#If this were an art project it would have so much glitter on it
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GoopTales: Part 23, Date Night
*passes over this part, which is covered in FuzzyNight glitter.* :3
Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23(you are here)/34
AO3: Ch 1 (1-4), Ch 2 (4-8), Ch 3 (9-12), Ch 4 (13-16) Ch 5 (17-19), Ch 6 (20-23), Ch 7 (24-27), Ch 8 (28-31), Ch 9 (32-34)
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Killer walked up to Mr. Night as he finished giving medication to the three-legged cat. Killer giggled as the kitty hissed and spat at Mr. Night before walking over to Killer and purring. “you should be nicer,” Killer scolded while petting the kitty. “mr. night is only doing that because you need the medicine.” Tri, the kitty, did not like the scolding but accepted it from Killer with a questioning ‘murr.’
“Killer, should you not be with the others?” Nightmare asked as he put the bottle of medicine away.
“i told lyra that i needed to tell you something important. i told her about how one of the chickens laid two eggs and how cool that was and how you should know,” Killer explained.
“Well, now I know,” Mr. Night replied as he picked up Killer with a tendril. The tendril moved Killer closer to Mr. Night, and Killer stretched his arms out to the goopy skeleton. As gently as his dad would, the dark skeleton took Killer into his arms, and Killer snuggled against him.
“but that wasn’t what i really wanted to say to you,” Killer continued, “that was just the excuse i used to ask you something very, very important.”
“Oh, I see, very crafty of you,” Nightmare mused as he walked out of the cat feeding room.
“uh huh!” Killer puffed himself up, looking rather pleased with himself after that praise. “me and the others-”
“The others and I,” Nightmare gently corrected.
“the others and i decided we wanna thank ms. lyra for helping you and being so nice to us. none of us know what having a mommy is like, and i think, if i had a mom, she is what i’d want that mommy to be like,” Killer explained.
Mr. Night paused and looked at the floor in silence for a moment. He then looked up as if looking at someone on the ceiling while muttering, “Give me strength.” Then, after that, Mr. Night looked at Killer. “That… sounds very nice, you wanting to thank her for helping.”
“and being like a mommy!” Killer announced happily.
“Ah… yes, how could I forget that part,” Mr. Night mumbled.
“you’re silly, mr. night!” Killer giggled.
“Between the two of us, I do believe you are the silliest,” Mr. Night said while poking Killer’s cheekbone. That made Killer giggle and squirm in the arm Mr. Night was holding him in. “Now that has been clarified, what were you four thinking of doing?”
“oh! we wanna have a picnic, with flowers, and, and, and games! oh, and pie! and we want her to just relax and play with us and… and… give hugs, and we wanna make her cards,” Killer said the last parts quietly.
“Hmmm, except for the relaxing part, does she not do most of that already?” Nightmare asked.
“yeah, but she’s the one who does eeeeeeeeeverythiiiiiing for that. we wanna do it so she can have a day off, but we’re too small to do all of it and were wondering if you could help,” Killer said, finishing his reason for coming to Mr. Night.
“I suppose that will work. And what day were you four thinking of doing this?” Mr. Night asked.
“mother’s day!”
“Oh…”
---
Oh, indeed…
Nightmare worried that such a celebration on Mother’s Day would drudge up bad memories for the guardian. It would also encourage his feelings of having a new family. Just as he felt that pang of longing when Killer first announced Lyra was like a mother to him. But that is beside the point. The focus was on Lyra, and he was about to convince the boys to choose a different day. But he then considered it a chance for her to make new memories. Albeit… with four hooligans that Lyra would not want to be the mother of.
Although, if that were true, she was showing the opposite.
She was always eager to care for the boys and their pets. It was sweet watching them interact with each other. Every morning was so soul-warming as he watched them happily greet her for the day. Even Dust was starting to warm to her and was not always clinging to Nightmare. They all excitedly go to her after she returns from tending to her duties as a guardian, begging her to tell them how things were outside their home.
She truly was being motherly to them.
So, if she is filling the role, he might as well help the boys celebrate her on a day meant for beings like her.
He helped them, one-on-one, during moments when she was busy or away to make their cards and start preparation for Mother’s Day. For the most part, there was no evidence for her to suspect something was going on. But, on the rare occasion, the Guardian of Balance would notice something. “Killer, how did you get this glitter all over your hands?” “Cross? Where are you going with that stack of blankets?” “Horror, is that flour on your shirt?” “Dust? Oh, there you are… Please do not wander off without telling me.”
Nightmare should have known he could not have hidden everything from a momster. Still, he luckily was around to save the boys from interrogation each time. “Ah, we were considering an art project, but he quickly reminded me how that stuff gets all over everything. I guess I failed to wash all the glitter off.” “Ah! Thank you for getting those for me, Cross. These were used last for the nest during the boys' movie night and should be washed.” “I do believe that is my fault. He was nearby when I spilled that flour while looking in the cupboard.” “Ah, sorry, Lyra, I am equally to blame. He followed me to my office after I got my drink. I should have sent him back. But… well…”
That last one resulted in some light-hearted teasing from her at how soft he was with the boys. It was embarrassing, but he would admit it was true.
It took careful planning on the days leading up to Mother’s Day. The tendency for immortals to lose track of time helped him, as Lyra was not carefully watching a calendar like Nightmare was with the boys. Finally, the night before arrived. The boys assigned him one task: make sure she sleeps so she is rested for tomorrow and in place for a surprise breakfast in bed.
Nightmare let her get the boys ready for bed, which will be her last bit of work before relaxation begins. While she was away, he cleaned up the toys and mess in the entertainment room and set out some candles while turning off the lights.
While he was not an avid movie watcher, he did enjoy the few he has watched. Especially if he read the book first. Sure, the movies were often different, but as long as they held to the spirit of the book, he honestly didn’t mind that much. Nightmare might grumble a little when scenes he enjoyed in the book did not show up or were not portrayed accurately enough to his liking. But, in the end, he acknowledged it was a movie and had limits to how much and what it could show.
The mind will always be the greatest movie theater.
All that aside. Shortly after starting their… relationship, Lyra and Nightmare formed a sort of “book club.” It was mostly them taking turns reading aloud a book together. He discovered that one they particularly enjoyed for its wit and humor had been made into a movie. They had picked the book since it was set in a “fantasy” setting in the time period he preferred, and it was a romance. It is not precisely Nightmare’s favorite genre, but this was enjoyable with the action and parts of revenge, war, and trickery. With the boys in bed and it being the night before celebrating Mother’s Day, well… might as well have a date night. Once the movie is done, he will have Lyra go to bed.
“NightStar?” he heard her say, and he looked over at her.
She looked around the room and smiled while placing her hands on her hips. “I thought you said you had a lot of work to do,” she said.
“I did,” He chuckled as he lit the last candle. “It was a lot of work setting this room up for something other than child care.”
“I was going to help you with all that paperwork you claimed to have from the latest alliance,” she argued. “Will this momentary distraction mean we will have more work during the next few days?”
“I may have exaggerated how much I had to do in order to secretly plan tonight,” And tomorrow, but she didn’t need to know that part yet. Instead, he walked over to her and held out his hand. “M’lady, if you would join me?”
“How could I say no?” She asked while extending her hand and letting him take it.
Which he did. While taking her hand, he bowed to her slightly and lightly placed his teeth on the back of her hand, against the white fur, in a skeletal kiss. He then looked up at her with a grin as he saw the hint of pink appearing on her face where her fur was the thinnest, such as around her nose. However, he could feel the warmth on his own face, telling him he was blushing as well—not that he cared at the moment.
With that, he stood straight and guided her to the sofa. “Sit, and re-,” he started. The sound of flatulence filled the room as she sat, and both were startled by it. The silence that shock caused was broken when Nightmare sighed, and Lyra burst into hysterical laughter as she fished the whoopee cushion out from under herself. “I would ask you not to laugh since that would only encourage them, but they are not here to witness. I must have missed that one while cleaning up.”
“Indeed,” She wheezed as she tossed it onto the stand beside her. But she continued snickering, and Nightmare could not help but find that… endearing in a way.
“You truly found that so funny? Typical Toriel behavior. You may act mature, but deep down, you enjoy childish things,” He teased.
“Oh hush, you old fuddy-duddy,” Lyra taunted with a grin.
Nightmare mock gasped, placing his hand over where his soul was and acting offended, “Me, old?”
“Honestly, Nightmare. That is the part that offended you the most?” Lyra teased.
“Naturally! The notion that I am old when we are both immortals is insulting,” He said while turning his head to look away to feign indignation.
“Well, if you act the part,” She chuckled.
“Fine, then. If I am old, I will act as the grandparent and spoil the four with sweets and whatever they wish. Then, once they are a rowdy and unmanageable lot, I will pack them back over to you to tend,” he replied with a grin.
It was Lyra’s turn to mock gasp, though hers was in faux fear, “How devious! I take it back. You are still youthful! But a fuddy-duddy all the same.”
“I suppose that will do,” he said, rolling his eyelight. He then smiled at her, turning their focus back to the matter at hand. “Though, I think that banter will be a good segway for the movie we will be watching tonight.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head.
“Romance and humor… though this also has sword fighting, drama, and action,” he said while putting the movie in the DVD player. He won't claim to be great at using the player and TV, but he was proficient enough to complete the task.
They sat together, holding hands, as they watched the movie about Princess Buttercup and her true love, Wesley.
It was nice… especially when the movie ended and she gave him a kiss on the cheekbone. He then followed up with a kiss on her nose, which then turned into a true kiss… one that he hoped she enjoyed as much as he did.
This was still all so awkward and new to him. Yet, feeling her lips on his teeth, their magic meeting with the physical contact, and the love they shared for each other being accepted and reciprocated was almost intoxicating to him. The fact that she seemed happy enough to keep this kiss going told him that she was enjoying it enough not to stop anytime soon. However, the sad fact of life is that all good things must eventually come to an end. If the boys were going to wake her up with a surprise breakfast in bed, then she needed to be in bed and sleeping.
“Lyra,” He said, finally pulling away, “as much as I am enjoying this. One of us should sleep while we have a chance. I will tend to everything else tonight and in the morning. It is your turn to rest.”
“Is it? I thought it was your turn,” She said with a frown.
Nightmare shook his head, “No, I rested last. Remember, we both had a chance to sleep last week, and I was the last one to sleep. So, you need to go to bed, rest, and get ready for another busy day tomorrow.”
“Hmmm…,” She hummed as she coaxed one of his tendrils to curl around her hand and arm as she often does. “That may be true, but I am not sure I am tired yet. Or done being around you.”
“Ah, yes,” He felt flustered by that. He wasn’t truly done being around her and would love to wake up cuddled with her again. But, he reminded himself he had his standards to hold to. Rules of propriety that may be ignored by some, but keep him in a moral code that made him who he was and not like the other cruel Nightmares off in their own multiverses. It might not seem that important of a rule. Though breaking one purposefully, as that one time was an accident brought on by mutual exhaustion, will invite the idea of breaking others.
“Well, as true as that may be, you should take this chance while you have it,” He said as he turned his attention to the TV.
The menu screen for the movie was playing on repeat in the background; during the kissing, he blocked the noise out. Now that he could turn his mind to other things, he had to admit the repeated short song was starting to become annoying. When the screen turned black, it darkened the room further, though that never bothered him. Nightmare can see easily in the dar-
Nightmare clapped his hands over his mouth as he struggled to hold back the sound wanting to emit from his mouth. A sensation he had not fully felt in centuries nearly forced him to laugh. In shock, he looked at Lyra, who looked back at him with equal shock and slyness. The tendril that felt the tickling sensation was no longer being tickled but still squirmed in a failed attempt to flee her. But no luck; she was not about to let the limb go.
He watched as she turned her attention back to the tentacle. Her fingers started moving over the limb in an oddly delicate yet aggressive way. Lyra leaned closer as Nightmare again struggled to hold back laughter, “My, my, what is this? The King of Negativity is ticklish after all?”
He wanted to deny it, but he didn’t dare utter a sound for fear he would burst into laughter. A snort did escape, but he held strong. No, he would not give in to this.
“I warned you, did I not?” She said with a mischievous grin on her face.
And yes, she did warn him about testing her theory that he was ticklish, but that was about four months ago. It had slipped his mind completely.
“You are so quiet, not even a retort?” She teased. “But not a laugh, either.”
Behind him, the remaining tendrils curled tightly as if trying to hide from her tickling fingers. He needed to will them to act, to push her away. It was a struggle, as his main focus was on trying not to burst into laughter. Still, he started to get them to respond, but they could not reach her to push before she pounced.
Those deft fingers moved to each side of his body, aiming for the tender area under the arm. Nightmare made the most undignified of sounds as Lyra continued this childish assault on areas he long since thought were no longer ticklish. With that, he could no longer hold it back any longer. Laughter, unlike any laughter that has burst from him in centuries, poured forth. He struggled, mid-gasps for air, to beg her for mercy.
What shame he would feel… if this wasn’t her. Indeed, if he were to display such vulnerability and weakness, it might as well be to one who has been doing the same towards him. Spending every day together caused him to shed his wall of defensive pride when around her. Still, his tendrils finally obeyed and spared him as they worked together to push her away.
“And here I thought you said you were not ticklish,” Lyra taunted with a giggle as Nightmare leaned back against the sofa arm, catching his breath.
“To be fair,” Nightmare wheezed, “No one has dared to test that theory since I was a child.”
“I suppose that is true,” Lyra replied. “But now, you look more tired than I do. Perhaps you should be the one to sleep?”
He shot her a glare and then sat up. “Winded from that ridiculous display of frivolity you coaxed out of me, sure. Tired? No. It is your turn. Do not make me carry you off to bed like I do the boys.”
“Would you tuck me in?” She teased.
“You are an adult who has tucked in more beings than I ever have. I think you can manage,” He taunted in return.
“Not even a goodnight kiss, then?” Lyra said with a “sad” pout.
“You have already had a ‘goodnight kiss,’ multiple even,” He replied.
“Oh, have I?” She said while looking off at nothing as one does to recall a memory. “I am not sure I remember.”
Of course, she remembers. He sure hopes she did. Still, if she was going to play that game, he would give her a kiss she would not likely forget anytime soon. He leaned forward and drew her attention back to him as his hands moved to her face. Fingers moved through her soft fur and touched the skin beneath. Nightmare called on his magic, his love, and his emotions for her while he kissed her as if he were trying to smother her in affection. She gasped, shocked by this display from him, but then hummed contentedly back at him as she returned a kiss.
It now was a contest of wills to see who could pour out more love and affection for the other in this single display—one he was determined not to lose. Digging down deep, he pulled on his past emotions, converting them to magical energy that she could interpret but shared through a kiss.
How they once were enemies, and at that time, he truly did despise her and how she interfered with his plans. And yet, even then, there was admiration for her doggedness to stop him and protect those weak mortals he had, at that time, no respect for. How his anger for her only increased when she seemed to disappear. When it was then Dream who was upsetting the balance. Then, the shock of how she stood up for him… Aided him and the boys, which sparked something in him. It was not love at that time, and it was more than admiration. It was the growing seed of an alliance. As time went on, he took that feeling and formed a bud of friendship. That bud grew and blossomed as they worked together for peace, and as she showed the same kindness to his boys he showed them. He… liked seeing her show off her motherly side to them. When most hate his boys and find him revolting, she showed nothing but kindness and friendship. And oh, how that confused him.
Nightmare had tried to push her away for her own good. But just as before, when they were enemies, she was too stubborn to leave. She shared her love for him with him, and he relented to that confirmation that he was not alone in those feelings. And now, here they were. This time together, tending the boys, drawing them closer and closer, deeper and deeper into love. And he was devoted to her. If he were her “NightStar,” guiding her on the ocean of life as the stars guided the sailors, then he would do his best to keep her safe and direct her back here, to her home.
And with that, she surrendered, pulling away and gasping. Hints of blush were now visible through her fur over her whole face. He won, and he grinned while watching her catch her breath. Sitting back, he let a little smugness change his grin. His tendrils flipped contentedly from side to side as a display of playful superiority. “Now who is looking tired, hmm?”
“You say that with such confidence, but your face is covered in that lovely teal blush,” She teased back. “But I give… my sweet Night… we will need to discuss this kiss another time, as… I think you,” She looked at him for a moment, and he started to frown, tilting his head. “We will discuss this ‘goodnight kiss’ another time. For now, I will go to bed. Good night, my love.”
“Good night, Lyra.”
And with that, she stood and left.
Discuss the kiss? What was there to discuss about it? Granted, it was their history displayed to her in his view through magic shared in a kiss, but… that is all there is to it. They both lived through that. Did they really need to talk about it?
#FuzzyNight#GoopTales#dadmare#nightmare!sans#killer!sans#Lyra!Toriel#Balance!Toriel#Nightmare flavored Soriel#:3#If this were an art project it would have so much glitter on it#that glitter would just get on anyone and thing that touched it#I guess I needed more romance?#That or Nightmare and Lyra did#Enjoy~#And with this#A new AO3 chapter was added#Getting closer to the end#Didn't a promise some angst?#Gee... normally I have my angst and fluff ratio even#I hope I can keep the angst equal to this#:3c
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rafe cameron and you, wheezie’s babysitter… (part two here!)
a/n: this concept has me in a chokehold! asks are open for rafe <3
cw/tw: wheezie has been aged down to six because, well, PLOT (i don’t actually like this that much anymore but i’m posting anyway ✋).
:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ
imagine being wheezie’s babysitter, spending a lot of your weekends at tanneyhill. you would feel guilty about wheezie just watching tv when you were with her, so you would always try to mix it up, doing loads of different arts and craft projects with her (making sure to do anything involving paint or glue on some old canvas outside as to not make a mess in a house that wasn’t yours)
imagine being wheezie’s babysitter, and the first time you meet rafe cameron is when you are covered in hot pink paint and glitter. you had found wheezie a kids apron with the paints, but weren’t able to find anything to cover yourself, causing your top to become a mess. rafe had offered to lend you a jumper for you to put on while he put your top in the wash on a quick cycle. (yes = it smelt so good!)
imagine being wheezie’s babysitter, and deciding to make friendship bracelets with her one afternoon. you had some of the string from when you were younger at home, and thought wheezie would enjoy it — which she did. you spend ages (well, ‘ages’ in the perspective of a six year old) coming up with colour pairings and charm choices. there was one bracelet that wheezie was adamant that you made, because it needed to ‘be prefect’.
imagine being wheezie’s babysitter, and having rafe cameron get home as you were tidying up the mess that you and wheezie had caused as she’s upstairs asleep. after a slightly awkward ‘hello’, rafe was about to leave when you stopped him.
“wait, i have something for you.”
“you do?”
“well, wheezie does — we made friendship bracelets, and she was adamant we made one for you — here. you don’t have to wear it, i would totally get that—”
“that bracelet you’re wearing — that’s from wheez, right?”
“yeah, it’s one of the ones we made today…”
“i don’t see why i wouldn’t wear mine if you’re wearing yours. means we can match too. might need your help to put it on though — please.”
imagine being wheezie’s babysitter, and watching as rafe decided what wrist he wanted it on. you tied it, making sure to leave a gap of two fingers so it wouldn’t be too tight on him. you tried to ignore your fingers brushing his skin, this being the first contact you’ve had with each other — not knowing it would be far from the last.
a/n: (dolly this is where the “i want rafe cameron to make eras tour friendship bracelets with me” came from 🤭)
:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ
rafe taglist (lmk if you want to be added!); @izabellaemerson @spiderflunk @kitty-m30w @vincapandora @uraesthete @wickedtactics @harmoneeee24 @starkeybae @fairydvstss @alexiskirkland @devils-blackrose @makaylalovessmut @winterrrnight @clearbolts @slayystuff @neilove @littlemissborntolose @emyslittlebubble @fclklqre @ldrsource @stargrltara @isabelllauer @zizuras @sadgirlelenora @djosfuture @leaskisses444
#rafe cameron#drew starkey#outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron dialogue#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron imagine#obx#obx x reader#obx dialogue#obx prompt#obx imagine#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#obx fic#obx netflix#rafe imagine#rafe obx#outer banks imagine#rafe fanfiction#rafe angst#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe fic#rafe#rafe cameron blurb
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mythical beings! ateez as your boyfriend
pairing. ateez x reader
genre. mdni, crack! (except for yunho bc it's a forbidden love! trope and i take that seriously) fluff? a dash of angst if you squint. smut (for san bc he's an incubus! rawr)
warnings. MYTHICAL BEINGS INFO INACCURACIES (i'm sorry), grammatical errors SMUT! unprotected sex (don't do this), creampie, corruption kink if you squint, overstimulation, the term 'good girl' lmao, yea i think that's it (it's my first time writing smut don't hv high hopes)
word count. almost 4k whoops i got carried away
note. idk what possessed me when i wrote yunho's part so apologies if it's too long and very much plot-y<3 ++ my brain's still muddled from a week of midterms and im still new to writing so pls lower ur expectations before pressing the keep reading button thanks xx (my asks are always open! ++ feedback would be greatly appreciated)
masterlist
hongjoong — demon
honestly the coolest demon ever
he'd be so nonchalant about his demon activities that it would unsettle you sometimes
"hey babe, just got home?"
"yeah, had an emergency meeting with the devil about potentially crashing heaven's weekly parties, no biggie. how was your day? :-D"
likes to grumble about how hell is so overpopulated that it feels hotter than it actually is
he's just a demon with a tough exterior but that all comes crashing down when he comes back home to your arms
would do ANYTHING to make you happy
one time you were both cuddling on the sofa just absentmindedly enjoying hongjoong's playlist played throughout the house when you suddenly asked,
"joong, aren't demons supposed to have horns?"
he looked at you and thought for a second, "hm, i'm pretty sure only the devil has horns. i guess that's another myth debunked"
you returned his gaze with mock disapointment, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout. "that's a shame. i think it's really hot."
the next day he shows up with a red devil horn headband on his head
...
"joong, what is this--," you let out a laugh when he turns to face you with a serious look on his face
the blush on the apples of his cheeks redden when you continue to laugh with the brightest grin that crinkles your eyes
he doesn't mind that he's making a fool out of himself as long as he gets to see you like this
"they were 50% off in the costume shop!"
he feels a smile creep into his face when you laugh a little bit harder
seonghwa — vampire
you first met seonghwa at a random halloween party
he was surprise surprise !! dressed as a vampire, and you were dressed as kim possible (call me beep me if you wanna reach me)
he just suddenly went up to you and complimented your outfit
so you were like, "thanks!! :-D i like your fangs, they look so real!"
and he just went, "hey thanks! they are real :-D"
"what :-D"
anyways!!! you started dating not too long after that <3
he'd just be one of the most dramatic vampires out there
he's the type to dramatically hiss and cover his face when you draw open the curtains in the morning
"gAaAaaGHh the sun!!!!! i'm burning!!!!!!!!"
and you'd just stand there like ...... "seonghwa you have a morning class today"
(yes, vampire! seonghwa goes to uni)
"can you believe this place doesn't have any vampire-friendly mirrors?? it's 2022!!! D-:<"
:-|
lives and breathes the twilight saga
one time you were walking home together and you noticed his skin sparkling
and no it's not the sun shining on him or the natural glow you'd get from sweat or oily skin because his skin was particularly BLINDING
he was excitedly talking about how his favorite professor complimented him on his recent project when you interrupted him, "hwa, wait a minute--"
three of your fingers swipe at his nape and actual arts & craft glitter came off his skin
"hwa, did you actually try to edward cullen-ficate yourself???"
pink dusted his cheeks and he could only abashedly scoff while trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with you
"psssshhh, what?! noooo,,, aha... what kinda weirdo would do that ahaha, whaaat? that's so weird.."
and then he used his super speed to run back to your shared appartment leaving you to walk back home ALONE >:-(
but besides that, he's super sweet
would let you leave fingerprint stains on his glass cabinets that encase his virginity corner star wars lego collection
HE LOVES YOU THAT MUCH OKAY
yunho — angel
he doesn't have a visible halo over his head but everyone just knows that he's an angel
sweetest, purest dude out there
but yunho kinda feels... trapped
his angel wings became this constant admonition that he has to be selfless and to always do "good"
i'd just imagine everyone telling yunho to stay away from you (a fellow angel) because you're labelled as this reckless troublemaker
but he just can't help being interested in you
so he made effort to know you and keep you close and in turn, you taught him that he doesn't have to live in fear of stepping out of the line sometimes
that it's okay to put yourself first
you both would sneak away to earth and pose as humans to have fun and abandon your duties for a while
he finds himself cherishing each and every moment he spent with you; exploring things the other angels would frown upon, but it didn't matter
so it didn't surprise him when he realized that he's utterly in love with you
his angel wings fluttered sporadically when you softly mutter your love to him in reciprocation with the beautiful smile he's known to love
when you made love for the first time, it was filled with shy giggles and soft reassurances because you're each other's firsts
you neither yunho cared about the other angels avoiding you and talking shit about you two. you're both happy and in love!!
but of course, heaven has its rules
and fate hits you with the truth, that you both can't be together, when you're held back from running to your lover that has both fear and tears in his eyes as black ink slowly engulf his once pure angel wings
a fallen angel, that's what they call you both. angels banished from heaven with your memories wiped and your wings rendered useless as compensation for falling in love
"i'll find you," he said. his voice remained sure yet frail in the midst of your own sobs and the chaos surrounding you both, but you heard him loud and clear. his watering eyes take in your trembling state and it breaks his heart to see you cry and try to fight against the restraints keeping you away from him because he knows that guilt is eating you alive
he knows that you blame yourself for letting him in, for falling in love with him, and for bringing this inevitable consequence upon him
but he knows that he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat, even if it leads to this very same ending
yeosang — fae
a tsundere! fae omg i have the vision i see it
he acts cold and indifferent towards you but all you wanna do is grab his attention!!!!!
as humans and faes don't really get along, your group of friends are different and they kinda disagree with you both interacting
but you don't really care because you mayhaps have a crush on him :3
he's really good with magic
you'd ooh and ahh whenever he does something with his magic and his cheeks would go red while he brushes it off with, "it's nothing" (and you're like no!! it's cool!!! and he would blush harder)
he knows you have a crush on him because a) it's obvious, and b) you've confessed to him multiple times (his replies always start with a "sorry, but.." and you would always reply with "it's okay, i just want to tell you. i'm not asking you to return your feelings:-)"
but lately you're kind of tired with the unreciprocated feelings you have for yeosang because.. well, you just feel pathetic
so one day you made it your mission to stop having feelings for him!!!!!!
yeosang noticed because you would avoid him like the plague
he was walking down the hallway when he saw you and was about to greet you when he saw you run to hide behind a trash can that doesn't even cover your entire figure
he was just like .... ok see you later i guess?
and this continued on for weeks! to the point where he feels down because he doesn't have his favorite human around and maybe because he has a crush on you too
so he dragged his ass to the nearest supermarket for humans and ignored all the weirded stares he got from other shoppers and bought all of your favorite snacks and drinks that are listed at the top of his head
he placed them all nicely in this cute paper bag and left it at the desk you always sit in for one of your shared classes
the happy grin on your face when you peeked at its contents lifted his mood even though you wouldn't know it's from him because he purposely left the sender anonymous in the small note for you
but you immediately know that it's him because you've listed these specific snacks only to him, plus the sweet wording of the note just gave him away (you knew it that he's actually sweet inside, you knew it!!)
anyways,, the reason why yeosang is so hesitant to make a move on you is because relationships between humans and faes are disapproved of:-( he doesn't want you hurt just because you're seen with him
but one day he saw you being circled by a bunch of faes and there's this look on your face that screams 'help!'
he felt his legs move to push his way to get to you before he fully registered on what's going on
one of the faes reached out to shove off yeosang when he put himself in between you and them to protect you. "man, why the fuck are you defending a human?"
"she's my girlfriend."
so yeah all fucks flew out the window that day and you both decided to start dating:-D
he's still into the tsundere act but you like to tease him because this man gets flustered over the tiniest things lmao
you'd like bicker lazily over something and you'd go, "mhm, but you love me don't you?"
and his ears, cheeks, and neck would get so red as if he's got the worst case of asian flush lmao and he'd look around the whole room just to avoid your gaze
"shut up" *still blushing*
san — incubus
you accidentally summoned him when you were trying to sell your soul to the devil in exchange for a 4.0 gpa
he just suddenly appeared on top of your coffee table lying down on his side with his elbow propping up his head
and you just kinda went, "ok great, how do we do this thing? do i have to sign papers or smth???"
he just looks at you all confused like ??? we don't need any of those, we can just fuck
and you're like WHAT! >:-o and he's like ... what do you expect from summoning an incubus? :-|
"A WHAT???"
anyways, the misunderstanding was set straight and san sheepishly asked if he could stay over for just 1 night because he can't go back to hell just yet
(he can actually go back to hell just fine but he just can't bring himself to face incubi! ateez's teasings for being rejected for the first time ever)
and you thought hm why not
he somehow stayed over for more than just that one night and then you guys fell in love!!!
it all started after the first night when you cooked pancakes for breakfast
san groggily woke up from the couch when he smells the strangely appetizing scent of whatever you're making
"oh great, you're awake! good morning!" you greet, while the raven haired boy dazedly blinks at your sight bustling in the kitchen before letting out a raspy 'morning' in return
you hear his feet clad in the thick fuzzy socks you lent him pitter patter against the hardwood floors as he made his way towards you with a yawn, "what are you doing?"
"i'm making us breakfast :-)"
demons don't eat actual food but san would hate to see your smile falter even the tiniest bit at his rejection of this unfamiliar food that you call 'pancakes'
his plate of pancake is cutely decorated with fresh berries and a smiley face drawn with maple syrup on top of the first layer of pancake
(he can't help but smile when you impatiently gesture at him to take a bite while your own plate of pancakes sit in front of you, forgotten)
you show him how to use his cutleries properly and he finally eats a bite of the pancake
"is it good?" you ask nervously, wide eyes waiting to catch his reaction
his eyebrows furrow as he shut his eyes at the pleasant sweetness overcoming his taste buds, "oh my god, i could eat this every day. are you a professional chef or something?"
your eyes sparkle as you grow flustered over his compliment, replying with a timid 'no' and san thinks you just might be sweeter than the maple syrup coating his tongue
he's the sweetest bf ever; would exaggerate his reactions at anything you do because it would elicit a cute giggle that would bring a smile to his face
but yknow
don't forget that he's an incubus
"You're doing so good for me."
San likes it when you're laid out all bare underneath him, hair fanned out prettily on the bed, with your cheeks flushed and your eyes threatening to flutter shut.
"Baby," he taps lightly against your cheek, momentarily distracting you away from the heavenly feeling of him dragging against every inch of your walls as he continues to snap his hips to meet yours. "Hey, eyes on me."
A whine spills out of your lips as you try and fail to force your eyes open, back arching and eyes rolling back instead, earning a tsk from San as he continues to bury his cock deeper by forcing your aching thighs apart and against your chest.
His thumb caresses your swollen clit lightly, your eyes immediately widening as you gasp at the overstimulation from the previous orgasms he's taken just from eating you out. Your body trembles as you wail underneath him, reaching out to grip his arm that prevents your thighs from closing shut. San groans when he feels your pussy clench tightly around him.
"There you are," he lazily smirks, cupping your cheek and giving you a peck on the lips when he finds that your dazed gaze is on him. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this."
"So wet, so tight, so pretty for me," his measured thrusts turns harsh as he fucks up into your dripping cunt with your moans and bouncing tits egging him on.
"I'm- I'm gonna cum!" you cry out as San fondles your clit, reveling in the tight grip of your pussy and the dirty words that come out of your sweet mouth as you gush uncontrollably around his cock.
San groans loudly as his hips sloppily thrusts a few more times before he fills you up with his second load of the day, twitching and spurting his thick warm cum inside you as he holds you while he comes down from his high.
He slips his softening cock out of your battered pussy, cream immediately leaking from your centre and dripping down your ass and inner thighs as you whine at the loss.
"God," San moans as he drags two of his fingers over your weeping cunt, his other hand softly pressing against your lower belly. He slides his fingers over your dripping slit, gathering his cum leaking from your hole to your clit, rubbing and pinching.
With a cry, your thighs shake as tears well up in your eyes at the feeling of another orgasm that washes over you, swollen cunt clenching around nothing that has his cum oozing out of you. You whimper at the overstimulation, batting away his hand that continues to brush over your inner thigh.
San pulls you into a tender kiss as he gently caress your cheek and finally leans back to catch his breath. His eyes glaze over your fucked out state and he smiles at the fond look you give him.
"Such a good girl," he softly praises, carefully cleaning you up with the warm cloth he took from the bathroom. You hum in reply, shutting your eyes with a content smile at your lips. You can't see him, but he grins anyways.
"I'm a lucky man."
mingi — werewolf
i kid you not, this mf would deadass unashamedly howl in public at random
"it's who i am, yn."
are you embarrassed? yes.
will you ever let him know that you feel absolutely mortified whenever strangers stare at you after your boyfriend basically barked?
never.
he might be a big ! absolutely not bad ! werewolf but he's actually so soft >:-( especially for you
gives the best hugs
he's just so big and warm which is why you always look for him to cuddle
gives the funniest reactions like fr,, which is why you LOVE to tease him
"mingi," "mhm?" "...you know that i'm always here for you right? i.. i won't judge if you,,, idk, want to keep your ears and tail in your human form--" "yn, for the last time, I'M NOT A FURRY"
omg you showed him the werewolf ripping shirt meme and he went error 404 because he doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry ("YN IS THIS HOW HUMANS SEE WEREWOLVES???? SOB")
would embody jacob's iconic lines from twilight
"bella ¬‿¬ where the hell have you been loca? ¬‿¬"
"..."
but yeah he's such a playful boyfriend but also has his sensitive moments
and he's such a sappy romantic
would randomly bring home a bouquet of flowers for you
"what's this for? i'm pretty sure our anniversary was two months ago"
"just passed by a florist and i thought of you :-)"
"also, our anniversary was three months ago, OH MY GOD YN HOW COULD YOU FORGET" "I'M SORRY, IT WAS JUST A MISCALCULATION!!!"
yeah don't mess with the math genius! werewolf because he will correct you in any chance he gets
(i'm so sorry idk anything about werewolves so i can't really take this seriously T_T)
wooyoung — mermaid
found out he can grow legs whenever his tail dries and that's how he ventured to land!
he's always been interested with humans so when he saw you hanging around in the beach one day, it was love at first sight
he gets so excited over every human activity, it's endearing
"woah, what is that?? :o" "oh, that's a guy riding a bike" "what's a bike?"
endless questions about anything human related but you patiently answer each and every one of them
you're basically his tour guide
you introduced him to movies and his favorite is the little mermaid
he's so serious about it
like literally you have to remind him to blink because he would not let his gaze stray from your tv
"ariel is so me. minus the overprotective dad. and the 6 sisters. and ursula. and probably the talking fish and crab"
"how can the evil sea witch be so EVIL? THIS IS CRUEL"
"hey i want a pet dog like max! :0"
"ERIC JUST KISS THE FUCKING GIRL--"
would 100% reenact the fork hair brushing scene
would also 100% tell secrets about the ocean to you
"yeah the bermuda triangle thing? it's a lair to this one mean kraken"
but sometimes he would say the most untrue stuff ever like
"aquaman is real." "no he's not, woo. he's a dc superhero" "no, really, he's real. we've raced against each other once or twice" "mhm, whatever you say"
loves to watch the sunset in the beach with you with his head on your lap, your fingers running through his hair, and his toes curled in the sand
he likes it. a lot.
but he has to make sure that he doesn't touch wet sand because poof his tail would pop out
likes to chill in your bathub with the end of his tail flapping water at you
also likes to swim with you in the ocean late at night, when no one's around, with his arms wrapped around your waist and sneaking in atleast a hundred kisses while you giggle because the scales of his tail tickles your legs
the cutest mermaid! boyfriend ever
jongho — demigod
would bet my left kidney that he'd be the son of apollo or athena
but let's go with apollo because his vocals man goddamn
anyways
you're the child of nike, the goddess of victory
jongho sees you around a lot in camp half-blood, you're well known because of your bright and outgoing personality that almost everyone gravitate towards
your peers, jongho included, also admire you for your bravery in battles. although he's never been in one let alone see you fight in an actual life-or-death situation, he sees enough from how you always gracefully win capture the flag with a infectious grin on your face
unlike you, he likes to keep to himself at most times, preferring to spend his time alone to write music or poetry
which is why it's hard for him to muster up the courage to try and be your friend
he didn't dwell on it for too long, accepting that maybe he's just meant to stand at the sides and admire from afar when it comes to you
one night, he was in his usual secret spot; a small clearing near the lake with a hammock tied between two towering trees hidden from sight, when you stumbled into his view with tear stained cheeks
"oh, uh, i'm sorry," you sniffled, rubbing your nose with the paws of your sweater. "i didn't think anyone would be here. i'll go--"
"you can stay. i don't mind."
and that's how you go on to tell him about how battles leave a toll on you and this is your way of taking a break once in a while
he listened to you attentively, actually paying attention to what you have to say and even wiped your tears with the sleeve of his hoodie
that night was then filled with genuine laughter as jongho tried his hardest to cheer you up
"but in all seriousness, i'm here for you. whenever you need me."
it started a whole routine of you both meeting up every single night in that spot to either talk about everything all at once or to just enjoy each other's presence in a comfortable silence
he eventually shares his writings with you and you kinda went, "dang i'm in love with you"
and he's like ★_★ omfg no way
he's the type of bf who doesn't outwardly show his affection for you but makes up for it by caring about you down to the most trivial miniscule detail about you
definitely an act of service guy
would stop by the training grounds where you are when it's raining with an umbrella at hand
"come here, you'll get sick" "i'm the child of the goddess of victory, jongho" "doesn't mean you can't get sick!!!! ＼(º □ º l|l)/"
you ask him to sing for you all the time because his voice is soothing and he would blush whenever you compliment him hehe
the other kids at camp would stare enviously at you two holding hands while skipping to your designated spot because wow you two are so in love and everyone wants that kind of relationship
#oops... i didn't even realize i wrote so much#anyways! choose your favorite#mine would have to be fallen angel yunho</3#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fluff#ateez smut#ateez angst#ateez crack#ateez reactions#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez fic#san smut#yunho angst#ateez halloween#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#ateez funny
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Triangulum - Chapter 5 - Fake Fights and Failed Flights
— — — — — — —
“I still don’t know what you’re making over there, but if I could toss out a suggestion: you can’t go wrong with copious amounts of glitter~! Ooh, or flames spray-painted on the side! Makes for a great accent to any art project!”
Bill’s remark didn’t even earn so much as a glance from Ford, his gaze fixed solely on the desk before him as he continued to work on his mysterious project.
A project which Bill had continued to try and get a glimpse of every time Ford stepped away from his desk to fetch more—just as mysterious—supplies. But much like the first time, any attempt to stretch or crane his neck for a peek at the desk’s contents only ended in failure.
And at one point, resulted in Ford’s only acknowledgment of him throughout the entire process—in the form of propping one of his books upright on the desk, to further block his line of sight. An action that had earned a drawn-out eye roll on Bill’s end; somebody was being dramatic for the sake of dramatics.
Eventually, however, Ford rose from his chair a final time and reached for the mysterious whatever that waited on the desk before him. And it was only once he turned back towards the far side of the study and reapproached the rope circle that Bill finally got a clear look at the fruits of the man’s labor.
“…A sock puppet. Adorable.”
Sure enough, Ford had haphazardly sewn googly eyes and little pipe cleaner arms to a worn sock, one that Bill assumed had come from the emergency stash of clothes he kept up in the bathroom. It was a rush job, far more amateur than the work he would normally put into an artisanal project. But even a clueless idiot could take one look at his creation and coin it as a puppet of sorts.
After a double-check of the stitching to make sure the various parts would stay connected to the sock, Ford knelt down just outside of the rope circle before setting the crude little puppet down at his feet—
—and he waited.
Bill watched him for a few minutes, eyebrow raised, before—
Ah.
Okay, he knew what was happening now.
“Trying to contact the poor sucker whose body I’m playing puppetmaster with?” he guessed aloud. “Come on, Sixer, you can’t pretend you aren’t~!”
“They’re likely to give me more answers than you ever will.”
Both of Bill’s eyebrows shot further up his forehead. After the many times Ford had ignored him throughout the past day, it was truly a surprise to get an actual response out of him!
Both a surprise and an annoyance, one that earned him a hard raspberry from Bill—which was immediately followed by the loud sound of him smacking his lips with discomfort. Eugh—it just felt so wrong to have a tongue that wasn’t tenderly and carefully tucked beneath his eyeball. Or rows of teeth that pressed uncomfortably against each other, as opposed to retracting into slots around his eyeball when not in use.
Oh, right, he was mocking Ford—“I mean, you say that, but out of the two of us, which one was refusing to talk all night?” he taunted. “I mean, I tried and tried to have a nice chat—ask about what you’ve been up to for the past few months, how the family’s been—but you were being just as stubborn as ever.”
Ford didn’t respond, his gaze fixed solely on the puppet as he waited for something to happen. And Bill couldn’t help but let his own eyes fall to the crude little sock creation as well, while he also waited in just-as-curious silence.
Sure, Birdbrain had plunked him back down in a human body, but they hadn’t elaborated on where they’d be getting that body in the first place. Heck, they’d been downright sneaky about what body they’d planned on sticking him into, deliberately avoiding any specifies right up until the second before they zapped him outta their mindscape.
But unless they somehow possessed the ability to create a brand new body from nothing, they would’ve had to get his vessel from somewhere.
And if they'd actually resorted to pulling out the soul of some unlucky chump and recycling the leftovers for him to use as his own, then Bill couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t the tiniest bit curious about what said chump was like in the personality department.
…Of course if they were hoping to get their body back from him, then they were straight-up outta luck in that regard. Finders keepers, pal!
But hey, no harm in being a little curious about his vessel's origins. Curiosity killed the cat, after all—and a dead animal here and there always added a delightful splash of color to the room.
The two of them waited a minute, two minutes, five minutes—
But the puppet remained an immobile lump on the hard, wooden floor.
“Now, I might be wrong,” Bill finally spoke up after their waiting period hit the seven-minute mark. “But I feel like something should’ve happened by this point. Just a guess, though!”
Ford remained silent, eyes still fixed on the puppet—
—before he too decided to call it quits, and rose to his feet. “Well, I suppose that answers a few questions,” he muttered to himself. “Alright, on to the next step…”
Bill bit back the urge to pester Ford with an inquiry of: “Oh, and what’s the next step, Smart Guy?” and instead kept his attention on the sock puppet as Ford headed back to the desk. Even if nothing had actually happened, it had still given him a few more hints about the kind of body possession he was dealing with at the moment.
If Birdbrain had done some soul switcharoo-ing to free up a body, the original soul would’ve likely pulled a Pine Tree and used whatever other vessel they could get their hands on—in order to communicate as much to anyone willing to listen.
So if they hadn’t been tempted by the puppet equivalent of the bargain bin—nobody’s first choice but it would do in a desperate pinch—then there were a few possibilities.
One: they had already found a vessel somewhere else to claim as their own. An unlikely guess if his theory of Ford finding him close to the Shack turned out to be correct—a soul whose body was being temporarily borrowed by someone would ideally stick as close to the body as possible. Or at least, if someone else had found a way to parade Bill’s body around as their own, he knew for a fact that he’d personally be hovering around it at all times and annoying the thief into giving it back.
Two: Birdbrain had thought ahead and decided to keep a tight leash on the soul, to prevent it from trying to take its body back. A possibility more likely than the first, although Bill had no way of clarifying this fact without finding some way to contact Tangy at all.
His brow furrowed as his thoughts switched gears to that smug, feathered jerk. He still had plans to play their dumb game, but he’d already wasted most of the past day being tied to a chair. How was he supposed to track down the stupid little bricks to their stupid little charm if he couldn’t even move from this stupid little chair?
Concerns to gripe about later—Right now, he was on to possibility number three; the body had no former host, and Birdbrain has just crafted him a new body from scratch.
Making something from nothing was a task only the most powerful of entities could perform. Bill would know from experience—he’d been able to do it once he’d escaped from the Nightmare Realm and ventured into this dimension, crafting a beautiful, three-dimensional pyramid body for himself.
How he missed that body dearly—he had even sprung for a square base over a triangular one, just to mix things up a little bit. Sure, it’d mostly been a spur-of-the-moment idea, but settling his consciousness into such a form had just felt so right for him. A rightness that he would probably unpack at some point in the future, when he no longer had to focus on the task at hand.
But creating an entirely new, physical vessel from within the mindscape itself, all without a rift to the dimension where it would be used?
That was something that even he hadn’t been able to accomplish. If he had, he wouldn’t have needed the help from mortals with crafting a portal in the first place—he could’ve simply cut out the middle man, poofed a ready-made vessel into existence, and used that to build the portal himself.
If Birdbrain possessed that much power, then—
“A-ha! Found it!”
Bill was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of Ford’s voice, and he looked up to see him approaching the circle again. “Yeesh, took you long enough,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to bore me to death with all your dull research and secret art projects~!”
“I do have my reasons for both,” Ford admitted as he drew closer. “That much I am willing to disclose to you.”
“Oh~?” Bill perked up with curiosity. “And what reasons are those?”
As Ford finally came to a stop outside the circle and knelt down to pick up the sock puppet, Bill could see something cradled in one of his hands.
A small burlap sack, hardly bigger than his palm.
“I needed to determine the proper dosage to knock someone of your stature out cold.”
—oh, he was not serious!
The puppet was dropped inside the rope circle near his feet, and before Bill could finish his irate warning of: “Stanford, don’t you dare—”, Ford was already tossing the bag’s contents at his face.
Bill sputtered as a pink burst of fairy dust hit him square in the mouth, yanking his arms desperately against his restraints in the hopes of freeing one so he could wipe his face clean.
But it was only a matter of seconds later that the sleep effects start to overtake his vessel’s fragile immune system, and his body drooped forward with exhaustion.
He saw Ford step into the circle and continue towards him, reaching a hand into his pocket—
—and Bill managed one feeble kick of his leg before he once again slipped into unconsciousness.
— — — — — — —
“Okay, get a load of this~!”
After a quick glance back at the younger teens to make sure she had their attention, Wendy pulled a flashlight from her belt loop and took aim at the nearby half-pipe. One press of the button later and the ramp had been shrunken down to a size more suitable for skateboarding ants, rather than people or Abominable Bro-men.
With a pleased grin, Wendy strolled over to scoop it up off the ground. “You guys have no idea what kind of geniuses you were to put this thing together,” she said, giving it a light shake to clear away the miniscule soda cans. “It makes cleaning up the exhibits soooo much easier!”
“I just can’t believe I never thought to use it for cleaning before,” Dipper said from where the two of them were seated. “Do you know how easy it’d be to clean under my bed if I could just shrink it first? Or how much time I could save on washing clothes if they were half-an-inch tall?”
“Sounds like you’ve got a possible patent on your hands,” Wendy said, setting the shrunken half-pipe into a storage box. “But I came up with the cleaning idea, so I want at least seventy percent of the cut.”
“Aww, what? I’m the one who invented the thing,” Dipper pointed out. “Forty-sixty split where I’m getting the sixty, or no deal.”
Wendy rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine, what if we make it fifty-fifty but I get to pick the name?”
“No way! I made it, I should get to name it!”
“Oh, yeah?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “So what did you name it?”
At this question, Dipper suddenly became very interested in the dirt beneath his shoes. “...I mean, I said I should get to name it, not that I’ve actually named it yet,” he muttered weakly. “But you know, if you happen to have a name already picked out, I’m open to suggestions or whatever…”
With a laugh, Wendy lightly tapped the flashlight against her leg as she pondered ideas. “What about…the Shrink-and-Scrub?” she suggested. “The main words start with the same letter, it’s catchy…would probably snag the attention of overworked parents or something.”
“Not bad, not bad,” Dipper mused thoughtfully. “But you’re not really scrubbing with it, are you? We could get slapped with a false advertising charge.”
“Ooh, good call! Whaddaya think, Mabel, you got any good name ideas?”
Dipper turned to face his sister, seated on the ground next to him with her attention on her phone. At Wendy’s question, however, she lowered the screen with a contemplative look. “The…Shrink-and-Span? Like spick-and-span, but there’s shrinking? And it still sounds all clean-y and stuff?”
She placed her phone on the ground next to her so she could make a growing-shrinking motion with her hands. “Also Span, like Ex-span…d? It’s almost a pun and people love puns!”
Her arms were thrown into the air with bright enthusiasm, but it was only seconds later before both her posture and expression sank again. “I dunno…”
While she slipped her chin back into one hand and her phone back into the other, Dipper and Wendy exchanged a knowing look. “Man, even when you’re down in the dumps, you’re still better at this than both of us,” Wendy said.
Mabel’s response was a sad hum, and Dipper scooted closer to place a hand on her shoulder. “Still worried, huh?” he asked. “I thought the streamer thing would’ve made you at least a little bit excited.”
“I can’t work my Mabel Magic on the shack until everything’s all cleaned up,” Mabel explained. “Which means I gotta sit and think about Bill and Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford and everything else we had to worry about last year!”
Her hands once against returned to the air as she continued to speak: “We were gonna spend so much time with both Stan and Ford this summer! But now that big, dumb, pointy, jerky…jerkface is back and they’re fighting because of him, and—and—”
Rather than finish her sentence, she reached to her sweater collar and pulled it up over her face with a groan—an action that earned a comforting shoulder pat from her brother. “Come on, Mabel, you’re not really gonna believe what Bill said about Stan and Ford fighting, are you?”
“Yeah,” Wendy added. “Isn’t the guy, like, a notorious liar or something? Who cares if he says they’re fighting?”
“It’s not what he said,” Mabel explained, pulling the collar back down past her mouth. “It’s what they’re doing! I mean, you and Grunkle Stan went to give Ford his breakfast, right?”
She directed this question at Dipper, who nodded in response. “Yeah, so?”
“Well, what happened when you did?”
“Not a whole lot,” Dipper said, and began to tick off his fingers. “We went to Abuelita’s bedroom, Bill was trying to be as creepy as possible, we went out into the hallway to talk about Ford’s plan—”
His hand sank a bit. “—Stan started getting upset because Ford wasn’t letting him help,” he finished defeatedly. “And then I…left to go up to the bedroom.”
Mabel pointed to Wendy, who had occupied herself by taking aim at another exhibit. “And what happened after that?”
“Well…Stan came storming up the hallway,” Wendy began, placing the newly-shrunken exhibit into the box with the others. “And then he—”
She hesitated to reply for a few seconds, before pressing a hand to the back of her neck. “—he punched the wall and went out to the boat.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re fighting, though!” Dipper added quickly. “It could mean anything! Maybe Bill was getting on Grunkle Stan’s nerves, and he got frustrated before he…stormed away and punched a wall about it?”
A pause. “…Even though he already punched Bill in the face last night and probably wouldn’t have to just punch a wall if Bill was getting on his nerves again?”
Mabel flumped over her knees with another groan. “You see? They are fighting! And now Grunkle Ford’s down in his lab doing lots of secret sciencey stuff, while Grunkle Stan’s over on the boat, doing secret boaty stuff—”
They all turned their heads in the direction of the Stan-O’-War 2 before she continued: “They’re doing stuff by themselves instead of together, like last year!”
She pulled her collar back over her face. “I don’t want things to be like last year…”
While Dipper gave her shoulder another comforting pat, Wendy kept her attention fixed on the Stan-O’-War 2 for a bit longer, before letting it travel across the yard towards the waiting Manotaur stage at the edge of the woods.
A stage which she eyed for a second, then the flashlight in her hand for another, before turning back to the twins with a wink. “Hey, you know, we never got around to having that fight yesterday,” she said. “You dorks up for—oh, wait, lemme just—”
She held up the Shrink Ray and fired it at the stage, quickly rushing to shake it clean of any debris left from the previous day’s performance. And once it was properly cleared and regrown to its original size, she spun around to face them again. “Alright, so now that we don’t have to worry about stepping on broken glass and wood, you dorks up for a little random gratuitous violence to get out some of those bad Bill feelings?”
Dipper’s mouth curled into a small smile as he gave his sister’s shoulder a light nudge. “Whaddaya think, Mabel? Would punching out some of those feelings about the jerky jerkface make you feel better?”
There was a pause, before Mabel pulled the collar back down again with a curious peek. “Can I pretend you’re Bill while we fight?”
After another wink in her direction, Wendy slapped a hand over one eye. “Come on, Falling Star!” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Betcha wanna punch me real hard in my stupid, triangle face!”
With a grin, Mabel bounded to her feet with delight. “Actually, he calls me ‘Shooting Star’,” she corrected. “But if you do that funny voice again, I’m so in!”
“Atta girl,” Wendy said, the hand over her eye shifting into a thumbs up before she broke into a sprint toward the stage steps. “Come on, let’s get our swings in before Soos and Melody notice that I’m taking my break!”
— — — — — — —
“Massive Maude? Nah, nah, that wouldn’t work—little jerk can’t leave town. Ahab’s Harpoon through the chest? Nope, can’t kill him—”
Stan flipped to the next page with a huff, his fingertip trailing down past every little location, creature, and discovery Ford had listed during their oversea adventures.
And as he’d initially suspected, most of the potential ways to rid themselves of a pesky triangle demon involved killing Bill outright—deeming themselves a no-go, according to Ford’s previously-established mumbo-jumbo about how they couldn’t kill the body.
Stan let out another gruff sigh as he slammed the journal shut. Yeesh, his only lead and so far it was proving to be completely useless. Too bad Ford had made the choice to chuck all the other journals down into the Bottomless Pit. It had probably been really cathartic for him, but in hindsight, they would’ve really come in handy at a time like this—
“Wait a sec—”
He pressed a hand to his chin, the metaphorical ding of a lightbulb almost audible as an idea began to form. It was a longshot after what happened last year—so much was scattered after the kids turned the Shack into a massive fighting robot that he wasn’t sure if there would be anything left to find.
But on the other hand, the only thing that had managed to pry open his safe in the past had been straight up dynamite. Meaning anything that had been locked away during last summer’s rigamarole had a fifty-fifty chance at still being there to this day.
Moving the hand to his hair, he turned his gaze to the door. The idea also required him to venture back into the house, which came with the risk of running into Ford again.
And the last thing Stan wanted or needed was to get into another row with him, especially not in front of everyone else.
Not that he wouldn’t deserve getting an earful from Ford after what he’d said earlier, but—
After letting the hand drag back down his face as slowly as possible, he exhaled a groan and made his way across the room to the door. Heck with it—even if Ford still wanted to handle all of this alone, at least Stan could try to be of some use to him and get all his research together in one place. Whether or not he wanted to use it was up to Ford himself, but at least he’d have the option if Stan’s intuition turned out to be correct.
Plus even if it was a longshot, could he really call himself a true gambler if he cowered away from risky odds?
…Not to mention his office was pretty close to the stairs and he could always make a mad dash back to the boat if Ford came up the hall.
— — — — — — —
“Alright, squirts, let’s see who can knock me down!”
Wendy raised her fists with a determined look. “Come on, who wants to go first?”
From the opposite end of the stage, Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth in a giggle. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna act like Bill while we fought?”
“Yeah, no sense in getting out these bad Bill feelings without the Bill part, right?” Dipper added.
With a nod of agreement, Wendy’s hand returned to her eye as a wide, devious smile spread across her face. “Hahahaha, look at me!” she said in that same high-pitched voice from before. “I’m a stupid triangle who throws bad parties and wears a dumb hat!”
While the twins dissolved in a fit of laughter, she stomped around the stage in an exaggerated fashion. “I think I’m the coolest and most powerful guy in the world, but I was defeated by an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face!”
“Don’t forget kittens and tickles!” Mabel jeered in delight.
“I was defeated by kittens, tickles, and an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face! Do-do-dodo, I’m so stupid and terrible!”
She stuck her tongue out for an extended raspberry—an action that only earned more laughter—and made a beckoning motion towards Dipper with her hand. “Come on, Pine Tree!” she taunted. “Betcha can’t knock me on my sorry, triangle butt!”
After a few deep breaths to compose himself, Dipper raised his fists. “Betcha I can!”
“Aww, wait, why’s he get to go first?” Mabel whined. “Didn’t we come over here so I could get out some of my bad Bill feelings?”
“Well, yeah,” Dipper said. “But I mean, I’ve got beef with Bill too. And throwing a couple of punches about it would probably be fun.”
“Rock-paper-scissors to see who goes first?” Wendy suggested.
The twins exchanged another look—and after a quick three rounds, Mabel was left disappointed while Dipper took his spot on the stage near Wendy. However, her sour mood was quickly replaced with a fistpump and several supportive cheers of: “Go, Dipper! Play dirty if you gotta!”
Dipper chuckled. “Mabel, come on, I’m not gonna—”
Without warning, he rushed at Wendy with a charging fury and threw as much of his weight against her body as he could muster. Despite the unexpected attack, Wendy managed to stay solid on her feet—
—until Dipper’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her lower legs and he gave a sharp yank towards his own body, causing her to stumble and fall hard to the stage from a lack of balance.
Still clutching her legs, Dipper stared with a look of complete bewilderment on his face—as if his own successful attempt to bring her down had surprised even himself. “Haha, woah—I can’t believe that worked!” he said with a shaky laugh. “I’ve never actually tried that with anyone but Waddles before!”
“Woo! Go Dipper!” Mabel called, clapping her hands with proud enthusiasm. “I’ll bet if you’d done that to the real Bill, he would’ve been soooooo embarrassed!”
From the stage, Wendy let out a laugh of her own. “She’s not wrong. Also, you can let go of me now.”
With a yelp of surprise, Dipper dropped her legs in an instant. “Ah—sorry!”
Despite the hard thump of her legs against the stage, Wendy was quick to pull herself up into a proper kneeling position. “No worries, dude,” she reassured him with a grin. “Pretty sweet trick, though. Where’d you learn that?”
“A few months back, Waddles found the secret stash of snacks I hid under my bed and kept being real determined to get to them,” he explained. “It was either establish dominance and learn how to drag him out from under the bed by his lower half, or admit defeat to a pig.”
He flexed his arm with a smile. “And guess who didn’t have to admit defeat to a pig~?”
“And now you know how to knock down Wendy!” Mabel called from her spot. “Sounds like someone needs to give Waddles a well-earned thank you later.”
Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just move your snack haul somewhere else?”
“Closet’s too full of Mabel’s sweaters and the dresser makes everything taste like lint,” Dipper said matter-of-factly.
“Well, either way, color me impressed,” Wendy said, before looking to where Mabel was situated. “Alright, Mabel, you’re up next~!”
Dipper approached her, holding his hand out for a hi-five. “Go get ‘em!”
Mabel slapped his hand with gusto as they passed each other and bounded over to where Wendy waited for her. “Okay, ‘Bill’,” she said, raising her fists. “Put ‘em up!”
Winking in return, Wendy slapped a hand back over her eye and thumbed the other across her nose. “Alright, Shooting Star,” she said with a fake sneer. “Let’s see what you got!”
“Woo! Go Mabel!” Dipper cheered from the side.
With a laugh, Mabel took a fighting stance of her own—
—only for her attention to shift towards something else at the far end of the yard.
The other two followed her gaze over to the Stan-O’-War 2, where Stan could be seen exiting the cabin and making his way across the deck towards the ladder. With a smile, Mabel cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, Grunkle Stan, over here!”
While his body language was low as his feet touched the ground, Stan perked up at the sound of Mabel’s voice—and his mouth spread into a smile when he turned around to see the rest of the kids gathered with her.
He moved towards them with quick, determined steps—or at quickly and determined as a man his age could move—before he eventually slowed to a stop near the stage. “Whatcha gremlins gremlinin’ about out here?” he asked, propping his arms over the edge.
“They’re wrestling me while I pretend to be Bill,” Wendy explained. “Since they can’t exactly punch the real thing right now, I thought maybe getting a few swings in at someone pretending to be him would do the trick.”
Mabel hurried to Stan and seated herself near him, legs dangling down over the side. “Dipper won his fight!” she said excitedly. “And I was about to fight her next!”
“I pulled her legs out from under her,” Dipper elaborated, as he followed in his sister’s steps and seated himself on Stan’s opposite side.
Stan raised an eyebrow at Dipper. “Wo-ow, first the body hair and now you’re actually winning fights? You really are growin’ into a tried-and-true Pines, ain’tcha, kid?”
He reached up to plap a hand against the top of his hat. “You didn’t hear that from me, though, so don’t go gettin’ a big head about it.”
While Dipper beamed with pride, Wendy shot him a finger gun. “What about you, Mr. Pines?” she asked. “You up for getting a little of that Bill aggression outta your system?”
“Like you gotta ask,” Stan said. “Don’t think I should be wrestlin’ any of you about it, though. Not unless you’re lookin’ to get snapped in half.”
“I take offense at the implication that you could snap me in half,” Wendy said, although her grin implied otherwise.
“I take offense at the implication that I couldn’t.”
He let out a chuckle at that, one that slowly petered out into a halfhearted grumble. A sound that made the twins exchange a look of curiosity before Mabel asked: “So what’ve you been doing out here, Grunkle Stan?”
“Wendy said you went outside to the boat,” Dipper explained. “But she didn’t say why.”
Stan looked to Wendy with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, she did, did she?”
“What, was I not allowed to tell your beloved great-niece-and-nephew where their great-uncle had gone?” Wendy asked innocently, and leaned over to place a hand atop each of the twin’s heads. “They were just worried about how you missed breakfast.”
“Yeah, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel added, before her expression fell. “Plus Grunkle Ford was heading down to the basement with Bill, and he said that the two of you were fighting…”
At the mention of Ford, the gruffness in Stan’s expression shifted. “Ford said we were fighting?”
“Nah, Bill did,” Dipper corrected. “Probably to try and get a rise out of us.”
He cast a look beyond Stan over to Mabel. “Which is why Grunkle Ford told us not to listen to anything he says.”
“I’m not listening to him,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, weren’t you were the one who said they seemed really tense in the hallway earlier!”
“All I said was that if Grunkle Stan really needed to punch Bill again, he would’ve done it instead of just punching a wall,” Dipper said, then glanced hesitantly at Stan. “But, uh—is everything okay between you two? You seemed really stressed earlier, and y’know…you didn’t go down with Ford to take care of Bill.”
Stan looked between them, the uncertainty in their features near identical to the faintest hints of concern threatening to peek their way through his own. And with a strained inhale to force it all back down again, he stood up straight and pointed a finger at them. “Ford’s absolutely right, you shouldn’t trust a word outta that jerk’s mouth,” he said. “Whatever’s goin’ on with the two of us, it ain’t any of Bill’s business and it definitely ain’t a fight.”
“But it’s something?” Wendy chimed in.
“It’s somethin’ that ain’t any business a’yours either,” Stan said firmly, giving her a wave of his hand before pointing it back at the younger twins. “And that goes double for you two. Like I told you last night, you’re here to have fun for the summer. Don’t go gettin' yourselves all worked up over all this Bill stuff or the stuff with me and Ford, alright?”
Mabel let her body flump forward until her forehead was gently pressed against the tip of his finger. ““But we wanted to have fun over the summer with both you and Grunkle Ford,” she pointed out. “How can we do that if he’s too busy dealing with Bill? Or if you two are fighting?”
His expression softened at this motion and he let his hand fall. “Well, now, I can’t give an answer to that first question—lean back again for a sec, Pumpkin—”
While she obliged, Stan rotated himself around to lean his back against the stage. “Like I was sayin’, I can’t give an answer to that first one,” he continued, draping one arm around her body. “But as for the second—just because the two of us are buttin’ heads about all of this doesn’t—”
He hesitated for a millisecond, before continuing: “—it doesn’t mean we’re fighting. And it doesn’t mean that the rest of the summer’s gonna be a bust, alright? Just means that we’re gonna have to deal with some rough patches first.”
He turned to Dipper, slinking his other arm around his shoulders. “And as for you, you little knucklehead—you heard Ford earlier; he’s got himself a plan to deal with our little yellow headache down in his lab. And if he needs help, he’ll ask for it!”
“Maybe…” Dipper agreed halfheartedly. “Still, I hate to agree with Bill about anything, but he did have a point about Grunkle Ford’s ideas not exactly being the best ones out there after a full night with no sleep…”
“Ugh, he said that?” Mabel asked with a sneer.
“Yeah,” Dipper said, disgust painting his own expression. “He was practically rubbing it in Ford’s face.”
“Hey, hey, what did I say?” Stan said. “Don’t believe a word outta that little creep's mouth! You know he’s just tryin’ to get under your skin, so he ain’t worth the time of day.”
With a sense that the fight was going to be paused for a bit, Wendy hopped down from the stage and aimed the shrink ray towards the mermaid tank. “You know, Dr. Pines probably would get rid of Bill much quicker if he had someone helping him down there.”
Stan narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, come on, don’t you start now.”
“I’m just saying,” Wendy continued, before pressing the shrink button. “I mean, I’m sure he’s got his reasons for going at it alone—
Once the tank was shrunk, she strolled over to scoop it up from the ground. “—but working together took the little fucker down last time, didn’t it?”
She tilted the small tank forward and let the water—the volume now barely enough to fill a teacup—spill out over the grass. After giving it a few additional shakes for good measure, she spun on her heels back to face the others—
—only to be greeted by mirrored looks of shock on all three of their faces. “...What?”
More surprised blinking followed as they stared at her with mouths agape, before Stan finally slapped a hand to his forehead. “Are you kidding me, Wendy?! I worked so hard not to swear in front of these kids last year and you go and throw all of it out the window in a single, goddamn sentence!”
“I’m just more surprised that you swore at all,” Mabel said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before!”
“Come to think of it, I actually don’t remember hearing anyone swear around here last summer,” Dipper said thoughtfully. “Which is such an oddly specific thing to…I dunno, not hear? Kids swear all the time at school, Mom and Dad swear at home sometimes—”
“I know you let out a very hearty f-word the other day when you bumped your toe on the coffee table,” Mabel added.
“It was the left pinky, I was completely justified and will not apologize.”
“It is weird!” Wendy agreed, before tucking the mermaid tank into the storage box. “Actually, I got this totally wild story to go with it—one I was trying to tell Stan yesterday before all this dumb Bill stuff started.”
After tucking the flashlight back into her belt loop, she raised her hands for emphasis. “Okay, so you remember how the couch we found in the woods last year was like, mega-infested with rats?”
“Dipper screamed so loud when one tried to crawl up his legs!” Mabel said with a grin.
“Once again; moment of weakness, it could’ve easily happened to anyone.”
“So anyway, Soos, Melody and I managed to get most of ‘em out of the house,” Wendy continued. “But after that, something felt different about the town. Not bad different, just…different.”
“Elaborate,” Stan said.
“Well, there was the time when Nate and Lee got together and have kinda been having an on-off thing going on since,” she said, and began to tick off her fingers. “Then at some point, one of the Manotaurs decided that she felt more comfortable being called Womanotaur instead—all the boys came together and collectively punched a piece of metal until it was dented into the right shape for a celebratory carabiner—”
“Ooh, ooh, and at another point your dad and Mayor Tyler started dating?” Mabel guessed.
“Yeah, yeah, something like that,” Wendy said, looking mildly annoyed for a second. “Couple of folks also started realizing some things about themselves in a similar way, people started swearing a lot more than they did last year—
She tossed her hands in the air. “—and all of that only started happening after the rats were gone!”
“That sounds like a load of stupid fresh from the stupid factory,” Stan said. “But also I wouldn’t put it past this town to have some weird rats be the source of everyone’s inability to swear or for two men to start mackin’ on each other or something.”
“Everything going alright out here?”
Everyone turned to see Soos and Melody approaching from the shack, clipboards and a large box of party decorations in hand. “We figured Wendy would probably be done with cleanup by now,” Melody explained. “So we thought we’d start bringing out the decorations.”
“Did we give you enough time for amusing and exposition-y conversations that would be stimulating enough to get you through the work quicker?” Soos asked..
“Yeah, yeah, just one sec—” Wendy said, and turned back to the Manotaur stage. “Alright, everybody clear outta the way.”
Mabel’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Aww, we’ve gotta finish cleaning up? But we didn’t get to have our fight! Again!”
“Maybe not, but it did distract you long enough to get to the decorating part, right?” Dipper pointed out, and hopped down from the stage. “Wasn’t that the point in the first place?”
“Mmm, I guess,” Mabel said sadly as she hopped down after him. “Still, would’ve been fun to fight Wendy while she’s pretending to be Bill.”
Soos raised an eyebrow at Wendy, who shrugged in response. “We were working out our feelings,” she explained. “But since we’re moving on to the actual decorating part, how’s about we put a pin in that fight for now and work on drowning this place in decorations?”
She raised the flashlight and took aim for the stage. “Also again, step outta the way or you’re gonna get caught in the crossfire.”
Once the three of them had cleared away from the stage, Wendy once again shrank it to a more manageable size. While she stored it away with the other exhibits, Soos reached a hand into the box of decorations. “Like I said earlier, we’ve got just about every color of streamer under the sun! Plus some colors under the moon, too!”
He pulled out a few rolls of streamers and waved it in front of Mabel. “Who wants to toss a bunch of them up onto the roof like they’re TP-ing the Shack, but with color~?”
Despite Mabel’s initial disappointment towards another postponement of the fight, a smile began to creep its way through her features at Soos’ suggestion. “Oh, like you’ve gotta ask~!”
She reached for one of the rolls before casting a look at Stan. “You wanna help us decorate for the party, Grunkle Stan?”
“Nah, I actually came out here for a reason,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Gotta go fetch somethin’ from my office.”
He gave her a thumbs up as he started making his way towards the porch. “You kids have fun, though, and no more stressin’ about all this Bill stuff, okay?” he said, then looked over to Wendy. “Also lemme take a look at that shrink-thing later, Wendy! You could make a fortune with a doo-dad like that!”
“We’re already workshopping names,” Wendy called in return.
A second thumbs up was his response as he headed up the porch steps and disappeared out of sight. Mabel continued to stare at the porch, optimistic expression sinking back into a look of sadness until Soos gave the streamer bag another shake. “Check it out, Mabel! The lady at the store even said she named one of the shades of pinkish-purple after you! She calls it ‘Pink-Mab-urple!”
After staring for a few more seconds, she finally turned to Soos with a grin. “Uh, why didn’t you start with that, Soos? Slap a roll of Pink-Mab-urple in my hand and let’s get this streamer train rolling!”
— — — — — — — —
With all the stress of the past twenty-four hours, Ford had almost forgotten what it was like to feel relaxed.
Granted, he hadn’t felt truly relaxed since his early childhood. But the past nine months up until Bill’s return had been the closest he’d gotten to recapturing that ease of his adolescence.
And for the fleeting moment before the fairy dust made impact with Bill’s face, a surge of anxiety rushed through him as the possibility of the dust losing its potency after decades of disuse reared its ugly head. That by some cruel twist of fate, it simply wouldn’t work against Bill at all.
But within seconds, Bill slumped like a lifeless ragdoll against the chair’s restraints and Ford could physically feel some of the stress melt away from his being.
Not all of it; there was always a chance that the fairy dust hadn’t worked and that Bill was simply pretending to be knocked unconscious. But the sight alone was enough to grant him the smallest sense of comfort.
Still—
He finally pulled out the hand he had slipped into his picket after tossing the dust, a small pocketknife clutched tightly in his grasp. After a few more seconds, he flicked open the main blade and knelt in front of Bill’s body.
He hesitated—hand trembling around the weapon as the temptation to do more than a simple act of research examination bubbled up inside his chest. But with a shake of his head, he reached for one of Bill’s restrained hands and lightly pressed the tip of the knife into his palm.
Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt if he was truly faking his unconscious state. And after a few seconds passed with no vocal complaints from Bill, Ford let out an exhale of relief.
He wasn’t faking. At least there was that fact.
But Ford also knew not to let his guard down completely, nor was he foolish enough to think that the fairy dust’s effects would last forever. He had to move quickly.
Reassured that Bill was properly unconscious, Ford moved to the binds that kept Bill tied to the chair. It was a risk to free Bill completely, but his plan wouldn’t work if the body was still bound by the unicorn spell.
He pressed the blade against one rope and inhaled slowly, before bringing it upwards in a clean cut—
—and quickly backed up as the tiny body slacked to the floor in a crumpled heap.
His grip on the knife tightened as he stepped back out of the circle, as if he still expected Bill to drop his facade and finally take advantage of his chance at freedom. But when the fairy dust continued to prove effective, he returned to Bill's side to cut his wrist binds.
Once Bill was completely unbound from all angles, Ford looked to the puppet he had tossed at his feet. Sure, it had been a five-minute effort but Bill was far from picky when it came to his vessels of choice. And if he suddenly decided to start being picky once he’d reawakened—
—well, too bad, Cipher.
His gaze moved back to the unconscious body again, eyes landing on his face. Naturally he’d written down the research he’d gathered, and he hadn’t been lying to Bill when he said it was to figure out the proper dosage of fairy dust to knock him unconscious. The stuff was powerful enough to put a full-grown unicorn to sleep; too much on a body Bill’s size could potentially have disastrous effects.
And even if Ford’s attempt to contact the body’s original owner had failed, his main concerns still lingered—he still had no way of knowing how harming the physical body would affect Bill himself.
That being said, his quick and simple research had provided Ford with a few interesting discoveries.
As he’d initially hypothesized, every studied part of Bill’s vessel really did scream teenager. A lack of wisdom teeth pinpointed the body as younger than twenty, and his quick count of almost-thirty teeth settled his guess between the ages of about thirteen and fifteen.
General appearance seemed to back up that fact; limbs were gangly and awkward—even moreso than what would normally be expected from Bill in a human body—those yellow, catlike eyes sat large on his face, larger than they would on the face of an adult—
It was so odd. Of all the vessels to possess, why would Bill choose that of a human teenager? It certainly added credence to the theory that he hadn’t possessed a choice in the matter, but it also added credence to the theory that he had specifically sought out such a body as a way to purposefully mess with Ford and the rest of his family.
Once again, more theories without a clear answer.
With a huff, Ford set the knife near his boot that was furthest away from Bill—putting down his weapon was another risk, but at least he’d had the advantage if he needed to grab it in a hurry—and reached into his pocket again.
This time his efforts rewarded him with a worn scrap of paper, one he unfolded with both hands and set to the ground in front of him. He might’ve tossed the journals down into the Bottomless Pit, but a proper scientist always had backup options when it came to his research.
…Granted, the backup in question was an old spell he had hidden away during one of those sleep-deprived days between Bill’s betrayal and the portal incident, but it would still prove effective nonetheless.
Thank goodness he had possessed enough foresight to keep it out of the journals and tucked safely between the edge of his desk and the wall, somewhere Bill had clearly not thought to look during the brief periods when his body had succumbed to sleep.
His gaze narrowed with determination at the body again. Omniscient abilities or not, even Bill Cipher possessed blindspots. A piece of paper tucked between the wall and desk. A lack of knowledge on how to collapse the weirdness barrier that surrounded the town.
An extra finger on a hand where it shouldn’t be, or vice versa.
Shaking his head, Ford turned back to the paper. A wiser man might’ve tried to actually use the spell back when he originally discovered it. But a number of variables—no additional person to read the spell while Bill was in his body, no knowledge on whether or not it would actually work as intended, a general lack of sleep across those several days—had prevented Ford from attempting such a method at the time.
And once he’d properly returned home after the portal incident, the metal place in his head had already been installed—rendering such a spell mostly pointless.
Until now.
After scribbling down a few additions, he cleared his throat and began to recite aloud: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”
He paused, looking to the puppet and body for a moment before continuing with a bit more confidence: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum—”
— — — — — — —
Whenever Bill lounged around in the space between the Nightmare Realm and the mortal world, there was always a clear lack of color.
Whether he was situated inside a dark room, outside over a summoning circle or inside the bedroom closet of an easily-frightened child—always watching, but never seen—the scenery of the mindscape was always draped in a monochromatic curtain of black and white.
Here, however—the warm browns of the study had only dulled the slightest amount while still maintaining their general color. Heck, Bill might not have even noticed the difference at first, had it not been for Ford.
Rather than be subjected to more violence at the man’s hand, it was as if time had completely frozen for him. The arm that had tossed the fairy dust into Bill’s face was still outstretched, but remained still and unmoving in the air.
Bill’s mouth curled into a smirk, and he made no effort to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “Hehe, what’s wrong, Fordsy~?” he asked, leaning forward. “Can’t access the mindsca—ACK!”
He leaned forward too far and hit the hard ground with a thud and an irritable yelp, face once again squished against the floor. Unlike the other times he’d fallen throughout the past day, however—his body felt noticeably lighter and chair-free.
Grin widening further, he pulled himself off the ground until he was standing up proper. Once on his feet, he took a step to grow more accustomed to using legs again. One step, then two more—before he simply launched his body up into the air to hover in place.
Oh, how he loved the Mindscape to pieces~! Possessing people was fun and all, but it came with the unfortunate side effect of not being able to use his powers.
Not in the Mindscape, though~! Here he could do just about anything he wanted!
Speaking of which—
He cast another look in the inanimate Ford’s direction, while a wicked grin spread across his face. Sure, any harm caused to his body in the mindscape wouldn’t carry over to the real world.
But at the same time, fireball or two to the chin would probably get rid of that stupid beard for a few glorious minutes, right? Perhaps a fireball full of spiders?
Why not? The past twelve hours had been so frustrating dull for Bill, and he deserved a nice little treat for himself.
He raised his hand into the air with a giddy little laugh, as he waited for the familiar blue flames to blossom from his palm—
—hey, wait.
Bill snapped his attention to what should’ve been a pitch-black hand engulfed in flames. And while the flames had indeed begun to spread out from his palm and up towards his fingertips, the hand itself was still clearly one made of flesh and blood. Just as flesh and blood as the legs he had wobbled on mere seconds ago as he took a few steps.
Legs that his gaze quickly fell to, realization beginning to take hold of him as his concerns were reaffirmed; black, panted legs attached to a body that was clearly still humanoid.
His hands instinctively moved to touch the opposite arms—as if touching them would somehow transform them back into the twig-thin limbs he was used to having—and then to his chest and stomach—as if touching them would somehow transform him back into his familiar, triangle shape.
When neither attempt bore any results, he blinked a few times in sheer confusion. Okay, so something was clearly wrong. Jumping out of a body into the mindscape should’ve at least reverted his soul back to its usual shape and form. So why was he still stuck in a useless flesh-suit?
He moved his gaze around the study before his attention fell back on Project Mentem, eyes once again locking with one of the unbroken screens. He hadn’t gotten a proper glimpse at his vessel’s face the first time around, but if he was currently situated in the mindscape and able to move freely—
Just before he could make out the shape of his face in the monitor’s reflection, however, the dull colors around it began to distort and—
—well, there was no better term for it than ‘melt’.
Every color in the room—from the warm browns of the nearby shelves and desk, to the dull grays of Ford’s entire being—started to melt towards the floor, leaving behind the usual, monochromatic palette of the Mindscape.
And once all the colors reached the floor, they slowly converged into a muddy blob in the very center of the room. Converge, then shift into a single tint of orange.
Or if Bill wanted to get specific with it—tangerine.
Oh.
Great.
Sure enough, the blob of tangerine began to twist and morph into a clear silhouette of the shelduck, a loud, giddy laugh echoing through the study even before their beak had fully taken form. “Wow, it looks like someone’s had a busy first day, huh?” they said, placing their hands on their hips once both appeared. “Not even back in town for a full twenty-four hours and they’ve already brought you down to the study for research.”
Bill’s eyebrows furrowed in their direction. Oh, contract or not, he was going to pluck every single one of their feathers out with the Multiverse’s rustiest pair of tweezers once this was all over!
For the time being, he simply folded his arms across his chest with an unimpressed huff. “Yeesh, took you long enough to get your butt down here, Birdbrain!” he said irritably. “Do you know what kinda day I’ve ha—oh, actually, you just said you did, didn’t you?”
He tossed his hands in the air. “Well, if you could see what kinda day I was having, why haven’t you stepped in yet? Thought you were all about helping people in need or whatever?”
He made a casual gesture in Ford’s direction. “Well, I’ve sure needed some help getting away from him!”
Tangy held up their own hands with a guilty smile. “Okay, okay, I realize you have some concerns,” they said. “I don’t blame you, you’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time.”
One hand went to their forehead. “And admittedly, I’m mostly here because I realized I forgot to tell you a few things!”
“Oh, gee, you think?” Bill said, moving the gesture towards himself. “How about you start with explaining why you kept the fact that you’d be sticking me in a vessel like this a secret? Or why I’m still a pile of meat, bones and nerves in the mindscape instead of my usual form?”
“You—wait…”
They lowered their hand to give him a perplexed tilt of their head. “You mean you haven’t figured out what’s happening yet?”
“I mean, I figured out that you think you’re clever,” Bill said with a roll of his eyes. “Sticking me in a vessel this small for your dumb game, all without telling me ahead of time? That’s real cute, Birdbrain.”
A shrug, one accompanied by a smirk. “Hehe, what, did my short jokes bother you that bad?”
“No, they didn’t, but—”
“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”
The sound of Ford’s voice echoing through the mindscape turned both their attention to the ceiling, the imaginary mindscape shaking and rattling around them as he continued: “Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”
Bill’s brow furrowed at the sound, attention moving back to the still-inanimate Ford. So that was Sixer’s big plan, huh? To try his hand at a transfer spell while the vessel was unconscious?
That sneaky jerk, always trying to go behind his back—
“Oh, so, he’s trying that, huh?”
And back his attention and furrowed brow went to Tangy. Speaking of jerks, the feathered jerk needed to stop stealing his lines and get to their jerk point already! “You said you had something to tell me,” he said, hovering closer to them. “So hurry up and spill the beans before Sixer succeeds in doing whatever he’s doing out there!”
“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”
“Quickly, Birdbrain, we don’t have all day!”
Tangy looked to the ceiling again. “Yeah, I dunno if I’ll actually have the time to cover everything at this rate,” they said, and held up a finger. “But he won’t succeed in getting you outta that body, if that’s what you’re worried about!”
“Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”
Between the chanting from Ford and the crypticness from Tangy, Bill could physically feel his face reddening with anger. “Birdbrain, if you don’t explain right now—”
“Sorry, don’t have time!” they said quickly. “But I promise that this won’t be the last time we chat, and I can cover everything else the next time we do! Plus there’s always the thing on your wrist—”
“Wait, the what—”
There was a flash of light before all the color that had congregated to make Tangy’s form sank back into the floor and slowly started returning to the rest of the room.
And as the last little bits of brown and grays situated themselves back into place, Bill’s hovering body hit the floor again with a hard thud.
His eyes snapped closed on impact, then snapped open again with a shout.
— — — — — — —
“—aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”
With a final recital of the spell, Ford leaned back with another shuddery exhale of relief. Whether his attempt to shift Bill from one vessel to the other proved successful or not, the spell still required a few minutes of waiting for the end result.
While he waited, he let his gaze move once again to the unconscious teenager’s forehead. It had given him pause upon observation; not for any research purposes, but for the birthmark that waited beneath that mop of blonde hair—
“AAH!”
Ford jumped at the sound of a yell echoing through his study, the surprise of Bill suddenly moving again causing him to stumble backwards and trip over—and sever—the rope circle he had created on the floor.
Leaving a few inches of empty space between the ends of the rope.
Bill’s eyes were wide as dinner plates as he snapped back to consciousness, his screams of surprise petering out into sharp inhales of breath while he jerked up into a sitting position.
And with a final, shuddery exhale to ground himself—Yeesh, this body was weird. Who was in charge of designing a pile of flesh who needed oxygen, but not too much oxygen at once, to live?—his gaze locked to a still-floored Ford.
He stared, Ford stared back.
His functional pupil flitted down to the severed circle—
“Cipher, don’t you DARE!”
And Bill took off like a flash in the direction of the emergency exit staircase.
Ford was after him in seconds—rope and knife in hand—and the heavy thud of his boots against the medal stairs rung throughout the study over Bill’s maniacal cackling as he hurried for the cellar door.
Perhaps leaving fairy dust in a bag for over thirty years hadn’t been the best idea after all.
— — — — — — —
“Okay, so party preparations for today…”
Melody tapped her clipboard with the end of her pen, before turning to Mabel at her left. “We’ve got Mabel on the streamers—”
Mabel held up the rolls in her hands with a look of pride. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years!”
“Please don’t actually give me that much more work to do,” Wendy said from her right.
“...You’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years in theory,” Mabel corrected herself. “In actuality, I’ll be cleaning them up myself so Wendy doesn’t have to!”
While Wendy gave her a thumbs up, Melody looked to her list again. “And we’ve got Dipper on balloon duty—”
Dipper shifted the countless packs of balloons in his embrace to one arm so he could give her a salute. “There won’t be a single bare table, chair, or loose area where a balloon can easily be tied to when I’m done with this place!”
“Just be careful not to tie too many to the shack itself,” Soos chimed in. “Otherwise they could, like, carry it up and away in the air!”
He made a series of floating motions with his hand. “You know like…WOOSH! Just floating all the way up into the sky!”
“Soos, you realize that’s probably impossible, right?” Dipper pointed out. “Do you know how many balloons we’d need to be able to rip through the foundation alone? They’d lose their helium way faster than I could inflate the necessary amount—”
“Poke!”
“Hey!”
While Dipper slapped his now-freed hand to his cheek where Mabel had poked him, she waved her arms around in a playful fashion. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Dipper~!” she teased. “I’ve seen gnomes, giant Manotaurs and dream demons, but balloons lifting up a house is impossible~!”
She leaned over to poke her again, and he nudged her back in amused retaliation. “Hey, come on, those things are actually real,” he pointed out with a chuckle. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t believe in a floating balloon house if it was right in front of me, but you know…it’s gotta prove itself possible first.”
“Balloons and the possibility of discovering something new,” Melody said, pressing a finger to her clipboard. “Check! Alright, what’s next?”
“I think we’ll wanna get the tables set up as soon as possible,” Soos chimed in. “I know we’ve still got hours until the party, but we’ve still gotta get all the food ready, right?”
He made a walking motion with his hand. “And who wants to make a buncha food, then carry a buncha tables outside—and then have to go back and carry out that same buncha food from before all in one go?” A shrug. “Just saying, babe, it’d be smart to get the tables out first, then focus on covering them with the food!”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” Melody said, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “I’ll help you get the first one out here if you want.”
She flashed the others a smile. “Wendy, do you want to help us with tables or stay out here and decorate with the twins?”
“Hey, I’ll take tossing up balloons and streamers over having to carry whole tables back and forth,” Wendy said.
Dipper looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “...Don’t you have a shrink ray—oh, you’re not mentioning it just so you don’t get stuck carrying tables, aren’t you?”
“Sure am.”
“Have fun, dudes!" Soos called to them, as the two of them made their way to the porch. "Make this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party!”
“You got it, Soos!” Mabel said with a salute. “Like I said earlier: by the time I’m done with this place, you’ll be fishing old streamers out of the gutters for years!”
A pause, before she added as an afterthought: “...Again, I mean that metaphorically, and not in the way that will give Wendy more work!”
With a laugh, Wendy gave her a light nudge as the adults disappeared inside the house. Once they were out of sight, she turned her attention towards the yard before them. “Alright, so what side should we get to decorating first?”
BANG!
A loud clattering of the nearby cellar doors caused everyone to jump in surprise, right before Bill came barrelling out of the darkness with a shrill laugh—
“GET BACK HERE!”
—while the sound of Ford’s voice thundered after him from the cellar.
Bill skidded to a stop in the dirt, taking a brief second to catch his breath until he looked over to where the kids stood.
They stared, he stared back—
“Quick, somebody grab him!” Ford’s voice yelled from the cellar, seconds before he himself appeared in the doorway.
—and Bill spun on his heels before sprinting towards the nearby wood.
Despite their initial shock, Wendy was quick to the draw with the shrink ray. Rather than shoot a beam at Bill, however, she aimed it towards something in the line of his path—a small rock that suddenly quintupled in size in a matter of seconds.
So few seconds that Bill didn’t have enough time to slow to a halt before his face and body slammed against the rock, the impact knocking him off his already-wobbly feet and bringing him down to the dirt with a thud.
His escape attempt was momentarily forgotten as he pressed a hand to his injured nose, before casting a bitter glare in Wendy’s direction. “Oh, that’s real mature, Red!” he called. “I suppose your next trick involves painting a tunnel on the side?”
“Haha!” Mabel said delightedly. “Nice one, Wendy!”
“Yeah, I’m really liking this thing,” Wendy said, with a small twirl of the flashlight.
“Did you hear me?!” Ford said sharply—probably sharper than intended—as he stepped out into the yard. “Someone catch him before he gets to the woods!”
“Oh, right—”
As Bill sprung back to his feet and took off in another direction, the rest of the group rushed after him in a frantic hurry. And despite the burning sensation in Bill’s lungs, he was cackling with wicked delight at the others’ misfortune as he rounded the side of the shack near the porch—
“Gotcha!”
—right before a large hand snagged the back of his jacket and yanked him backwards.
Despite Bill’s desperate attempts to struggle free, Stan’s grip remained strong as he hoisted him up in the air. “Nice try, pal.”
If Bill could feel his face reddening in anger within the Mindscape, the sensation was tenfold in the real world as he glared daggers at Stan. “Put me down!”
“Not happening, Pyramid Face.”
Ford came into view around the corner, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his chest as he drew closer. “Nice catch, Stanley…”
“Maybe to you, it is!” Bill protested, with a pointed glare at Stan. “Thought you were busy pouting on the boat, or whatever.”
“And I thought you were busy dyin’, or whatever,” Stan shot back, before looking back to Ford again. “Need to tie him up, or—”
“Right, right,” Ford said, unfurling the rope he’d snagged from the study. “Hold him out?”
While Stan extended him out to Ford—the sight of Bill’s body dangling as he struggled to break free reminiscent of a scruffed kitten—the kids also rounded the side of the house in a rush. At the sight of Stan holding Bill, they too slowed to a stop with looks of both relief and mild confusion.
Confusion that Mabel finally vocalized with a: “What’s going on?”
“Aside from the obvious escape attempt on Bill’s end?” Dipper asked.
Despite his struggles, Bill couldn’t help but let out a mocking laugh at Dipper's remark. “Aww, look who has eyes and a brain that can string together two coherent thoughts. You’re really movin’ up in the world, aren’tcha, Pine Tree—hey, hey! I felt that, Stanford!”
He shot a sour look at Ford, who had already started the process of rewrapping the rope around his body to restrain him. Restraint with clear intent on Ford’s end to be as uncomfortable for Bill as possible.
And at Bill’s confrontation, Ford locked eyes with him and pulled the ends even tighter with an insincere: “Oops.”
While he moved to loop them again—and while Bill continued to try and struggle free—Stan raised an eyebrow. “Gonna guess whatever you were tryin’ down there didn’t work?”
“Oh, no, it worked perfectly~!” Bill replied in Ford’s place. “Clearly I’m now stuck in one of Sixer’s badly-made arts and crafts and—actually, I don’t exactly know what he planned on doing with me after that, so I can’t spin some dramatic yarn about it, but the point is that it obviously worked~!”
He gave Stan a cutesy bat of his eyelashes, which quickly fell into a flat look. “Asking questions like that is why you’re the dumber, sweatier twin. You realize this, right?”
Despite Stan’s fists tightening around Bill’s jacket in one hand and the stack of papers in the other, he kept his reply limited to an enraged stare that could’ve burned through a sheet of metal. From the side where the rest of the group stood, however, Mabel’s features lit up with intrigue as she took a cautious step closer. “Did he say arts and crafts project?”
“Pay him no mind, Mabel,” Ford instructed, as he fiddled with the rope further. “As I told you earlier, nothing he says is worth taking into account.”
Despite another tight yank of the ropes against his chest, Bill managed a disapproving tut. “Wooooow, Sixer, and here I was being open and honest to them about our exciting adventures down in the study,” he scolded. “I realize that the concept of honestly and openness is completely foreign to you, but there’s no time like the present to learn—ACK!”
Ford’s next rope tug forced a strangled gasp out of Bill’s chest that even he couldn’t mask with a snarky comment, and one that earned an uncomfortable wince from Dipper. “Grunkle Ford, I know he’s being a massive jerk and would probably deserve it, but you might suffocate him if you’re not careful.”
“Also what were you doing down in the study, Doc?” Wendy added, taking a step forward as well. “If you tell us, then he doesn’t have to, right?”
Despite his discomfort, Bill flashed her a small grin. “Doc? Hey, that’s not a bad one! Might add that one to the ol’ mental rolodex~!”
He tilted his head in Ford’s direction. “And she’s got a point, Fordsy! I mean, you can’t exactly get mad at me for spilling the beans when you aren’t willing to go and do it yourself, right!” he pointed out with a cackle. “Once again, we know you’re not exactly the expert at being honest with people, but I repeat my previous sentiments of ‘no time like the present to learn’!”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Or I guess it’s the best time for you mortals to learn, since you’re lacking one of those nifty little time dispensers or any sort of ultimate power like yours truly. But you get the idea!”
With a slow, shuddery exhale, Ford slackened his grip on the rope and reached around to loosen his previous loops. “Fine, Wendy—” he said, with strong emphasis on her name. “I suppose filling everyone in on the details wouldn’t cause any harm now.”
“Subtle,” Bill remarked, with an attempt—a failed attempt—to pull his arms free once the ropes were looser. “Also I bet you wish you hadn’t cut the rope around my hands now, huh?”
“As I informed Dipper and Stan earlier,” Ford continued. “I was attempting to move Bill’s soul from one vessel to another. I used fairy dust to knock him out in a second unicorn barrier and tossed a sock puppet into the circle, before I cut the binds that held him to the chair and attempted a transfer spell that would—well, as I said before, move him from one vessel to the other.”
“Fairy dust?” Mabel repeated, perking up further. “Sock puppets?”
“Magical, ain’t it, Shooting Star?” Bill asked. “But as I pointed out before, I’m still stuck in this body and not some badly-made puppet that Sixer put together in five minutes. So it was all for nothing~!”
His smile faltered as he glared back at Ford. “By the way, a transfer spell? That was your big, secret plan?” he asked with a scoff. “It’s so juvenile, I’m almost offended at your laziness. Props to you for finding one in the first place, though—didn’t realize you had one on hand! Too bad it didn’t work!”
“Woooow, and here I thought you were completely serious when you said it worked earlier,” Stan said, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Of course you would, Goldfish,” Bill shot back with a smug grin. “Like I said; dumber and sweatier~! Not just pretty words tossed at you by your childhood bullies!”
Stan’s shoulders tensed further as Ford finally tied the rope off with a sturdy knot. “That should do it,” he said, then made a beckoning motion with his hand. “Alright, you can pass him over to me now.”
Stan stared at the hand, then down at Bill—earning another one of those toothy smiles of his; having a mouth really was a detriment to everyone but himself—before turning his gaze fully back to Ford.
Ford’s gaze was locked on him in return, any words he would’ve preferred to say silenced by the presence of Bill. Not just his presence but that of the kids, of Wendy—perhaps even by the presence of Stanley himself. An apology for earlier events lingering at the back of his throat, desperate to push itself out into the open, desperate to reach Stanley’s ears—
An apology almost identical to the one that Stan couldn’t bring himself to vocalize, the sheer vulnerability of such an action forcing him to avert his eyes from Ford to the kids, to Wendy, and finally to—
“No, no, don’t mind me,” Bill piped up. “If you two feel like fighting again, be my guests! And this time, you don’t even have a hallway to go out and fight in, so I get a front-row seat, baby~!”
Stan glowered at him before finally passing him off to Ford with a huff, one that allowed him a chance to push of that vulnerability back again.
Most of it, at least. “So, uh—that plan of yours,” he began slowly. “It really didn’t work, then?—don’t you say a word, Cipher!”
He directed that last part at Bill, who simply grinned in response as Ford shook his head. “No, unfortunately it didn’t work. As Bill is so keen on reminding us, his soul remained inside his current vessel even after the transfer attempt.”
He held up a finger. “However, that doesn’t mean I’m out of ideas. If anything, I did learn a few interesting things that might allow me to try a method I initially rejected.”
“Oh, because of the whole—” Dipper began, before his gaze shifted to Bill again. “You know, the stuff we talked about earlier—”
“Precisely,” Ford replied before Bill could get a word in. “While my initial theory wasn’t proven wrong by the failed attempt, it did prove that—”
He paused and returned his attention to Bill for a moment, who gave another cutesy bat of his eyelashes. “Well, Sixer, we’re waiting~?”
“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy started, then continued forward until she’d joined the adults proper. “Turn him towards me for a sec.”
With a confused look from all of them—Bill included—Ford obliged and held Bill out further in front of him. Once she was at a safe angle, Wendy leaned over and slapped a hand over each of his ears, earning a very irritable “Oh, COME ON—” from him for her efforts. “Would’ve covered his mouth too, but I’m not looking for another rabies shot,” Wendy explained. “Plus he seems like the kinda guy who’s going to yell and whine about me doing this, and it’ll muffle anything you have to say.”
“I’ll bet you mortals think you’re SO advanced for possessing external ear lobes!” Bill yelled, whipping his head back and forth. “Well, the joke’s on you! If I were in my usual form, I wouldn’t possess such a horrible evolutionary flaw! In fact, I’ll probably just get rid of ears altogether once I’m outta this stupid body—”
“Wow, smart call,” Dipper said.
Despite Bill’s best efforts to shake her off, Wendy’s hands remained firm against his head as she raised an eyebrow at Ford. “Alright, you wanted to say something?”
Ford blinked a few times in surprise, but cleared his throat with his free hand before responding: “As I was saying and as I told Stan and Dipper this morning, I was originally hesitant to cause any lethal harm to Bill’s current vessel, due to—well—”
“The fact that he looks like Dipper?” Mabel asked.
“Oh, so you guys saw that too,” Wendy asked with a grimace.
“We’ve seen it, acknowledged it—” Dipper added quickly. “But the main issue outside of that was that Grunkle Ford didn’t know if killing Bill’s vessel would actually kill Bill himself, since he’s a mind demon and stuff.”
“I had those concerns,” Ford continued. “But the failed transfer attempt proved a few things to me that I did not know at the time of those assumptions. I don’t have a lot of time to get into everything right now since, well—”
He gestured to the still-deafened Bill, who shot him a dirty look. “I know you’re talking about me! You think I don’t know your ‘showing off something as you talk about it’ gesture?”
“My point is—while the transfer failed, it taught me one important thing,” Ford said, while Bill droned on in anger. “While it’d still be dangerous to outright try killing Bill, he is unable to be pulled out of his current vessel.”
“...Meaning—?” Stan asked.
“Meaning that if he’s unable to be forcibly pulled out of his current vessel, there’s a high chance he also cannot leave of his own accord,” Ford explained. “Meaning he’s stuck. And if he’s stuck, there’s at least one specific thing we can try to get him out of our hair for the time being.”
“What is it?” Mabel asked.
“I’m going to take him down to the bunker and place him in one of the cryogenic chambers.”
“You’re gonna freeze him?” Wendy asked, then paused. “Woah, woah, time out—you had the idea to freeze him this whole time and you spent this long not doing that?”
“Well, to be fair, the process has only ever been used on the supernatural,” Ford explained. “I have no idea what kind of effect it’ll have on a human body, and the last thing I wanted to do is actually cause harm beyond repair to Bill’s vessel, for previously-explained reasons. But since my attempts to either contact the previous host or expunge him from the vessel were failures, it seems like a safe enough method to try next.”
“Hello?! Did we forget I was here?!”
Bill continued to shake his head about in an attempt to free his ears from Wendy’s hands, and Ford gave a nod to her to pull them back. “Anyway, what I told you is the current plan,” he said, while she obliged. “It shouldn’t take me too long to complete, and I should be back within an hour or so.”
“What, you’re going to the—” Dipper’s gaze bounced over to Bill for a split second “—the place we just talked about by yourself?”
“Oh, great recovery, Pine Tree,” Bill said. “By the way, it’s cute how you think that someone who’s been around the block as much as me doesn’t know how to read lips.”
He flashed the group a wide grin. “So if you guys wanna prattle on about how Sixer’s going to take me down to the bunker to pop me into one of those freezy-tubes like I were a pack of Mustelid Sticks, then by all means~!”
At the sight of their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads in surprise, Bill cackled in delight. “Wait, did I seriously get it right the first time?”
And as they attempted to settle their features back into more neutral expressions, he let out another elated cackle that rocked his entire body. “Haha, wow, I can’t believe that bluff actually worked!” he taunted. “I mean, it was my third guess, after ‘ultra-powerful vacuum’ and ‘fishing around inside my vessel’s ear with the soul-equivalent of those garbage-grabbing hooks’, but man, you guys gotta get better poker faces!”
“Yeah, well, so what if you’re right?” Mabel added, folding her arms across her chest. “What’re you gonna do about it to stop us from locking you up?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something~!” Bill said with a grin. “The universe does seem to have me in its favor when it comes to last-minute rescues~!”
He waggled his eyebrows at the group. “Do you get it? Because you jerks tried to kill me and I—hey!”
His smug look melted into annoyance as Ford gave his body a warning shake. “Don’t you worry about him, kids,” Ford said to the others. “No matter what he says, it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s out of our hair for good.”
“Going back to what Mabel was saying, though,” Stan said. “You’re really gonna handle this all by yourself?”
“Yeah, don’t you need someone to, like, push the buttons in the security room?” Wendy asked, then added as an afterthought: “I figure since he guessed the plan, we can talk about it freely now.”
“Hey, yeah!” Dipper agreed. “There’s no way you’ll be able to do the code all by yourself, especially not with Bill in your hands!”
“Once again, very hurtful that people are talking about me like I’m not even here,” Bill said with feigned offense. “But the peanut gallery raise a good point. Pretty sure that unless you’ve gained the ability to grow another pair of arms—not that you’d tell me if you did, I guess—you’ll be squished flatter than—well, me~!”
A pause, before he flashed Ford a grin. “And while imitation’s the sincerest form of flattery and I highly suggest you try it, I’d rather not be involved in said imitation attempt myself. You know what I mean?”
Rather than respond, Ford pressed his free hand to his chin. “I suppose the security room does provide me with an issue I hadn’t previously considered…”
Stan’s features lit up with a spark of inspiration, and his grip once again tightened around the stack of papers in his hand. “Hey, you know, if the cat’s outta the bag on that bunker plan,” he said, and began to flip through them with one hand. “I might have somethin’ that—”
“No, Stanley.”
It was said too quickly, far too quickly for either of their liking. And Stan’s thumbing through the papers was halted with a deflated look, one that earned a remorseful expression from Ford in return. “I—I appreciate you catching Bill for me, but I can handle this myself,” he said quickly, regaining his composure. “I’ll…simply deactivate the security room before I bring Bill through. It might add some extra time to my bunker venture, but it would make for an easy and safe transfer to the main lab area.”
“But I—”
“Yeah, so why don’t you do what I told you to do earlier, Goldfish,” Bill chimed in. “And run along and let the adults handle things here?”
Red once again flooded Stan’s vision, the stack of papers dropped to the ground beside him as he bared both fists in a surge of anger. “Oh, you wanna see how an adult handles things, you little—”
He grit his teeth together as his vision shifted between Ford and the kids, before he exhaled as much anger as he could possibly expel in one breath and scooped the papers back up off the ground with a halfhearted “Forget it.” before storming off towards the Stan-O-War-II.
Ford opened his mouth the slightest amount to object, to call him back, to say something—
“Yeesh, the temper on that guy,” Bill spoke up with a laugh. “No wonder you avoided him for so long, I’d go nuts having to deal with that all the time!”
—and his grip tightened on Bill before he turned to the nearby wood. “As I said before, it shouldn’t take me more than a few hours at most to disable the security system,” he called back to the kids. “Once it’s done, Bill will be out of our hair for the time being.”
“If it works,” Bill added with a laugh. “I mean, your silly little transfer spell didn’t work, so who’s to say—hey, hey, quit shaking me!”
Bill narrowed his eyes at Ford, who returned it with another shake of his body as he stepped from the yard into the forest underbrush—
“Grunkle Ford, wait!”
—and spun back around at the sound of Mabel’s voice, dirt crunching beneath her shoes as she hurried towards him. “I know Soos asked you earlier and you didn’t respond,” she said. “But…do you think you’ll be done with the security room in time for the party?”
“Yeesh, Shooting Star,” Bill piped up. “You’re all in the presence of greatness here, and all you can think about is some silly party?”
A laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you focusing on yourselves over anything else. You Pineses don’t do enough of that anymore. But c’mon, I’m dyin’ over here!”
He flashed Ford a grin, one far more teeth than actual amusement. “Although I guess that’s the goal here, isn’t it, Sixer?”
“I…don’t have an answer to that question, Mabel,” Ford replied to Mabel. “While I have confidence in my own skill to deactivate the security room without issue, there’s always a chance that things could go astray in the process. If all goes according to plan, I should at least make it back for the tail end of things. If it doesn’t—”
“If it doesn’t, too bad!” Bill interrupted gleefully. “No party for Sixer~!”
This time, Ford didn’t even bother to acknowledge him as he turned and continued onwards into the woods. Mabel didn’t budge from her spot, keeping her eyes locked on Ford's back until both of them disappeared from sight between the trees.
“Well, I still don’t know if him and Stan actually fighting or not,” Wendy chimed up from behind her. “But either way, that could’ve gone way better.”
“No kidding,” Dipper added. “And I know this goes without saying, but Bill wasn’t exactly making things any easier.”
“You’d think dying would’ve taught him how to shut up a little bit,” Wendy agreed with a huff. “Bet you anything Stan was a second away from swinging on him again.”
“A bet I’d never take because you’d win it easy.”
Mabel kept her attention on the woods for a few more seconds, her entire posture sinking as she finally turned back to face them. “And now Grunkle Ford’s gonna be at the bunker all day, doing secret bunker stuff all by himself,” she said sadly. “He might not even make it back in time for the party tonight…”
She reached over to grab one of her sweater sleeves with one hand. “Guess that’s not the most important thing right now, though, huh? Guess it’s getting rid of Bill first…”
Dipper crossed his arms with a sigh. “He never did tell us how he was going to handle that alone,” he pointed out, with his own unsure look towards the forest. “I mean, I know he said he’s gonna deactivate the security room. But how’s he going to get into the bunker at all?”
“Hey, yeah,” Wendy said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t he need to climb up and reach the lever? How’s he going to do that when he’s gotta keep a hand on Bill?”
Realization painted both Dipper and Mabel’s features at the same time, and their gazes immediately snapped to each other. “Grunkle Ford isn’t letting Stan help him—” Dipper began.
“—but he didn’t say we couldn’t come help,” Mabel finished knowingly.
“And even if he said he could handle the Bill stuff by himself, he never said anything about getting help with the bunker stuff,” Wendy added with a wink.
“Plus, he’ll probably need at least one other person to watch Bill so he can focus on the security room!” Dipper said thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his face. “I know it’s not technically a loophole dodge, but I mean…how’s he supposed to focus on dismantling a dangerous security system if he’s got to keep one eye on Bill?”
“And keeping that eye on Bill for someone else will probably be super easy if he’s tied up,” Mabel agreed. “I mean, all he can do right now is talk, right? And it’s not like we’re not gonna listen to anything he says!”
“Sounds to me like we’re all in agreement on this ‘go and help that stubborn old doc out’ train,” Wendy said. “So you two gonna get a move on towards the bunker, or what?”
“Oh, should we both go?” Dipper asked, directing the question at her, then Mabel. “I think one of us would be more than enough, right?”
“One should be good,” Mabel said with a nod. “And we can always keep in touch with our cell phones, right?”
“Signal might be hit or miss underground, but it’s not like I can’t just step out and guard the exit as I text,” Dipper agreed.
“Yeah, y—wait, you?” Mabel tilted her head in confusion. “You wanted to go?”
“Oh, was that not—” Dipper began. “Did you want to go instead? I thought you’d want to stay and decorate for the party?”
“Yeah, plus we have no idea if Dr. Pines will actually be finished by the time the party starts,” Wendy added. “Are you sayin’ you’d be willing to miss a party of this size, Mabel?”
“Eh, there’s always gonna be other parties,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, I trust you two to follow Soos’ vision of ‘making this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party.’”
She looked towards the woods again. “Plus, I…I said I wanted to spend some time with Dr. Grunkle Ford, right? What better way to do that then to help him with all this Bill stuff?”
She pressed a hand to her mouth with a giggle. “Oops, I mean…all this bunker stuff.”
“Fair point, fair point,” Dipper agreed with a nod. “Alright, then you go help Ford, and keep me posted on what’s happening! And I’ll snap as many pics as I can of the party for you, just so you don’t feel too left out.”
“You’re the best, Bro-Bro~!” Mabel said, smile widening as she looked between them. “Alright, I’d better get going then, huh?”
“Good luck, Mabel!” Wendy said, and flashed her a thumbs up. “And be sure to drop a couple of swears at the little triangle bastard in my honor.”
“Ooh, yeah!” Mabel said excitedly, then pressed a hand to her chin. “Uh…which ones should I use?”
“Whatever one you want, so long as I don’t get in trouble for it.”
Mabel thought for a second. “Bill’s a…dumbass?”
Wendy slapped a hand to her mouth to try and bite back a laugh. “Good try, but maybe put a little bit more oomph behind it? C’mon, say it with your whole chest!”
“Bill’s a dumbass!” she tried again with more confidence.
“Yeah, atta girl!” Wendy said, pumping a fist into the air.
Dipper let out a laugh of delight, pressing a hand to his own mouth. “He really is a dumbass, huh?”
“The biggest one!” Mabel said, clapping her hands together. “Dumbass triangle!”
“Alright, alright, let’s spread ‘em out a bit, huh?” Wendy suggested. “Swears are fine and good, but you use too many of them at once and they lose their punch.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Mabel said with a nod. “Better save them for when I get to the bunker, huh?”
With a laugh, Wendy gave her a two-finger salute, one accompanied by a thumbs up from Dipper. And after a confusing attempt to mirror both at the same time, Mabel bounded off through the underbrush in the direction where Ford had gone.
The two of them watched her go in silence, before Wendy looked down to Dipper. “So, you wanna get started on those streamers while we toss out a couple more swears about the little jerk?”
“Like you’ve gotta ask,” Dipper said, before they turned back towards the Shack. “I know for a fact I’ve got a couple of those hearty f-words saved up just for him.”
#Hayley Writes Triangulum#Gravity Falls#Triangulum The Fic#Wendy Corduroy#Dipper Pines#Mabel Pines#My Writing#Long Post#(More characters in the chapter; they are just tagged for the art)#(Lots of Stan; Ford and Bill)
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Emotional Distance
Ngl I feel like a lot of people sleep on the angst potential of Remus being the one to distance from Roman. Roman's discomfort from Janus saying "You know I love you"? His initial distrust of Virgil and trying to keep distance plus the jabs? His desire to not be like his brother? His people pleasing? All of it could be fed into based on that concept alone. It can be taken in so many hard angst or hurt/comfort directions. – ax3-e0ns
Read on Ao3
Warnings: roman has pretty severe abandonment issues
Pairings: none
Word Count: 3783
Once upon a time, in an Imagination far away, there lived Creativity. Creativity spent his days making anything he wanted. He made skies of sapphires and great stone castles. He made forests of magical trees and filled them with wonderful creatures. He filled the sky with diamonds and made stories that anyone could get lost in, because the happy endings would find them and everything would be right again.
But stories do not stay the same, we do not always get our happy endings. And when Creativity rips itself apart, it seems as though there might never be a happy ending ever again.
But Remus is back. And now Roman has to deal with seeing his brother after they've been Split.
Virgil didn’t think too much of it. Princey was going to be a jerk to him because he presented obstacles to Princey having everything he ever dreamed of—or what Thomas ever dreamed of. But that was his job, so he didn’t care. If pressed, he might actually admit he enjoyed the verbal sparring. Princey was fun to mess with and remind that he wasn’t actually the perfect prince he claimed to be. C’mon, the flaws in perfection are fun to mess with. And if Roman blew himself up and got all blustery and rude, well, that was just incentive to keep going.
Yeah, sure, some of Princey’s insults hurt more than others, but that was a risk that came with the job. They were making a habit of it, throwing sharp words back and forth, some of them were bound to hit eventually. Besides, Virgil always gave as good as he got and it wasn’t like the others would let Roman get away with it. He may or may not have been keeping a tally of how many times they made Roman apologize for something he said. And it wasn’t like Roman only aimed for the soft spots. He knew better.
So yeah, it wasn’t surprising to Virgil that Roman tried to keep him at a distance. That’s what they were supposed to do, wasn’t it?
2.
Patton gets it. He’s a lot! He can be overwhelming and enthusiastic and sometimes that’s not what people want. He’s all about making sure people are happy and if that means they need to take a break sometimes, that’s what they should do!
He’s just happy that Roman lets him know.
The two of them get along really well most of the time: they have their own inside jokes and they go on adventures in the Imagination together and they watch funny cat videos and they talk about the stories they want to read, it’s the best. They have great fun just messing around doing absolutely ridiculous arts and crafts projects that normally end up with both of them covered in glitter and their new things proudly displayed on the wall in Patton’s room. He always asks Roman if he wants them in his room instead, but Roman always says no.
“All my walls are covered with my stuff, I want you to have the stuff we made,” he says, “unless you really don’t want it…?”
But Patton always does, so he puts it up and Roman grins when he comes over and sees it.
But sometimes they need slow days. So they bake or just watch something and sometimes even that’s a bit too much. So Patton doesn’t mind when Roman says he’s too worn out to do something that afternoon after they went into the Imagination the day before and made cookies all afternoon the day before that. It’s the right thing to do, really, to help support Roman. After all, Roman’s always so good with making sure he feels better and gets him all cheered up, it’s the lease he can do to leave Roman be when he asks for it, right?
So no, Patton doesn’t think about it too much. Roman likes to be left alone sometimes, and that’s okay.
3.
Janus understands, he does, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
Roman was easy to manipulate. Roman always has been easy to manipulate. When Roman discovered just how much he’d been manipulated, it made sense that he would react…strongly. Insults, yes, pushing him to the outskirts of the conversations, yes, banishing himself away when Janus came around, yes, yes, all of that. And Janus would weather it with minimal complaint because it was fair. Completely justified? No, not really, but understandable.
He would be happier about it if it weren’t so obviously hurting Roman too.
Creativity is not something to be neglected. It needs an outlet, somewhere to express itself, somewhere it can be appreciated, even if it’s only internally. And Roman has more than his fair share of personal projects, things he never lets Thomas see, but he doesn’t let them see it either. And it seems like he goes out of his way to keep it like that.
Every time Patton asks him what he’s been up to: vague answer. Any time Logan asks him for a brain storm: only Thomas’s ideas. Even when Virgil lobs a painful softball about him being lazy or unproductive: volley back about Virgil being an expert or he just shoulders it without a response. And Janus can hear the lie of omission buzzing around Roman’s head but he can’t do a damn thing about it.
It’s not like Roman would ever open up to him. Not when it’s like pulling teeth to even get him to acknowledge that he’s upset about something more than just…surface level things.
So yes, Janus understands. He just hates that he does.
4.
Logan does not understand what is going on and he intends to get to the bottom of it.
Roman is isolating himself and intentionally keeping them all at a distance. There have been no long-lasting arguments that would result in such behavior, and any smaller disagreements have been settled to the best of everyone’s respective ability. He would not be amiss to ascribe a level of immaturity to Roman, but that seems an unlikely cause given Roman’s levelheadedness—and he did not ever think he would be attributing that characteristic to Roman—in other circumstances. So that means either it is something that Roman is not telling the rest of them about, or it is something else entirely.
He goes to Roman’s door after he opts out of movie night and knocks politely on the door. Roman comes to answer it in a plain T-shirt and shorts.
“Yes?”
“May I come in, please?”
Roman shifts but does not allow Logan entrance. “What did you need, Logan?”
Logan frowns. “You’ve been isolating yourself from us, why?”
Roman blinks, momentary surprise flickering over his features before it settles on a familiar half-smile. “Thought you’d be happy to not have to deal with me for a while, Specs. You miss me that much?”
“It’s not about whether I miss you, this pattern of behavior is alarming.”
“Are the others worried?”
“I would imagine they would be if they knew the extent to which you were—“
“So you didn’t ask them?”
“What?”
Roman sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Look, Logan, I’m not…’self-isolating,’ or whatever you want to call it. I’m just tired tonight and I don’t feel up to watching a movie with the rest of you. I’ll try and make it next week, okay?”
“That’s not—“ he catches the door when Roman tries to close it— “it’s more than just movie nights. You don’t talk to us about things that are bothering you, really bothering you, and you keep trying to brush us off when we ask about you or your projects.”
”Never thought you’d be the one anxious to hear about my work, especially when it falls outside of that 0.5%.”
“See? Like that.”
Roman shakes his head. “You should go back downstairs, Logan, they’re probably going to start the movie without you at this rate.”
“Now you’re not even trying to be subtle about it. You should—“
“Logan.”
The firmness of Roman’s voice startles him into silence. Roman gives him a look and gently yet firmly moves Logan’s hand off the door.
“I’d like to be left alone now,” he continues, jerking his head toward the stairs, “enjoy the movie.”
The door closes with a decisive click. Logan stares at it for a long moment before hanging his head and walking back downstairs.
”No luck?”
“No. He shut the door on me when I tried to push.”
Patton toys with the ears on his cat onesie. Virgil sinks a little more into his hoodie. Janus sighs.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Me neither.”
”I don’t know what else to do,” Logan says quietly as he takes a seat, “I don’t understand.”
“None of us do.”
5.
Then Remus appears.
He sends Thomas on a horror show roller coaster with a sinister music number and knocks Roman unconscious for nearly half an hour. For Janus and Virgil, it’s something they’d seen coming for a long time, for Patton and Logan, less so. Remus cackles and throws them all off guard every chance he gets, delighting in the mayhem he causes and everyone is left scrambling to pick up the pieces.
Everyone that is, except Roman.
The first time Roman sees Remus, he stops. Fully stops, staring at him, as Remus grins and keeps doing…whatever he’s doing with the inflatable dolphin. Eventually, he looks up and spots Roman and his grin widens.
“Ro-bro! Wanna help me out? I could really use a hand with the extra bamboo skewers.”
Patton quickly ducks behind Logan. Janus just sighs and Virgil mutters here we go.
Roman looks at him for a long pause.
“Remus,” he says eventually in a completely even voice, “you’re back.”
“Back and bloodier than ever!” A squib explodes on his chest as he spreads his arms. “Did you miss me?”
Something moves across Roman’s face too quick to name. He looks at the dolphin and then back at Remus. “Welcome back, I guess. Good luck with the skewers.”
And he turns and walks up the stairs.
They’ve never really described Roman as…cold before. And yet that’s exactly what it is. It’s not like with Logan, where he takes Remus’s creations apart with cold logic, or even that he ignores Remus altogether. No, it’s just…the briefest of acknowledgements, the weakest of yes-ands, the polite yet insistent removal of himself from whatever context Remus might be in.
It’s not what they expect from Roman. It’s exactly what they expect from Roman.
”He’s getting worse,” Patton mumbles when yet again Roman declines their invitation to dinner, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Is he still eating?” Virgil pushes his food around his plate. “I don’t see him eat anymore.”
”He’s eating, his box of snacks is still being emptied.”
“You check?”
“Of course I check, what do you take me for,” Janus scoffs, “an amateur?”
“We’re missing something.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “There’s something we haven’t taken into consideration.”
“Me.”
They all turn and look at Remus, eating his food on top of the fridge. Despite his comically contorted position, he looks oddly serious.
“I’m sure it’s not that,” Patton tries, “Roman missed you, he said so.”
“Yeah, he might’ve missed me, but it’s not like that makes up for anything.”
Logan frowns. “What do you mean, Remus?”
Remus sighs, setting his plate aside and getting down from the fridge, still strangely stoic. “I mean what happened when we were younger.”
“…what happened?”
+1.
Once upon a time, in an Imagination far away, there lived Creativity. Creativity spent his days making anything he wanted. He made skies of sapphires and great stone castles. He made forests of magical trees and filled them with wonderful creatures. He filled the sky with diamonds and made stories that anyone could get lost in, because the happy endings would find them and everything would be right again.
But as time went on, and the people got older, some of his ideas started to…change. Now he thought of deep caves filled with monsters, monsters that would kidnap people. The heroes would still rescue them, because they had to, but now they left with scars that didn’t heal quite right and memories that hurt to think about.
Creativity didn’t understand. He wanted to have fun with his work again, just make things that people would like—but what about what he thought of? Weren’t the dark ideas fun in their own way too?
No, because they hurt people—
—but those people aren’t real, so what does it matter?
Why did he want to hurt people?
Why did he hate the part of himself that kept coming up with these ideas?
He didn’t hate himself, he just wanted to be better—
—well, if he wanted to be better so badly, maybe it’d be better if he didn’t have these kinds of thoughts anymore.
Yes, that was it, he just wouldn’t have though thoughts—wait—wait, no, no, no!
Creativity Split and the Imagination howled in pain, a deep chasm forming between two sides: on one side stood the castle, the castle he had loved for years and years, and on the other rose a massive thing of oily black stone, a tower that stuck out like a sword hilt impaled in the earth. The forest grew black and twisted, monstrosities lurking around rickety hanging bridges. Creativity was no longer unified, no longer was control over the Imagination absolute.
The people of the Imagination found half of Creativity weeping on the floor of the castle, a bright sash of red the closest thing to blood it could manage. His tears ran gold over the white of his shirt, a new costume forming before their very eyes. He looked younger, stronger, more like the Prince they all expected him to be, except for his eyes.
A drawbridge shut that day for half of Creativity, and they never again saw it open.
Roman sighs as he opens his door and heads down the hall. Janus had been pestering him about a rematch for weeks and he’d just managed to get him to agree to a time. He picks up the well-worn deck of cards and starts down the stairs.
“I hope you’re ready,” he calls as he goes, “because I won’t be going easy on you this…time.”
He stops halfway down.
Janus is not the one sitting waiting in the living room. Instead, Remus looks up at him. His hands are folded in between his legs and he actually looks somber.
”Huh.” Roman glances at the cards and put them in his pocket. “So that’s what this was?”
“Yeah.”
“Janus doesn’t actually want that rematch, does he?”
“No, he does. I had to bribe him with a heat lamp with an extra long battery life to get him to help.”
“Mm. Is he in his room?”
“Yeah, I think so—wait,” he says quickly, standing up when Roman turns to go, “can we…talk?”
“You want to talk?”
“Yes, Ro, I want to talk.” Roman stops and just waits. “Can you—just come all the way down, for Beezlebub’s sake.”
Roman walks down the stairs and stands at the end, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed. Remus looks for a minute like he wants to protest before he sighs and walks over.
”I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“Did you?” Remus scoffs. “Because it seems like you want nothing to do with me.”
“I do miss you. I’m glad you’re back. It’s been hard without you.” Remus frowns. Roman inclines his head in the direction of the Imagination. “You know some of them still ask what happened?”
“You didn’t tell them?”
“I told them you wanted to follow your own path without me getting in the way.”
Remus suppresses a growl. “What else did you tell them?”
“To be careful going over the bridges if they went to go see you. I didn’t make you out to be the bad guy, Remus, I didn’t forbid any of them from seeing you. I never put up walls or a big sign that says don’t come back, or anything.”
“I know you didn’t.” Roman just nods and doesn’t say anything. Remus growls again and lightly shoves his shoulders. “Where are you? What’re you doing, aren’t you mad at me? Say something!”
“I mean, I’m not thrilled that you left without helping me fix that outer wall—“
“Then let’s go do it!”
Before Roman can say anything, Remus grabs his shoulder and sinks them into the Imagination. He shakes his head to get his bearings—it’s so much harder to sink right in as opposed to going through one of their doors—and sees Remus already hefting a giant block of stone.
“Well? Come on, we can do it together.”
Roman goes over and helps Remus lift the stone block into place. One by one, they repair the wall. Remus keeps trying to get him to talk. He doesn’t. They put the last one in and Remus stands back, panting with a beaming smile.
“There, how’s that?”
“Looks good. Thank you.”
Remus’s smile drops. “That’s it?”
“I mean, it’s not like we can extra fix the wall—“ he’s cut off when Remus shoves his shoulder. Hard.
“Stop it,” he snarls, stalking forward and shoving him again, “whatever you’re doing, whatever punishment this is supposed to be for me, it’s working, alright? You’ve made your point, you’ve punished me, I’m sorry, now stop it!”
“Stop what?”
”This!” Remus shoves him again. “This thing where you’re being all cold and stoic and emotionless and letting me shove you around!”
He does it with two hands this time, enough to make Roman stumble. Roman dodges out of the way of the next one and it just makes Remus angrier.
“I didn’t come back for this—this version of you, I want my brother back!”
“This is your brother!”
Roman grabs him and pins him against a different part of the crumbling wall. He’s panting now, not quite glaring at Remus, who must’ve gotten the wind knocked out of him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as calmly as he can.
”You left,” he says, deliberately slowly, “you tore us apart because that’s what you wanted. You wanted out, you wanted to be away from me. Do you have any idea what that did to the rest of Creativity?”
Remus’s lower lip wobbles as he shakes his head.
“Creativity got sorted into you and what wasn’t you. It hurt, Remus. You have no idea how much it hurt.” He tightens his grip until his nails dig into Remus’s arms. “Because you ripped free but you were going somewhere. You…you left me there.”
“I didn’t know,” Remus manages, “I…I didn’t know.”
Roman scoffs before he can stop himself. “Of course you didn’t. How could you? You weren’t here.”
He lets go and pushes himself away, turning and walking a few paces. Behind him, he can hear Remus pulling himself together.
“But I’m back now,” he hears, and his fists clench, “I’m back, Ro. We can—ah!”
He reels back, covering his bloody nose with a hand. He looks up, panting.
“Okay, I deserve that.”
Roman punches him again.
“That too.”
He draws his leg back and aims right between—
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, not that, not that, maybe not that.”
Roman stops, breathing slightly heavier. Remus looks up at him, blood gushing from his nose. He turns his back again, taking a deep breath. The crumbling tower looms over them, its fractured shadow etching black lines into the ground. The grass rustles as Remus takes another step closer. Roman raises his chin.
“You left and it hurt me,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, “it still hurts. I won’t go through something like that again, Remus.”
“Is that why you won’t get close to the others?”
“I know better now.”
For a brief second, something wells up in his chest, strong enough to take his breath away and threaten tears at the corners of his eyes. He chokes it back and shoves it under his tongue.
“I think you should go now,” he says, choking a little, “thank you for fixing the wall.”
He only has the briefest of moments before he hears two quick steps and something throws itself at his back.
Warm warm warm solid real Remus safe brother hug hold keep stay Remus no don’t warm cold so cold so cold it hurts it hurts please stop oh god don’t let go—
“Go,” he chokes out, the force of the hug and the emotions running through him breaking his voice, “Remus, go, go, just leave, you need to leave, I can’t do this again, just go, just go—“
Remus doesn’t let go. He digs his heels in and locks his arms around Roman’s waist. He tucks his head against the space between Roman’s shoulder blades and holds on, even as Roman starts to pull and push at his arms.
“No, no, no, Remus, no,” he manages, sobs beginning to steal his voice too, “let go, let me go, you have to go, you have to leave, you have to…you have to, I can’t do this again, you can’t do this to me again, I can’t, I can’t—“
His knees buckle, sending him to the ground. Remus is on him the second he lands, wrapping his legs around him too like a koala, just clinging onto him for dear life. Roman tries to get away, tries to pry him off, tries to crawl, but the warmth and solid arms around him keep making his limbs turn to jelly. HE can’t catch his breath, not with the way Remus’s mustache keeps scratching against his ear because that’s his brother, his brother is back, his brother is hugging him, his brother won’t let him go, he won’t leave, he won’t leave again—
“I’m here,” Remus whispers as Roman starts to sob desperately, “I’m right here, Roro, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m here now, I’m not leaving, I won’t leave, I promise.”
Roman thrashes, wiggling in Remus’s hold. “Let me—wanna hold you—let me—le’ me turn ‘round—“
Remus lets up just enough for Roman to turn and get his arms round his neck, clinging to him life a raft in a storm and sobbing to his shoulder. He hunches protectively over his brother and presses his cheek hard to the crown of Roman’s head.
“I’m here now,” he murmurs over and over, “I’m here, I’m not leaving, I’m here, I’m here.”
Gold tears mix with silver tears. Blood drips onto red and green sashes. White meets black in a fierce embrace as the setting sun turns the green grass red, red, red. The brothers stay there, wrapped around each other, as the Imagination shudders once more.
The tower stands, crumbling it may be, but it stands.
Happy endings will find them and everything will be alright again.
General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl
#dragonbabbles#roman sanders#roman angst#roman sanders angst#remus sanders#sympathetic remus#janus sanders#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#logan sanders#patton sanders#virgil sanders#fic
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What About your Past Life Contributes to your Aesthetic?
I know I mentioned before that I don't like past life readings, but only because they're usually depressing depending on which topic I'm channeling about, but I wanted to do something different and I know for sure that this shouldn't be too heavy. Enjoy ♡
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Pile One
I feel that in one of your past lives, you left this earth regretting how much you kept quiet when it came to expressing yourself emotionally whether that be verbally or physically. You kept yourself confined in order to look the part for a role under someone else's wing. This can apply to either a job or a significant other. It's like you believed that in order to thrive in your career or to have a successful relationship, you had to make yourself seen, but not too much that would overpower others. Major people pleasing tendencies and possibly a jealous partner that didn't want you to see your worth.
In this lifetime, you fulfill the missed opportunities that your past self deeply wanted by transforming into the polar opposite of what they were. Your aesthetic thrives on maximalist self expression and giving meaning into everything that you use to enhance your appearance. People could make snide comments insinuating that you're "doing the most"—but like a wonderful person once said "why would we want to do the least?". I'm getting that in your past life, you were conservative with your clothing, and that your choice in colors were dull. But in this lifetime, I see you utilizing more colors in your wardrobe and making each of your outfits a statement. I'm picking up a very specific scenario. Some people in this group embody the siren archetype. You could literally love to accessorize with seashells or garments that are associated with the sea. Maybe you show a lot of skin because I'm hearing the word "provocative". You decorate your skin often with either body glitter or tattoos/henna (maybe you plan to) but when it comes to illustrating your body, each piece of art is going to symbolically represent the things that made you the happiest in your life and the hurdles that you've beat. If you've self harmed in the past, I can definitely see you improvising your scars with a tattoo. This group could also emphasize their eyes a lot with eyelashes, like for instance, exaggerating the length to create a doe-eyed effect or maybe even minimizing them in a way to create siren-eye effect. The main pattern that I'm picking up though is that skin is highlighted because again, you aim to make statements with your appearance, like making a point that what you wear is because you want to but it isn't an en excuse for other people to do what they want to it without your consent or empowering yourself and others to wear certain pieces of clothing regardless of what people project onto you. You could be viewed as someone peculiar or made to feel ashamed about your natural features or identity—but you emotionally invest so much in fashion as a way to say "I have the right to loudly exist and I won't hide myself".
Pile Two
In a past life, you resembled or shared a similar fate to someone you felt really drawn to as a child or when you were younger in this lifetime. It's giving classical, bombshell, Hollywood star esque, and the Marilyn Monroe type. You may have not been famous, but there's something about your looks that were densely displayed that a lot of people knew you for. Maybe you fit a lot of people's conceptual image of what their dream person looks like because I'm getting that you had this beauty that was extremely magnetizing but sadly objectified.
In this lifetime, your aesthetic is what I would describe as passionate but discreet fury, that's probably derived from how overexposed and idealized you felt in your past life. Red, black, and leather could be prominent in your wardrobe. Mauves, reds, or berry tones could be your go to shades for your lips, or maybe this is symbolic for how tantalizing your seductive qualities are. Black hair and/or bangs could be something that you prefer, or hairstyles that that kind of overshadow your face.
Your aesthetic in this life is a darker contrast of what you were in that past life. Attractive—but not inviting. Mesmerizing—but not an image that they're able to keep. It's like you guys are this faceless muse. Another thing that parallels with your past life is that people knew you were their dream person because of your notierty, but in this lifetime you either actually show up as this hazy figure in people's dreams or you're like this ghost that leaves people wanting more but you're unable to trace—and you'd like to keep it that way. If you guys are artists maybe you like to create modern portraits where faces aren't present, or you're able to create masterpieces that draw away from what someone looks like. You could use little social media or despise picture apps like Instagram and prefer to keep your face off the internet. Your style also personifies originality. You could have a lot of people copy off of your looks or you're someone that people would put on their moodboards if they could.
Pile Three
One of your most significant past lives must have taken place in the 70s because I'm getting that your aesthetic in this lifetime resembles a lot to what you used to wear. It's almost as if your soul loved this life so much that it just had to treasure this specific piece of it. You could be into flared/bellybottom sleeves and jeans or tops (bodysuits) that exaggerate warm colors and retro patterns that accentuate your body. Vests, jean jackets, Penny lane coats, or frilly and unique outerwear are probably the key to your heart. You could love to accessorize with hats or wigs that strongly differ from your natural hair color. Maybe you have a collection of vintage items belonging to things that you have a real interest in. Because I'm picking up that some of you could be casual cosplayers. Not necessary dressing up in a costume everywhere, but you could own a lot of unique t-shirts and accessories relating to things that you're nostalgic about like anime, cartoons, bands, or quirky graphical shirts—or wear similar color schemes and clothing pieces to a beloved character of yours. Your style could draw in a lot of attention and compliments from people because they admire how much you confidently wear things that'll make you stand out from others.
Pile Four
In a past life, your relationships pertaining to love heavily influenced the way that you were dressed. Jewelry and clothing pieces that your person gifted you would be cherished daily in your outfits, you constantly based your looks off of what they personally were attracted to or their suggestions, and even when you weren't in a relationship, you dressed yourself according to what would make you desirable to another person.
I feel like this manifested into your current lifetime, but this time, it's because you actually like it, not because of anyone else. Your aesthetic could resemble a lot to the pastel pink, cream, black, and/or white coquette aesthetic. You could be really drawn to 50s/60s vintage fashion, especially pearl necklaces. Definitely swing style clothing. Neck scarves, sunglasses, and apparent bottom lashes. Although I see you guys loving soft colors, I also see you experimenting with color palletes that are more Rouge. I feel that your style also likens a lot to Fran from 'The Nanny'
#divination#intuitive#psychic#pick a card#oracle#spirituality#tarot#pac#pick a pile#tarotblr#tarot community#pick a picture#aesthetic
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Glitter and Memories
Word Count: 735
Warnings: None
Cater Diamond x Fem!Reader
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Cater flashed his signature grin, his eyes twinkling with the same mischievous spark that had first drawn you in. “Today’s the day we let our creativity run wild,” he declared, spreading an array of art supplies across the table.
You couldn’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm he exuded. “And what exactly do we have planned, Diamond?”
With a flourish, he presented a scrapbook, its pages blank and waiting to be filled with memories. “We’re going to capture the magic of our everyday moments,” he said, “and maybe add a little twist.”
The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the glitter, glue, and colorful paper that surrounded you. Cater’s excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself fully immersed in the project, cutting and pasting with more gusto than you’d ever thought possible.
As the scrapbook began to take shape, Cater paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You know what this needs? A centerpiece that truly pops.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”
With a mischievous glint in his eye, Cater reached under the table and pulled out a miniature volcano kit, complete with baking soda and vinegar. “Remember making these in school? Let’s recreate that magic.”
The next hour was a blur of laughter and creativity as you both constructed the volcano, decorating it with an extravagance that only Cater could inspire. And when it came time to make it erupt, you both held your breath, counting down before pouring the vinegar into the crater.
The reaction was immediate, a frothy explosion of glitter-infused lava that spilled over the sides, much to your delight. Cater’s laughter mingled with yours, the sound as bright and vibrant as the sparkling mess you’d created. As the glitter from the volcanic eruption settled, Cater turned to you with a playful challenge in his eyes. “I bet you can’t make a more extravagant page than I can,” he teased, his competitive streak shining through.
You accepted the challenge with a smile, knowing full well that Cater’s artistic skills were top-notch. “You’re on, Diamond. Prepare to be dazzled.”
The two of you dove into the task, each trying to outdo the other with elaborate designs and creative use of materials. Cater was a master of color, his pages a vibrant tapestry that told stories without words. You, on the other hand, had a knack for storytelling, your pages weaving narratives that brought smiles and occasional laughter.
As you both worked, your shoulders brushed, and every so often, Cater would lean over to plant a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving a faint smudge of glitter in his wake. “For good luck,” he’d say, though you both knew it was just an excuse to be close.
The hours slipped by, marked by the soft sound of scissors cutting paper and the occasional burst of laughter when one of you made a particularly bold artistic choice. “Look at this,” Cater said, holding up a page where he’d managed to create a 3D effect with layers of paper. “It’s like we could step right into the scene.”
You admired his work, genuinely impressed. “It’s amazing, Cater. But wait until you see what I’ve got planned for the next page.” You revealed your surprise—a series of photos from your first date, carefully arranged to tell the story of that magical night.
Cater’s eyes softened as he looked at the photos, and he reached out to trace the edge of one with a finger. “That was a good night,” he murmured, and you could hear the love in his voice.
“It was the start of something wonderful,” you agreed, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.
Eventually, the scrapbook was filled to the brim with memories, each page a testament to the bond you shared. Cater closed the book gently, his hand lingering on the cover. “This is more than just a book,” he said, looking up at you with earnest eyes. “It’s a piece of us.”
You nodded, feeling the truth of his words. “And we’ll keep adding to it, page by page, memory by memory.”
Cater pulled you into a hug, the kind that said everything without a single word. And in that moment, surrounded by the chaos of your creative endeavors, you knew that this was exactly where you were meant to be.
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x you#twisted wonderland x you#twisted wonderland fanfic#twisted wonderland fluff#twst imagines#twst fanfic#twst fluff#twisted wonderland x female reader#twst x female reader#twisted wonderland imagine#x female y/n#Cater twisted wonderland#female!mc#f!mc#Cater Dimond x f!reader#Twisted Wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#Twisted Wonderland Fluff#x female reader#cater dimond#cater diamond x reader#twisted wonderland Cater#twisted wonderland Cater Dimond#twst cater#twst cater diamond
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ohhh please can you do cod match up for me?? i'm female, german, 27, aquarius and work as an artist and project manager at an agency specialised in classical music. at work i'm very organized, detail oriented and efficient, but in private i like to slow things down. i guess you could say i have two personalities: at work i like getting things done and have no problem arguing with people, but in private i literally hate calling the doctor's office lol.
it's very hard for me to take my brain off work and usually only achieve that by getting engrossed in a show or painting. i like cooking, not so much baking. my hobbies are reading, going for walks (how very german of me), playing with my cat. i can be very funny, but i am more introverted and a very good listener. my love language is acts of service.
my cod favourites are price, ghost and könig, but at the moment i'm leaning more towards könig.
thank you very much and lots of kisses 😍
and I AGREE::: (shorter and sweet ones now SORRYYt_t Cue some HCs/drabbley things:)
@/fairypurgatory on pin & @/jolvelyn on twt [art]
W: Intimidating newer man in your house O God, dark if you think about it (sprinkle sprinkle glitter sparkles on the war criminal), abrupt end
◈ Okay. Neighbour. Neighbour König. (AARRURURURURURU GET MARRIED GET MARRIED GET- GET--)
◈ After many sweet-talkings outside your respective doors, y'all had a date due at your place. If you cooked for him- omigod. Social expectations be damned, the clear thought and skill behind it… When he looked back up at you, eyes boring into yours, you were half worried you'd bought a serial killer home? (Which I mean, technically yes, don't ask too much about his job history-) But no, his ridiculously intense, maliciously-coded gaze was that one of determined enrapturement.
◈ It was an amusing juxtaposition to see him meet your cat. Tough guy, tryna be smooth, leaning on the side of the doorframe.. Before his intense focus was interrupted by something fluffy and he hit his head and almost cried. He's not the best with animals, but after enough visits they become casually inseparable, and a key part of the cuddle pile. If your cat wasn't spoiled already they were now. Hey, the pair of you aren't half bad at taking care of something.
◈ Doubly fell in love with you when he saw you popping off at work. He got called in for something important you left at home, god forbid, but of course he had your back, emergency key and all. He knows all too well the importance of things needing to go to plan. But forgive him if he just stared in awe like a motherfucker seeing you go off on someone.
◈ Oh, don't you worry. When your teeth are clenching looking down at your practice's phone number for that long overdue appointment- it's right there, just a click away,- König will snatch it from you. Mixed feelings, perhaps his confidence a little infantilizing, but… it's like a vice is undoubtedly unclamped as he waddles away with the dreaded compressed waiting room music (as if it was a totally normal thing to do). He'd confirm any details prior bending over behind you, rubbing your shoulder and cooing in your ear about it. Because of course you can do it, darling, but he's always there~…
◈ Takes great smug pride in a)taking care of you, if that's something you want- and b)being with you. Uh, yeah, the badass work-focused bigshot is his? And putty in his arms? That's right.
So proud of showing you off to others at any possible convenience. 'Tries' to be subtle about it. Keyword 'tries'.
◈ He needs a break too. Proudly, toxic-masculinely denies any interest at first, but would ultimately happily waste away binging something with you. Colours and shapes reflecting off the TV onto his narrow, goofy lil' glasses, eyebrows slightly furrowed in focus as he guillibly complains about some ragebait. Uses you as a human weighted blanket laid on him, supporting your back with his chest.
◈ König's a prevalent yapper during whatever you do together. He plans as much as you'll allow, whisking you off for dinners, lunches- all expenses paid (or halfsies). Or elaborate hiking trails he insists you join him on, though sometimes he likes to choose the ones with tricky bits as an excuse to help or carry you.
#König x reader#König#konig x reader#konig#cod x reader#cod matchup#64sshit#uhhhh be prepared if you look up the art xdddd I DIDNT REALISE
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just a little break
eric x you, established relationship, college au, art student au, fluff
[summary] eric decides to come see you despite you both being busy with your work
[words] 1.5k
The first half of your last year at your university was coming to an end and that means projects were in progress to completion. Eric understood that, knowing that you both would not be able to see each other as much for a while.
As he was resting on his couch, staring at the beautiful background of you on his phone screen, his finger caressed your cheek. He smiled softly before pressing the messages icon to send you another text of “i miss yous” and reminders about taking care of yourself.
He himself was busy too, especially with making music with his friends. This week seemed chilled as they have completed their songs and were waiting for approval to release them. His schedule was flexible, so flexible that one of them, Sunwoo, came into the living room and saw Eric on his phone. He shook his head and snickered at him.
“You’re like this every single morning.” Eric peeked over his phone and saw Sunwoo crossing his arms. He gave him a weird look as Sunwoo continued, “You should seriously make lunch or go visit your partner in crime.”
Partner in crime, Eric loved that title. You both usually don’t do “bad” things together (other than taking cookies from the store despite it being for kids under 12; “We’re all humans!” He would say even though he ended up buying a package of cookies after.) but when it’s time to get your shit together, you both get serious just like you were now.
Eric wondered about if he would be a bother if he were to visit you right now. He always wondered that because morning and night texts were always a part of your daily routine since this academic year started. Even watching a movie on Friday nights at his apartment was a weekly thing, but those were so practical that he wanted to do something more than that; something more meaningful to show that he cares and loves you.
He then got up from the couch and hugged Sunwoo out of love.
“Thanks, Sunwoo. I’ll be back in a bit.” Eric smiled widely when he pulled back.
As Eric walked away, Sunwoo stood there in shock. “What? So you’re not going to make lunch?”
Art makes you feel alive. The history and the inquiry of it, you just love how tangible the tools you use were to make such beautiful pieces. It was as if your hands were magic, sprinkling invisible glitter against the white papers of your wooden easel.
You were working on the last piece of work for your final portfolio of the semester in your personal art studio at your university. You felt so relieved to have everything done one week before they’re due. The last thing for this semester to feel complete was to see Eric. You couldn’t wait to see him soon.
You had looked at your phone and replied to his texts before you mixed your paint to put your magic hands to work. If you were to choose the process that you loved the most, it would be the painting of the sketches you made. It makes your artwork come alive. Thinking of Eric right at that moment, you realized he had never seen your progress and rather, only your finishing touches of your work. One reason was that your hands were too dirty to take a picture and another was that Eric might distract you.
That thought made you laugh and you continued to focus on your final piece as Eric was looking around in the hall to find your studio. With some cold drinks in a bag in his hand, he finally spotted you hidden in a small artsy room. His smile beamed against the window of your door with your back facing him. He couldn’t wait to tell how confused he was getting around your university. He didn’t realize then that he was admiring your focused figure, watching your every move against that artwork.
Eric would call it beautiful. He could see the passion in each touch you made. It wasn’t a coincidence for the sun to be setting in your studio, making the place turn into a sunset orange. There was warmth in his eyes as they waited to meet yours when he knocked on the door.
You turned your head around, your arms up at your side from getting your clothes wet from all of the paint. As shocked as you were, your eyes grew.
“Eric? How did you find me?” You asked as he closed the door and walked over to you. It was a first that he’d ever visited you in your studio. You noticed the drinks in his hand as they reflected light to you from the sunlight, making you feel relaxed as you were now. Your heart was jumping to see him in this room full of your artwork, some of him that you never showed before.
“I asked around.” Eric laughed after taking a seat beside you, which made you giggle. “I almost got lost coming here.”
“You should have told me that you were coming. Now I’m all dirty up to even enjoy whatever you bought for me.” You frowned and showed him your painted hands.
“That’s okay. I can help you drink.” Eric’s nose wrinkled close at you, his hands pulling you to him by the shoulder and you giggled again.
“Why are you here?” You asked when you both moved back. You were still frowning but with a hard smile. It was like he could read your mind that you wanted to see him despite the timing being a little off with your painted hands.
“You know the answer.” Eric replied, hoping you were reminded of his texts. “It’s because I miss you.”
His voice lingered in your ears. You wished you could hear it a million times as you smiled so heartily, you almost cried. You whispered back, “I miss you too.”
Eric’s lips beamed widely, his hand reaching to your hair to scribble them, knowing that you won’t be able to reject it from your painted hands. “You’re working a little too hard, I see. To even hear you say that with such love, I’ll gladly open this can for you.”
Eric grabbed a bottle of your favorite drink and opened it. You laughed and watched his face glow in the sun. “Seriously, I can do that myself.”
“No, this masterpiece needs you right now.” Eric’s hand pointed to the half-painted artwork beside you. “Here?” He moved the can to your face and you let your lips touch the tip of it in defeat.
“Thanks. Now it feels a little more refreshing.” You confessed after sighing in relief.
“When did you start feeling refreshed?” He asked, drinking your can afterwards.
“Right when you came into this room.” You smiled cunningly and he laughed. You could tell he was embarrassed when he looked away with it. The artwork around the room caught his eyes and when he looked back at you, your eyes were locked together.
“Why don’t you show me around the room? I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.”
“Wait a second.” You demanded and stared at his confused face. Within a second, he leaned in and pecked your lips. You felt his eyes looking down at you when he left your lips with the sun reflecting against his face. Your eyes widened again, “Why did you do that?”
“I should be asking you that. Why were you staring at me?” He asked as his cheeks started to turn red.
“I just wanted to take a good look at you because I haven’t seen you for a while.” Your feet swung timidly. You didn’t realize he was distracting you again from doing your work. You shook your head and pointed a finger up in the air. “Wait, I need to get this done.”
“Okay. I miss you but I can watch you finish your work.” Eric sunk on his seat, getting excited to see you paint in real time.
“Just don’t say a word or you become the artwork.” You joked and playfully left paint on his nose after touching the paint pad on your side when you were going to get back to work. He gasped loudly and you shrugged with that cunning look again, “What?”
“I am not going to chase you in this room but if I have to, I will.” Eric declared, challenging you.
You both ended up cleaning yourselves up after a little chase in that room. You thought your final artwork could wait another day because Eric was such a distraction. You didn’t mind though. Besides, who would have thought feeling complete this early would be a bad idea? Taking a small risk would just make everything a little better if it were to be with the one you love the most.
#the boyz imagines#tbz imagines#kpop imagines#eric#eric sohn#tbz scenarios#the boyz scenarios#college au#established relationship#fluff#art student au
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OKAY OKAY...hear me out— Monster au braintot,
Cheka having a lil play date with Mini!Yuu
Like— NRC will be in complete shambles. Peace? pftt—what's that? Don't know her–
it's probably gonna be like the the disaster girl meme
Crowley: *sitting in a burning office* "...this is fine."
Narrator: It was, in fact, not fine.
Pfft, oh my god, I love seeing all this brainrot silliness and cuteness you guys have! It enables me to create sweet scenarios or unleash pure chaotic gremlin shenanigans on Twisted Wonderland! 🤣
Honestly, the only reason the ida of a play date even happened in the first place was because Cheka snuck into the school to see his uncle and he wound up playing with mini!Yuu the whole day. This was a blessing in Leona's book...at first.
Then the researchers approached him to arrange more playdates after seeing the positive connection the two had and stressing the importance of the child's developmental skills and emotional growth. "Whether they're monster or human, it's important for Yuu to have someone close to their age to grow and develop," one told him when he first tried to turn down the idea of his nephew visiting more often.
Needless to say, he didn't have much room to argue once Cheka asked his parents and his sister-in-law made the call. And so the first of many supervised playdates was arranged.
At first, the kids were perfectly content to do arts and crafts in a small part of the library. Paint, glitter, pipe cleaners, puff balls, glue, popsicle sticks...anything creative that could be done, they made it. Cheka had fun drawing and painting stuff for his uncle and parents while Yuu had fun creating a masterpiece they thought the staff and their favorite big brothers would like (which later do get put up in their rooms/on the fridge). Everything was going smoothly...
And then the supervisor stepped outside, and when they came back...wellllll...
"How did you two get glitter on the walls?!"
"Forget the walls, how did they get footprints on the ceiling??"
"I was only gone for five minutes! How could they have made such a mess in that short amount of time?"
"Look Uncle Leona! We're really close now!"
The two toddlers were giggling happily as the researchers looked around in pure confusion. Leona, who had come to pick Cheka up to send him home again, couldn't help but stare. "How the hell did you two get stuck together with regular glue?" he asked.
"We were trying to make our own slime goo," Cheka told him, lifting his hand up and pulling Yuu's hand up with the gesture. "But...it grew legs and ran away somewhere."
"...please tell me you're joking..."
"His name's Mr. Sprinkles!" Yuu chirped happily. "Can we keep him?"
It was later discovered that somehow someone accidentally mixed up a container of animation powder with glitter, resulting in the little science project literally becoming animated. By the end of the day, "Mr. Sprinkles" had terrorized quite a few students before eventually being caught and kept in a glass jar where little hands wouldn't be able to easily access and free the artificial monster.
Yuu is already asking when Cheka can come over to play again. This time there is going to be much more supervision to ensure nothing like that happens again though! 😂
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland monster au#twst monster au#twisted wonderland mini!Yuu#twst mini!Yuu
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Since the voting was truly abysmal and the real winner was robbed by the corrupt juries, might as well make a "they deserved better" list including both semis and the grand finale and considering both juries and the general public. So, in an attempt to be as objective as I can, here's my
☆♥︎THEY DESERVED BETTER♥︎☆
In no particular order:
🇩🇪 Germany, Lord of the lost - Blood and glitter: I admit that I wasn't a fan in the beginning, and even made a post about how I wish that the rock entries went harder and that LOTL should either commit to hardcore or be more silly with the song. I found the cheesy lyrics delivered in such a serious and dramatic manner cringey, BUT, after their performance last night, changed my mind completely. First of all, I ADORE the lead singer's vocals (and he seems like a cool guy), and the song itself has some seriously good moments, not to mention how freakin catchy it is. Their energy was through the roof, the performance was flawless, and in spite of my initial reaction to the song, I bought it and genuinely loved it. It felt like watching a concert by one of my favorite bands. Not my winner, but I was really disappointed with how low they scored.
🇪🇸 Spain, Blanca Paloma - Eaea: ROBBED. Over the years, the juries projected an image of people that look for all things *artistic* in a song (even though it usually translates as a pretentious kid in art college with no real taste picking the thing they think their 50yo profesor would approve of). Well, they be blind, since Blanca Paloma brought IT, and they failed to recognize. Outstanding vocals, stunning visuals, the power of the entire performance, and all the emotion and significance packed into a seemingly simple concept. It was more like a movie scene than a musical competition entry, she transported me into another dimension and unlocked something ancient and wonderful. All the people I've talked to had different favorites, but they all had strong, immensely positive reactions to Spain. I literally teared up and had a spiritual experience with Blanca Paloma's performance, and the energy she exuded was undeniably healing, freeing and over-all cathartic. While I knew that her chances of winning were slim and I didn't count on the public vote, she deserved SO MUCH MORE from both general public and the juries.
🇦🇹 Austria, Teya and Salena - Who the hell is Edgar: One of my favorites from the very beginning. A quality pop song with a bop-y rhythm and ingenious lyrics. Under the guise of random and silly, there's quite a few things implied - the obvious criticism of the music industry and the more subtle "people are readier to believe that a ghost of a famous writer possessed me than that a woman can write quality lyrics and have a sense of humor" (shout-out to generations of men claiming Kurt Cobain wrote Courtney Love's songs and lyrics, work on your reading comprehension) While that might be a personal observation, here's what absolutely stands. They're adorable, funny, had a fun choreography, a catchy song, the lyrics that are fun even if you don't analyze them, great personalities, solid performance, perfect delivery and the right amount of quality with a dash of random that matches Iceland's Dađy Freyr and that y'all claim to respect. Shame on the audience; the jury can't recognize talent anyway.
🇸🇮 Slovenia, Joker out - Carpe Diem: Not much left to say. Good song, good vibes, all the charisma in the world. They had Måneskin's synergy, they had a good time, the audience had a good time with them, and they were confident in a non-pretentious manner. Special mention for Bojan, the lead singer, who's shown such sportsmanship, was truly an example of a perfect esc. representative. The entire band seems very fun to hang out with, and while they're goofy, they seem very smart with how they manage to balance witty and respectful in interviews. Members aside, their music is refreshing and perfect for people that find mainstream pop repetitive but aren't into anything too heavy. Perfect for a summer music festival or a feel-good playlist.
🇵🇹 Portugal, Mimicat - Ai, coração: you know she's something special when her entire home country shows such support and excitement. I wasn't a fan at first when I saw the national performance, it seemed a bit out-dated and frankly a bit too weird for my taste, but she changed my mind as soon as she took the stage in the first semi. In my opinion, a Broadway-worthy performance, and such personality! Fun aunt vibes, and one of the coolest people this year. When I grow up, I wanna be her.
🇭🇷 Croatia, Let 3 - Mama, ŠČ: The juries are such cowards, honestly. I was familiar with some of the band's history and not everything they did was exactly my taste, but what else to expect from a band so unhinged. I had some misgivings, but they won me over quickly. The punkest thing Eurovison has seen in recent years. That's how you do anti-war, Switzerland. Satire on point. Weird, meaningful, fun, grotesque. How something like that didn't do better in Eurovision is beyond me. But leave it to the cowardly juries that left Italy's Ermal Meta and Fabrizio Moro with almost no points to do just that. I'm still butthurt.
🇷🇸 Serbia, Luke Black - Samo mi se spava: Listen, I was NOT a fan. All the homophobes aside, everyone in the country and their mom was gushing about how original and unique the song is, which can be annoying to someone who's as exposed to various aspects of pop culture as I am (humble,I know), and I still think his singing could be better. At first, he was a bit awkward and seemed pretentious during the national selection. However, the performance did stand out, he amped his energy and put such effort, and there's no denying the flawless staging and production and how well it suits him, and over time, he's proved to be a funny, likeable and down to earth guy (with flawless fashion sense). I'm proud of him and how he represented the country, and he definitely didn't deserve to be at the bottom of the list.
🇮🇸 Iceland, Diljá - Power: I'm OUTRAGED that it didn't qualify and can only call lesbophobia idk. I mean, Im not familiar with her sexuality, but if I've ever seen something that doesn't give a damn about the male gaze, this would be it. Still, it's beyond me how she didn't qualify. One of the best vocals this year, not to mention she sung FLAWLESSLY while running and jumping all over the stage with zero breaks. The track itself is meh to me, but should be something that Eurovision fans enjoy; that being said, the vocal and performance can make or break a song with such a track, and she ATE. Power indeed, I was blown away. Her being super-cute is just a bonus. She has my heart and my votes ♡ Too bad people didn't agree.
🇷🇴 Romania, Theodor Andrei - D.G.T: Ok, I can't shout that he deserved to qualify, I knew the chances were slim and the song had some ways to go, not to mention the hot mess of a national performance. However, he doesn't deserve ANY hate that he's getting, and in my opinion, he was the best male vocal this year. I'm in love with his voice and he doesn't lack charisma either. I loved the re-vamp with the acoustic guitar, but at the end of the day, the stage was a bit empty. I will add D. G. T. to my playlist though, and I wish him a wonderful career and a powerful return.
🇱🇻 Latvia, Sudden Lights - Aijā; Well, this one hurts. I know it wasn't a fan favorite, but I was rooting for it so much and still think it deserved to qualify over some *questionable* entries. While it was something straight out of my high-school playlist, I didn't find it derivative and it was warm, touching and comforting. And beautiful, goddammit. I get how it's not everyone's cup of tea, but come on.
🇵🇱 Poland, Jann - Gladiator: Was this a jumpscare? Lol. No need to write a huge paragraph, the entire world knows that he was robbed. I've never seen someone so charismatic and meant to be a performer, and I enjoyed both the song, the lyrics and the delivery, even though I immediately noticed a similarity with Judas by Lady Gaga. However, I feel obliged to say that he should work on his vocals and that y'all wouldn't be so mad if he didn't look the way he looks. Still, the true choice of Poland, and I have no doubt he would've done great in the final.
AND FINALLY .....
THE ONE TRUE WINNER
💚💚💚💚🇫🇮🇫🇮🇫🇮💚💚💚
Käärija (my beloved) - Cha Cha Cha:
Ok, he didn't lack the love or the appreciation. But the RIGGERY. The ROBBERY. THE AUDACITY.
First of all, the song is a banger. It mixes industrial rock, techno and eurodance perfectly, with flawless transitions, while managing to catch the ears of people that aren't into any of those genres. Great intro that pulls you in immediately, and the pacing done just right. Now onto Käärijä himself. He's a fucking star. A legend. It's impossible not to like him. Every video of him I've seen was so much fun. Performance wise, great energy, great delivery. The song manages to appeal so many people with staying unique and checking all the boxes. Want something for the angst? He got you. Want something upbeat? Cha cha cha motherfuckers. Want weird? "My name is Kääärijää", there's our green man. Want quality production? Boy from Vantaa's got it.
The only possible criticism I can see him receiving is something along the lines of "it's gimmicky", which is frankly a ridiculous thing to say about a Eurovision entry (insert the Maryl Streep from Devil Wears Prada meme) and if it were gimmicky, he wouldn't have become the only artist to ever have his name chanted by the entire audience while Sweden gets points, and I wouldn't have replayed it so many times since it came out without getting bored. Honestly, one of the rare songs that puts me in a good mood, cos it has that "starting from anger and angst and acknowledging bad feelings and THEN bringing you to upbeat and happy" thing going on. Eh. Fuck the jury.
This concludes my list. Special mentions.
Not my cup of tea, but deserved the praise - Norway, Italy, Australia, Armenia
Deserved more public votes, undeniable quality, but faded into the background compared to my other favs - France, Czechia
Not for me but I get it- Moldova, Estonia, Georgia
+ Acknowledging Malta for pulling that performance and getting everything possible out of a song that relies entirely on one catchy hook. Most improved entry since the nationals, good show, likeable group, fun staging.
#eurovison#esc 2023#eurovision 2023#eurovision song contest#liverpool 2023#finland#cha cha cha#käärijä#eurovision austria#France#Serbia#Croatia#justice for finland#Spain#eurovision spain#blanca paloma#latvia#sudden lights#aijā#mama šč#iceland#diljá#evidemment#la zarra#jann#gladiator#esc germany#Austria#who the hell is edgar#poe poe poe
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i also thought i would post some process pics of going from my concept art to the actual doll with aria so i am gonna post some progress shots and some details below the cut! definitely a huge learning curve for me despite all the doll customizers i have watched but will take those lessons into the future... i am hoping to make signet next :^)
so i started with this licca-chan friend head (i don't know her name at all unfortunately, i thought it was a jenny head initially but it's definitely not) and completely rerooted her with some pink nylon hair... i chose nylon because i wanted to make it wavy but i may have picked saran in retrospect (to make the hair wavy and curl the bangs i had my gf braid the hair and wrap the bangs around a straw, then boil washed it! worked great)
then i repainted! or well, repainted some of her face after wiping off parts w acetone... i was hesitant to use mr super clear because it's quite toxic so i used brush on liquitex matte varnish which i am not going to use in the future because it truly gives no grip for pencils, and you can't use anything waterbased like gouache paint or watercolor pencils.... but i redrew her eyebrows, lips, and added some extra eye shine. i thought the face was the perfect retro anime look as is otherwise
then the accessories! i made her a little headset frankenstined out of two different doll headsets (including a very phallic looking mic part LOL) sculpted over a bit with some air dry clay and painted, and her heart shaped guitar which was entirely built from scratch using air dry clay, cardboard, and some string (you can also see the headset pre-painting). she also has some clear sci fi goggles but those were just a barbie piece i brushed some UV resin with glitter over to make it extra sparkly
(thank you kip for demonstrating size)
the arm was sculpted a bit with air dry clay as well, then painted silver... the gold ended up clashing too much w the outfit hence the color change. i also used dye to dye the joints black because paint would not stay on them
i also switched the arm sides someone despite checking SEVERAL times to make sure it was the right side. directions are not my strong point. aria left handed AU.
and finally the outfit! OH my god this was the part that made me almost quit and made it take so long. i had to figure out the jumpsuit pattern from scratch, and the fabric is stretchy which made trying to get the heart cut out to stay in place impossible. you actually can't put the jumpsuit on her without taking her head and arms off because i decided to have it close at the bottom for Some Reason. the boots were fun though! the bottoms are from a pair of jenny boots that i painted blue and then glue the fabric part on to.
and the jacket. WHY did i decide to work with such a crazy material (for aesthetics). it was essentially just slightly flexible fabric and not very good at draping at all, so there was a lot of frustration trying to attach the collar and shoulder pads (i ended up just using some extra strong clear tape haha). the jacket is literally why i stopped working on this for like 2 months. but i conquered it eventually
and thats the overall process! fun and i have learned my lesson in what kinds of materials to use. excited to work on another project soon :) !!
#friends at the table#counter/weight#aria joie#my art#shoutouts to dollightful who i have watched for years and years. so many helpful tutorials lol
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December Drabbles Day 5 - The Christmas Card Chaos
Read on AO3.
Banner fan art by the amazing @sayuri-liu
For the sweetest @ithilloktewrites. 💖 Your support and positivity is just absolutely fantastic. Thank you for always having an encouraging word at the ready!
Prompt: Sesshoumaru drawing with his twin children by Agustina. 😘
Day 5 - The Christmas Card Chaos
The twins took after their mother. They were both crazy about Christmas. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, then, that the two of them insisted on making Christmas cards for all their friends at preschool. Sesshoumaru had tried to explain that the New Year’s cars were the traditional ones to exchange, but the twins thought that to be boring.
Naturally, this card craze struck the children while Kagome was down with the flu. His wife was the crafty one out of the two of them, but whatever would keep the children occupied, Sesshoumaru was willing to try, so he caved in to their demands.
A decision that he soon regretted when the dining table and all the materials haphazardly placed on it were covered in red and gold glitter. Tomoka liked her stars sparkly. Meanwhile, Yuuta was painstakingly drawing an elf on his card. Sesshoumaru supervised and helped where he could. Mainly, he was on the glue and scissor duty, because if he let the children close to either of those things the chaos would reach catastrophic proportions. So he cut out the Christmas trees from the green cardboard for Tomoka. She then drew in the stars. Sesshoumaru applied the glue and Tomoka would let loose with copious amounts of gold glitter that Sesshoumaru was sure they’d still find around their kitchen come August.
Yuuta, however, ignored both his father and his sister, fully immersed in his elaborate drawings. At five years old, his drawings were better than anything Sesshoumaru had ever managed to produce.
“I’m done!” Tomoka announced, grinning at her messy pile of cards. “I’m gonna show mom!”
“Don’t,” Sesshoumaru said. “Mom needs to rest. You can show her tomorrow.”
Yuuta looked up from his card for the first time. “Would mother feel better if we made her one, too?”
“A special one!” Tomoka squealed, immediately taken by the idea.
Sesshoumaru’s heart squeezed in his chest. It was amazing, how the children always managed to surprise him. How he could already see glimmers of the wonderful people they’d one day grow to be. How so much love could fit into bodies so small.
“Yes,” he said, “I’m sure your mother would feel a lot better if she got a special card from you two.”
“Yay!”
“Let’s make one, Tomoka.”
“Yes!”
Sesshoumaru watched his children bend their heads together — engrossed in this new project, tossing out more and more wild ideas for what the card should be — and smiled.
#sesskag#sesskag one shot#sesskag fan fiction#sesskag fic#SessKag December Drabbles#chie writes#fic: sk
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hi!!! can i request a blurb with eddie, costumes, and i put a spell on you? thank you!!! happy early halloween! 🖤🖤
A very happy halloween to you too, friend! !! thank you so much for this witchy request, I hope I did it justice! 🎃
Spooky ficlet fest masterlist
Spellbound 🎃 Eddie Munson x gn!reader
You’d never been interested in Hawkins High's annual Halloween Bash held at the gym.
Until you heard that Eddie Munson’s band was gonna be playing this year.
You’d been pining for him, from the corners and the shadows of the school, always admiring from afar, never feeling brave enough to go to him.
But this year was your last chance to shoot your shot, considering that you knew Eddie wouldn’t go to prom, and most likely neither would you, because you couldn’t afford a proper outfit when all the money you made working at the diner went to help out your folks. Also, the chances of you getting an actual date for it were zero to none.
This would have to be it. Even if you couldn’t really afford a fancy costume either, it was easier to put something together for halloween than for a prom.
You put on a simple black dress and the brand-new stockings you’d been saving for a special occasion; you properly lustred your boots and threw on a witchy shawl that you'd found at a thrift store. The witch hat, you’d gotten from the dollar store, and merely amped it up with some spare glitter and feathers you’d had lying around from your arts and crafts projects.
You’d felt great about the look until you got to school.
Of course, everyone had to have more elaborate costumes, with intricate makeup and expensive accessories, of course. It normally wouldn’t deter you – couldn’t care less about everyone else’s opinions about you – but there was something about this night, a sense of urgency, of significance that made it feel like it was all or nothing, and you wanted so badly to stand out.
You wanted so badly for him to notice you among the crowd.
You mope around and hang back by the snacks table, miserably sipping your punch and observing the pretty people all around you, iridescent underneath the lighting – making mental notes about how you could recreate all those details with your own means. Even Eddie, in his simple black cloak and round sunglasses he wore to look like Ozzy Osbourne, looked beautiful.
Suddenly the lights dimm out – a single reflector falls atop Eddie's mane of hair, on top of the stage, as the pace of his guitar changes. The chords turned deliberate, slow – his deep tone sultry as he begins to sing...
“...I put a spell on you, because you’re mine…”
His voice is like witchcraft, liquid smooth and as rich as a bite of dark chocolate. Eddie's a combination of everything that is both sinful and oh, so right.
Spellbound, you lock gazes, as if hypnotized by the strings of his guitar. Like the zooming of a movie camera, the scene closes in on just the two of you, and you’re sure that this is not your imagination – not the effect of the twinkling lights all around you.
“And I don't care If you don't want me, I'm yours right now…”
His eyes are so fiery that you can’t help but look down for a second to shy away from the attention – having wanted it for so long and now unsure of what to do with it.
You bite your lip and hide your hands inside the pockets of your dress where your thumb brush against a piece of paper that you’re absolutely sure wasn’t there before. You’d spent the majority of the evening with your nervous hands fidgeting inside of them to not have noticed.
Frowning, you grab it and bring it forth – whereupon closer inspection you notice that there’s a phone number scribbled on it, with a note that reads:
“I'VE ALWAYS HAD A SOFT SPOT FOR WITCHES. YOU CAN CALL ME ANYTIME,
E.M, X”
Is this a work of magic?
You look up to find Eddie smirking at you mischievously, with knowing eyes glimmering, like the binding lights of a spell.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#gender neutral reader#eddie munson fanfiction#joseph quinn#my writing#spooky ficlet fest
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Sign Away And Sing
Summary: In order to win battle of the bands, Azula makes an alliance with a former childhood rivalry.
Notes: This fic is for @rei-is-hiding thanks so much for the amazing art! This is the first part of what could turn into a long fic.
Seicho’s face illuminates on the poster. A big lenticular thing that gives it the illusion of being 3-D as her cartoon likeness blows a plume of shimmering, fluttering cloth fire at passing onlookers. “Seicho Scorch!” The sign proclaimed in bold golden lettering. “Performing live, July 23rd!”
Azula rolls her eyes. How completely over the top, unnecessary, and gimmicky. And most certainly as waste of a perfectly good fan. One that could be blowing in her direction instead of making that cloth and tinsel fire flap.
But she supposes that it fits; a tacky sign to go with a tacky stage name and corny, unimaginative lyrics.
And there’s that stupid stage outfit. There is an overabundance of glitter and LED lighting. Azula supposes that the girl will need it to distract from the lackluster quality of her voice. But somehow the crowd seems to love her. They think that it is fascinating how she has combined reggae with metal. As far as Azula is concerned, just because it is creative doesn’t mean that it is good. Some things ought not be combined.
Metal is fine as it is; untouched and uncombined with any other genre. If she wanted to listen to reggae, she would. Evidently, Seicho’s music would probably sound better if she just stuck to reggae.
Azula crosses her arms and makes her way backstage.
Honestly she doesn’t even know how the other girl managed to make herself into such respectable competition.
The war between their respective fandoms is rather respectable itself.
Azula makes herself comfortable in the dressing room. It takes another hour for the last drum beat to fade out and then another five minutes before Seicho enters and demands to know, “what are you doing here?”
“What? I can’t visit an old friend?”
“Friend?” Seicho bunches her nose like it’s a dirty word. “You’ve hated me since middle school.”
Azula shrugs. “We got along before then.”
“And then our music teacher chose me for the solo part and told me that I had a promising musical career.”
She shrugs a second time. “What of it? It was one solo part.”
“It mattered enough to you to end our friendship. What do you want?”
Truth be told it isn’t something that she wants per say, so much as something she needs. “TyLee has lost her voice.” And she imagines that she isn’t far behind with all of the belting and projecting that she does. With the occasional growl. Her own voice is becoming somewhat strained. “I’ve noticed that your tour ends tomorrow and I thought that I would invite you to fill in for TyLee. You have the same vocal type.”
“I am not that squeaky and cute.”
Azula shrugs. “But you can hit the high notes that she can. Come along on this tour with me. For old times sake.”
“Why would I do that?” Seicho demands. “So that you can upstage me again and get upset when I get more attention than you?”
Azula feels her cheeks start to burn in equal measure of annoyance and fluster. “That was when we were kids. My vocal technique has…”
“It was never about your vocal talent. It’s your stage presence. You’re stiff and not fun to watch.” Seicho replies with a respectable bluntness. “Crowds like interaction. You sound exactly like you do on the albums, that’s nice, it’s an amazing skill but it isn’t engaging.”
Azula shrugs. “That’s what TyLee is for.”
“And what you’re going to use me for before making another thinly veiled diss track.”
“I…” Azula sputters. “That’s not what I was going to do.”
“Oh, so we’re going to be best friends? Everything is water under the bridge?” Seicho shoulders past her. “Look I need to get dressed down. I’ve got an afterparty to attend. This isn’t an invitation, by the way.”
“Look. This is an opportunity. I have no interest or intention of making nice. I do, however, intend to win battle of the bands. The competition is formidable to say the least. A lot of musical legends–Kyoshi, Wan, all of them.”
“Great, well I’ll see you there. I might not beat them, but my band will kick the communal ass of your band.” She takes a seat and begins tugging her boot off.
Azula can feel a vein pulsing in her head. “Communal…ugg never mind. What I am trying to say is that we are the two most popular ‘fresh’ metal artists on the scene right now; I propose is that we call a little truce and join up. I’ve read the comments, people crave a collaboration. Let’s give it to them.”
Seicho frowns, seeming to ponder it over. Her brows knit ever so slightly.
“How badly do you want to win that contest, Seicho?” She imagines that she longs for it as fervently and ferociously as she herself does. If they win they’d be set for life. Azula and her band will be anyhow. She’ll take all of the winnings for herself and leave Seicho with her fifteen minutes. But the girl doesn’t need to know that.
“Alright. Fine. But this alliance is strictly strategic.” Seicho agrees.
“Wonderful!” Azula claps her hands together and lets a little bit of light cheer bleed into her voice. “I’ll let my manager know.”
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inspired by this amazing art by @briseise :))
fic under the cut, or you can read it on ao3 :)
CW: KIDNAPPING, THREATS, SHIPPING
---------------
Cleo sat in the meeting, uttlerly bored out of her mind, listening to the King droning on and on about the various acts of treason committed by the Resistance this week. Huge yawn. Who even cares that much about a statue?
What's worse, Bdubs was making that face again, watching the King intently, large eyes glittering. Yuck. Get a room already.
Cleo tapped her fingers on the polished wood table, letting the voices of the King and his court melt into the background. It was clear that Ren definitely had a soft spot for Bdubs, one glace at the way they looked at each other would tell you as much. But it also showed in the meetings; whenever Bdubs had an idea it was always "good idea, my hand" and "I agree, my treasure." Gross, gross, gross.
It was also very clear that Ren is like a fish out of water when Bdubs isn't there by his side. Like when Bdubs fell ill one week, and Ren had to check up on him every ten minutes, barely fulfilling any kingly duties and letting his so-called loyal court do all of the work for him.
One thing was for certain though: if Cleo had to watch either of them ogle at each other one more time, she just might puke. Or join the resistance. Or both.
"Lady Cleo? Art thou listening?" the King's voice boomed, as he stood there with folded arms and a raised eyebrow. Bdubs mirrored him, glaring daggers into them. Great.
"Uh, yeah, of course I was! How dare the Resistance do... whatever they're doing now!"
She was lucky that the diamond glasses partially hid her eyeroll.
Honestly, Cleo has had enough. They're barely appreciated in this court, and with the King decreeing new ridiculous laws every day, joining the Resistance started to look more and more attractive to them.
Now, to the average person, what Cleo does next may seem a little... drastic. But it was completely necassary! Besides, the King had it coming anyways, who knows how the Resistance didn't spot his little weakness sooner.
Cleo strode over to Bdubs's door, knocking sharply on it three times. She immediately heard rustling and jangling from within the door, before a muffled voice called out: "Coming, my majesty!"
Ew.
Soon after, the large oak double door swung open and Bdubs emerged, grinning. He was covered in golden jewellery - gifts from the King, presumably - and dark makeup tickled his eyelids. As for his clothes, a dark green corset with a pure white silk shirt and dark trousers, alongside boots with a small heel. White wings, fading to green at the end of their wingspan, sat comfortably through little holes in a moss cape, which now had little pink flowers blooming on it.
Upon setting eyes on the person before him, Bdubs's brow furrowed, and his smile faded. "Cle-?"
Cleo grabbed him and held a hand to his mouth. "Shut up," she hissed, "Don't make a sound."
Bdubs whimpered, trying to struggle away from her vice-like grip, but Cleo simply picked him up and carried him over her shoulder, using her elytra to fly out of a window to remain unseen. He wriggled, trying desperately to free himself, flapping his wings to try and fly away. Cleo readjusted her grip, pressing her arm into Bdubs's wings to prevent them from moving.
"What- what are you doing?" Bdubs whispered, unable to stop the fear seeping into his voice, "I- I have a date with the King, you know! And he- he'll be looking for me! Then you'll see!"
"Do you ever just shush, Bdubs?" Cleo growled in his ear, "It's none of your business what I'm doing."
She suddenly swooped down, causing Bdubs to scream, even after they were both firmly on the ground.
Well, Cleo was firmly on the ground. Bdubs was still lying over her shoulder, and still making a racket.
"Oh my Void you're gonna give me a headache..." Cleo muttered as she entered a cave.
<ZombieCleo> whispers to <Soup Group Groupchat!>: hey, might have something of interest for you
<ZombieCleo> whispers to <Soup Group Groupchat!>: come to these coordinates: ...
<ZombieCleo> whispers to <Soup Group Groupchat!>: ... and be quick about it!
The Soup Group excitedly rushed over to the coordinates that Cleo had sent them. It may well be a trap, Cleo was a part of the Royal Court of course, but she never seemed too loyal to them anyways. Just in case, they went into the cave one at a time, Gem at the front with her sword, and Impulse at the back.
The cave seemed unassuming at first, but they soon noticed a few stone buttons laying around. One of them opened a simple piston door, which led to a narrow spiral staircase. The lighting inside was dim, a few torches here and there - and the walls were a plain stone, dug out in a hurry. Eventually, the staircase opened up into a small room with a door on the back wall. Cleo was sitting on a bench inside the room, and at the sight of the Soup Group, their eyes lit up in relief.
"Thank goodness you're here, I was about to die of boredom," they sighed, before rising from their seat and walking towards the door. "Follow me."
The Soup Group looked at each other, before trailing after her. The new room was also dimly lit, and was cut in half by a wall of iron bars. On the other side, a mossy figure lay facing away from the bars, rope tied around his waist and wings.
"Oh, Void!" Impulse exclaimed, stepping away from the bars.
"Cleo... this isn't right..." Gem gasped, "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing! Yet..." Cleo shrugged, "Just kinda grabbed him and took him here I guess."
Bdubs made a growling noise, trying to roll over to the bars. Once he was facing the others, he bared his teeth. "You aren't doing anything to me! Ever! Because Ren's coming for me and you all will get thrown into the dungeon once he finds out what you've done!"
Cleo smirked. "Oh, yeah, your precious King has been messaging you on your comm. He's so worried about his little treasure."
"HEY!"
"Y'know, Cleo," Pearl began, "I'm all for the chaos and everything, but I agree with the others. This is just way too far..."
"Look," Cleo said emphatically, "We can either get some information out of him, use him to blackmail the King, and stand a chance at winning this war. Or, if you guys are too scared, we can just let him roam free, babble to his King about everything we've done, and sentence us all to rotting away in the dungeons. What do you choose?"
Impulse looked into Bdubs's eyes. He knew Bdubs, he knew that he was trying to hide his fear. And Impulse felt awful about it.
"Let's... let's do your thing then, Cleo," Impulse muttered, firmly breaking the eye contact between himself and Bdubs. He didn't have to be looking at Bdubs to imagine the hurt painted on his face.
The other Soup Group members quietly muttered their agreement; Cleo hummed, satisfied. "Good. So you," she pointed at Bdubs, and he couldn't help but flinch back a little, "Are going to cooperate. Or else."
#bdubs#bdoubleo100#rendog#zombiecleo#impulsesv#pearlescentmoon#geminitay#hermitcraft#hermitcraft fic#shipping#hcs9#cw: kidnapping#cw: threats#mossy writing
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