Killian can feel her staring at him.

“Fiancée?” Liam repeats, sounding just as disbelieving as Killian is that he actually said it. Killian hums in agreement as Emma’s green eyes go impossibly wider. Liam, on the other hand, grumps. “Bring her...Him?” Killian rolls his eyes and replies her. “Her to Christmas Eve dinner. You guys can stay with Belle and I and we can have a real Christmas morning.”

Moaning, Killian walks around to the front of the couch and takes a seat beside Emma. His free hand comes to rest on her knee, a move she mimics in solidarity. “I don’t know, Liam,” he says. “I really wouldn’t want to intrude on Belle and yours first Christmas as husband and wife. You should have - “

“Nonsense!” his brother shouts. “Christmas is about family. We should spend it together.”

“I thought Thanksgiving was about family,” Killian scoffs.

“You and I both know we have no bloody clue about these American holidays. We like to - “

“Keep good form as we go.” Next to him, Emma chuckles. He’s been known to say the same phrase on occasion. “I know, brother.”

“I know you know. It’s my job to remind you sometimes.” On Liam’s end of the conversation, something arises in the background, a scuffling sort of noise. It’s probably Belle, Killian thinks, making dinner or coming in from work. Liam’s voice is muffled as he probably greets him.

“I’ve kept you too long, haven’t I?” Killian asks once the racket on the other side signals his brother’s back on the line.

“No, no, I called you, remember?” Liam says. “I’ll let you get back to your -” he pauses, making his voice more suggestive, “-.fiancée.”

“Thanks.” There’s something hard to swallow around in his throat. “I’ll see you for Christmas Eve dinner, I suppose.”

“Yes, both of you will,” Liam bids, his last phrase a subtle reminder, before hanging up and spending the evening with his wife.

Killian, on the other hand, groans and throw his phone on the coffee table. He rubs his hands against his face.

“Fiancée?” Emma says calmly. “Really?”

Killian shrugs, his face warming with embarrassment. “I’m really bad at thinking on my feet.”

“How is that possible? You lie for a living!” Emma flops back on to her spot on the couch, really too semantic for her own good.

“No I don’t.” It's a point of discussion since the inception of their friendship: in her experience, Emma's seen attorneys lie and lie and Killian tries really hard not to.

But sometimes…

“I just sometimes have to spin the truth in a different.” Emma glares at him. “Ugh, I don’t know.” He throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “I was watching one of those bad Hallmark Christmas movies and I guess their subliminal messaging worked.”

Scoffing, Emma turns back to the T.V., where one of said movies comes to its joyful conclusion. As always, there's unnecessary confetti that's definitely going to kill the birds, but no one cares about that because it's a low budget T.V. film. “I’ll be sure to write a letter to the TV executives congratulating them,” she says drolly, finally unmuting the T.V. She sighs as the new movie starts, one he's already seen this season. “Well, what happens now?” She asks on another sigh.

Killian should've known. His Swan is nothing if not curious, if not nosy. But she was there, as she is nearly every night in any given week, and he knows he really should've asked her before blurring out the word fiancée as he did.

But where else is he going to find a fake fiancée in such a time crunch?

“What plans do you have for Christmas?” he inquires, hoping for a subtle reaction.

That's not the case, of course. Turning toward him slowly, Killian watches as Emma's eyes go wide as saucers, her brows raise high, and her jaw drops.

“Killian, you can’t be serious.”

“Swan, darling, what else are you going to do?” he reasons. “You’ve got an invitation to dinner on Christmas Eve and the guarantee that you’ll wake up to presents and stereotypical family warmth on Christmas morning.”

“I-I mean,” she stutters, jaw still dangling dangerously close to her breastbone. “Weren’t we going to get drunk Christmas Eve and sleep off the hangover Christmas day?”

Recoiling a bit, Killian raises a brow and asks, “We were?”

Emma shrugs, somehow digging herself further into the couch. She takes to holding the decorative pillow from earlier, a sure sign of her nerves. “We didn’t decide anything, but I figure it was the sort of thing we would do.” Looking furtively between him and the T.V., Emma shrugs again. “I was gonna suggest it after dinner tonight.”

“Well, we can do that at Liam’s,” he offers, playfully nudging her with his elbow. “We’ll have some drinks with dinner, have a nice time, then steal whatever from the liquor cabinet and down it all in the guest room in our pajamas.”

She rolls her eyes. “That can’t be good form.”

He doesn’t deign her an answer - not because it’s technically not good form, but for other reasons - and begins poking her on the knee. “Come with me,” he requests of her quietly. “You can meet Liam and Belle. It’ll be great.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes on the male character as he ascends to a throne, before looking him dead in the eye.

“Promise?” she asks softly, her mouth partially hidden behind the pillow.

Killian nods solemnly. “Promise.”

0000

It’s been dark all day, clouds heavy with snow, but somehow, as Killian and Emma sit in her car in his brother’s driveway, Christmas Eve somehow seems to get darker.

“It’s kind of cold,” Emma mumbles, playing with the ring on her left hand. It’s fake, of course, but real enough to pass for an engagement ring. Or at least that’s what they’ve settled on. Killian dug it up from his pirate Halloween costume, and he spent a pretty penny on getting something real enough to fool adults more than children.

Works well for short notice, he thought.

“Yeah, it is.” They sit there for a moment longer, both lost in their respective thoughts, before Killian tsks. Reaching over the center console, he stills her nervous fiddling by taking her hand in his own. “You ready?”

Inhaling sharply and deeply, Emma nods slowly. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she says accusatorily.

“I can’t believe you agreed to it,” he quips back with a smirk. Killian doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. He unlocks his door and squeeze her hand once, hopefully transferring some courage from his palm to hers. “It’s going to be great.”

Emma scoffs, unlocking her door as well. “You better hope they’ve got some top shelf stuff in their cabinet.”

Killian chuckles as he steps foot outside the car, letting go of Emma’s hand to grab the bottles of wine they brought as gifts. “I should hope the same. Alcohol’s the only way to warm up after this cold,” he says over the roof of the car.

The wind blows up a terribly bitter breeze just as they walk up Liam and Belle’s front steps, leaving Killian and Emma to huddle up to each other.

“It’s fucking freezing!” Emma shouts over the wind.

“Try the door!” he replies. “It should be open.”

The next gust of wind ushers them into the starkly warm house. Both shaking off the breeze and the snow, they hang up their coats and rid themselves of their boots. Killian can smell some sort of meat roasting from the over, the scents wafting down the hallway with the Christmas music gently playing on the stereo.

“Hello?” Killian calls, draping his scarf over his jacket. “Liam?”

Liam’s head pop out from around an archway that must lead to the kitchen, for he’s decked out in a festive Santa apron. His smile is goofily wide, though Killian’s sure that there’s a grin as equally as absurd on his face.

Bloody hell, I did miss him.

“Little brother!” Liam shouts, much to Killian’s chagrin. He comes around the corner and embraces Killian in one of the tightest and, in his opinion, most unnecessary hugs in the history of the universe. “My god, it’s been eons.”

Killian can’t help but belt out a laugh as he slaps his older brother on the back. “I saw you at your wedding,” he reminds Liam.

“Really?” Pulling back, the look on Liam’s face makes him seem a lot duller than Killian knows he is. But then he lights back up, in the present instead of the past now, as Belle comes into the room. “Then it has been too long, Killian.”

Moving around his brother, Killian takes his sister-in-law into his arms. “Belle,” he pauses to buss her on the cheek, “radiant as always.”

“Why, thank you,” she says, color rising on her cheeks. She blinks a few times before her eyes focus behind Killian, on to Emma. He’s nearly forgotten she’s there, she’s unusually quiet.

But Belle, ever the people person and general lovely lady that she is, immediately takes to her, stepping forward and offering her a friendly smile. “You must be Killian’s fiancée.”

“Yeah,” Emma chokes out, her voice decidedly soft and watery. “I’m Emma.” Awkwardly, Emma sticks her hand out. Instead, Belle goes in for the hug, Emma’s hand getting caught between their chests. Killian hears her quietly go, “Oof, a hug.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle says automatically, taking a step back subconsciously into Liam’s hold. “Do you not do hugs? I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry, I’m just excited that we’re going to be family.”

And that’s something that neither Killian nor, he’d bet to say, Emma had thought about. Sure, they can pretend that they’re going to get married, say that they incredibly happy and in love, but the idea of being family…

It’s not one of the angles they thought of, he can safely say that. And, from what he know of Emma’s past and the skeletons in her closet, he’s afraid the mere fathom of it might trigger her into quitting the whole charade.

But Belle, bless her, isn’t privy to Killian’s inner monologue, and moves on to the next thought. Addressing Emma, she says with a chuckle, “I don’t know if Killian’s the same way, but I know Liam is a handful more often than not.”

Liam pulls her closer into his chest. “Now, darling, I resent that sentiment,” he chides her lovingly.

Their little exchange, apparently, gives Emma enough time to reboot and get over whatever turmoil she might be experiencing internally. “Hugs are fine,” she tells Belle, her voice a little stronger than when introducing herself. “I was just surprised. It’s been…” She licks her lips, and glances up at Killian for a tick. “Well, it’s been a while since someone greeted me that way.”

“To be honest, Emma, I’m not surprised,” Liam replies. Looking to his wife, he adds, “Did I tell you, Belle, when I called Killian, the only way I knew about Emma’s existence was because the front door slammed and she yelled at him?”

Killian’s arm goes around Emma’s shoulders, mimicking his brother because that’s what engaged couples do, right? “Frankly I deserved it.”

“He did,” Emma agrees, finally cracking a smile. And then, surprisingly Killian, she places a hand on his chest, looking up at him with a weird glimmer in her eyes, one he’s never really seen in her before. “But he’s still the best part about coming home, and he knows that and accepts that I am a very loud person.”

“I do.” Something about that look of hers keeps him from sarcastically remarking that she can be incredibly loud without even trying. It shakes him because, for some reason or another, her glance reminds him of the way his brother looks at his wife.

Shaking the thought from his brain, Killian turns back to Liam. “So dinner?” he asks. To Emma, he says, “I don’t know about you, love, but I am starved.”

“Seconded,” Emma agrees.

Liam and Belle usher them into the kitchen where the final timer goes off. Liam pulls a ham from the oven and Belle mixes them their first drinks of the evening. That easily leads into dinner, where Killian finds himself glancing at Emma, his excuse being that he wants to make sure she’s having a good time. By the way she laughs hysterically at Liam’s tales of their childhood and keeps whispering to Belle next to her, Killian believes that she is.

A couple times during the meal, he finds his hand wandering over to her knee, exerting slight pressure, silently asking her if she really is doing okay. She always responds with a complementary squeeze, and when her hand lingers there more often than not, Killian tries to focus on literally anything else occurring at that specific moment in time.

By the time the dishes are drying and the leftovers are packed away for lunch tomorrow, Emma’s happily tipsy and Killian’s well on his way to joining her. Liam tells them they’ll have to share the guest bed, but neither of them take issue with it. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve fallen asleep together in close quarters.

Killian manages, though, to keep up his end of the bargain. After bidding Liam and Belle a goodnight and merry Christmas, he nabs two bottles of rum from the liquor cabinet and sneaks them into the guest room, where he finds Emma laying on the bed, flipping through the T.V. channels. She throws the remote to the end of the mattress when her search lands on the Hallmark Channel.

“For someone who enjoys complaining about the subject matter, you’re always quick to find them,” he says over the click of the door closing.

“I get it,” she states as he hands over a bottle. She pops the top and takes a healthy swig.

“Get what, love?” he inquires.

“The bad movie thing,” she says with a roll of her eyes, as if that’s been the topic of discussion for the past two hours and not the last two seconds. Pointing toward the screen, she explains. “Escape. Even though he sent her back home and banished her from Aldovia or wherever, you know he's going to go find and her and they're going to be happy.” On a sigh, Emma settles her head into the pillow. “It's nice.”

It’s so outside of Emma’s realm to be as serious as she is right now. Killian smiles softly at her, joining her on the bed. “I'm glad you finally see that.”

Just as it’s seemed she’s gotten comfortable, Emma swiftly stands, digs through her overnight bag, and goes off into the bathroom with her pajamas. Killian watches the movie as she changes, trying to pick up on the plot points he’s missed and occasionally taking a drink of rum.

When Emma comes back in the room, her daytime clothes balled up in her arms, she announces, “I don't have a family.”

It’s not necessarily out of left field, what with all the talk of Liam and Belle’s wedding and their fake impending nuptials over the dinner table, but Killian’s still a tad surprised by her statement. He doesn’t say anything, though: just allows her to continue at her own pace.

“I was bounced from foster home to group house until I aged out,” she explains, setting her clothes atop her bag. “There were so many kids that none of the adults particularly cared about the holidays.” Coming back to bed, Emma curls up beneath the covers, her voice growing quiet. “And when I grew up, I took to ordering Chinese food and watching these bad movies and the old stop motion ones all night.” She scoots closer to him, her eyes never leaving the T.V. screen. “This is the first Christmas I won't spend alone.”

Killian’s always known her life to be a little harsher than she deserved, but never quite that bad. There’s a hint of that emotion from earlier, the one that made him feel things, linger in her eyes, and he can’t help himself: gently, he brushes some stray strands of hair from her face, his hand staying on her cheek. “Then we're going to make this the best Christmas ever, Swan.”

“It already is,” she sighs happily, looking up at him. “I'm here with you.”

He leans down and kisses her forehead before crawling under the covers himself. Emma’s head ends up on his chest halfway through the movie, the rum forgotten on the nightstands, and they’re both asleep before the prince even proposes.

0000

Killian wakes up shortly after sunrise, head pounding with a headache. He stumbles to the bathroom for aspirin and water and brings back enough for both of them. Popping a few too many drugs, Killian takes a large swig of water to wash them down, and settles back in bed, hoping to get a few more hours. If there’s one Christmas present he’s not going to take for granted, it’s the chance to have a lie in.

Especially when an innocent Emma flips over and snuggles into him, sleep warm. And though her sigh airs on the side of dreamy, Killian can’t say the same for her morning breath. He’s casually choking on tainted air when she rouses.

“What time?” she asks, still half asleep.

“Too early,” Killian says, dragging his hand down her back to try and lull her back into unconsciousness. “Go back to sleep, Swan.”

“But Christmas,” she grumbles.

“It’ll still be Christmas when you wake up,” he assures her. But her breath’s already evening out, and she’s fast asleep less than a minute later.

0000

When they both wake to the sounds of pans clanging in the kitchen a few hours later, Killian feels a lot better. His head isn't killing him anymore, his mouth no longer tastes like cotton, and he's still got a Swan in his hold.

For now.

“You're so fucking hot, get off me,” she grumbles, pushing him wearily, her eyes still closed.

“It's so kind of you to say so,” Killian quips back, holding her even tighter. “I find you to be quite attractive as well.”

Emma groans and shoves his face away. She rolls over and scoots to the very edge of her side of the bed. “You know what I fucking mean.”

Killian sidles in behind her, careful when he threads his arm across her hip and waist. “I do,” he murmurs behind her ear, “but it's Christmas, so your words of malice mean nothing.”

She says something else that her pillow exclusively hears, but then she's sliding out of bed and toward the bathroom.

“If it's Christmas, then we better get started,” she says before closing the door. “The sooner it's over with, the sooner I can be mean to you again.”

Chuckling, Killian shouts through the door, “I like you even when you're yelling at me!”

Emma pokes her head and shoulders out the bathroom door.

“I'm not yelling,” she says matter of factly. “I'm simply expressing my opinion in an angry and slightly elevated tone.”

Once taken care of, Killian and Emma shuffle into the living room to find Belle curled up in a corner of the couch, sipping from a mug.

“Merry Christmas, You two,” she greets them quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Belle,” Emma says in return. “Where's your Jones?”

Belle giggles and tilts her behind back to the kitchen. “He wanted to put some cinnamon rolls in the oven to bake while we opens presents,” she explains.

“Always thinking ahead,” Killian remarks as his brother walks into the room.

“Ah, the lovebirds have awoken.”

“I could say the same for you.”

They exchange gifts - nothing to big or mind blowing. Liam gives Killian his annual pair of socks. Emma and Belle, it seems, thought along the same wavelength, exchanging candles and lotions meant for a relaxing home-spa day. Nobody changes out of their pajamas - too busy eating leftovers and watching classic Christmas movies - until Killian regretfully reminds Emma that they have to drive back home tonight.

“Some of us have to work early tomorrow morning,” he tells her jokingly.

“It’s not my fault your field likes to start their day at 8am,” she gests back.

By the time they say their final goodbyes and merry Christmases to Liam and Belle, it’s dark again, though thankfully not snowing. And when Killian drops Emma’s overnight bag at her doorstep, he can’t quite believe they made it through the holiday.

“Thanks for playing into my fantasy,” he says, surprising himself by how shy he sounds. They’ve spent the better part of the last 48 hours together pretending to be head over heels in love with one another, and now is the part where he begins to be scandalized by the matter? How curious indeed.

“Thanks for giving me the part.” Searching beneath her feet for the answers to life’s greatest questions - or at least that’s what he assumes she’s doing, she staring so intently - Emma scuffs at the floor. Unlike his apartment, she’s got a welcome mat, a little dinky, but still as welcoming as the word written across it. She kicks at it before she inhales deeply. “This might be a bit of a surprise, but that’s probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had in my life.”

“So you said,” Killian says with a chuckle, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. Then he admits quietly, “Me too.”

Her eyes light up, that same emotion bright behind her fluttering eyelashes. “Really?”

Killian shrugs. “The company was above average this year.”

“Aw shucks.” She kicks at the mat again. “Hey, um...” And then she stops herself from continuing.

“Yeah?”

Her right hand is cradling her left as Emma looks at the costume ring on her finger. His gaze falls to it as well. It’s just a silly fake pirate ring, and yet seeing it on her finger, knowing that it belonged to him only a day ago, does something that he suspects looks a lot like the little glimmer that keeps showing up in her eyes.

“I know I should probably give you this back,” she says, “but, um...”

“Keep it,” he says without hesitation. “It's part of your Christmas present.”

Emma shakes her head, already starting to pull the ring off her finger. “You've already given me so much and I just…”

“You've been perfect,” Killian interrupts her. He takes her hand in his and holds it tightly, effectively stopping her from removing the ring. And then, surprising himself, Killian adds, “Since the day you barged into my life and demanded to watch 12 Monkeys.” His tongue runs along his teeth, contemplating the idea formulating in his mind. “But...”

“But?” she repeats.

“If you feel so inclined to thank me...” His sentence drifts off, leading him to raise his finger and tap it to his lips.

Rolling her eyes so hard Killian fears they might get stuck that way, Emma says, “Oh my god, are you serious?”

Killian shrugs again, bringing his hand back into his pocket. “I said if you were inclined.”

“Please, you couldn't handle it,” she says quickly.

“Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it,” he quips back easily.

And before he knows it, Emma’s pressed against him, chest to chest, her hands pulling harshly on the lapels of his jacket. He’s jettisoned forward, his lips to hers, in what’s probably the least expected kiss in his life and possibly the lives of everyone else in their apartment building.

It’s also probably the single best thing to ever happen to him, romantically-inclined or otherwise.

Emma doesn’t step away once she’s done with him, merely comes down from her tiptoes with a heavy breath. “Only one way to find out, right?” Her voice sounds wrecked, her tongue coming out to lick what’s left of him on her lips. Then she lets him go and takes a step back. “Why don't you drop your stuff off and we can see how much we can actually handle together?” she suggests.

Raising a brow, Killian smirks. “Challenge accepted.” He grabs his bag from where it’s fallen to the floor and can’t help himself when he leans over and presses his lips to hers swiftly once more. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

He leaves her unlocking her front door to enter his own apartment, throwing his bag on the couch and beelining it toward his room. There’s dirty laundry to do and he should probably just go to bed because he does have to go to work in the morning, but the opportunity presented to him is just too good an offer to pass up and he can’t be sure that it’ll still be there come morning.

I hope it is, Killian thinks as he pulls on his sweatpants.

But then there’s banging on the other side of his bedroom wall, insistent and forceful and she’s never done that before. Something must be wrong. Throwing on another shirt and forgoing shoes altogether, Killian rushes over to her apartment, knocking equally as hard on her front door.

Emma’s smiling when she flings the door open.

“What's wrong?” he asks, confused by the conflicting information he’s receiving.

“Killian, the Hallmark movie with the dogs!” she shouts at him.

Shaking his head, Killian squints. “Yes, what about it?”

She points toward her living room. “It's on!” Taking his hand, Emma drags him into her apartment, her pleading eyes doing a number on his stomach. “Can we watch it and or have it on in the background?”

He sighs as the screen comes into view. It’s the beginning of the movie, so they can watch it in its entirety and laugh about it together. “I suppose we can wait,” he relents, allowing Emma to sit him down on the couch. He, in turn, wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her legs over his lap. “But I'm not taking my eyes or hands off you for a moment.”

“Good,” she says with a smirk of her own. “I'd despair if you did.”

She tucks her head in the space between his neck and shoulder and something settles, warm and happy, in Killian’s chest.

If Killian had to think of one word to encompass this Christmas, he'd have to settle on unexpected. From his brother’s phone call to his and Emma's fake engagement, the last thing he thought this holiday would end with was him and Emma cozied up on his couch, curled around each other while watching a cheesy Christmas movie.

(And if they don't make it to the triumphant end in order to create their own, then sue him. Sometimes Hallmark movies have to write themselves.)

#csss #captain swan secret santa #cs ff #cs au #fake!engaged #ALSO CHRISTMAS FLUFF #ouat #my words #storytime #this is easily the longest one shot ive written ever #its over 7k #i was worried it wasnt going to get done in time #BUT IT DID #MERRY CHRISTMAS SANDY #i feel like i neglected you as a secret santa #im sorry #i hope you enjoy this!

38 notes · View notes

star-maiden-fufu · 7 years

Text

[Fanfic] The Sailor and the Mermaid ch3

Summary: Mermaids were nothing more than fairytales, they weren’t real. Yet You finds herself questioning that thinking when she meets an actual mermaid, one that saved her life no less. ChikaYou Mermaid AU

Rating: T (Due to a minor instance of an almost swear in the 1st chapter, though I don’t know if things will escalate in later ones)

Word count: 2,729 words

Characters: Watanabe You (sailor), Matsuura Kanan, Captain Watanabe, Takami Chika (mermaid; non-speaking cameo)

Pairings: ChikaYou

Notes: Took a lil bit longer to get chapter 3 out than I’d hoped, but that was mostly due to real life, and then partly down to me wanting to make this chapter longer than the previous two. Introduced Kanan into the story, as well as finally giving You her reunion with her father, yay! Minimal Chika tho, tho she does appear at the end. thank you for reading, apologies to anyone using mobile since the read more won’t work then. :‘D Concrit is welcome!

External Links: FFNet, Ao3

It was just after noon when You had made her way through the forest and to the outer edge of the village, and after a confusing trek through a residential area she wasn’t familiar with, she found herself at the central square. The location itself was mostly quiet, with the few people present either shopping at the stalls outside larger stores or sitting on the stone benches surrounding a well in the centre most part of the square. The small number of children in the area seemed content to stay near their mothers rather than run and play in the square.

You almost wanted to sit and rest for a bit; she could feel her headache coming on again, and her feet ached as well, a mix of all the walking she’d been doing as well as the fact that she was walking on rough ground with barefeet. She ultimately decided against it, justifying that it was more important to find her father first, and that she could rest after that. It wasn’t that far anyway, and You knew the area closer to the docks a lot better. It would be fine…

Yet as she took a step to continue on, she found herself growing woozy. A jolt of pain shot through her head, causing her to wince and her vision turned white, and for the first time all day, You was suddenly aware of how she hadn’t eaten or drank anything since before the boat had left for its halted voyage. The stress of the long day was finally catching up to her.

Taking another step, this time toward one of the benches as she revised her decision of not stopping to rest, she began to waver, feeling as though she were about the collapse. The world around her began to blur in both sight and sound, her head filling with white noise. You thought she heard her name being called, but it was lost in the haze. She took another step.

Again, she thought she heard her name, though a lot more urgent sounding, however she couldn’t be sure as her legs finally gave out beneath her, and her world turned black.

~*~*~

When You regained consciousness, the first thing she noticed was that she was inside a building, resting on a bed, as opposed to outside lying on the ground. There was also the smell of fish in the air, though having lived by the sea for as long as she had, You could ignore that. She could feel something cool resting on her head, and when she reached up to touch it, it felt damp. She concluded easily enough that it was a wet cloth, but decided to leave it in place. She noted that her headache had faded considerably, most likely due to her finally getting some decent rest.

She lay there, internally debating getting some more sleep - whoever had brought her there probably wouldn’t mind, and more rest could only do her good - or getting up and continuing to find her father. The longer she took to get back, the closer he’d get to just declaring her dead and moving on without her. You winced at the rather harsh thought; obviously he’d be torn up at the idea of his daughter being dead, but grief wouldn’t keep him on the island. He’d still be a professional and get his job done, and probably as quick as he could so he could go home and tell her mother...

Her thought process was broken by the creaking of stairs, and when she turned her head, You found herself looking at a familiar face, a rarity in her line of work.

“Ah, you’re up,” the young woman said, putting down the tub of water she’d been carrying next to the bed, “And you’re looking better now. At least you’ve got some colour back in your face.” The newcomer took the damp cloth off of You’s forehead and began soaking it.

“Kanan,” You croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of water. Kanan Matsuura was the daughter of one of the fishing families in the village, one that specialised in diving for fish deeper in the sea that fishermen couldn’t catch with their nets otherwise. Being one of the few girls in the village around You’s age, she’d spent a fair amount of time with Kanan during the week the crew had been staying in Uchiura.

The young woman looked up at the sound of her name, giving You a small sympathetic smile. As she placed the cloth back on You’s head, she said, “Hold on a sec, I’ll get you some water. Then we’ll talk.” You could only nod in response, though Kanan was already leaving the room. While You tried to return to her thoughts in the meantime, she couldn’t quite focus on them, finding them a confusing mess. She focused instead on the sounds of Kanan moving around downstairs.

She could hear thuds and clinks - cupboards and glass, most likely - and footsteps, which then transitioned into the creaking stairs again as Kanan reappeared in the room, holding a glass of water. When You moved to try and sit up, Kanan put her hand gently on the girl’s chest to stop her, saying, “Nuh uh, you’re still resting. Here.” She moved the pillows You was lying on, propping them up so You could sit up without actually doing so.

You pouted, feeling frustrated at her position and beginning to feel almost babied. “But, my father, I need-” Kanan held up her hand, preventing You again. She handed her the water and said, “Don’t worry about that. I already sent one of the shop assistants to go tell him you’re okay when I found you. He’ll be here soon.”

For the first time that day, You found herself feeling pure relief. She let out a deep sigh and shifted, burying deeper into the pillows. As she began drinking from her water, Kanan said, “We were all worried about you, y’know. When the ship came back and your father said you’d fallen off when it got caught in that storm. He was pretty frantic, kept begging every fisherman with a decent boat to send out search parties to look for you, even though everyone else kept telling him to wait till after the storm had passed.”

You winced; she already knew he’d be worried about her disappearing, but to actually hear it from somebody else still made the news sting. “I tried to get back as quickly as I could,” she mumbled into the glass.

“And clearly, pushing yourself is what led to you passing out in the middle of the square,” Kanan scolded, cuffing You over the head, though the playful smile on her face indicated she wasn’t entirely serious.

“Hey! You can’t assault your patient!” You complained, laughing as she buried deeper into the pillow while dodging another swipe from her friend. An evil smirk spread on Kanan’s face as she held her hands up, poised in claw shapes as she said, “Nobody would ever know.”

Despite You’s attempts to play along and bear a horrified expression, the over exaggerated act simply made her snort and break out in laughter again, and Kanan quickly found herself doubled over and laughing as well, though she tried to muffle her giggles in the sheets of the bed. Their gleeful cries went on for a couple minutes, till You felt her sides begin to ache and her throat grew parched again.

“Well,” Kanan sighed once she’d finally calmed herself down, “at least you’re safe now. And clearly you’re feeling a lot better.” You could only nod in response as she proceeded to chug down the remains of her water, leaving a brief silence to settle while she did so.

“Hey, I was wondering,” her friend started, taking the glass off of You once she was finished and putting it on the floor next to the tub of water, “where did you actually end up after the storm? You didn’t wash up on the shore by the docks, but you clearly managed to make it back here on your own from wherever you were.”

“I just washed up on the beach,” You answered, deciding to leave out the bit about being saved by a fairy tale creature that logically shouldn’t exist. However she then realised that her answer left much to be desired when Kanan’s eyes widened in surprise and she said, “Wha- but the beach is on the other side of the island. How did you wash up there when the ship left from this side and didn’t go anywhere near there?”

“Uh...currents?” You tried, only for Kanan to then frown, suspicion in her eyes. Fortunately for You, before she could begin stammering out other excuses and before Kanan could begin the interrogation You knew was coming, they both heard the door downstairs slam open, making them jump. In an instant, the new arrival was shouting loud for the girls to hear, “You! Are you here?!”

“Father!” You shouted back, and they’d barely heard the groaning of the stairs before he burst into the room. His tired looking face broke into a huge grin and relief shone in his eyes as he saw his daughter, alive and well, before him. You’s own expression was identical to her father’s, as she burst from the bed into his arms.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re okay,” he mumbled, repeating it even, while You seemed to be mumbling something of her own that was lost in the man’s heavy clothes, yet the tears falling from her eyes spoke clear enough for her.

Kanan smiled at the scene before her, her suspicions put aside for now. Gathering up the tub of water and You’s empty glass, she left the newly reunited father and daughter alone; her exit went unnoticed.

~*~*~

After determining that You was fit to move, the duo left for the inn by the docks where the crew had been staying while stationed in the village. It was during the walk that You’s father explained that he wished to stay in Uchiura for a few days longer, partly to ensure You was well and truly back up to full health - which she insisted that she was, though he then insisted that she take it easy for a day or two more just to be certain - and then partly to restock some of their supplies, both for the crew and for their delivery. The storm had apparently swept away much of their cargo, and with the captain’s first priority being to find You, he hadn’t gotten around to arranging more supplies. An arrangement that You definitely didn’t approve of.

“Wai- you didn’t even split the crew to deal with that? Like, some of them could focus on restocking and some of them could help you with the search party?” You scolded, putting her hands on her hips while her father scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“I know, it was stupid-”

“Of course it was, you’re still running a business, you have to be professional.” She pouted as she came to a stop, switching her stance and folding her arms instead while also drawing herself up to her full height, trying to make herself seem taller in the midst of the semi-argument that’d broken out.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I just- I panicked,” her father sighed, looking downcast, “I thought I’d lost you.” She softened at that, her expression shifting to a concerned frown as she said, “I know. Sorry.”

“Hell, it's not like the crew helped either; they were just as freaked as I was about you fallin’ overboard. Nobody was thinkin’ about the delivery, just about gettin’ you back safe and sound.” You rolled her eyes, mumbling, “You’re all hopeless.” Though she wore a soft smile as she said it.

The old man chuckled, “Yeah we are. But hey, that’s all done now, you’re safe now; let’s go meet the boys, show them all you’re okay, yeah? We’ll celebrate for tonight! But you’re not drinking.”

“You never let me drink anyway,” You laughed, to which he laughed in response, and they both broke out in a run, racing each other the rest of the way to the inn.

~*~*~

The party held at the inn was a boisterous one, filled with cheering and singing and much drinking - though true to her father’s word, he made sure You didn’t get a drop. Before that was the crazy reunion she had had with the crew, with each individual either sweeping her up into hugs or simply crying that they were glad she was safe.

All in all, the entire day had left You feeling exhausted, even with the extended rest she’d had at Kanan’s house, so before the moon was even high in the sky, she left the party and headed to her room. Yet when she got there, aside from getting changed into a fresh pair of sleeping slacks - she’d been wearing her old, now worn and finished ones the entire day now - she chose to look out the window at the sea rather than immediately going to bed.

The ocean outside was black due to the darkness, aside from the bright white streaks of the moon’s glowing reflection. Contrary to that morning’s storm, the waves were calm, lapping gently against the island’s edge. It was almost as if the storm had never happened. While the idea of something so powerful and vast suddenly deciding to kick up a frenzy and destroy whatever it could was terrifying, You still loved the sea.

She loved how peaceful it could be, like how it was right then, late at night. And she loved how it was still so mysterious. It still held so many secrets that people didn’t know about, and for some people, that could be terrifying, but for You, it just meant more adventure. Being able to explore and discover the unknown…

It was as she let out a relaxed sigh, relishing the quiet and the rhythmic sound of the waves against the island, that she heard a splash, separate from that of the waves. After an initial cursory glance over the waters didn’t reveal anything, she almost put it down to stray wave hitting a rock. Then she heard it again, and then a third time, and then she was practically hanging out the window, searching for the source of the noise.

She almost felt stupid doing it, and part of her kept trying to insist that it was just the waves, maybe even a fish skimming the surface of the water. But then the other part of her wanted to believe…

A shape- a person emerged from the water, nothing more than a silhouette in the darkness. As they moved through the water however, the light from the moon caught them, and You found herself grinning. At the same time, the figure seemed to notice You, and then Chika was waving, both hands in the air and her excited laughter almost being carried by the waves or the wind to You’s ears.

“It was real. This morning was real...right?” Even as You waved back, she was hesitant; on the one hand, she was nervous, uncertain. Still ready to brush everything about that morning off as a hallucination caused by a head injury or a dream while she was unconscious. She was certainly feeling tired enough that she could probably convince herself she was still dreaming.

Yet the other part of her was still so curious about Chika, and perhaps their bonding moment on the beach had warmed her to the mermaid, after her initial panic. Maybe she wanted to see her again, whether to reaffirm that she was real and finally silence that hesitant side of herself, and maybe…

Maybe You wanted to see Chika again because she genuinely enjoyed her company, because she wanted to spend more time with her. Dare she say it, but despite being from two completely different worlds, maybe You believed that they could possibly be...friends?

As her waving grew more firm, a determined smile grew on her face. As Chika disappeared below the water again, You made her decision.

“I will see you again, Chika. I promise,” she whispered, hoping that the wind would carry her words to her new companion beneath the waves.

#fufu's fanfic #writing #love live #love live sunshine #chikayou #youchika #watanabe you #takami chika #mermaid au #long post

1 note · View note

theoryofthefalls · 7 years

Text

TOTF Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: The Author

Author: @moonbeamjean Wordcount: 9.8K Summary: Jessica finds herself face to face with a page in The Journal that paints Bill in an unflattering light. Much like the unflattering light and dust that’s clogging up the newly discovered spare room in the Mystery Shack.

A/N: This chapter is a nice exploration of some of the friendships that Jess has in Gravity Falls and the kind of roads they will take. Bill of course is a downhill spiral of deception and manipulation, but there’s also Dipper, McGucket, Kiara, Grunkle Stan, and yes, even early clues to ‘The Author’ that she’s only going to realise months down the line. Thank you so much for waiting on the update, and I hope you enjoy!

A whole month was gone now. Weeks worth of Summer were vanishing faster and faster, and Jessica Jean felt like she was becoming bigger than her bones. There was still fun in the ordinary life and sun of Gravity Falls, for sure. Dipper and Mabel seemed to have adventures every day of the week. What was the latest one? Oh yeah. Time Travel. That was possible now. Just casually thrown in there, along with a new pig, while Jess was running a Kissing Booth for Stanford Pines’ silly carnival games. But at least her ache of jealousy was dying. The power Bill gave her was being practiced more and more, and her little secret was spilling out beyond just the twins and Kiara.

Soos was the fourth person to find out about the little taste of witchcraft. Jess needed his help for a particular dance video and, well, she kind of had to explain how she could just summon a J-Pop cosplay out of thin air. Wendy was next - sneaking out onto the rooftop at sunset to find the blonde floating above the roof-tiles talking to ‘herself’. And then Mabel made those two new friends, Candy and Grenda, and suddenly every second day was being spent playing fairy dress-ups, re-enacting romance movies, and summoning glitter out of nowhere. But that was it. No more people had to know about this. It was supposed to be a secret, and she shouldn’t have been putting it on as a performance at their command (apparently, by Bill’s morals at least.) Still, she could float in front of more people now, which was relaxing. It was so easy to just slip out of focus and relax mid-air, drinking some Pit Cola in the warm glow of Summer, not having to worry about somebody finding her.

Now that the ‘Mystery Twins’ had their own channel and she was actually spending time with them, the videos kept coming and coming and coming. She could upload now on a nearly bi-weekly schedule. And the views were getting good! The small amount of money being made from the ads and watches was turning from a couple of cents into a couple of dollars. If Jessica didn’t have the power to infinitely spawn bills out of her hand, she probably would have celebrated this a little more. In fact, one of her most popular videos was just her slapping her hands together like at a strip club and spawning an infinite amount of green notes. She would have kept them, too, if Stanford hadn’t been heard around the corner at the sound of free money and she had to make it all disappear in a blink.

The only one who seemed to be both skeptical and awed was Dipper. That was no surprise. Originally, the friendship between them was a quiet, awkward, and scarce thing. He would ask the blonde for the video-camera, once even asking about her film degree and what her classes were like. That was a nice afternoon on the back porch. But now that Jess was out of the super-powered closet, there seemed to be a new kind of awkward interaction that the boy took joy in.

“This is Dipper Pines’ Guide to the Unexplained!” he announced into the silver cam-corder. It was the hottest day of Summer, and the babysitters were talking outside on the front porch. The boy scrambled around the nest of prepared notes and evidence - Journal 3, Mabel’s scrapbook of Summer adventures and romances, small piles of glitter and confetti from previous videos. Finally he found a page in Mabel’s book, a polaroid collection of Jess and Kiara Phoenix at the fair, sharing popcorn and the blonde making vulgar smooch-faces to the girl’s disposable camera. “Anomaly Number 38: Jessica Jean.

“She came along with our old babysitter, KP, to look out for us this Summer, and sometime between arriving here and four weeks ago, managed to obtain amazing, nearly limitless magical abilities! Like some kind of over-powered fairy godmother, she’s used this (as you’ve probably seen) for makeovers, saving us from crazy fake psychics, and cleaning around the house!” Dipper remembered the footage he’d sneakily caught of Jess around the Shack, her feet off the ground and reaching up to the tall cabinets of the kitchen. He’d have to splice it in somehow. Or hell, he’d have to edit this whole video together without the babysitter noticing.

Maybe he could borrow Soos’ computer? That would be a challenge for later. Dipper picked up the camera, and with a determined expression he approached the bedroom window. His voice lowered to a whisper. “I have various theories, none of which add up to the stories that she’s given us. It seems to change every time I ask!” He lifted the cam-corder to the windowpane and focused on the two girls standing below by the yellow car. “First it was mystic runes, then she said it was a fairy, and then she said she was a teen witch all along! And then one time—! One time Jess was just like, ‘Oh powers? What powers? I don’t have any!’, which was so frustrating, and—“

Dipper froze. KP was there, looking up at the window into the attic bedroom he and Mabel shared. In fact, it looked for a minute that she was staring right at him. Dressed in her oversized board shorts and tight but covering rashie, she had her had covered the sun from her eyes and staring at something just above the boy’s head. But the real creepy part was the fact that Jessica Jean, subject of the video, was no longer standing there.

“BOO!!!”

He screamed, nearly dropping the camera. Jess didn’t seem to mind, watching him scramble back and bumping his elbow into the frame of his bed. “Hahahaha!!! Oh, man…!!” Gently, gently, she floated down from the rooftop and right-side up once more, nudging the ajar window open and squeezing inside. Hips like hers had a hard time fitting through small spaces, but it was manageable. The blonde floating in the middle of his room, arms hung low and knees curled up. Limp and relaxed, dressed in shorts and a tied-up t-shirt. Peaking over her sunglasses, the camera flew into her hand gently and her thumb hit the record button ‘off’. “Dipper, seriously, if you’re going to film me at least ask!”

This was about the third time she’d caught him now. Always a scolding. Dipper groaned, hopping up on the mattress and watching the magic carefully. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he repeated. The usual apology, recited and well-practiced. “I'll ask to use your camera rather than sneak it out of your bag while you and KP are talking about…” Another groan. “Boys.”

Jess snickered. ‘Boy’ talk was not the right age bracket for talking about her friend’s obvious crush on their boss. It was more like ‘Grand-daddy’ talk. Ew. She tried to stay mad, but the kid had rare gem of sarcasm that made her smile. “No, ask before you film a girl without her knowledge! There’s stuff I don’t want the Internet to see!” She frowned on a more serious note then. “Wait… don’t tell me you film Wendy, do you?”

He blushed. Oh God, how many people knew about this awful crush. “No!! No, I would never!!”

A sigh of relief. “Good, then I don’t have to give you a stern talking-to…” Jessica brightened. “Anyway, while I have you here…” She shrugged off the purple back-pack from her shoulders, and proceeded to look through the levitating sack. KP had packed so much bloody sunscreen that it was like they were watching a group of penguins touring Australia. But there, at the bottom of the bag, was a nice cardboard box with an even nicer present inside. Jess shrugged it out, and chucked the box into his hands. “Got you something!”

“W-Woah!” Dipper caught it in an awkward bundle, holding it close. It had a lot of instructions and careful warnings on the side, but he recognised the image. It was a video-camera. Frighteningly similar to her own, that he had used for this whole third of the Summer together. He felt his jaw drop. “I… Wow, this is so cool!” He immediately looked at her. “Did you make this?”

Jess snorted with laughter. Her powers were good but not that good. “Dipper, if I could, I would have done this weeks ago.” She certainly wouldn’t have been able to make all the little foam nuggets that lived inside the box, anyway. Sometimes buying things came with more certainty than just making it out of thin air. Hoisting her legs into the air, the backpack dropped to the ground as she flew up in a casual sitting position. “I bought it yesterday. Figured you might finally stop borrowing my camera if you and Mabel had your own!”

Sharing it between two was going to be way easier than sharing it with three. Dipper grinned. All his footage of the Hide-Behind (or lack of) and the bizarre tooth (more like horrifying, cryptic, island-head-monster, but okay) was going to have some new company. He reeled with ideas of what to film. But he had to ask. After all, he was aware of their quiet but distant friendship, too. “Why are you doing this?”

A shrug. Like most of the things she answered him with. “Well, I’ve been using you guys for my channel as much as you use me for yours.” They called it ‘cameos’, but the truth was the truth. Views spiked with the Mystery Twins, and she was making cents from it. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t get something as a ‘thank you’, so I splurged into my Kissing Booth money and… Well, thank you.”

Dipper smiled. Small, embarrassed, just-as-bad-with-emotions smile, in the dimple of his cheek. He gripped the box tight. “No problem! Uhh… thanks for letting us borrow it for so long, I guess.”

“Anytime, Pine Tree!”

He headed for the others downstairs, the new video-camera in his hands and that familiar trucker-cap on his head. She trusted his anxiety and paranoia not to bring it with them to the public pool today and save it for mystery-solving. The items he had ready for his little ‘study’ of Jess were all around the floor in a mess that looked vaguely like a map of her life. The scrapbook, covered with glitter and macaroni, seemed to be getting thicker and thicker by the day. With the smallest shred of effort, the book raised into her hands and she turned through the open pages. So many pictures of Mabel and Waddles from the fair, scraps of crystals from their shrinking-torch, but there were drawings, too. Crayon and coloured pencil pieces of various caticatures, portraits of Jess and KP holding hands next to a blurry polaroid of them smooching at the fairgrounds.

Jessica grinned, closed the book, and waved it over to Mabel’s bedside. And she would have left it at that, but there was something else in the room that caught her eye. The Journal - equally messy, but in the way that an exploding lab or abused library was, rather than the 5AM dance-party aesthetic of the twin sister’s work. Dipper always kept it close and safe, and frankly she hadn’t seen enough of it for her liking. He didn’t like anyone over the age of 12 getting their hands on it, just in case. She could understand that. It was his secret, as her powers were hers, and she could respect that.

It still didn’t stop her from reading it though.

Perched on Dipper’s unmade bed, legs crossed, the book rested in her lap comfortably. Her fingertips traced the six-fingered hand of the cover fondly, inspected the paper’s slight shine, before she opened it up. Most of the dust between the pages were blown out from finally being read and loved again, but there was still a thin layer baked right into the spine. The pages were so thin and yellowed that she didn’t even use her fingers to turn it, using magic instead to avoid thumb-prints and tears. It seemed like the twins were making their own notes on top of the decades-old originals. ‘Gnomes: Weakness, lawnmowers’. ‘Ghosts, seen at convenience store’! And she should have been a little mad, considering that this book was practically a historical document and should be treated with respect, but then she thought about all the notes she used to write and doodle on her science books in college. This was no different.

… Man, there was a lot here, though. The Hide-Behind, a Gremoblin, the floating eyeballs from the cave, and pages full of sketches of the landscape and forests of Gravity Falls. So many creatures, so little time. The kids were getting better at finding them in the wild, though. Even if it often led to disastrous consequences. Another page turned slowly, expecting more bug-eyed weirdos and mountain dwelling spooks, when she came across—

Bill.

Jess paused. Bill Cipher was in the Journal. And it wasn’t in a good light.

He was illustrated as a silhouette of black ink, staring from the page with his singular eye. No lashes, no replicant of the shaky drawings and symbols from the cave. It was him. That eerie posture of his low-hanging arms and relaxed, slightly kicked legs was caught perfectly. Various codes and patterns surrounded him, written down in rushes only to be crossed out again. CAESER. ATBASH. Some codes weren’t even letters or recognisable sigils, but some kind of bizarre alien text of lines and dots - part hieroglyphics, part morse-code, all of it impossible to read.

But there were splatters of red in the corners, and it wasn’t ink. And a paragraph of notes and praise, beautifully written in cursive. Bill has proven himself to be one of the friendliest and most trustworthy individuals that I’ve ever encountered in my life. On and on, thankful and adoring, and not unlike Jessica’s own thought process. But it was all crossed out, stubborn and hurt, and there was a bold, terrifying series of four-words amongst the stains.

BILL CAN’T BE TRUSTED!

She swallowed thickly. Kiara would have loved this guy. Beware Bill. The most powerful and dangerous creature I’ve ever encountered.

It was wrong. The Author was wrong. He had to be. Her fingers pressed into the ruby bindings of the book, and she read the following page. An illustration of the small triangle, in more detail and accuracy, hopping into a barely detailed human brain. It was labelled with several, scientifically accurate parts. REFLECTIVES, said one third. DOMESTIC, said another. THE LADIES, marked the last.

… Maybe the guy was just a lonely kook. Jess looked up from the Journal with a deadpan expression. So the Author was a deranged horn-dog. Fine. The book closed, a little harder than necessary, and she tucked it just underneath Dipper’s pillow for safe-keeping. No wonder the boy seemed to enjoy his writing. But so what? There was plenty here that was incorrect. He was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

Bill was fine. She had magic powers. And they talked all the time. They were fine, they were great, they were friends. The corn-chip would have told her of any further intentions. She was smarter than this deranged lunatic and his coded notes. Jess asked questions. Jess read details. Or, alternatively, she asked questions and he would shut her down and talk about a vague, larger plan, and she didn’t have the guts to ask him what that plan was so she just kept her mouth zipped and enjoy what she had. Enjoy the feeling of life in her veins and magic in her bones and becoming something larger, grander, better than just a failed little girl.

She gripped the sheets, and didn’t move until she was called back downstairs by KP. Jessica played along the whole week by the poolside, flirtatious and funny and blonde and sweet, laughing everything off. She continued to tease Kiara about her obvious feelings for Stanford Pines, as old as he was, and waved at Mabel and her sweet, hispanic (??) mermaid (?!?!?) boyfriend. She had nothing to worry about. Nothing.

Is he watching me? asked the book under Dipper’s pillow.

- - - - -

“So who else have you made deals with?” Jean asked some time ago, turning over in the air to see him.

Bill was sitting back, hands behind him as one would put them behind their head. He watched the sky roll lazily by. “OH, YOU KNOW. DA VINCI, THE KENNEDY’S, A COUPLE OF RUBES,” he listed casually. “I HAD FUN FILMING THE MOON-LANDING WITH NASA. THAT WAS PRETTY GREAT.”

Jess wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask about that yet. Whole new bag of worms to deal with. But she did ask this: “Have you ever given anybody your powers before?”

Bill paused. Interesting of her to ask. “NO,” he answered eventually. “HAVEN’T NEEDED TO! AND WHEN I FIGURED OUT I NEEDED TO, THERE WEREN’T PEOPLE IN TOWN WHO WERE WORTH SHARING THEM WITH!”

It had flattered her at the time. She used to spend a whole day of mischief with her favourite triangle. The minute she was out of earshot, sometimes sooner, Bill would appear in a crack of light by her side. The space around him shifting between this world and the Mindscape, as vibrant a yellow as ever. They’d exchange a knowing grin, and Jess would pick up her feet and turn her walk into a float. Both to show off her control over his magic, and because flying was the best thing in the world.

Jessica was getting good at learning his magic. Understanding where it came from. Bill didn’t delve too much into how he learned them - nobody wants to give away their backstory all at once and take away the fun. But she got it. Learn an equation, think of a grander universal concept, and either conjure it or remove it from existence entirely. All he’d given her that afternoon nap by the cave was just a spark for her body and brain to withstand it. Something to make her physically grander than the average twenty-five year-old cheerleader. She was a science-interested mind with an artist’s imagination. It was a good combo that worked in his favour, and appealing to boot. He needed that for the long-term plans. And for the short-term, she was damn fine fun.

They still spend nights together. It was harder to see her during the day, and she needed him less and less to talk through her abilities. Between fun-fairs, pig adoption, swimming pools, and sunsets on the porch chopping firewood, Bill Cipher wasn’t bothering to visit as often as he used to. They had dreams and the Mindscape to talk, to unwind, to catch up and explore the valleys and peaks of her imagination’s hillsides. And he didn’t want to sit in on those long hours of playing make-up and detective and helping the kids making videos for their stupid little channels. So he stuck right out of that, folded his arms, and waited for his friend to fall asleep and finally give him some time.

It was irritating. He was irritated, and she was aware of that, and now there were blood-splattered pages in a very old book with his name written between warning signs.

Technically speaking, spending time with the kids and making dumb videos was still practicing her powers. Bill couldn’t get too mad at Jean for spending more and more time with them. Right? Right. Even so, the girl had to make it up to him. So she picked a night and used the building blocks of her mind and imagination to create something just for them. No twins, no Kiara, nothing. Just her and Bill. She owed him that, at least.

Jessica was about half an hour into her sleep when he appeared. Deep blue night skies, slender purple and indigo trees. The usual level of whimsy, and those same white silhouettes of faceless starlight walking past them. But those eager silhouettes seemed to be vanished, or gather somewhere else. Bill Cipher was a contrast of yellow - not a soft gold but rather the ink in your printer that always seemed to vanish at inconvenient times - and appeared in a burst of white light. On the cliffside, outside the memory of ‘his’ cave, looking over towards the lake. A haze of pink and peach lights, made from only the kind of old-fashioned bulbs around movie-star frames and… carnivals.

He squinted, flying down closer to the sight. The closer he flew, the louder it became. Happy giggles, old music from the 50’s, and rickety wooden structures. Part of it resembled what Stan Pines created in his backyard in the name of self-promotion, the other parts looked like the seaside carnivals over in San Francisco or Coney Island. There was a large ferris wheel that nearly eclipsed the milky moon, with rose-coloured seats and plush cushions. There were games to play that won ugly, llama-looking plush toys with soft pink cheeks and bowties. The Kissing Booth was not occupied by Crescent, but rather a silhouette of white who had curves in the right places and a vaguely androgynous face. He ignored it. Nothing was rigged, everyone was a winner, and there was a distinct perfume in the air of fairy-floss and caramel. It was charming in a very mortal, young-love kind of way.

The girl had worked incredibly hard on it. Even down to the harlequin-styled clown, juggling on a small stage and dropping all his rainbow-coloured balls into his face. Bill cackled with nasal laughter amongst the imagined figures, and turned at the sound of ukulele. Jessica was performing as a busker, something she did to pass time and make money in college, and was dressed in a summer frock of white lace that sat like an attractive potato sack. It was pretty, as were the flowers in her hair. She was playing an old song that Cipher recalled her parents used to play on the kitchen radio, and when his eye found her she immediately stopped. Put the instrument down, float above the crowd, just make him the center of her world again.

She tucked a hair behind her ear, relaxing her legs and standing on the ground once more. “Sooo… you found the place!”

Bill chuckled. “HARD TO MISS IT,” he said/exclaimed. He always spoke so loudly. One of his hands reached for his top-hat, and he lifted it in respect. “NOT BAD, CRESCENT. NOT BAD AT ALL. CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU MAKE SOMETHING LIKE THIS WHEN YOU’RE AWAKE!”

Jess wandered along, the bystanders of white parting from their way. It was hard to tell how much control she had over them sometimes, but the girl didn’t mind a crowded room. It was exciting. Especially in the dusk-coloured party lights and atmosphere of this little fairytale. She wanted to make him happy, show off how much she could do, and it was certainly fun to expand things further and further. “Well, y’know, I feel bad that I spent so much time with the kids lately… Running around with them is fun and all, but I would have liked to spend some of the day with my other friend.”

He heard the good intentions in her voice. She really meant it. The triangle chuckled, flattered and floating, and they made their way to the ferris wheel. She clicked her fingers and a pair of champagne glasses appeared just within their reach, taking gentle sips in unison as the sparkling attendant set them inside the comfortable, cozy ride. Bill’s eye shut, and he drank through the lids as one would a mouth, only to open them again as that frightening slit pupil. It made Jess giggle.

“SO WHAT’S THE OCCASION?” he asked, sitting down with a little wriggle of comedic effect. Jess ignored him, leaning back into the cozy pink pillows. She could make her ferris wheel as pretty and unsafe as she’d like. But Bill wasn’t giving up. “CHAMPAGNE? WEARING SOMETHING OTHER THAN THOSE FILTHY PYJAMAS? AN ENTIRE CARNIVAL BY THE SEA? YOU’RE INDULGING ME HERE, KID!”

Jessica nibbled her lip when she spoke. Her knees crossed over, she watched the bubbles in the gold drink. “Well… I guess I wanted to say thanks, too. I mean, you’ve taught me so much. I wanted to show you I—“

“CRESCENT.”

His voice was sharp. Bill’s eye was on her, and her only. “I KNOW WHAT YOU READ.”

The wheel began to turn, and they rotated up, gently, into the deep blue sky of night. Despite the light pollution of the sideshow, the stars remained ever-bright. Logic was second-thought in the Mindscape. The world could be as beautiful or as ugly as Jessica’s dreams and emotions dictated. And right now, it was beautiful. For him. And she was making herself dainty and small and sweet. She was nervous. And she was overcompensating with big gifts, gestures of affection, exploring her powers as much as possible to push back the fact that, finally, she had found something that shook her faith in the inter-dimensional being.

The blonde watched the view of deep blue sea and endless horizon. The pink and yellow lights of the fair glowed beneath their feet. “… KP’s always said I should be careful around you,” she began. “But she says that about all my friends and relationships.” Bless that sweet, honest girl. A small smile tugged briefly. “… We both know I have shit in my life that I don’t want to deal with. And I figured… that you were the same. You never asked me about my history, so I never pried too deep into yours. But…”

Jessica swallowed. “You knew the Author. And something happened between you guys that turned a good friendship bad.” Those blue eyes kept dancing, taking nervous glances at the triangle as she considered her words. “And the cave paintings, and the cipher wheel, and… You’ve told me so much about the world, Bill, and I am amazed. But I know nothing about you…! I barely know what you gave me these powers for in the first place!!”

“YOU KNOW WHY!” he said, a laugh to his voice. He set the champagne glass on an imaginary table, and it floated perfectly in the air beside him. “YOU’RE A BRIGHT KID, WITH A LOT OF IMAGINATION, AND IT—“

“Bill, no, I…” She bit her lip. The interruption made her blink. Jean gave a sigh, gentle but clearly pent-up, like the steam from a kettle. “Give me something… real. You gave me these for a reason. And you still haven’t told me what that reason is. I’m too polite to ask what your intentions are, but if you don’t want me using them for fun with my friends, and you don’t want me performing onstage, then you have to tell me what this whole thing is about.”

She didn’t even sound angry anymore. Just a bit stressed, a bit desperate, and finally snapping a little. Jess was a straight-shooter when she was serious. It was rare, but she could be. He was wondering whenabouts she’d finally pop the question. And her nerves were turning from quiet and unspoken to loud, and straight-forward, and determined. Enough games. Enough mindless flattery. She was asking for some truth. Bill sighed in a defeated manner. He couldn’t avoid this topic. “SO YOU WANNA HEAR IT? THE TRAGIC TALE OF BILL THE TRIANGLE GUY?”

Jessica Jean nodded. She leaned back in the seat as the ferris-wheel took them higher. A vision of white among the blue and pink of her little universe. His stiff three sides relaxed a little, almost wilting or melting, and Cipher’s eyelid grew heavy. “I’M FROM ANOTHER DIMENSION. NOT THE MINDSCAPE, NOT YOURS, ANOTHER PLACE. IT WAS A BORING LITTLE BLACK AND WHITE SPACE WITH SIMPLE-MINDED PEOPLE. OTHER SHAPES. OTHER TRIANGLES. BUT I KNEW I WAS ALWAYS ONE OF A KIND! SMARTER THAN THE AVERAGE SQUARE! GOOD OL’ BILL CIPHER! A CUT ABOVE THE REST!

“I KNEW I WAS TOO GOOD FOR THE WORLD. I HAD TO FIND A WAY OUT. I STARTED LOOKING UP THINGS I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO, AND IT MADE ME A SMARTER EQUILATERAL. SOON, I WAS ABLE TO LEAVE MY WORLD ENTIRELY. I CAME TO YOUR THIRD DIMENSION AND TRIED TO SHOW THE PEOPLE WHAT I WAS CAPABLE OF, BUT THEY DIDN’T LIKE ME AT ALL! ALL THEY WANTED TO DO WAS BANISH ME.“

“I saw,” she said. Jess curled up her knees, moving closer to his side. “The murals on cave… The red lightning?”

“THAT’S THE ONE,” said Bill. He couldn’t look at her. How could he? Why should he? He was so lowly and she was so sweet. He sighed. The half-humoured tone to his story began to fade. Even when his voice was so loud, so nasal, Cipher just sounded so sad. He practically lost his glow. “I’VE BEEN TRAPPED FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS. I WATCHED SO MUCH OF THE WORLD COME AND GO, AND I WANTED TO BE PART OF IT SO BADLY! I MANAGED TO HELP A FEW PEOPLE CHANGE HISTORY. MAKE AN IMPACT. GIVE MY LIFE A LITTLE MEANING. BUT IT’S NEVER BEEN ENOUGH. I’VE… I’VE NEVER BEEN ENOUGH.”

Jessica swallowed. She knew that feeling. Not to his cosmic extent. But she knew it. The triangle continued to explain himself and his slit pupil met her blue eyes. “THE AUTHOR OF THE JOURNALS FOUND ME, AND DEMANDED I TELL HIM ALL THE SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE. I SHARED WHAT I COULD, BUT IT DROVE HIM MAD WITH POWER. THE POOR GUY LOST HIS SANITY COMPLETELY.” He looked at her with what was the equivalent of a hopeful smile. An air of warmth resonated between them in the starry sky. “BUT YOU? … YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON I’VE EVER GIVEN MY POWERS TO. YOU’RE A GOOD EGG. A SMART KID. SMART ENOUGH TO LEARN HOW IT WORKS, BUT FUN ENOUGH TO TAKE IT TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL! YOU ARE EXACTLY WHAT I NEED.”

She was quiet the whole while, taking in his story and hanging onto every word. But Jess had to ask, directly, “And what do you need? What do you need me to be?”

Cipher looked at her with his big, adoring eye. It was shiny against the starlight. He was yellow against the purple and blue of her mind. It crinkled in the corners, in his version of a mouthless smile. “I NEED YOU TO BE MY ACE IN THE HOLE IF SOMETHING GOES WRONG. I’VE GOT A PLAN TO COME OUT THERE, IN YOUR WORLD. IT’S READY FOR ME. BUT IF SOMETHING GOES HAYWIRE, YOU’RE MY BACK-UP. I NEED YOU TO KEEP PRACTICING WHAT I TEACH YA, AND I NEED YOU AT BECK AND CALL WHEN THOSE BIG PLANS PAY OFF.” He sounded a little nervous. A glance up and down at her. “CAN YOU DO THAT FOR ME, CRESCENT?”

By contract, she couldn’t say no. But he pretended that she could. And Jess believed it. She believed it all, as he expected her to do. She smiled, warm and tender, and edged a little closer to him. And before Bill knew it, she did something pretty unexpected. She hugged him. Arms wrapped around his pointy frame. Altogether, he was about as tall as her torso - a perfect size to get wrapped up in as she lay back in their booth.

“I can do that,” she answered quietly. “… you weird asshole.”

She heard a chuckle. It was limp, compared to his louder natural laugh. Heck, Cipher was kind of surprised that she was holding him in the first place. Aside from sex with near strangers and grabbing KP whenever possible, Jessica Jean didn’t have a track record of physical attention. It made her squeamish. If she hugged him, it meant she really liked him.

Good.

“WHAT WAS THAT CUTE LITTLE NUMBER YOU WERE SINGING EARLIER?” he asked, finishing the champagne. He still flashed gold light with each syllable he spoke.

Jess shrugged. “It’s something my Mom sang to me before the divorce.”

And she’d hold her like this, too. The same way she held Bill now. He felt her clutch him a little tighter, a little closer, just subconsciously. He reclined in her arms as best as he could. “I’VE HEARD IT SOMEWHERE BEFORE. WANNA SING IT AGAIN FOR ME?”

Crescent smiled. “Sure!”

They stared into the blue, quiet and still, and talked about the endlessness yet contained beauty of the universe. Eager questions about the past and future, venting about her previous relationships and friends, and drinking champagne. The wheel stopped with them right at the top, looking over the world they shared together. Her eyelids grew heavy even within the dream, relaxed into a complete state of bliss. Her fingertips traced the flat, two-dimensional edge of his body, and he didn’t protest to it.

J.F. Kennedy didn’t cuddle. Neither did Lovecraft. Bill didn’t really have many female humans as contracts or friends. Still getting used to some aspects of it. And hugging seemed to be one of them. It was sweet. Not his preferred thing, but it was new. And new things were always intriguing. Jessica Jean, lying back amongst pillows and pointing out constellations in her mind’s sky, held him in her arms. It was difficult to, given he was a being of pure energy and weightlessness, but she tried. And the effort was enough.

The song ended slowly, gently. “You know what?” she said, looking out onto the wide blue ocean. It went for miles. The edge of her mind. They looked at the limitless blue and she squeezed him tighter. It was hard to, but the effort was enough. “I can’t wait for you to come out of this place… I’ll actually be able to hug you for real!”

Bill groaned dramatically. “YEAH, YEAH, I CAN HARDLY WAIT.” And the sarcasm made her laugh enough to spill some champagne.

- - - - -

KP and Jessica were usually the ones in charge of grocery runs. Stanford’s parenting skills were getting better, but it seemed like his cooking always relied on beans and war rations. Not that they were culinary experts or anything, but college life and learning to live on your own meant you picked up a couple things like easy-bake pasta recipes, steaks, eggs, anything that required minimal ingredients and as many healthy things as they could fit. Plus, being a young(er) adult meant they could respect the kids’ needs for brightly coloured cereal, sugar, and fruit juice spelt with numbers for letters.

“Honestly, this one is just an exclamation mark!” said KP, pulling it off the shelf. The bottle was about as big as Manly Dan’s arm, and coloured like a neon pink sign at a video arcade. She grinned. “Is Mabel gonna make her juice again?”

Jess nodded. “Yup. Prepare your liver.”

The car ride back from the store was music, good times, big smiles, and a backseat full of groceries. Loud rock music from the 50’s mixed with trap from last week. It was an eclectic mess of music tastes, which is what the blonde seemed to enjoy most. Every speed-bump made the beetle shake, but the stops and sights on the way to Gopher Road were becoming more and more familiar. Kiara smiled out the window, even at the sight of the massive white and blue tent of the Gleeful family. This strange little town felt more like home every day. Sunshine on her skin when she leaned on the window. Her shirt’s long black sleeves felt toasty warm in the light.

She smiled at the driver. “Could you live here?”

It had certainly come out of nowhere. As did the smile from Tad Strange, crossing past them at the intersection and holding hands with his boyfriend. Jess waved back, awkward but flattered smirk on her face, and turned to her not-girlfriend. “Why’d you ask?”

“I dunno…!” replied KP. In fact, it had surprised herself a little. But just being lost in thought in the golden taste of sunlight had sent her off to somewhere dream-like and strange. She imagined the clouds parting and the shining light against her right cheek like a little kiss. “Lately I’ve just been thinking, y’know… settling down, finding somewhere nice and quiet to work on my comics…” She turned to Jessica with a nervous but hopeful expression. “Once the Summer’s up and the kids are on the bus to California, I might even look into real estate here!”

“Aww…!” Jess was quiet but proud. “That’s great!” Planning the future was never her forte. She survived as much as she could in the present. Anything like a career or a marriage was far, far away from her priorities. “What are you thinking, an apartment…? Or a cute little cottage house somewhere like Wendy’s place or the Shack…?

KP smiled. “Yeah, the Shack is perfect!”

“Yeah… Rustic, charming, full of weird taxidermy…!” “Ha-ha, yeah! Perfect woodland get-away—“

“Hotter older gentleman waiting for you every night…” purred Jess.

Kiara Lee Phoenix frowned at the blonde. This was not a road she wished to bring up. Again. “Not a day goes by where y’don’t remind me of this stupid crush, do you?”

“IT’S ADORABLE!” squealed Jess behind the wheel. Also, talking about the feelings between Stanford Pines and her best friend was a nice distraction from thinking about the inevitable death of her childhood and having to become an independent person. Taking a left turn and finding the familiar path for Gopher Road, she tried to talk while paying full attention. It was difficult. “Honestly, sweetheart, it had been years since I last saw you get a crush this bad!!”

The brunette made a loud, ugly groan of embarrassing noise and hardship. Easy for her friend to say, but it was hard to carry the feeling. “Please stop!! It’s… it’s weird. He’s so much older but he’s so handsome and he really cares about the kids!!” Her experience with boys was awful. With men? Even worse. KP didn’t know how to handle the emotional need in her body. She itched for the comforting headphones around her neck. She sighed, defeated, and hugged herself instead. “Look, what do you reckon?”

“I’ve told you what I reckon!” laughed Jess. “It’s adorable. You’re adorable.”

“Be serious,” said KP, in a rather miserable tone. “Just tell me, is this weird or not? I’m trying to shut off my feelings for the guy but… I can’t. And I know he’s kinda rough, and not the most aware, but he really does the best he can, and…” She was so tired from feeling it. Why did they have to talk about it? Why did she have to feel it?! Kiara looked to Jess for guidance. “Just give it to me straight.”

“… KP, you know I’m bi, I can’t give things straight—“

“Shut your beautiful mouth and be serious, darn it!”

It started off with giggles, but Jess would get to the point in a minute. She made the proper turn and headed up the long, dirt lane of Gopher Road. With a little bit of magic she turned down the radio as a sign of ‘serious conversation ahead’. “Okay, okay…” She racked her brain for good points. Good points about the law-avoiding ex-boxer who somehow managed to make his own business in dealing lies to suckers. “… He’s funny. And yeah, he’s getting better around the kids… Personally, I like my guys a little fitter, and a little nerdier, but y’know, that’s just me!

“The age… isn’t that much of an issue these days. Big gaps are gross when you’re like, in high school and some creepy 30-year-old man asks you about your cup size when you’re sixteen. That’s fucked up. But as you start getting older and a little wiser, people start to blur across generations…! Love is just a concept of hormones and biological urges, anyway, so who cares about how old, or fat, or queer, or how different each of the people involved are as long as they’re consenting and honest to each other!” Jessica’s serious talks always seemed to delve into social or scientific issues. She tried to make it more personal and not just a vent. “You always talk about finding a guy who wants a family, who’s gonna treat you like a real classy lady, and boys our age usually don’t give a shit about that…”

KP nodded with a bitter sigh. Too true. It was why Jess had so much care-free luck in sex and why she’d had so little. The blonde was fleeting and lived on the physical drive that was easier to come by - Kiara wanted something more… mature. They both watched the trees go by as she drove onward. “So… It’s fine that I have the hots for a sixty-three year-old man?”

Jessica snorted. “Sweetie, if you don’t judge me for being a sexually active queer girl, I will not judge you for having a crush on a nice older gentleman who, according to you, is trying really hard to be a good guy.”

She smiled, cheeks flushed with a tint of pink. And it wasn’t the sunshine on her skin. Kiara adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Thanks, sweetheart…” she mumbled, quiet and thinking things over. They drove in the silence for a little while, looking at the road ahead and the slowly-appearing rooftop of their favourite tourist trap. Finally, she came to a lightbulb moment. “Hey, I just realised! You haven't got any action this whole trip!”

“I know, right?!” “How are you handling being single and constantly horny in a town full of nice family folk?” Jessica’s face lit up in a big, movie-star grin. “It’s killing me inside like you wouldn’t believe!”

She was about to rant about her last sexual encounter being a disappointing boy at a nightclub a year and a half ago, but a cop car was speeding right past them and heading towards the Mystery Shack. Blubs and Durland were on the case. The case of something. The two girls exchanged a look of concern, silently prayed the Stan wasn’t in trouble with the law again, and hit the gas a little harder. Something was wrong.

The ‘wrong’ was more mumbo-jumbo weirdness in Mabel and Dipper’s lives. They had left that morning with the twins fighting over having to share a room (which disheartened KP, but honestly it was bound to happen at some point) and now seemed to escalate to secret rooms (which excited Jess, but honestly it was bound to happen at some point.) Somehow the kids had gotten mixed up with a turquoise-coloured, incredibly fuzzy throw-rug with bizarre scientific abilities. The experiment gone wrong had just been lying dormant in the dusty ruins hidden in the Shack, and now was leading to absolute chaos. The house had about five people too many and a screaming, terrified pig. Candy, Grenda, the two-person squad, and—

McGucket. Jess cringed. Not that weirdo. This madness was coming to a gentle end, bit by bit, and whatever was a mess seemed to be sorting itself out. The carpet of mind-switching atomic power was putting everybody back into their own bodies. The girls had caught the tail of it, with Dipper and Mabel trying to organise everybody back into their own bodies. Apparently these lunatics had been jumping and out of each other all day via electric shocks. Sorting one at a time was a lot harder than it sounds, especially when Deputy Derland was crying and shaking in the body of a small Vietnamese girl.

“Pffftt,” muttered Candy’s sweet voice inside of pig’s body. “It’s not that bad.”

But eventually, it was done. Required a lot of organisation and KP demanding everybody split into two groups, those comfy in their own skin and those trapped in somebody else’s, and trying to convince Jess not to be an asshole and shock her ‘for fun’. Everybody became adjusted, the carpet was avoided as much as possible, and even Soos managed to stay out of Waddles. More or less.

The boy looked himself over, trying to get the taste of wooden door-chips out of his mouth. “Oh, no, I changed back!” he assured the Pines twins. He gave a glance down at his belly and the dirt on his hands. “At least I think I did.”

“I’ll still eat ya…!” muttered a starved, shivering hillbilly behind him.

The knife and fork in McGucket’s hands were terrifying. As was the threat of cannibalism. Jessica squirmed. ‘Old Man’ McGucket always made her squeemish. Like some awful mess between a tragic story of homelessness and a genuinely off-putting, unappealing ease in his awkward, clumsy behaviour. That, and he built giant robots to take out his enemies. Shady. Dipper and Mabel pushed him out as far as they could, trying to get rid of him as respectfully as possible, but it was the blonde who ended up taking him by the shoulders with gingerly fingers and leading him through the house. Of course. Just her luck.

The blue plaid wallpaper and old, rickety floors were becoming far too familiar at this point. Honestly, they spent more time in the Mystery Shack that at the hostel. She took a glance down at the old man. Long, dirty white beard. Big pickle nose, blushed and pimpled. Poor guy smelt like rotten beans. With the rest of the confused victims of ‘carpet diem’ following behind them, she tried to make polite conversation. “Don’t you have, like, a son you could bother or something?”

She caught a glimpse of that young man at the lake, anyway, but he seemed to be embarrassed of the inventor. “Maybe!” he laughed back. “Don’t rightly know, these days!!” What a kook. Jessica found herself a little lost, slowing down bit by bit as she tried to find her way in the labyrinth of rooms. Sometimes the house was more of a maze than a home. But McGucket pointed at a particular hallway. “Door’s that way, little lady!”

Jess frowned. A particularly correct hallway. “I know, I know…”

McGucket wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Has that pig always lived here?!”

“Mabel got him at a fun-fair, not that it’s any of your business.”

“You can win pigs at the fun-fair?!”

“Yeah, I…” Jess glanced at the living-room as they walked by. McGucket seemed to have his eyes set on the square-jawed, overweight uncle sitting in front of the TV. She snickered. “Were you talking about Grunkle Stan?”

“That’s a nice name for a pig!!”

Okay, she had to laugh at that. The hard push against his slack shoulders eased up just a bit. She was expecting her boss to yell at the two of them for poking fun, but he seemed pretty focused on cleaning a pair of glasses. Or maybe the episode of Baby Fights was particularly interesting. Whatever. She opened up the front door and shooed everybody out, a gentle hand waving away the two girls and the charming officers. Blubs began to give Grenda a proper talking to about ‘excessive giggling’. The sky was peach with the setting sun. Pink seemed to be the colour of Jessica’s summer nights these days. It was a nice view.

She looked down to her left. McGucket was watching the sky, too. Even through his cross-eyed pupils and hundred-yard stare. She would have thought it was sweet if not for the overwhelming stench of raccoons, rusty tin, and unwashed clothing.

Oh, to hell with it. The guy hadn’t eaten and was clearly homeless. Apparently McGucket slept in the Gravity Falls junkyard - he couldn’t help that he was as unstable as a rowboat in a storm, and was probably too crazy to remember this, anyway. Jess pulled a crisp fifty-dollar note from the inside of her bare palm, and held it out to the old man. He blinked at it.

She winced. “Please just take it.”

“What for?” he asked. His voice was still as twangy as banjo string.

She grimaced. “You haven’t eaten in a week and you smell like crap and I don’t want you in this house again, okay? Just take the money.”

It all came out a lot quicker and awkward than she’d anticipated. But the old guy didn’t seem to mind. Then again McGucket also had a bandaid on his beard and a cast for a wrist injury that had probably healed five years ago. He played with the note in his hands, stretching and twisting it about. He stood there, a little stunned, and Jess closed the door on him. Weirdo. The four kids were talking outside, trying to avoid the questions of the officers, and the house was finally quiet. Thank God. All that pig-screaming and running around in literal circles was getting to her. So much for a calm day getting groceries.

Jessica risked having a float, lifting up her feet and pocketing her hands in her overalls. Down the quiet hallways of old wood, save for the sound of crying children muffled in the lounge-room down the hallway. The static sound of the channels being flicked through one by one gave the house some white noise to it. It was nice. Cozy. Along with the gentle sounds of soft voices, understanding and anxious tones, that she only recognised as that of her best friend. She ducked in her head to find Kiara and Stanford there, changing channels. The eye-wear in his hand was practically squeaky clean, but the guy wouldn’t stop polishing it. KP had the remote and seemed to be finding something on the telly.

They were shaped kind of different from the ones he usually wore. She nodded towards them, and got to her feet pronto before their boss could recognise them. “Cool glasses.” He pocketed them in the striped boxer shorts, and grumbled something incoherent. She tried more conversation. “… They new?”

“Old,” answered the man gruffly. He reclined back in his vomit-coloured chair. This house had furniture from so many decades it was getting ridiculous. But nothing beat the old chair and the stone walls of the living room. He ignored her for a moment, and looked up at the better babysitter. “You gonna join in on this rerun or leave the mystery to me?”

KP laughed a little too loudly. “U-Uh… yeah! Sure!” And while there was room on the massive arms of the chair, she picked the soft and worn-out lounge to lie back on. A safe distance from Stanford and hopefully enough for him to forget the blush that was spreading to her face. Jess smiled internally. Girl had it bad.

Stan noticed the staring. He glanced at Jess up and down, and hiked a thumb towards the stairwell. He wasn’t going to have her standing around being a millennial nightmare when she could’ve been put to some good work. Especially when the ‘suck up’ contest was at an end and he could no longer abuse the fine line between ‘child labour’ and ‘time with the kids’. “Goldilocks, go clean up the new room for Dipper tonight, will ya?”

Her face caved. “Why me?”

“Because the kids have worked all day, Soos is being weird, and KP and I are watching TV. Get to it.”

The past week, she’d spent plenty of time being nice and doing favours for other people. Buying a video camera for the kids, making a spectacular carnival for herself and Bill to play in, and creating money from thin air to feed a weird old guy who married something that he found in a dumpster. Maybe the good-deeds energy from it was still in effect, or maybe the fact that KP and Stanford could have some time alone together was reason enough to do it. Jessica pretended to whine and get under Stan’s skin. Arms folded, leaning over to try and see the blurred screen, big pomp and fuss with her chest stuck out defensively. Play up and act like the clown. But when she left, Jess gave the slightest wink to KP. Those two could have some fun, even if was at an arm’s distance apart.

Kiara glanced nervously between the television screen and Stanford Pines. It was an ad-break, and she was trying to find something to talk about other than the massive, quiet, ink-blot of tension and romantic interest. “So…” she tried. “Th-the room’s going to Dipper then?”

Stan gave a shrug. “Yeah, let the nerd have it! It suits him.” He cleared his throat a little, reclining back on the couch and putting his hands behind his head. “I was gonna give it to you two girls, but I figured life at the hostel seemed pretty fun. Didn’t wanna, uh… cramp your style or anything.”

KP scoffed. “Yeah, it’s fun if you enjoy unwashed dishes, termites, and listening to people have loud sex at three in the morning…!”

“Ha!” The old man chuckled and turned to the young woman at his side. The re-run of Ducktective seemed to be less important. “Yeah you’re right. A pretty thing like you must be smothered with attention from all the guys there.”

Kiara could have swallowed her tongue as the red blush claimed her face.

The room was found by Soos that very morning. He’d decided, on his own love for the place and because Mr Mystery told him to, to clean up the boxes in the storage area. The towers of cardboard were greying, some soggy, all of them covered in specks of dust and mildew. They were sealed clumsily by Stanford with duct-tape and remained unopened. The guy had done as best as he could to organise them, but being unable to see what was inside it was more about vacuuming and dusting the piles already there. But he’d moved around enough to reveal a door, traditionally carved from redwood and resembling faintly of a Swedish get-away. Painted with green, yellow and blue floral accents amongst the deep rouge tones. This whole house was designed with bits and bobs from different styles, but this room was by far the strangest. When they’d asked Stan what the hell he’d locked it away for, apparently it was just easier to shut off the previous owner’s junk entirely than try to sort through and figure out what to sell. Lazybones.

It was caked in dust, save for where the kids had been running around. The first thing Jess did was roll up that chaotic piece of carpeting, not even touching the weird old thing but rather curling it up with her mind. The heavy piece of blue and gold shag helped prop the door open and let the room breathe a little more. The tag of Experiment 78 stuck out in a faded silver label. The square underneath was that perfect shape of dust-free space, and the greyed wooden floor was nearly white from being beneath the rug all these years. It had a stronger scotch and masculine smell, like Stan’s office, but it was fainter with the sands of time and smelt less of sweaty laundry. The guy really hadn’t touched it for a while.

Flying made things easier. As did summoning a dusting brush and a vacuum cleaner when she needed one. That way she could get rid of all the creepy cobwebs up in the hard-to-reach corners. Way easier to do now than when Jess was just a five-foot rocket without any fuel. She took in the room’s ambience while she was up there - this 70’s-designed hide-away of red asymmetrical furniture, low knee-high cabinets, and a small, stained-glass window with pink and orange squares. It filled the room with roses, the blue throw-pillows and yellow lamps being little spots of contrast to the colour. It was sweet. Very nicely designed. The rest of the Shack seemed to be mismatched with a memory of the original log-cabin, retro vibe. Stanford had renovated the place time and time again to make his home into a Mystery Shack. The Mystery Shack. But this place? It was untouched.

She pulled down the blue sheet that was hung open over a fold-away mirror. Somebody didn’t want to be seen, but it sure as hell wasn’t Jess. With a little turn and pose, twirling the duster between her fingers and checking out her own curves, she spotted little glass pyramids lined up on a shelf behind her. After a brief clean-up came a chance to play, and she lifted them up in the pink light of the room, reflecting rainbows across the walls and mirrors. A laugh escaped into the quiet. This room seemed to have plenty of knick-knacks - the calendar on the wall was stuck on a picture of a very fierce-looking owl (marked with the fourth of July, 1982), a trophy for a valedictorian, and a framed portrait of a short-haired, bushy-browed young lady who looked a lot like Mary Shelly.

Jess squinted. “… Fuck, I think that is Mary Shelly.”

Books, lamps, and retro clock on top of a blocked-up fireplace. She broke her foot roughly through the boards and vacuumed old ash. A lot of notes had been burned there. And there were stacks and stacks of papers all around. The shelves were full of old-school scoff novels and first editions. Some were guilty pleasure pulp types, and others hardback copies of famous theories and nonfiction collections. This room was… kind of awesome. Jessica was more of a 1960’s, psychedelic, free-love and flower-crowns soul to her trashy 90’s aesthetic, but she really did like the touch of modern 70’s here and there. No wonder Dipper and Mabel fought for it. If she had her say, she’d have been knocking them out for the key, too.

She adjusted the round, yellow lampshade until her feminine standards of ‘tidy’ were met. It was a shame this place was about to smell like unwashed jocks, and not the charming shelf of whiskies and scotch. It was a real shame of Stan to keep this place hidden for so long. But it was understandable. After all, this place was nothing like him. Nothing like Stanford Pines at all.

#gravity falls #gravity falls oc #gravity falls ocs #stanley pines #stanford pines #dipper pines #bill cipher #jessica jean #theory of the falls #totf chapters #AND ONCE AGAIN I WROTE A CHAPTER THAT'S LIKE 10K AND I'M REALLY SORRY #thank you again for reading and enjoying!!!!

4 notes · View notes

muffindragon227 · 7 years

Text

I’ll Keep Your Secrets Safe - Ch. 17

AN: All I can say is I have some of the best readers ever. Seriously so many of you reached out and just sent me some love and I can't thank you enough. So as a way of saying thanks, I'm currently just finishing up chapter 19 and the next chapter the Christmas party kicks off, so I wanted to ask you all if there's any character cameos you'd like to see, or maybe something funny/fluffy you'd like to see happen. I can't promise all of them will make their way into the next chapter but I've got New Years Eve to write as well so let me know. Characters, Christmas tropes, small ships. I'll see what I can cook up. ;) This chapter is dedicated to Nap Team Captain on ff.net.

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

"Silver, what are you doing?" Ur hissed.

The sounds of shuffling feet followed, and Juvia frowned and nuzzled deeper into the warmth beneath her, pulling the blanket up to block out some of the light. She was exhausted and not nearly ready to wake up.

She recognized the distinct click of a phone camera coming from the direction Ur's voice had. Somewhere to the left.

"Don't take pictures of them." Ur continued to reprimand him in a harsh whisper.

"But They look so cute, when am I ever gonna get a chance to catch Gray like this again?" Silver cooed, his own voice kept low as well.

Juvia wanted to turn around, to move away from the noise, but she was tightly sandwiched in her place. One eye flickered open and she took in Silver and Ur standing in the doorway whispering to one another, and then she looked down and became aware of the bare chest her head was resting on. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she pieced together exactly where she was.

She slammed her eyes shut again and tried to even her breathing in an effort not to bring attention back to herself.

"Well you got your picture, now we should wake them up before Lyon gets up and sees this." Ur said.

"Oh come on, let them sleep," Silver replied.

"Are you crazy?"

Juvia's heart hammered at Ur's words. Ur was right, Lyon would flip out. How late was it?

How much time did she have?

"Ur it's barely seven, Lyon's gonna be asleep for at least another few hours, and Juvia's got to be exhausted. She probably didn't sleep well last night and that's why she ended up back down here." Silver rationalized.

Juvia let out a long breath, feeling herself relax.

"Down here, on a couch, with Gray. They could have slept on separate couches. Why are they cuddled up together like that?" Ur demanded, her voice raising a little.

Gray stirred slightly beneath Juvia, and his arms tightened about her waist. He didn't move though, and his heartbeat and breathing were still deep and steady. Juvia envied him a bit for his ability to sleep through this.

"I think you're overreacting a bit," silver said. "They're both clothed and Netflix is still running on the TV. They just fell asleep watching movies. Nothing sinister is going on"

Ur sighed. "I guess, it just feels weird that she's here with Gray and not Lyon."

"Yeah, well, Lyon isn't exactly easy to wake up, and I highly doubt she came looking for gray, he was probably just here when she came down."

There was a pause in their conversation and some shuffling but Juvia kept her eyes closed, not wanting them to know she'd been listening.

"Look, we'll let them sleep till nine. I'm pretty sure Juvia will be up by then and if they're not then we'll wake them."

"Okay, I suppose you're right this time." Ur conceded

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Don't push your luck," Ur chuckled.

"C'mon. I'll make you coffee." Silver said

Their feet padded away, growing distant along with their voices.

Juvia forced her eye open and confirmed they were no longer present. She tried to will herself to sit up, or even open her other eye, but she was warm and comfortable. The pillow she'd been using had disappeared, and her neck was a little crooked but the steady sound of Gray's heartbeat acted as a lullaby.

Her eyes dropped and she struggled to reopen them. She ought to get up. She knew it would be in her best interest, but she didn't want to move, and the knowledge that silver would wake should she sleep too late made it all the more enticing.

Just one more hour, she hadn't slept well for most of the week and it was catching up with her. Another hour, just to help keep her lucid.

She shifted and snuggled deeper, moving her head to a slight more comfortable place.

Gray hummed and his arms tightened again as she shifted, holding her close. His heartbeat thumped in her ear, her eyes closed and she felt her body relaxing again as she drifted of.

She'd get up soon. Just one more hour.

Juvia found herself drifting in and out of consciousness. She was aware the room was bright with light filtering in through the window, and of the muffled sounds coming from the kitchen. Mostly she was aware of Gray. Of the sounds of his breath and heartbeat, of the warmth of his skin pressed against her, of the faded woodsy smell of, what she assumed was, his cologne.

It was these things that keep her from truly waking. They lulled her back in every time she tried to will herself awake and off the couch.

Her eyes were closing and she was losing the battle for wakefulness yet again when she felt a staccato vibration right against her stomach.

Her eyes shot open and she lifted herself up and away from the buzzing as Gray stirred and squirmed, his hand sliding down between them to reach for his pocket.

He frowned as his hand brushed against her and blearily opened his eyes, blinking up at her.

She watched as his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed a brilliant red as he seemed to clue into their positions.

Her own cheeks felt warm, and she found herself running a hand through her tangled mess of hair, in an attempt to tame it into something remotely presentable. Why that hadn't occurred to her sleep addled brain before now was a mystery she was cursing.

Another round of vibrations pulse between them, and she looked down to where his hand was frozen in his pyjama pocket. "Aren't you gonna get that?"

"Right!" Gray jerked his hand out of his pants, fumbling the phone as he attempted to receive it before the call ended.

He finally managed to get a hold of it and swiped his finger over the lock screen, then brought his phone to his ear. "Yo," he greeted.

Juvia was surprised when she heard the the voice that responded.

"Fuck, were you still sleeping?" Gajeel asked.

Gray blinked and pulled the phone down just enough for them both to see Gajeel's name written across the top of the screen. Gray frowned before hesitantly returning the phone to his ear. "Uh, yeah…."

Gray paused and waited, but got no reply. "So, what's up?"

There was another long pause before Gajeel sighed. "I've been tryin' to get a hold of Juv's but she's not answering her phone, neither's Lyon. Just wanted to check in; make sure she was holdin' up. I was hoping you might actually be up and know where they're at."

Gray glanced at Juvia. "She's fine, actually. She's right here if you wanna talk to her."

Juvia felt her stomach drop.

"What?!" Gajeel screamed.

Gray jerked the phone away from his ear and winced in pain.

"Why the hell is she there with you?" Gajeel's voice boomed.

Juvia grabbed the phone before Gray could protest or think to respond with anything else incriminating. "Calm down, and stop screaming. You're freaking out over nothing."

"Nothing!" Gajeel crowed. "I try calling you and get no answer, and then I call Gray and find out you're just waking up with him. How the fuck is that nothing."

Juvia rolled her eyes.

Gray is staring at her, white as a sheet and wide eyed with panic, clearly having finally caught up and realized what what he'd said had implied.

"It's nothing, because whatever you've cooked up in your head isn't what happened. We just passed out together, on the living room couch I might add, so get your head out of the gutter."

"That doesn't mean shit with you. You honestly expect me to believe the living room couch is off limits to you? You, the girl Jose caught fooling around on the kitchen counter." Gajeel sneered.

Juvia's cheek flushed bright red, as Gray raised an eyebrow at her. Clearly he heard that. She smacked her palm over her face and attempted to breath through the embarrassment and fought for calm in order to dissuade Gajeel.

"Clearly not, but I'm telling you nothing happened. I woke up from a nightmare, I came downstairs, Gray was down here watching movies, we talked, had some hot chocolate and ice cream, then proceeded to watch the Aliens trilogy and passed out at some point. That's it, that's all," Juvia said through gritted teeth.

"You had a nightmare? What about?" Gajeel asked, quickly switching gears with this new information.

Juvia hesitated, glanced at Gray before swallowing down her anxiety. There was no point in backing down now, it was time to just lay it all on the line. "About my mom and dad, that night and then the accident. Only it switched to Carol when I tried crawling into the front seat. She was passed out from ODing and I couldn't wake her up."

Gray's hand found hers, and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance, and she squeezed his back.

There was a long pause on Gajeel's end before he let out a long sigh. She could almost picture him scrubbing his face with his hand. "Shit. That sucks. You okay?"

"Yeah, it sucked, but I'm doing alright. Like I said, Gray was up and he looked after me. Made sure I had lots of sugar and then willingly watched horror movies with me as a distraction so I'm good."

"Well good. I'm glad someone was there for ya. Gihihi, It was a good choice, going and seeking him out instead of just waking Lyon up." Gajeel teased.

Juvia rolled her eyes at the insinuation, and glared at the couch cushion in his absence. She could feel Gray's eyes on her, and see the smirk playing on his lips out of the corner of her eye. "It wasn't like that. I came downstairs and he was already there. Not much I could do about it."

Gray scoffed and leaned back against the armrest, crossing his arms over his chest and pouted.

Gajeel chuckled knowingly. "Uh huh, sure."

Juvia felt the heat returning to her cheeks and a quick glance at Gray let her know he'd noticed the change. She bit her lip and shifted positions, pulling her legs out from under her and letting them drape over his and onto the coffee table. "Whatever. So when are you getting here?"

The self satisfied smirk was back on Gray's lips and she shot him a quick glare to express her disapproval.

"Uh, yeah, about that. That's actually why I'm calling. Listen, Levy's grandma has invited us to lunch, and we've tried getting out of it, but-"

"Don't worry about it," Juvia interjected with confidence, despite feeling the initial pangs of disappointment. She took a deep breath and shoved them down, waiting as the line continued to remain silent.

Finally, Gajeel spoke up. "You know it ain't that easy."

Juvia sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I know it isn't, but I swear I'll be okay. It's not that bad, and everyone here knows at this point so I'm in good hands. No one's gonna push for anything today, and I'm sure once Lyon's up I'll be coddled for the rest of the day, so go to her grandma's thing. I get it, I'm not upset. A little disappointed, but I can get over it. Just means you're coming later right?"

"Yeah, we'll still be there. I'll grab the pizza on the way," Gajeel said

"So then we're good."

"Yeah, I guess we're good. Not that I have much of a choice."

"Nope, you really don't. Don't want to be the boy that made her skip her grandmother's on Christmas."

Gajeel scoffed. "Yeah wouldn't want that." There was another pause before he spoke up again. "Hey, put Gray back on the phone, will ya?"

"Sure…." Juvia slowly relinquished the phone, holding it out for Gray to take.

He grabbed it and she scooched closer, determined to listen in, in case Gajeel decided Gray still needed an earful about them sleeping next to each other.

"Sup?" Gray greeted, glancing at Juvia questioningly as she perched beside him.

"Listen Fullbuster, I need a favour," Gajeel started.

Gray raised an eyebrow and glanced at the phone warily. "Uh, okay…. Shoot."

"Look after Juvia for me today," Gajeel instructed.

Gray blinked and glanced back up at Juvia. He only hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, of course. You got it."

Juvia quirked an eyebrow at him, but Gray had already looked away and was sitting up on the couch. He stretched briefly before tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, and stood up, heading towards the desk in the far right corner. "So anything I should know?"

Juvia blinked, she was tempted to follow him, so that she could know exactly what Gajeel would list but froze as she watched Gray fish out a pad of paper and grab a pen. She frowned, feeling like he might be taking the whole thing a little overboard. But at the same time it was kinda sweet.

His brows were furrowed in concentration as he jotted down a few things and would nod along to whatever it was Gajeel was saying. Finally he grabbed the phone back in his hand and looked over the list once more. "I think I got it all. We'll see you when you guys get here. Yeah. Kay. Bye."

Gray hit the end call button and stuffed his phone back in his pocket before turning back to face her. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back for a moment before letting it go and having it fall back across his forehead.

Juvia waited for him to say something, but the silence stretched between them, as they continued to stare at each other. Finally she swallowed and let a small smile curl up onto her lips and uttered a simple "thanks"

After all, for all that she thought he might have gone overboard in making a list of need-to-know's in order to take care of her, it was nice to know that he cared about her, and that he wanted to look after her.

Gray shrugged, averting his gaze, but a small smirk tugged at his lips. "Well, as you kinda pointed out, I shouldn't just do someone a favour cause I know they'll return it. I should do it because it's the right thing to do, So I'm trying that out."

Juvia frowned, trying to remember exactly when she said something like that. It sounded a little bitter to her now, though she supposed it was true. It took a moment before it clicked. The argument in the food court finally coming back to her, and her rebuke of Gray's lack of action towards Lyon.

It surprised her that he remembered that, and more importantly that he took it to heart. She'd been really harsh towards him that day, and he could have easily taken something negative from her rebuke. Most people would have. Instead, he understood exactly what she was trying to say, and was now seeking to prove he'd gotten the message.

She smiled at him brightly.

Gray smiled back and reached out, offering her his hand. "Come on, let's go get you a tea and some breakfast."

Juvia placed her hand in his, blushing as she did, and let him pull her up off the couch and into the kitchen to join his family.

When Lyon woke to an empty bed there had been a moment of panic. He'd been hoping to wake up with Juvia, and bring her tea in bed, to have a moment to talk about how she was feeling and just plan their day. Of course, he hadn't communicated that to her so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that she'd gotten up and gone downstairs ahead of him. He didn't expect her to sit up there waiting for him to wake up, but he had hoped that maybe she would have woken him up.

He quickly put aside his own feelings and headed out into the bathroom to quickly fix his hair and wash his face before heading downstairs. He paused at Gray's door, frowning over the fact that it was ajar, meaning Gray was already up. That in itself was odd, because Gray usually stayed up until all hours of the morning and normally had to be dragged out of bed, but it was also the second morning in a row he was awake before Lyon.

A small part of him hoped that maybe Gray had gone out to another friends, but he had a feeling he knew what had caused Gray to get up early. His step-brother's attentiveness to Juvia bothered Lyon, and not just because he was worried about them hooking up if there was a mutual interest. Lyon was starting to realise that he felt a bit jealous of the way they were connecting.

Which was ridiculous, absurd, and completely irrational. There was no reason for him to be jealous, he was Juvia's best friend, he'd known her longer. No matter what, Gray wasn't going to just come in and take that away from him. And yet, that's what he felt. It's what drove him to lash out last night.

He took a deep breath, and soaked the washcloth with cold water, before wiping it over his face. The cold helped clear his mind and bring him back into focus. He needed to get a hold of himself, and shelve it; at least for the day.

Taking a deep breath he steeled himself, and headed downstairs. He froze in the doorway leading to the kitchen, as he realized his entire family was already congregated there.

Silver was cooking, and his mom was perched on a stool to the left of the stove, nursing a cup of coffee and supervising.

Gray was to his right, and much to Lyon's shock, was chopping vegetables according to Juvia's instructions. Or at least, he was trying to.

Juvia let out a huff of frustration and reached over to grab the knife only to have Gray swat her hand away.

"Stop it, Gajeel said you're not allowed to cook today. You're supposed to be relaxing," Gray said, before returning to slicing the red pepper in front of him.

"I am relaxing, you're just not doing it right-"

"I'm chopping vegetables, how can I do that wrong? They're cut into tiny pieces that's what's supposed to happen," Gray complained.

"They're not even," Juvia protested.

"So?"

"So they're supposed to be. It's not that hard, just let me show you." Again Juvia reached for the knife, only to have Gray hold it out of reach.

Lyon frowned at the scene.

Juvia was clinging to Gray attempting to reach the knife, and he was holding her around the waist to keep her from being able to reach any higher. There was a stupid smirk on his face as she struggled against him, and he couldn't help but feel like Juvia was just being playful, rather than actually frustrated.

It made something in the pit of his stomach churn and twist.

Ultear appeared beside him, having left her place by the coffee maker, and handed him a cup of coffee. "You look pissed."

Lyon grunted his assent.

Finally Silver grabbed the knife from Gray's hand. "That's enough of that, you're gonna hurt someone if you keep it up."

"He's right, Juvia just sit down, we'll live with uneven vegetables for a day, you can show him tomorrow," Ur said.

Gray grinned triumphantly as Juvia fell back onto her stool, and stuck his tongue out at her, causing Juvia to pout in response. He was about to go back to chopping when his eyes locked on Lyon and he froze.

Juvia followed his gaze and blushed when she saw Lyon. Her eyes darted between the two of them nervously.

"Ah, look who's finally gotten up and decided to grace us with his presence," Silver teased, flashing Lyon a brilliant grin.

"Good morning sweet heart. Did you sleep okay?" Ur ask.

Juvia seemed to recover herself, and was quick to hop off her stool and come greet him with a hug. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Hey, good morning."

Despite the storm of unpleasant emotions trying to surge up within him, Lyon couldn't help but smile and hug her back. He pulled her close and held her a little too tightly, for a little too long. "Morning," he murmured, pulling back a bit to smiled down at her. "You should have woken me up. I've missed precious doting time. Do you need a refill on your tea?"

"Um, sure," Juvia replied, letting him go.

He noticed the reluctance to do so, as well as the nervous look on her face, as her eyes shifted back to the kitchen island. His eyes followed her gaze, and found Gray and his parents looking equally uncomfortable. He turned back to her, and cocked his head to the side. "What's up? I feel like I'm missing something."

Juvia licked her lips and took a deep breath. Her hands wrung together in front of her. "Well, it's just-" she paused, and looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He could see the fear gathering in her eyes.

He turned back towards her and placed his hands over hers, stilling the fidgeting. He gave her a light squeeze of reassurance, and nodded for her to continue.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you. I know I should have, it's just, I ended up passing out on the couch last night, and so I was already down here, and-"

"Juvia it's fine, I was just teasing," Lyon said, attempted to halt her rambling. He offered her another smile to ease her worry.

Juvia bit her lip and shifted from foot to foot.

Lyon sighed and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. "Something else?"

She took another deep breath and held it. "I ended up passing out on the couch with Gray," she announced in a rush.

Lyon froze as the words sank in. He stared down at her, and that awful feeling returned ten fold. He dropped her hands and straightened. He could feel all eyes in the room on him, tense and waiting for his reaction. "Oh."

Juvia's eyes widened, and she stepped forward placing a hand over his. "Nothing happened. I swear, we were just watching horror films, and I was exhausted, and we must have just passed out. I swear. I only came down because I had a nightmare and couldn't get back to sleep."

Lyon's head whipped up to stare at her. "You had a nightmare?"

Juvia bit her lip and nodded.

"Why didn't you wake me up? Was it about your family?" Lyon demanded.

Ultear rolled her eyes and placed a hand on Juvia's shoulder. "Dude, breathe, give her a chance to answer."

Lyon took a breath and nodded.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up, I wasn't really thinking, and you're not exactly easy to wake. I just headed downstairs hoping to get a cup of tea. And I'll tell you about the dream later okay? You're just waking up and I'm trying not to think about it to be honest." Juvia said. Her hand fell from his and she wrapped her arms around herself.

Ultear rubbed circles into her back, and Juvia let out a shaky breath.

Lyon forced himself to relax, and let the tension out of his body. "Okay, that's fair." He paused then added a "sorry" for good measure.

Juvia shook her head. "Don't be, I get it."

He nodded and forced a smile to his lips. The gnawing feeling had subsided a little, though it still itched and tingled, reminding him he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of Juvia sleeping next to Gray, but he decided to put it aside. Today wasn't about him, it was about her. He shouldn’t make too big of a deal out of Gray comforting her, especially if he wasn't there to do it himself.

He took a breath. "So tea refill?"

Juvia smiled at him and nodded. "Please."

He smiled back, and this time it felt genuine. He grabbed her mug from the island and carried it towards the kettle and hit the button to get it to boil.

Ultear leaned against the counter beside him pouring herself another cup of coffee. She shot him a look, and Lyon frowned, unsure exactly what he'd done to piss her off, but she quickly looked away, and returned to watching the rest of their family as she sipped on her coffee.

Juvia sat back down next to Gray, but instead of returning her attention to him as well, she turned to smile at Lyon.

Tension lingered in the air for a moment, before Silver elbowed Gray. "Hop back to it, those vegetables aren't going to chop themselves. And be quick about it, you gotta keep up."

Gray rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips as the room filled with laughter, and a few jeers. Even Lyon joined in, taking the free shot while he could. Everyone settled back comfortably and Lyon soon joined Juvia by her side.

It wasn't an ideal start to his day, but he'd had worse. There was still plenty of time to dote on Juvia and he wasn't going to miss another minute of it worrying about Gray.

Lyon's fork clattered against his plate, and he leaned back rubbing his overly full stomach. "Mmm lunch was amazing Dad."

"Definitely one of your better meals, even if the peppers and onions weren't very uniform," Ultear teased, grinning in Gray's direction.

Gray glared back at her. "I'd like to see you do better."

"Now, now. Can you not start? It's been a relatively peaceful meal for once." Ur said.

Ultear shrugged, and Gray sighed, but nodded.

Juvia hummed in contentment and reached for Lyon's plate.

Lyon swatted the back of her hand before she could grab it, causing her to frown at him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked.

Juvia rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Clearing the plates?"

Lyon shook his head and gave her his best disapproving mom look. "You know you're not supposed to do that.”

"Seriously? I can manage clearing some plates and putting them in a dishwasher, I'm not that fragile," Juvia complained.

"Nope, Lyon's right," Gray interjected. "Gajeel said absolutely no chores, and that's a chore."

"But-"

"You heard him, Gajeel's orders." Lyon grinned at her, and chuckled when she glared back at him, before starting to collect the plates.

Before he could take them into the kitchen Gray had hopped up and was coming around the table. "I got it, you keep an eye on her."

Lyon quirked an eyebrow at him, but handed the plates over. It was more than a little obvious that Gray was trying to curry favour, Lyon just couldn't figure out if it was with Juvia or him. It made sense that Gray might be acting out of guilt, and part of him wanted to believe that maybe Gray meant it when he said he was trying to make amends; but another part of him caught the way Gray looked at Juvia, saw how attentive he was to her needs, and knew that there was something more going on there.

It's was weird though, being around both of them, it was easy to slip into friendly banter and forget about everything else. It was easy to work alongside Gray where Juvia was concerned instead of constantly butting heads.

Lyon reached out and threaded his fingers through Juvia's as he continued to contemplate the complexities of their little dynamic with Gray, while she chatted with Silver, Ur and Ultear.

Once Gray was seated back at the table Ur straightened, and cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"Alright, it's time to get down to business, the party is tomorrow and there's still way too much that needs to be done so I'm going to need you kids to help out. Silver and I are going out to pick up food and supplies. While we're gone I was hoping the rest of you could handle decorating the house and the tree."

Ultear groaned and laid her head down on her forearms, one hand gestured loosely between Gray and Lyon. "Ask your sons, that's usually their job."

Gray and Lyon both shrunk under Ur's scrutiny, but hesitated to commit themselves to helping, instead glancing warily towards Juvia.

Ur let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head. "She doesn't need both of you playing mother hen, I'm sure one will suffice."

Lyon had to admit, he was eager to decorate the tree and help with the decorating. It had always been his favourite part of the year, but another quick glance at Juvia and he knew he needed to sit this one out. "Sorry Mom, I promised Juvia I'd spend the day with her as payment for going out to Magnolia last night, so you're stuck with Gray."

Ur rolled her eyes at his comment, but he could see her fighting back a smile. "That's fine, Gray's actually done just fine the last two years. I'm sure it'll be beautiful, and I'll be happy so long as it gets done."

Gray puffed up at little at the praise, but his eyes lingered on Juvia.

Lyon wrapped his arm about her shoulder and pulled her close, locking eyes with Gray from across the table in the process.

Gray held his gaze for a moment, and Lyon thought he might argue about the arrangement, but the moment passed and he deflated, turning to Ur. "No worries, I've got it covered, at least it means we won't have to live in some tacky green and red hallmark card for the next couple of weeks.

Lyon scoffed, and shot a glare at Gray. "Uh huh, cause there's a lot of other options right?"

Gray just rolled his eyes and got up, heading through the kitchen, towards the mud room to fish out the decorations.

Lyon knew he ought to just stay seated and ignore him, but something was nagging him about Gray's comment and finally he cracked, and got up and followed.

He frowned as he entered the room and his eyes fell on the boxes of decorations. "What are those?"

Gray frowned at him, confusion mapped across his face. "The Christmas decorations. What are you doing in here? I thought you were going to spend the day with Juvia?"

Lyon felt a sliver of guilt, but pressed on, ignoring Gray's jab. "Since when?"

Gray's face screwed up in confusion, before a look of understanding took over. "Since you left."

"Why did we get new decorations? What happened to the old ones?" Lyon demanded, a surge of panic running through him.

"Relax, there in here too. And we didn't get new decorations, I did. Everyone forgot about decorating the year you left and when I realized that I decided if I was gonna be the one doing it I wanted to do it my way." Gray explained, while dragging the Christmas tree box from the closet.

Lyon glared down at the offending decor. "What, exactly, was wrong with the decorations we had?"

"They're tacky," Gray said with a shrug.

"Tacky," Lyon sputtered. "They're traditional! And a lot better than these I might add. I mean blue and white snowflakes? Really? That's so overdone." He continued, gesturing to the assortment of bulbs and lights at his feet.

"Yeah, cause green and red isn't?" Gray shot back.

"That's different, those are the colours of the holiday. They can't be overdone." Lyon stated, matter-of-factly.

"Whatever. I'm decorating, that means I can do what I want." Gray said, leaning down and grabbing one of the boxes and hefting it up. He started carrying it out to the den where they usually set up the tree.

Lyon followed, hot on his heels.

"Besides, everyone's liked it the last two years, I've gotten a shit ton of compliments." He called back to Lyon over his shoulder.

"So? I always got compliments too, they were probably just being nice to you."

Gray rose an eyebrow at Lyon. "I'm old enough that they're not going to be worried about hurting my feelings, you on the other hand, were a kid. Pretty sure if any one was getting the pity compliments it wasn't me."

"Well, I think you're wrong. My decorating is on point and I think we should put it to a vote."

"How do you plan to do that?" Gray asked.

"We'll each get a side of the tree, most votes get to decorate the house." Lyon proposed.

Gray's eyes narrowed and he seemed ready to agree, then he shot Lyon a smug look. "I would, but there's just one problem."

"And what would that be?"

"You promised your girlfriend a whole day of horror movies."

Lyon faltered, and the smile fell from his face. He'd almost forgotten all about that. He frowned and sighed. He hated the thought of letting Gray win by default, because he was sure he'd win, but Juvia did take priority.

"Hey, what are you two arguing about now?" Ultear asked, wandering into the den with Juvia in tow.

"Nothing," Lyon muttered.

Gray smirked. "I was just showing Lyon the new decorations and telling him about all the compliments I've been getting for them. He wanted to compete to see which style was preferred, but well, I reminded him he's got prior obligations, and promises to keep."

Juvia raised an eyebrow at him. "That's sweet of you, but I really don't mind if he wants to decorate. If I'm honest, you two have been smothering me for the last two hours and I could use a break."

Lyon perked up, and looked at Juvia, trying to see any signs of hesitation. "You know you don't just have to say that. I did promise to watch horror movies with you, and I fully intend to keep that promise."

Juvia nodded and smiled at him. "Oh, I know you will, but it doesn't have to be right this minute. It's better to watch movies in the dark anyways."

Lyon's face lit up and he wrapped Juvia up in a tight hug. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He planted a firm kiss on her cheek before sprinting off towards the mud room in order to pull out his decorations.

"Okay we're heading- Woah!" Ur cried as Lyon almost barrelled straight into her.

"Sorry Mom!" he called, hopping around her and returning to his mad dash.

Gray stalked into the room behind him, and grabbed another box from the floor as Lyon managed to drag a large box from the closet.

"What are you two doing?" Ur asked.

"Decorating," Lyon grunted, hefting the box up and following Gray back into the den.

Ur followed behind them, a worried look written across her face. "Both of you?"

"Yep, we're gonna divide the tree in half and decorate it in our own styles, and you're all going to vote to see who gets to decorate the rest of the house." Gray said, setting down the box with ease and moving to go grab another.

Ur held her hand up and fixed him with a stern look, halting him in his tracks.

Lyon let out a huff as he straightened after setting down his own box and turned his attention back to his mom.

"This is not happening. You two are not turning decorating our house into a competition." Ur insisted.

"But Mom-" Both of them cried in unison, then turned to each other with a scathing glare.

"No, no buts. I thought you were spending the afternoon watching movies with Juvia," Ur said to Lyon.

"Well-" Lyon started

"I don't mind." Juvia interjected. "To be honest this is kinda interesting."

Ultear cackled, and draped an arm around Juvia's shoulder. "That's the spirit! You get comfy on the couch, I'm gonna grab some wine and snacks."

"What?" Ur exclaimed, "No, no wine. This has not been agreed to."

"Oh, come on Mom, let them duke it out. You said you'd be happy no matter what, so long as it was done for you," Ultear said.

Ur shot Ultear a reproachful look.

"She's got a point, you did say that dear," Silver said with a wide grin plastered on his face as he walked into the den from the kitchen.

"Not you too. We don't need to different sets of decor throughout the house." Ur said.

"It won't be," Lyon said. "Just two sets on the tree and then the winner gets to decorate the house in their style."

Ur frowned, but sighed when she noticed everyone looking at her expectantly. "Fine, whatever. Just don't destroy anything."

A chorus of cheers echoed through the house.

Ur rolled her eyes, and headed for the door, not wanting to witness the catastrophe that was about to unfold. "We'll be back in a couple hours!"

"'Kay." Ultear said.

"Bye Mom!" Lyon exclaimed and waved.

"Drive safe," Gray called out.

Once she was out the door Lyon was back to retrieving boxes.

Silver smirked, and clapped Gray on the shoulder as he made his way to the door. "Make me proud kid."

"Will do," Gray called out, with a wave.

Ultear grinned at Juvia. "Get comfy girl, this is gonna get good. I haven't watched them compete at something in over six years!"

Juvia giggled at Ultear's enthusiasm and plopped down onto the couch. Both boys were rushing about, piling more and more boxes into the room. It was a bit weird, sitting there in the midst of the chaos, surrounded by Christmas everywhere she looked. There was a time when it would have been unbearable, but in that moment, it really wasn't so bad.

Juvia had to admit, she was more than amused at how seriously the boys had taken the challenge presented to them. Most people would have said they were going overboard, but Juvia admired tenacity, no matter what the reason for it, and both of them had it in spades.

Once they'd finished piling boxes into the den they'd actually worked together to assemble the tree. Ultear had been in charge of the music, but had quickly abandoned the effort as the two of them had argued repeatedly over what to listen to, and complained loudly when the other's choice was being played. In the end, Juvia had taken over, with the rule that the music being played had to be Christmas themed as that seemed to garner the least amount of bickering or complaints.

And so she'd spent the last half an hour going back and forth between Gray's traditional choices and Lyon's pop renditions. Currently it was Lyon's choice, and he'd decided to put on a show with it.

"What a bright time, it's the right time, to rock the night away," Lyon sang, He was right in front of Juvia as his hips swayed to the music. "Jingle bell time, is a swell time." He turned and smacked his ass. "To go riding in a one-horse sleigh."

"Ah! Lyon stop, get your butt out of my face!" Juvia shrieked, amidst a chorus of laughter, as she planted her foot against his ass and tried to shoved him forward.

Lyon caught himself before he moved far, and planted his hands on his knees and began twerking his way back toward her as he sang. "Giddy-up jingle horse pick up your feet. Jingle around the clock."

He swiveled his hips right above her lap and Ultear let out a whistle and Gray shout out cat calls.

"Mix and a mingle and a jingling beat. That's the jingle bell, that's the jingle bell, that’s the jingle bell rock!" As Lyon ended the song he dropped into Juvia's lap, arms spread wide in a typical tada fashion.

She would have been more annoyed, but the room erupted in laughter and applause and truthfully she found it more funny than anything. The wine Ultear kept feeding her was probably helping in that matter.

Plus the little stunt seemed to diffuse the remaining tension between him and Gray. The two of them laughed together, as Gray hauled Lyon off her and they returned to decorating the tree. It was a gaudy monstrosity at this point; half covered in red and green ornaments, with big red bows, and candy canes, while the other half was blue and silver ornaments, with white snow flakes, and icicles dangling. The only thing uniform about the tree was the white lights.

Juvia sighed and returned to queuing the playlist. She'd been good about keeping their preferences even, but after a bunch of searching she'd finally managed to find what she was looking for, and grinned. "Guys, I don't suppose you'd be okay if I played some of my music for a bit?"

"Uh…." Lyon tensed and turned to look at her, apprehension written across his face.

Juvia did her best to look innocent.

"Sure." Gray replied, with a shrug, still focused on hanging icicles from the tree.

"I don't know…." Lyon said, still eyeing Juvia suspiciously.

Gray frowned and glanced at Lyon. "I don't see what the big deal is, so long as she sticks to the rule, which is that it has to be Christmas music, then it can't be that bad."

Lyon bit his lip glancing between them.

"Geez, you hate her music taste or what?" Ultear asked.

Juvia giggled, "I have a bit of an eclectic taste in music. It's kinda all over the place."

"Well I say go for it, so that's two of us, and Lyon's supposed to be pampering you for the day, so he can't really complain too much, so I think you're in the clear," Ultear said.

Juvia grinned. "Awesome."

"Oh boy," Lyon muttered. "Don't say I didn't warn you two."

Ultear rolled her eyes, and Gray scoffed.

Juvia hit play, and the soft chime of jingle bells started forming the background to the song, and Lyon stared at her in confusion, before looking pleased at her choice. Finally a choir of singers softly began to sing.

We wish you a merry Christmas

We wish you a merry Christmas,

We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

The jingle bells dropped out, distorting into heavier background music, and Juvia let her grin turn devilish as Lyon's shoulders sagged in resignation.

This time the voices were louder and more rough.

We wish you a metal Christmas,

We wish you a metal Christmas and a happy New Year!

Drums erupted and a heavy electric guitar wailed.

YEAH!

Ultear stared at her in complete shock and Gray dropped an ornament as he practically jumped.

Juvia laughed as he spun around, giving her the most perplexed look. "You're into heavy metal?"

"Yep," Lyon replied for her, heaving a sigh.

"Seriously?" Ultear asked, raising her voice to be heard above the music. "You don't exactly seem like the type!"

Juvia responded by raising her hand in the air. Her fingers formed the sign of the horns and she banged her head along to the music. She caught Lyon rolling his eyes at her, but he sent her a small smirk anyways, and to her surprise, none of them complained.

#ft fanfiction #ftfanfics #ficsforvera #gruvia fanfiction #gruvia #lyvia brotp #Ikyss #muffinstories #Fairy tail

14 notes · View notes

kintailscape · 7 years

Text

Awesome Con 2017- Day 3

Sunday, Day 3: I got up a few minutes earlier and had no problem getting to the Convention Center by Metro. The headache I had was another story, but it wasn’t too bad. I got in line for Stan Lee by 9am and immediately made friends with the guy behind me in line who happened to be Ace as well. We had some wonderful discussions It made the hour and change just fly right by. As the lines started winding around toward the main stage, I ran across another friend of mine.

Even though I could have had a pretty good seat, I sat at the back so I could slip out a little early if needed in order to get in line for Garrett Wang’s Q&A. I even considered skipping Stan Lee, but I’m glad I didn’t. Stan Lee can never die, but he’s definitely getting older, and I didn’t want to miss a chance to see him in person. But Garrett Wang portrayed my favorite character on Star Trek: Voyager. Decisions, decisions! My new line friend advised me to skip out as soon as the Q&A started.

10:30 AM-11:15 AM Stan Lee Q&A Stan Lee arrived a little late (which meant more watching the Main Stage screen; OMG I need to see Baby Driver right now!) and went straight into Q&A right away. So I definitely didn’t leave immediately. It was great seeing the Father of Marvel in person on Father’s Day. He was exactly the way he is in all the specials and TV interviews I’ve seen him in. And his love for Marvel’s characters and stories was obvious and overwhelming. He talked about his cameo in Thor being his favorite because he got to do two scenes. He wasn’t sure the fans would love the Hulk or Spider-man as much as he did. He named characters alliteratively because his memory wasn’t so good and wanted to be sure to remember their names. In regards to where the X-Men movies will go he “want[s] it to teach people we’re all the same.” And in regards to his hearing aid problems “I hate not hearing myself when I talk, because I hate missing gems of wisdom.” Speaking of which, he said “We’ve all got to be good guys.”

I left a little before 11:15, hoping I’d only missed out on one or two questions at the most. I planned correctly and used the door right by the escalator leading down closest to the meeting room where the line for Garrett Wang’s Q&A was forming. I needn’t have hurried; the line was not that long and the room was not that full. I finished reading the Torchwood book I’d brought along while sitting in line. And I made the most of it and got an excellent seat.

11:30 AM-12:15 PM Garrett Wang Q&A Garrett was amazing. He was funny and personable and nice and entertaining all in one. He said that he knew if there were other Star Trek: Voyagers there, we’d be at their Q&As instead, but he was so wrong. Harry Kim was my favorite character on Voyager, hands down, and it was a pleasure to see Garrett in person. He told his the story about meeting Shatner for the first (and second) time. He did multiple impersonations of Star Trek characters. He told about his surprisingly popular “Still boldy going” typo shirts. I explained about the cast’s reactions upon arriving home. And he told the story of his running into the terrible “Code of Honor” episode of TNG over and over again. I embarrass myself when I talk to celebs, but for the past few days, I’d been working up the courage to ask Garrett a question during his Q&A. For YEARS I’ve been wondering something only a few people could answer–and he was one of them. In Galaxy Quest, there aliens design their spaceship from watching how the characters use the computer. So I really wanted to ask Garrett if he similarly planned out the whole station and what each button did during his years at the helm. This was it. I was going to be brave. I really wanted to know the answer and I didn’t get to ask Wil Wheton it yesterday. But before the Q&A portion even started, Garrett said, “Have you ever seen that movie, Galaxy Quest?” and proceeded to answer the question I was going to ask without me having to even ask it! AMAZING! And the answer was that if the aliens had made a spaceship based on his hand motions, they would have been screwed. LOL!

12:15 PM-1:00 PM Catherine Tate Q&A I headed straight up the escalator for Catherine Tate’s Q&A and only arrived a minute or so late, so I got right in and don’t think I missed much of anything. I arrived just as she realized she was at Awesome Con not Awesome.com “Oh don’t tell me that con stands for convention!” She looked great in her comfy Washington, DC hoodie, but she was still larger than life on the stage. Her favorite line from Doctor Who? “I’m not mating with you, sunshine!” David had to invent reasons to stop or slow in running so she could catch up. And her favorite part of leaving the show was getting to do an impression of David in the last episode playing Doctor-Donna. She also recited, upon request, the whole Shakespearean sonnet she did in the comic relief sketch with David Tennant as Lauren and it was AMAZING to hear her do it in person, with some humor injected as well. In regards to advice, she gave us one she liked from the great Imelda Staunton “It’s someone else’s time, and your time will come” and one of her own “What other people say about me is none of my business!” When asked about the timing of her live show, she said she’d had a hard time committing to do it because of having to book venues 18 months in advance “Don’t be ridiculous! In 18 months I’ll have an Oscar and have no time for comedy!” When asked when Donna would be up to now in the Whoverse, she said Donna had probably spent all her money and was back temping in Chiswick. And when asked about Donna with any of the other doctors, she chose Nine but said he and Donna would have gotten nothing done because there would have been too much arguing.

Stan Lee Museum I found myself with an hour of free time before the next Q&A I wanted to attend, so I headed down to the exhibit hall to see the Stan Lee Museum, which Stan had mentioned during his Q&A and that I hadn’t had time to see yet. The line for it was only about 20-30 minutes long, and it was SO worth the visit. There was everything from comic panels to movie props to figures to awards to one-of-a-kind creations to personalized drawings to actual, lit up, Iron Man suits. I took a million photos and spent a lot of time basking in the glow of shiny Iron Men.

2:00 PM-2:45PM Eliza Dushku Q&A I was enjoying the museum so much that I was a couple minutes late to Eliza’s panel, but I was pleasantly surprised to find Clare Kramer interviewing her! I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make it to her Q&A, so it was lovely to see them both together. They talked about Buffy and Bring it On, as they were in both. And there were lots of questions about other roles of Eliza’s. I loved hearing her talking about the trust she had in Joss’ writing/direction for Dollhouse. She’s a dog person, so she had to work to find her inner cat to voice Selina Kyle. She felt that Buffy ended well. She described David Boreanaz as a “kooky free spirit” when she worked on Angel. Clare’s favorite season of Buffy was Season 5 (and the 100th episode, of course) and Eliza’s was Season 3. They talked about being able to work through their real life emotions through characters. When asked for advice, Eliza didn’t have any at first, then came up with something lovely: “Love myself and love other people. Be kind to yourself and other people. We all have our struggles. I’m just trying to find myself and what will serve me so I can serve others.”

I headed back down to the exhibit hall after that for a last run at the tables. There were a couple on day 1 that I wanted to spend more time at. And, yeah, I bought more art. I also spent $75 at one booth buying myself a couple things but mostly buying Christmas presents for friends, so it’s not that bad! But I did go back to Pride alley and bought myself a lovely naked Nightcrawler piece and another Johnlock piece and a Destiel piece and even a rainbowy Yuri on Ice piece even though I don’t know the fandom yet (I figured I will soon enough and would regret not buying something so lovely).

4:00 PM-4:45 PM These Are a Few of My Favorite Tropes I arrived just in time for my last panel of the day and of the con. It was a great one to end with. With no need to censor themselves, the panelists went through all sorts of different tropes: genre tropes, relationship tropes, circumstance tropes, structural tropes, and fandom-specific tropes. There were plenty of examples and recs to go along with them all. I laughed at the reference to “My Immortal” (“I want to believe it was real!”) and the crack pairing of Yuri/Victor/Obama sounds epic. Was great hearing some of my favorite tropes mentioned and remembering some I’d forgotten about or never really realized were a thing apart from maybe one fic I read that involved it. We all praised tags on AO3 for letting us find tropes more easily. I read a lot of stories of certain types/with certain tropes regardless of fandom or pairing, so I could really relate to “A+B=C and I’ll read it every time!” I also liked “You’re not a true fan of something until you have a cross pairing.” But my favorite was the mention of Shoebox Project followed by “Wolfstar, man. Bless.” Awwwww! It was a wonderful, multi-fandom way to end the convention.

I’m not sure what was happening beneath us, but the building shook and rumbled a dozen times. I headed out as soon as the panel was over, glad to be able to get home before 10pm. For the third day in a row, I sat and read on this exact same bench while waiting to change trains. I finished reading the second book I’d brought along, “For Color Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When The Rainbow Is Enuf.” So I ended up writing a little bit on the last leg of my journey home.

Awesome Con 2017- Day 3 was originally published on The Fangirl Project

#thefangirlproject

1 note · View note

ktkski2017-blog · 7 years

Text

Getting comfortable

February 17, 2016

After our safari adventure we returned to work bright and early Monday morning. Chapel was a bit easier to swallow as the sermon didn’t involve sinners and homosexuality and other cultural/religious intolerance. We then proceeded to the morning rounds to hear about the admissions/discharges/deaths from the weekend and to create a plan for the week. Jason and Derek left for a conference in Thailand and Dr. Ikunda, Dr. Christine (Ob/GYN) went on vacation as well, so Emily, Provi, and Clark were the attending physicians on the wards along with two surgeons that were sharing call. So to divide and conquer: Provi and Jen both started on the pediatric’s ward, Clark joined Janet and Musa on men’s ward (and Jen joined them after Peds), Lena held it down with Eric on women’s ward (and Provi joined them later), and I followed Emily and Boase (spelling?) to the OB ward (and then would make cameo appearances on men’s ward in the afternoons). It sounds like over our safari weekend they were even more short-staffed as Provi was trying on wedding dresses in Nairobi and Clark was with us on safari (sorry Emily and Jason!)

OB was a nice change of pace from the medical wards, as is to be expected when you switch from sick patients to young healthy ones. Certainly there were still complicated cases and unfortunately infant deaths – however this OB unit was much better managed than in Blantyre, Malawi when I was a medical student. In the antenatal ward we had quite a few “rule out labor” patients who were then admitted not in labor and kept for 4-5days as we waited for urinalyses and QBCs (CBCs) to be completed and to convince everyone that they were actually not in labor (although some of them stayed long enough that they became term or then naturally ended up going in to labor). Some mothers were anxious because they had had previous bad outcomes (a nice way to say they lost their previous babies for various reasons related to complications during pregnancy or poor resources after delivery or some infectious disease when the children were no longer newborns). We had one patient at 32 weeks with uterine fibroids, one of which was the same size as her unborn child – they had been trying for 16 years to conceive and carry a child to term. The fibroids were pushing on her diaphragm and making it difficult for her to breathe – typically these patients go in to pre-term labor due to lack of room for the baby. Unfortunately the survival rate for infants that young is very poor, so we encouraged the mom to keep it up and try to keep baby as long as she can (with close follow-up in the outpatient clinic they have at the hospital). Other mothers presented not due to anxiety or any major complaint, but “their husbands told them they needed to have the child.” This is a very confusing cultural thing as we at the hospital are certainly not going to deliver a pre-term newborn by c-section in an otherwise normal pregnancy. This mother said that she couldn’t return home until her baby was born… which meant that she was going to be in the hospital for another month as she was 34-35week estimated gestational age and we wouldn’t deliver a normal baby by repeat c-section until 39weeks or she is in labor.

In the post-natal ward we saw a variety of moms post-delivery – from a cursory post-vaginal delivery once over/ “any questions”? To checking incision drainage and evaluating patients for retained placenta for the post-c-section mothers. The babies were managed solely by the nurses on this ward so we didn’t ask any newborn questions or provide any education. Similarly the nurses supposedly discussed post-delivery birth control with the patients. As I am nosy, I would often ask the mothers how their baby was doing after we had discussed the mother’s plan. This sometimes changed the flow of rounds but there were a lot of nursing students who seemed interested in checking out the babies and translating questions for the mom. Besides, Emily and the clinical officer were the main plan creators and I was mostly useful in the differential diagnosis and work-up planning for patient’s that were not doing as well. We did visit several moms who did not have babies with them. In Malawi, the post-natal ward had a routine rate of 50% of moms without their babies. Here the ratio was more like 15-20%. Unfortunately the moms without babies are often times mixed amongst the moms with crying babies, which I think would be difficult for me if our roles were reversed and I had just lost a child.

We also would round in the surgical ward on gynecology patient (or OB patients that had pre-viable-in-Kenya-standards fetuses up to 24weeks gestation). We had one patient who had had post-op infection of her cesarean scar and showed up with pus coming out of her uterine incision (which was low-transverse and then later converted to a vertical incision). Quick (graphic) anatomy lesson for non-medical people: with c-sections you typically cut the skin horizontally across the abdomen, just above the pelvis, unless it is an emergency – although there are a notable number of vertical incisions here in Kenya to make it seem like it is relatively routine. Then you separate the abdominal muscles (without a scalpel) which are naturally separate in a vertical manner (think washboard abs and the vertical space between then). Then you enter the abdominal cavity and separate the bladder from the very obviously large uterus, and finally you cut horizontally in to the uterus and deliver the baby’s head. For this patient – the wound was doing very well, with no more pus, and very little dead tissue (that typically needs to be debrided). However the surgeon (supposedly ’at a different hospital’) had made a transverse incision through her abdominal muscles (maybe they thought it was her uterus?) and put in non-reabsorbable (read: permanent) sutures. We had left those sutures in place because we were unsure what they were attached to. The actual uterus? The peritoneum? Fascia? Eventually we will need to remove them as they are likely the source of infection (any foreign object in the body has risk for holding on to infection even after the infection seems to be resolved) – however we wanted to ensure that she had good healing prior to removing them and exploring what is present underneath, should the suture removal lead to opening of the abdomen or uterus. I will interject here and inform those who might not know that often c-sectins are done NOT by experienced surgeons, but by medical interns and residents that have received a limited amount of instruction by the hospital’s attending surgeon and then are later left to perform surgeries un-attended. In Malawi the attending OB-GYN surgeon was sometimes not even the person who would instruct the new interns (it would be another intern or a resident). They would begin their OB rotation and within 2-3 surgeries be performing surgery without supervision, often late at night after working all day. Here at Chogoria the residents are trained by the attending OB/GYN and she continues to attend the surgeries until she feels comfortable that they know how to perform surgeries.

During my week on OB, both Emily (Family Medicine boarded with OB Fellowship) and Boase (Resident, post-internship) were both doing c-sections while I was rounding with them. I joined Emily on several c-sections and was able to explore how the theatre (operating room) is run. The theatre is separate from all other buildings and has an entry room, recovery room area, and then operating room. When we entered the side area, left our shoes at the front and walked to the back changing room in our socks. Then we changed to scrubs, white rubber galoshes, and scrub caps. When we entered the OR right next to the table where the sterile instruments were being opened and placed on a tray, we had not yet scrubbed. We put on heavy aprons that reminded me of a butchers apron – heavy plastic fronted and soft coated back – that were long enough to skim the tops of my white galoshes. We scrubbed at the sinks that didn’t have drainage pipes and just emptied in to the free air and splattered in to a kind of gutter that surrounded the room. The scrub soap was a bar of some kind of mystery soap. I proceeded to drop it on the floor and was told to just pick it up and start scrubbing again. Mmmmmk. Once I turned off the sink, creatively using my bicep to try to keep my elbows and lower sterile, I dried my hands on a provided sterile towel and then they helped me step in to a green canvas re-useable gown that had sleeves big enough to fit around my head. I was instructed to use my washed hand to hold the sleeves closed/folded up so that when they helped me put my gloves on they would tuck in to the gloves. In the US your hand is considered dirty until covered with a glove, despite just scrubbing your hands sterile – so this was a bit different. Sweating heavily in my scrubs, boots, heavy apron, and canvas gown in a non-air conditioned room in Keyna at 10:30am, my glasses continually slipping down my nose, I did understand the utility of our attire when I realized that once the baby is delivered (and the amniotic fluid goes everywhere) the apron prevents the moisture from reaching your scrubs beneath – and anything less than galoshes would mean certain trash for any shoes. All surgeries begin with a prayer and a timeout. The patients, trapped under all of the draping and shelf-like contraption around their chest (having received spinal anesthesia) are introduced to the surgeons and everyone else in the room. I have this image of the baby’s nurse waving from the corner and the patient smiling and waving back with her hand that is held lateral from her body on a 90degree side extension from the operating table like she is lying on a cross. The surgeries went smoothly (Emily as the surgeon and myself as first assist – I am not scalpel- happy) however it would have been nice to have electrocautery to zap the bleeders. Nonetheless the bleeding slowed down and we closed up. The babies are kept in a warmer with like 10blankets off to the side. After the initial evaluations, if the baby was doing well the nurse would leave the baby unattended and help out with cleaning up etc. The only way you knew baby was still alive at times was a small rise and fall of the blankets or occasional cry and hand movement. The babies did well and I saw them again at discharge in the post-natal ward.

On Tuesday, after rounds, I joined male medical ward because Jen had reported that there were a lot of very sick people that needed to be seen again to ensure that they were getting the nursing care or procedures that they needed to survive. We proceeded to spend over an hour trying to get an IV site on a very sick patient who had lost his previous IVs and whose blood pressure was in the 70’s systolic. This poor patient had been admitted overnight with encephalopathy and then proceeded to fall on to the ground. The nurses had helped him back in to bed but left his bleeding face to clot on its own and his right arm swollen with possible fracture – this guy also had a bleeding disorder from liver disease and we suspected a brain bleed. All hands were on deck looking for an IV site: Jen leading the charge along with Gat, a resident rotating on surgery, Musa, myself, and even Clark tried for several veins. Nursing was difficult to find once we were handed four 500cc normal saline bags, so we spent a lot of time looking for more materials ourselves. After numerous tries Jen managed to get one on his wrist at the base of his thumb, so we secured it with strapping (after many repositionings and replacement of strapping). Due to its precarious position, we were unsure that it was going to be reliable, so Musa had gone to look for an intraosseous line drill. He arrived just after placement of the one tenuous IV, so he proceeded to place his first IO line in the patient’s left tibia. The US tubing does not match up with the syringes or IV bag tubing here in Kenya, so Jen quickly swabbed her hunting knife and cut the tubing so we could fashion a connector between the IO and the IV fluids – it worked! After he had to workable IVs he was stable for CT scan of the head to rule out bleed. Unfortunately he needed oxygen and other obstacles delayed his scan (including the CT tech going home for the day). I was told that eventually Gat and a nursing student hand-carried the patient to the CT scanner to get his scan done. Luckily the patient did not have a bleed and today we rounded on him (three days later) and he is much improved. He is still encephalopathic but stable and the next step is lactulose to clear his ammonia levels. Today the nursing staff was very much present and before we had even seen the patient, they were hanging normal saline. Unclear whether that order was placed several days prior or not – but it was a notable improvement.

On Wednesday after rounds, Leonard had arranged a tour of the hills behind Chogoria. We had originally hoped for a tea plantation tour, however due to the dryness of the season, no one was currently harvesting and the tea farms were closed. We loaded up in to a very nice vehicle and braved the non-graded dirt roads leading up in to the small mountains/large hills. We stopped to look at some tea fields and waved “Hi” to a very confused looking farmer who typically doesn’t see Mzungus walking through his tea. We then wandered around to get some good aerial-ish shots of Chogoria. We eventually ended up on a very narrow road that obviously does not have cars on it very often as it was barely large enough to fit and eventually ended on a walking path with a small field to the left. Leonard and his driver got out with smiles on their faces and walked us through someone’s backyard. We waved “Hi” to the owners who also looked confused – I called “Habari!” and the woman grinned at me and said “Mzuri sana” (I am doing very fine) and we spied a waterfall nearby (the secret mission Leonard was aiming for evidently). So we walked (occasionally slid) down the gorge to the base and enjoyed some nice waterfall photo ops. Leonard and his friend were snapping photos too. We hiked our way back out of the gorge and I wondered to myself “am I crazy to summit Mt Kenya?”

On Thursday after rounds we were invited to lunch by Leonard and the hospital for a “going away brunch” even though we are going to be staying another week – however because Luke and I are leaving this weekend and Clark/Jen/Lena are headed to Zanzibar before we descend the mountain, today was one of the last days we were going to be all together. They served a buffet lunch at Lenana’s for us and a few hospital administrators said some very nice things about us being welcome to their home and a part of the family. Leonard last-minute suckered Musa and Eric in to saying something nice for us and it was very kind of them to oblige with thoughtful words and repeating the sentiment that we were welcome. We let them know they are welcome in Michigan or wherever we end up afterwards. Clark said a few words on our behalf, and then we were given T-shirts to remind us of our time in Kenya. We were paired with hospital staff and my partner insisted on attentively helping me put on my t-shirt and holding my hand afterwards, welcoming me to the group. It was really heartwarming and kind. The minister said a few words and the head nurse said a prayer. Selfies occurred afterwards with Musa aallllllmmost as talented as Ethan regarding composition and certainly less enthusiastic looking – but he still held down the role like a champion. Thursday evening Clark hosted Provi, Janet, and Musa for dinner. Musa taught us how to cook ___ (unfortunately I forgot the name!) a greens dish with onion, carrot, tomatoes, and a local Kenyan spice combination. Luke and I taught Musa how to make a yellow curry. He stated there were too many steps to remember afterwards but I will send him a recipe he can follow. Prior to making food he had said he didn’t know how to cook and that he better find a wife soon so that she can cook for their guests. He later showed up to our meal preparation with a mandolin that he was given by his mother and that he travels with (no one travels with a mandolin that doesn’t know how to cook). Provi made some traditional Ugali and Clark put together a fruit salad. We had a supremely filling meal on Clark’s porch topped off with some fruit juices. We chatted for a bit about life in different places – we learned that negotiation is not typical in the markets around Chogoria (phew – I’m not a good negotiator and for the most part was just paying what they ask for anyways. How can you say no to a 20cent mango or one dollar pineapple?). However negotiation elsewhere is necessary (start with 50% of their initial offer). We also talked about foods in different places and Provi showed us some wedding dress options that she found in Nairobi. Unfortunately Musa was on call and we had to break up the party, but it was so nice and we all wondered why we hadn’t done this sooner and more often.

0 notes