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xfancyuu · 1 year

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~ cause i can feel a real connection, a supernatural attraction. [aemond targaryen]

PART I (my blood, sweat, tears, and my last dance, take it all away.)

after four months of misery i have returned! my job prevented me from writing but i can confirm this is a three part series, this fic contains a westerosi wedding, the next will contain a valyrian wedding and the third part, well that's a surprise. reader is afab with she/her pronouns if requested i will write non-binary characters. ! i'd also love some feedback for this! i'd love some pointers on what you liked/didn't like about it! i try to make reader an actual person and appealing to all but she may come off a certain way (though i think that's the stress of the situation rather than reader being an awful person bc she's a lot more mellow in part 2 — maybe bc it's actually smth she wants to be involved in rather than a massive wedding, she wanted a more intimate moment lol).

this fic contains: bolton!reader, wedding, afab reader, no appearance indicators (except height, aemond is taller than you), lord bolton (your dad) worries about you a lot and idk if that is in canon standing but you're also his only daughter. your mum may be cersei lannister coded??? she's kinda mean but she's giving the reader some truths in there even if they won't apply to reader. reader's lifespan is called short though her and aemond are both around eighteen-twenty-one (but this is some time before the war & that gossip girl thanksgiving worthy moment — the girls that get it, get it) [5,079 words]

You had hoped the waiting was worth it, your father's insistence that you would be respected and appreciated by your future husband hadn't calmed you one bit. You knew what was expected of you, what the night would entail, and it had put you on edge, Aemond Targaryen was a temperamental man in the almost two years you had known him, you simply did not know what to expect. The blood of the dragon ran deep within him, he was chaotic and could do as he pleased to you and those around you if you did not please him correctly.

The preparations had taken many moons themselves, your father's involvement with the whole ordeal was rather surprising to many, fathers didn't typically involve themselves in matters such as weddings except choosing the man. Yet your father was proactive — you were his only daughter, his sweetling, his pride and joy. You had surmised the man did not want to let you go, to send you into a life of baring children and labours which he himself could not look over and sooth your worries.

Yet that had not happened, and you couldn't understand his ceaseless worrying. When you had told him you had met the great Vhagar he had almost had a heart attack. You had such a joyful emotion, however, your father could only hope it continued to stay that way. That the Prince would not feed you to his dragon the moment he had you alone once more which you had to assure your father that you were certain Prince Aemond was as fond of you as you were him.

It had felt like a ridiculous farce at first, the looks towards you when it was announced you'd be marrying the second son of the King. The whispers behind your back which they had thought you hadn't heard, how such a beautiful girl was fated to marry a man who could not match such beauty. You had scoffed at the time, beauty had not mattered to you — moons later it still had not mattered. They had called Aegon beautiful, yet he was one of the most despicable men you'd had the displeasure of spending time with, constant comments that his brother should take you before the wedding and how he would have his way with you if he so wished. You'd take a man the court had deemed undeserving of your beauty over that.

"If you wish to flee I would not stop you." your father spoke as he had entered the room, your family must have been in the sept waiting for the spectacular show you would put on which would no doubt be the talk of Kings Landing for the many coming moons.

"Why would I flee?" you had asked, playing with the beads of your dress, the Northern tradition of wearing white was not lost on you. Your father spared no expense in creating the dress you had wanted. The dress was truly beautiful, aligned with jewels and beads, some of which sparkled as though they were stars with movement. "You do not truly believe the Prince would hurt me? Once we are married we shall be happy and not much shall change from how it now."

The look on your father's face was enigmatic, you could never decipher what the man was thinking. If your mother was here she would have told you. "Once you are married mother and I will go back to the Dreadfort, your brothers will be returning with me and you shall be alone." The unspoken threat of being alone with the Targaryen-Hightower family was evident. He hadn't trusted them from the moment you had stepped into the dreadful place.

"But I won't be alone — I shall have my husband and hopefully we shall bring children into the world not long after... There are ravens, Aemond has a dragon, I am not trapped here and I shall be able to visit you." The optimism that you possessed was something your father had never possessed himself. You were too much like your mother. He didn't want to tell you that obeying your husband would be customary, that you would be a member of the Royal family, that you would not be a regular person with your own opinions.

"I shall look forward to your future visits. You know what tonight will entail? Please do not fight back and do as he says." You had not known what your father had meant. Your mother had taught you the basics, taking a more hand on approach than many others you had met. "But for now you shall walk down the aisle, looking like the Northern beauty you are, you shall do our house — your mother and I" your father corrects himself, "proud."

Your father was not a sentimental man by design, this behaviour felt strange to you. Perhaps he knew something you did not. "I shall always do you proud, now cloak me before I weep." you had demanded of him.

The flayed man was not something you'd associate yourself with. It was barbaric, horrific and downright made you feel hostile. Yet your father wore his sigil with pride, the technique passed down from father to heir did not involve you, yet your own father had decided despite you being a female your house traditions were important. It was awful you'd to think of such things on your own wedding day. You'd be cloaked with a different shade of red — you'd be a Targaryen by the day's end.

You felt content knowing that your house banner — the sigil that made you a Bolton would be symbolically stripped away by the man you were sure you loved despite the lack of life experience required to make such a decision. The colour was in stark contrast to your dress. The blood-red and pink colours blended with each other compared to your white dress, it stood out, you stood out. Many of the ladies of the court had told you that white was not a colour a lady such as yourself should wear. You were not quite sure why, it matched the snow of your home, the bleak surroundings you found yourself longing for. Your hair styled in traditional Northern intricate braids which you had personally asked for. You would not change a habit of a lifetime for the pleasure of others, Aemond had never seemed to mind your abrasive disregard for the court's fashions and styling. You doubted he'd have a problem with it now.

"You look beautiful, my sweetling," your father had told you, taking in all the grace and beauty you possessed. His comment had made your cheeks heat up — you were familiar with tearing your appearance apart in mirrors at most given opportunities, compliments were not commonplace. Especially from your father.

"I am mother's child." you had joked, trying to relieve the tension you had felt in your body as you drew closer to the sept. The religious element hadn't appealed to you, the Gods you worshipped were not those of the Seven. "I do hope nobody makes a scene, I do not think I'd be able to control myself from attacking someone."

"And suddenly you show signs of being mine."

"Please make sure nobody makes a scene today, the Princess is here with her children, and it makes everybody on edge as it is." You had told him, sharing a look, a look which ensured your father would allow nobody to embarrass you or your husband.

"Today shall be the happiest day you have lived in such a short lifespan, and you shall have many more to come." Your father had ended that conversation short. It was only then you had noticed you were about to enter the sept. "Tell me one last time you should want to leave, and I will take you away this instant."

"I told you before, it should be my honour to marry — I love him father, as he does me." You had told him with such sincerity, your father simply kissed your forehead, accepting your current position on the matter, never wavering. Perhaps your father was more displeased in losing you than you had originally thought. But you'd always be his little girl, and marrying reminded him you were growing up and having your own life experiences.

The stares had almost made you bolt, but your father's grip prevented you from doing so or stopping in your tracks. You would not make a blunder of the entire event, you would walk to the altar with a smile planted on your lips and the grace and elegance your mother had instilled into you.

The trip to the altar was quite short and sweet, not a stumble, some had gasped, but you had thought it was simply because your dress was beautiful. You hadn't wanted to leave your father, not entirely, a part of you was still a child, wanting to go back home and frolic in the snow with your brothers for another winter. But you were no longer a child, you would no longer be a girl frightened of the responsibilities you had to partake in. Yet why were you feeling so incredibly warm and wanting to remove your own skin?

It hadn't stopped, the moment you were placed in front of Aemond, ready to be cloaked as your father removed your own cloak. Despite being so incredibly warm, the coldness had hit you like a wave. Or perhaps it was something else, anticipation for the entire event to be over. For you to finally have your own husband to yourself. To act as though you'd always been taught. To at least kiss him in public rather than the brief and few kisses you'd shared in dark hallways.

Your thoughts were moving at such fast speeds, you had almost flinched when you were cloaked with the three-headed dragon. A symbol so synonymous with the house you would be married into. Yet you kept your composure, still smiling and turning around so you could at least grab Aemond's hand. He had grounded you in the moment — a much needed clarity to the thoughts you were having.

His own hand had taken yours, how you wish you could at least speak to him. Yet you could not, the ceremony was under way and the best you could do was squeeze his hand as to tell him you were fine, that you were here and that this was happening.

Dissociation was a problem, you had always been called a daydreamer yet doing so at your wedding? You were truly a mess, an unadulterated, unfiltered mess. The way your hand kept on squeezing Aemond's, the way you didn't listen to a thing the septon had said. How your eyes had glazed over and how so badly you wished this would end, being the centre of attention was not something you enjoyed.

It was a blur. You had spoken the ceremonial vows as expected, yet you hadn't realised you were doing so. Instead, you had taken in your husband. How beautiful you considered him, his beautiful white hair had not been styled differently, his eyepatch was still there — your objective for tonight was to remove it without him refusing, he could not refuse you — his lady wife now. His clothes were significantly different, gone with the green colour you loved so much in favour for traditional Targaryen colours.

The kiss was just that. You would not make a scene despite the way he had held you do tenderly, you could not do that here and at this moment. You were in a sacred place — not that you believed this room was sacred, you had to behave. Alicent was a devout believer and you doubted Aemond had wanted to anger her or the septon. Brief kisses were what you were used to and you so badly had wanted more, ached for, desperately needed.

"You did so well" Aemond had whispered into your ear as your kiss had ended. The cheers of the newly-wed couple had surrounded you and you were not too sure what to think.

"You give me far too much credit."

Aemond hadn't given you enough credit. He was sure he would have had to have married for an alliance with a wife who would come to resent him yet he considered you special. Never once had you flinched away from his company, never once had you looked at him as though he was less of a man and never once had you made fun of him despite what your teasing of him may have suggested. You were fun, adventurous and above all you had agreed to his betrothal without a second thought. He truly did love you, he would love the life you two shared together, he would love the children you produced and most importantly he would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. The two years of courting had proved as much.

The evening was going quite well, though you had noticed Aemond's attention wandering elsewhere. "Does something displease you, husband?" you had asked, gaining his attention once again.

Though he hadn't given you a reply, simply hummed and continued staring at his nephew as though he had wronged him in some way. "You're looking at Luc? Is it Luc? I'm unsure on which one is which — as though he has stolen your food and goading you about it."

"Do not speak to me about Lucerys." Came Aemond's sharp reply, you couldn't understand the seeming hatred he had for his nephew. Your own nephew's had meant the world to you, often spending time with one another when their septa's were busy, influencing them with your own opinions and behaviours.

"So it does displease you?" The question wasn't aimed at Aemond rather an observation you had. "My apologies I did not wish to displease you on such a joyous day."

You hadn't got a response to that either, simply a kiss to your cheek, "My father promised me if I was upset he'd sort out the problem, if your family displeases you so, I could gather my father." That had earned a chuckle from Aemond.

"That won't be necessary my love, I have ensured nobody shall cause a scene, especially Aegon."

"And how did you get Aegon to behave?"

"With matters which needn't be known to you, my lady."

"My title is Princess —" your reply was instinctual, "And as a princess of this realm I demand to know how you ensured Aegon would not be a problem."

"I outrank you, my Princess," you do not know if Aemond is teasing you or mocking you, though the glint in his eye tells you all you need to know, "You would not wish to know such depravity Aegon seeks."

"You do not think I do not know about his depravity?" You had genuinely asked, your brothers may have sheltered you and been protective but men like Aegon forever slip through cracks. Ladies speak — they gossip a lot about Aegon and his antics.

"I do not think you know the extent, nor would I like you to, just be thankful his hands are on wine, he would not want to ruin such a joyous occasion."

"You are sure he won't be a depraved gremlin tonight? If he does something untoward against one of my ladies, I will not be responsible for my actions." Threatening a prince may not have been a good idea but you doubted Aemond would pay much mind to it, you're jesting, you always would be.

"The moment he does something to upset you I will personally escort him away."

"Thank you." You had spoke, deciding it would be best if you dropped the issue of the Targaryen-Hightower family as a whole, instead choosing to focus on your own. Your younger brother had sparked up a conversation with a girl from the Westerlands. "Do you think I should go and encourage my brother to ask the lady to dance?"

"Do not meddle in his affairs, princess, perhaps your father will be escorting you out while I escort Aegon." Aemond joked, while you tried to keep a straight face.

"I think the only person to escort me out of this ceremony will be you, my dear husband." The bedding ceremony was something you hadn't approached. Tradition was simply that but you did not want to face the humiliation it had brought with it.

"I cannot wait."

Your conversation had been cut short. The princess Rhaenyra engaging you in a conversation. You had felt terribly sorry for her with her first wedding — they had said if there was not one death at a wedding it would be an incredibly boring affair. You were happy with your wedding to be deemed boring and without complication. The conversation was polite, Rhaenyra introducing you to her children — Aemond had called them Strong bastards, not that you cared much, surely they were more Targaryen than Strong. Rhaenyra the true Targaryen heir had birthed them. But the politics in Westeros was not ready for educated women destroying their world view you supposed.

Princess Rhaenyra had you in a chokehold metaphorically, if you refused to dance with her eldest son, Jace as she called him you would be offending the heir to the throne which could have dire consequences. So you had relented, promising him a dance as the princess had insisted. Aemond didn't enjoy such nonsensical things, while you didn't mind it that much.

Your mother had always told you that it was important to know such things, dancing was one of them. Though you hadn't expected your first dance of the evening to be with the wrong prince. It was clumsy and awkward, the young prince had wanted to be there as much as you had, hyperaware of where his hands fell on you, of everybody's eyes on you and especially the eye of your husband who had seemed beyond tense. Jacaerys had been nothing but respectful, the music was upbeat and you had laughed multiple times in his presence. Rhaenyra had clearly wanted to fix broken bonds within the family which you were unaware of despite being within courtly life.

"Is it strange to be back in the capital, my prince?" you had asked the boy as the two of you had continued to dance, struggling to find conversation suited to the both of you.

"I am missing Dragonstone but it is lovely to be with family." There's an underlying issue there which you could not explore.

"Aemond and I must visit one day." The boy had become tense with the mention of his uncle, and while it had not subsided your suspicions you knew that the visit would not be happening from his response. "Aemond has been teaching me of Valyrian culture and it would be lovely to see where the queen Visenya had spent her time."

"Queen Visenya interests you?" Jace had seemed rather shocked to discover this, "My mother favours the tales of Princess Nymeria, her story is rather fascinating."

"I should like to befriend your mother, she is a woman of culture I see," your conversation had been cut short by your brother approaching you, "Please excuse me, my prince, it was lovely to meet you, but my brother requires my presence."

Once in your younger brother's arms the anxiety you could feel bubbling within you had dispersed, Jace hadn't scared you, it was Rhaenyra and the possibility of offending her. You may have been ranked Princess but that was purely through marriage, Aemond could get away with snubbing his sister's children but you could not. It could cost your head.

"Your husband looks like he could murder you." Your brother's intervention had made sense now and you were rather thankful for it.

"Murderous enough that I shouldn't approach him, or murderous in the sense I should?" You had asked him as you continued to dance, it had reminded you of your childhood. Forcing your brothers to engage with you in such ways, "Did father send you over?"

"No, it was mother, she fears for you tonight, I sense."

"And why should she be fearful?"

"You and I both know why, sister. Do not make me say it aloud."

"Should I go over and speak to her? Privately? To remind her that my husband is respectful and much more caring than many men could claim to be."

"Do as you wish but please do not anger him more than he is. We all fear for your safety, it is not everyday one married a Dragon Prince."

"There's an abundance of them, I'm sure if you asked nicely one of them would oblige you."

"Do not speak such things aloud, my head could be on a spike by the morn."

"It seems as though I cannot do anything right tonight." Your dance had once again been short-lived as you stormed off in the direction of your mother, looking for comfort, but you doubted she'd give you that.

"I cannot do a single thing right tonight." You complained to your mother once you had sat down next to her at the table so graciously provided by the royal family — away from you.

"I doubt you have the ability of foresight to change your actions. Why much you speak to me about such issues."

"It would be nice if you could comfort me for once." The wine you had consumed was slowly bubbling its way to the surface, never before had you dreamed of speaking to your mother in such ways.

"Why would I do that? You are a woman grown, you've made big girl choices, have you not? You chose to marry the prince, you chose to leave your family, you're choosing to create one of your own. Please do not mind if the one you are leaving behind are upset with your actions."

"I cannot do this tonight, I cannot fight with almost every person I have encountered." Your hand had gone for the glass of wine in front of you, but your mother had stopped you.

"The advice I am about to give you is invaluable and advice my own mother gave to me. Lie still and wait for him to climb off of you tonight, do not complain when it hurts and try not to make a sound."

You were utterly speechless, your mother had never been one to say an unneeded word, but this was just crass. "We're not talking about this right now."

"Fair enough, disregard the advice passed down from generation to generation."

"Tell me my dress or hair looks pretty, tell me I have nothing to worry about, just don't speak about such things in a room full of people."

"I just wish for you to be prepared." For disappointment was the undertone. "You're such a beautiful girl, you've done your house proud, but I do not wish to lose you in such ways, father doesn't speak much about your departure, but he shall miss you too."

"I shall miss you too, mother." You had reached for her hand, which she had gladly accepted. You feared it would be the last time you'd get a mother-daughter moment like this. It had felt bittersweet and you'd have your own children soon but she had caused the anxiety to crawl within you tenfold. "But the next time we shall see each other I would hope to have children."

"Just make sure you birth children with his hair colour and eyes." Your mother's words hadn't quite sunk in.

"Well, I can't help if they come out looking like me."

"There is a reason why they call them Strong, [Y/N]. Do not give them an opportunity to call your children Bolton's... Or any other last name than Targaryen."

"As I said, I cannot help if they look like me." You were exasperated by this point, just wanting the conversation to end.

"I would love them however they came out but please do not do anything which could risk your safety."

"Mother, you're speaking in riddles and happenstances. Please do not have another drink or father will be leaving here with you dragging out behind him."

"Heed my warning, my sweet child, but tonight you shall have fun and dance with whomever you deem fit. Leave me to enjoy my wine, even if your father has to unceremoniously drag me — or carry, we both know your father would never drag me — out of this room."

"I love you, mother." You stood from the chair, kissing her cheek on the way up, "Consider your warning well received."

"Such a good girl, what did I do to deserve such a child?"

"You only had one daughter." You joked, "Please excuse me, I have many things to think about."

"I love you too, please do not forget that."

Your conversation had left you feeling uneasy, your gaze trying to find Aemond's only to see he was busy speaking to his mother. Perhaps he wasn't as mad at you as you had originally thought. Though your mother's words of not baring children with the typical Targaryen features had almost dimmed your evening. What should happen if you bore the wrong sort of children. Would you be treated as though he treated Rhaenyra? Would you be so easily cast aside and insulted? You did not dare to let it leave your mind, the absolute terror could not show, but it was there, under the surface level smiles and pleasantries.

You had deemed your ladies the fittest to dance with, dance after dance you had spent with them, having fun, laughing while it seemed like they had almost inhaled wine.

Aemond's eye had followed you as you had enjoyed your time with the woman within your company. He supposed you had to get used to them, they would continue to be with you from this moment onwards. Or rather, until you gave them permission to marry whichever suitor they came to you with.

You were a fascinating woman, choosing not to stay in one space for too long, smiling pleasantly — there was a juxtaposition between you both, and Aemond couldn't be happier for it. You were like sunshine, always bright and bubbly, spending time with his dearest sister, ensuring she wasn't made fun of. He respected you, and he was going to show it tonight.

Your dancing had attracted attention from other nobles. It was not often that women had danced with one another for such a long period of time. Though your ladies were being picked off one by one, nobles wanting to gain their attention for marriage prospects. You were happy for them, truly, however much the loneliness spiked as your final girl stayed with you.

It had to be your brother — he was beyond bothersome, and you looked awkward and panicked on the ballroom floor. The gigantic dress taking up far too much space and without a partner. If at least one person had noticed your distress, they hadn't come to your aid. The jewellery on your being was fiddled with as you tried to make your exit look graceful, but you wanted to run far away from the humiliation of being partnerless.

You had been grabbed by the waist — you had almost fought back until Aemond had calmed you. "It seems as though you've danced with everybody in this room besides your husband."

You had laughed, though it had not been heard over the music, as you turned around to face your husband. "You did not ask me to dance... I didn't know you like to dance."

"I don't," He retorted, "But I'll make the exception for you."

"Oh, I must be so special."

"Whatever my wife wants, she will have."

"And if I want to leave with you, right now, would you save me from the festivities?" You inquired, the intimacy you had felt at the current moment had put you on edge, never being so close to a man before, much less a man you were expected to lay with. To produce heirs with. The expectation had piled up far too much.

"You want to leave? You looked as though you were having fun."

"Crowded places are not my preferred place to be, there is also too much attention placed on me, I don't know if I can cope for much longer." You were finally voicing what you had bottled within you all night, the shakiness within your voice to admitting such things had alarmed Aemond.

"We shall finish this dance?" He'd asked as the two of you continued, your steps were much clumsier than intended but you simply could not help it. "It shall be our last of the night."

"My blood, sweat, tears, and my last dance, take it all away." You had whispered into Aemond's ear as the two of you had danced together.

"Leave with me."

"To where? We cannot escape our own ceremony unnoticed."

"Do you trust me?" You had looked into his indigo eye, as though it was not a question you could contemplate — of course you had trusted Aemond, you had married him without hesitation when he had asked.

"Without hesitation." Came your response, your dress was bulking and heavy but you didn't doubt making a run for it would be hard but at least you had Aemond by your side.

"Then leave with me, most people are too drunk to notice us gone and I fear now will be the only time we can escape."

"You drive a hard bargain." The wine had made its way to your head, the giggles which had escaped your mouth were not sounds you'd typically make. "Save me life a prince in a fairytale, take the maiden and make off with her, is that it?" You'd always had a fascination with the fairytales from a young age. From maidens to knights to unexplainable beasts, from saving damsels to damsels saving themselves.

"You don't have to ask me twice." Aemond had left you no time to comprehend movement within your body, his hand still in your own as he dragged you off to wherever he intended the destination to be. However, as you left the room with as much subtly as a dragon screeching, your eyes connected with your mother's, showing everything she feared would happen tonight for you. Perhaps womanhood was more daunting, even with the liberation you so desperately sought from marriage.

thank u for reading this fic! again feedback would be appreciated but u don't need to give it, the next instalment will be posted in exactly a week (wed, 8th)! cross posted on ao3 under the name hedonism! reformatted on 7th april 2023.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #ive been writing e2l recently (not fanfic) and i wanted smth not... that despite how good aemond makes for an e2l fic #ewan just did an interview w the face and omg HIS face is beautiful and some of his answers had me dying #im so down bad for this man #i wrote some of this while clowning and encouraging my friend to get this number of a guy flirting w her but i'm the one writing x reader f #who's the real clown?#u dont know the musical journey i went on writing this bc it was surely a journey

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appleelevengreen · 3 months

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excellent characterisation of ares in the pjo show btw. absolutely no notes 11/10

#he's hot #he's a biker #and i can see the red flags a mile away #chefs kiss no notes #pjo series #percy jackson #pjo tv show #also idk the actor that plays ares but splendid job #that was perfection #im saying this as someone who loves mythology not as someone who's read the books #bc i havent #yet #edit: I've realised he's the best characterisation of ares in the world ever #I've read actual school books on the subjects and I've read modern analysis and novelisation of greek mythology #and this remains the best visual representation of ares I've ever come across #it's better than reds and stephen frys which are normally my favs #edit edit: it's grand but imagine what could have been if riordan had bothered to actually read the greek myths before writing the pjo book #it would've been harold perrineau as mercutio level of unprecedented good

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novantinuum · 6 months

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self care is unfollowing people who spread negativity on ur dash!! like Damn! yeah i theoretically Agree with your crit but i really Don't wanna see it either bc i want to Celebrate content instead of hyperfixating on the stuff i didn't like about it! yeet!!!

#jen rambles #i had someone call a SU fic i wrote once a 'fix it' and i'm just like #NO!!!#it was Not a fix it!#because a fix it would assume that i think i am Better and More Smart than the creators and that is hubris i really don't want #to take upon myself #i just like!! taking the elements i like and writing More of it!#that's all #i also feel like there's lots of people who just crumple when things in fiction aren't coherently explained #but i've always seen those holes as Opportunities?#idk like on one hand is leaving holes in your narrative bad writing? likely #but also the very soul of fan creation has Always been stepping alongside canon and re-imagining it #and oft filling those holes #and i just wish more people would join me in doing so in good faith to the source material #instead of doing it in that sort of 'ughhh so like since canon fucking sucks i'm fixing it :)' way #one day i'll prob Myself talk about the issues i had with the plotting of This Thing and you'll see tons of overlap with what #others are saying about it #but like idk. just why make that your sole focus? doesn't that bum other people out too?#like it kind of breaks my heart seeing people so fixated on the imperfections that they can't even enjoy what Was #i just don't get this mindset

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brookheimer · 11 months

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okay. i need to rewatch the episode probably but i think my current feeling is that i like most of it a lot (rome, ken, the siblings not getting ceo, etc), think the tom ceo makes sense from a logical/character perspective but not sure how i feel about it from a broader more thematic lens (altho i'm leaning towards fine with it), and am very mixed on shiv's ending because i think it's well-conceived and meaningful from a broader thematic lens (shiv becomes her mother, the cycle always repeats, etc) but doesn't quite make sense to me from a logical/character one -- it could've worked, it could've worked brilliantly, but it was far too rushed and forced. it makes sense as an ending for shiv, but not her next step. i'm largely talking about her decision to return to tom, not her decision to vote against kendall (which i think should've been executed better and given more space but can understand given her character, mostly). i'm fine with it as an ending for shiv, but what i'm struggling to stomach is the way it played out -- it didn't feel like a choice the shiv we know would've made. it's an ending that makes sense thematically and for her character arc, but not a decision that makes sense for her character at present. that's kinda where i'm at right now

#long shiv post talking ab this upcoming lol #bc so far i haven't seen like any shiv takes i've actually agreed with #it's either entirely anti ending or pro ending #whereas like. to me the ending works as an ending for the character. it's tragic dark devastating but it works and works well #but shiv making that choice does not make sense for where she is right now. it was rushed writing that forced an ending on her #that would be a satisfying ending but not a satisfying character choice and thus NOT a super satisfying ending #could've been EXTREMELY satisfying. but shiv wasn't there yet. her fatal flaw is blowing up good situations when she feels she's being #disrespected -- she's respect > power when it comes down to it #even tho she thinks she wants power more she NEEDS respect and is unable to stay quiet or make the smart choice in the face of disrespect #or men thinking they're superior etcetcetc. so her making a choice that allots her power (wife of CEO) but is the singular least respecting #outcome imaginable (meekly returning to your husband who betrayed you and stole the job you've been fighting for your entire life right out #of your grasp alongside your closest ally/flirt guyfriend who tapped him to do it explicitly to fuck you over because you're a pregnant #woman and thus inferior to the man who inseminated you -- and EVERYONE KNOWS ALL OF THIS! everyone knows you're the daughter of #the previous CEO and on two separate instances were meant to be CEO and now the weak man you married publicly betrayed you TWICE #but you still meekly return to him and place your hand in his and have his baby like the good pawn you are...)#that does not make sense for shiv. if we saw some development on the power > respect front or had a few more scenes or episodes developing #shiv as someone who would choose to become her mother (powerful and rich yet a disrespected pawn) over literally anything else #given her fundamental fear of being disrespected than maybe this would've made sense. it could be a great meaningful devastating ending #but it's one that just does not track for shiv as we know her right now.#ok tags got long as always sorry LOL i'm gonna write a longer thing explaining my hashtag thoughts bc i haven't seen much i agreed w on thi #front yet oops. ok bye 4 now tee hee #succession #succession spoilers #casey shut the fuck up about shiv roy

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tswwwit · 1 year

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Could we get a taste of that new work you started…👀

Heck, have the whole thing! This is for that AU of an AU where Ford captured Bill/Bill was his familiar, and Dipper freed him, like an idiot. Here's the first fic and here's some needed backstory.

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Dipper leans over to let his fingers trail through the water. It’s oddly warm to the touch. Bill’s voice carries, weird and echoing, over the river and through the empty city.

Which Dipper’s ignoring, for the moment.

Not like he’s missing much; he can't understand the lyrics anyway. Bill’s demonic singing continues over his inattention.

This dream is distinctly… not a good one. On the surface, at least; Dipper’s not terrified, but only because of his company.

He also might be a little jaded at this point.

Truth be told, he’s visited a lot of dreams at this point. They’re Bill’s go-to meetup spots. Though Dipper hasn’t really been the biggest fan, so far, he’s never been in any danger. That he knows of. Bill’s made sure of that.

Bringing Dipper to a dream that lacks his idea of 'pizazz', or gore, or immediately evident monsters is a new tactic - but at least it’s not a bad one.

It’s eerie, for sure. The silence beyond Bill’s yodeling adds an extra layer of ‘creepy’ - but the boat is nice, the company’s familiar. Even the water’s warm against the tips of his fingers, leaving clean, bright lines in the river -

Dipper yanks his arm back with a start, and he shakes the water off rapidly. Some of the red drops leave spots on his shirt and pants..

The broken surface of the water bleeds bright red. Like wounded flesh.

Dipper grimaces. He’d back up, but there’s no space in the gondola.

And - as a bonus - it looks like it’s attracting more glimpses of half-formed shadows. Of course. Dipper can only catch them out of the corners of his eye - dim, too-lanky shapes he never fully sees through the fog in the alleyways - but maybe it’s best to ignore those, too.

Still not a bad dream, necessarily. Things could be way worse.

But like everything to do with Bill, it’s unnerving. With a side of ‘constantly feeling you're being watched’.

“Ahem,” Said triangle clears a nonexistent throat. Bill thumps the stick on the bottom of the river, the one he’s been using to guide them along the city canals. “Hello! Listen up, sapling, I’m serenading here.”

Dipper shuffles around until he finds a shaky seat back in the gondola. Bill doesn’t bother. He doesn’t have to worry about balance, with his floating in midair thing.

“This is… interesting.” Dipper says. Bill brightens up, lower eyelid rising. So that’s a start - but he’s not sure how to follow it. He tucks his arms around his legs instead. “Why are we-”

“Vide stellas quae tremunt!” Bill continues his song without any notice of the question. Dipper tries waving at him, but he’s already closed his eye.. “Amoris et spei!”

No explanation, then. Dipper rolls his eyes.

God forbid Bill not have attention on him for ten seconds.

“I sense,” Bill says, tapping under his eye thoughtfully. “That you might not be appreciating this, kid.” Said eye rolls in its golden socket. “Why am I not surprised!”

At Dipper’s shrug, Bill grumbles something under his breath, and pushes the gondola along. Silent, for a moment.

Dipper shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Absent the music, this place is extremely eerie. There’s a light fog on the canals, and he doesn’t dare look into the alleys.

In a way, he understands why Bill’s like this. Needing company. Demanding attention. Being demanding is part and parcel of his demonic nature, and he was also stuck in a prison for thirty freakin’ years. That alone would make someone deranged.

Bill was just insane even before that.

Thankfully, irrepressible as always, Bill starts humming some other tune. Dipper’s glad he started again; he must be in a better mood. Bill’s huge eye narrows slightly in contemplation.

Then he lets out a low, self-satisfied cackle, and rubs two hands together. A third arm keeps steering the boat.

Dipper rolls his own eyes.

Yeah, this is definitely going to pan out like Bill expects. Because everything Bill’s done has worked out great for him.

Bill said he had plans for Dipper, but he’s taking his sweet time getting to them. It barely seems like there is one, most nights.

Whatever he’s after, it might work better if he focused on his goal.

Instead, he’s making Dipper focus on him.

Every time they’ve met up - and it’s been months - Bill’s clearly making some kind of effort. He’s hinted at a deeper truth, dozens of times. He taunts, and he talks, and even teaches on a whim. His methods are obscure and bizarre, they seem out of place - but Dipper gets the sense that Bill genuinely thinks it’s important.

He must really be distracted by his ego, because so far? His ‘plan’ doesn't seem all that sinister. It’s like he’s barely started it, or it’s genuinely not-terrible - which is why Dipper willingly joins Bill in his dreams.

Okay. That, plus a certain amount of sheer, idiotic curiosity. Dipper’s not perfect.

But he knows Bill’s trying to show him something.

Maybe if Dipper got it - whatever ‘it’ is - then he’d be able to thwart the plan. But until he finally gets it, or it comes to fruition or… Until something really evil happens, he guesses, then they’re just going to keep…

Meeting up? Hanging out? Dipper’s not sure which phrase fits right.

Judging by how it’s gone so far, that ‘until’ might be a while.

So long as Bill’s just reveling in attention, though - there’s no reason to stop him screwing himself over. Freedom seems like a big deal to him, and if the last few months are any indication? He’s been enjoying it immensely.

Feeding Bill’s ego a little can’t hurt, and it’s. Not bad, really.

Dipper just. Doesn’t have a lot of people to talk with who aren’t family, and Bill’s always up for a conversation. Even if it mostly devolves into bickering about stupid things, and Bill’s awful, awful jokes - Dipper’s finding he doesn’t mind that much. Bill’s quick-witted, weirdly charming for a person who’s a shape, and his magical knowledge has a depth that’s breathtaking. Even if it comes in an annoying golden package.

Whatever works, works, though. As long as Bill’s eager to hang out, then Dipper might as well indulge him.

After all, Bill could be up to worse things than bothering Dipper. And when it comes right down to it - he’s kind of fun. In an insane, demonic way.

Dipper’s still cautious. He’d be an idiot not to be.

But so far, Bill’s keeping his word.

Come to think of it, the plan must be one of the reasons Bill’s still here, in this dream. He’s making sure this isn’t a nightmare, while he tries to convey his… something. Possibly in a manner that won’t completely chase Dipper off. But if he can figure it out, before Bill manages to be super evil -

Dipper tucks his arms around himself tighter in the chill of the fog. He shakes his head to clear it.

This is novel, and interesting -

And very, very dangerous.

He’s got to stay wary. Reminding himself that Bill is absolutely insane.

“What, you chilly or something?” Bill sets fists on his angles. He was humming for a while, but now he looks curious. He even floats in a bit, while the stick keeps steering the gondola without a pilot. “This is what you get for having a crappy endothermic system.”

“Shut up.” Dipper tucks his legs together too. The temperature, if anything, seems to have dropped by a few more degrees. “Didn’t you make this dream? Can’t you control the-”

“Ahem. Unlike some amateurs, I know how to set the atmosphere.” Bill shuts his eye, somehow managing to look self-assured without a face. He wags a chiding finger at Dipper, floating close enough to flick his nose. “You wanna keep your empty nightmares on refrigerator settings. Fits the whole ‘eternally preserved’ theme.”

“And how does singing bad opera fit the ‘theme’?“ Dipper smacks Bill on the side. Dumb move, it only hurts his fingers - though Bill's not cold, like the air. It makes him pause. “...Hey. That wasn’t in Italian.”

“When in Rome, speak as the Romans do! And they were chatting in Latin before your forebears had forebears.” Bill shrugs, nonchalant. “It's the source of Romance languages!”

A minor detail. One Bill’s using to avoid the question - and he only resorts to being a pedant when he’s caught.

Dipper narrows his eyes -

Then seizes the opportunity.

And the triangle.

As Bill thuds against Dipper's chest, he wraps his arms around him tight. Bill flails a bit, muttering something impossibly muffled against Dipper's chest. How does that happen, he doesn't even have a mouth. Dipper decides to ignore the impossible, yet again. Squeezing Bill a little harder, like he could crumple him like tinfoil. Knowing that he won't.

Man Bill’s warm; radiating off him like a personal, annoying space heater. Dipper can already feel the sensation returning to his fingers, gripped tight on Bill's edges.

And frowns. “Wait. I thought this was supposed to be nightmare Venice, not Rome.”

“Cripes, what a pedant.” Bill groans, the hypocrite. Dipper can’t see his eye - he’s rotated it around to face forward - but he’s sure he’s rolling it as well. He floats lower in Dipper’s lap, and one raised finger jabs the soft underside of Dipper’s jaw. “I bet you’re a real hit at parties. I couldn’t take you anywhere!”

Bullshit, Bill’s arrogant enough to take anyone anywhere, and be smug about it.

And if he’s trying to pretend he’s not in a good mood, maybe he should stop glowing so bright.

Dipper squeezes him a little tighter. Bill’s been caught, he can’t escape - and while he hasn’t totally settled down, he’s letting his legs dangle over Dipper’s and only kicked him once. It was barely a tap.

“I get it. You’ve never spent much time in Italy.” And Dipper smiles. This’ll get to him. “Bill Cipher claims to be the dream demon extraordinaire - but he never managed to bother a Pope.”

The sharp, indignant noise Bill makes is so, so sweet. Dipper jostles the top hat with his cheek, just to bug him more, and listens to the ensuing weird burble with a grin.

In the end, Dipper gets a thoroughly informative rant about the intricacies of both Italy and Rome and parts of an empire that he’s pretty sure never existed. Bill’s alight with indignance - and amusement. Possibly at his own bullshit.

Dipper really, really wishes he had a notebook with him.

Talking with Bill is always fascinating, and infuriating. Half of this has to be bullshit. Some of it might be true. Dipper… should really check out more history books. Maybe then he’d have more chances to call out Bill’s bullshit, with facts. For the moment, questioning him on every aspect pokes enough holes to help sort out the fiction.

It’s an easy conversation, and a long one. Bickering with Bill takes ages, makes Dipper struggle for words, he’s usually a little annoyed - and it’s oddly pleasant. In that Dipper doesn’t have to be pleasant. Or even nice. Bill absorbs it all with infinite confidence, and shoots back with pointed ripostes.

“-And that’s why garum was crappy, and ya shouldn’t miss it.” Bill finishes. He pats Dipper’s arm twice, and, reluctantly, is released. He floats up above the gondola as it drifts, slowly towards a dock. “But I think we’re getting off topic.”

“How? We-” Always argue, Dipper was about to say. That was before he stood up; now he’s thinking better of it. “Shit.”

He tries to balance as the gondola shakes; some of the blood-water laps over the sides. Crap, arguing with Bill is one thing, but he didn’t want to literally rock the boat.

Bill floats up further, watching the sloshing - and starts laughing.

Dipper glares, but the stupid tiny canoelike thing is shaking under him, he grips the sides. Since they’re next to the dock, he smacks a palm on it. It steadies things, barely.

“Pfft, loser.” Bill’s lower eyelid is raised in amusement. He watches Dipper struggle for another moment - then laughs harder, before holding out a hand. “C’mon already!”

Dipper takes the offer, absurdly grateful. Bill’s hand is very warm, like the rest of him.The black void of the not-flesh is a strange non-texture under his palm, steadying him before he falls. Dipper fumbles for a moment before holding onto it tight. Even though the boat is about to capsize, Bill’s got him.

Bill brightens up and squeezes his hand back. Not hard, surprisingly, maybe a little teasingly, and it makes something flip around inside Dipper’s chest.

Bill hauls Dipper bodily up onto the dock, with surprising strength and a cackling laugh. Dipper feels a quick slap just above his hip as he briefly stumbles.

Crap, that was fast. He almost backpedaled into the canal again from sheer surprise - but his grip on Bill means he only lent back for a moment.

Bill, the asshole, thinks it was amazingly funny. He’s leaning forward, another sixty degree angle in the air.

Dipper flips him off, heart racing fast. He wonders how Bill managed - but, right. He’s a demon, of course. Physics don’t matter. Those weird, noodlelike arms defy them on the daily.

One of said arms prods Dipper in the stomach. “Man, kid, talk about clumsy!” Bill’s still chuckling. His surface flickers with amusement, eyelid raised in a smile. “I shoulda let you go for a dunk!” Then a thoughtful rub under the single, narrowed eye. “Though I do like you less dissolved. At the moment.”

Dipper narrows his eyes. His valiant attempt to crush Bill’s hand in his own fails at the complete lack of bones inside.

Bill’s insane and weird and clever. He’s the strangest being Dipper’s ever met - but whatever his motives are? It’s - so far - been fine.

Dipper’s not dunked. Or dissolved. Hell, if anything, he should always be more terrified. With what Bill does. With what Bill is.

Best of all, that wasn’t a handshake. Even though Bill’s still holding on, it’s not in the right position for one. Interlaced fingers don’t count, he’s sure.

Dipper struggles at the touch, and gets his hand back, eventually. He wipes it on his pants, trying to shake off the thought.

It definitely wasn’t a shake, because they didn’t make a deal. If they had, Bill would be gloating about it. Dipper can put that single heartstopping moment behind him.

He’s still thinking about it as Bill leads him through the city. The conversation is mostly Bill rambling, their usual light bickering.

Dipper may be wandering around a nightmare, but with his palm flat on the warm surface of Bill’s back, at least he knows nothing else is going to freak him out. Bill would get huffy about not being the center of attention.

“So whatd’ya think of the main dream? Took the blueprint off a guy with agoraphobia.” Bill tugs one one of the passing door handles - which doesn’t move. When Dipper looks closer, it’s literally painted on. “No indoors, anywhere!”

“It’s kind of…” Dipper thinks about it. Nearly silent streets, cold and misty. Even if Bill wasn’t here, it’d be… “Empty.”

“Uh, duh, that’s the point.”

“No, I mean,” Dipper scrunches his face up, trying to think of - he isn’t much for horror movies, but exposure to Bill has shown him enough. “There’s no ominous signs of who was here, either. Like, I’d think there would be… half-eaten meals on the cafe tables, or, like.” He snaps his fingers, trying to think of remnants - “A single, empty child’s shoe.”

"Oh, very nice! I like how you think, sapling.” Bill taps Dipper’s temple, twice, before patting his cheek. Dipper leans away before he can pinch it. “Even if it’s not your thing, you always got something going on in that bonebox, don’tcha?”

Dipper just shrugs. He can’t not think. A dream demon liking what he does think is… morally questionable.

And, maybe, kind of neat.

“We don’t see enough of each other these days. A few hours at a time is nothing.” Bill continues, waving over the scenery. “Not that I’m not a fan of you letting me whisk ya off in your dreams - but what about reality?”

“Nope.” Dipper drops his arm, folding both of them over his chest. “Not happening.”

Freeing Bill was…. Arguably morally gray. Dipper doesn’t regret it, but Bill is an asshole, and Ford was convincing. The main advantage of Bill’s freedom came with their deal, Bill was in a terrible position to bargain.

The second best part is not having Bill on Earth anymore. He’s still dangerous, but not immediately so.

To reality. No so much for people hanging out with him.

“C’mon, kid. We’d have way more time together when you aren’t conked out!” Bill sidles closer. One thin arm wraps a couple times around Dipper’s waist, while the other waves broadly over the scenery. “A full Europe trip, just for two.” A brief pause. “Not that you’d get this kinda quality in your mundane version of that continent, but whatever.”

“If you say so.” Dipper hedges, that sound extremely subjective. Bill blinks at him with genuine surprise; it makes Dipper fidget for a second “I haven’t been out of Gravity Falls in-” Hell. When was the last time he went back to Piedmont. Or anywhere else. “...It’s been a while.”

Bill takes another second to stare. Then sighs. His enormous eye rolls around and around in its socket, in yet another exaggeration.

“Well, think about it, kid. One of these days, we’ll get to it. Me and you, on Earth!” Bill prods him firmly in the chest, eyelid raised in a smile. “We could take a long stroll through the streets, check out a couple cafes, crush a couple local governments- Then teleport over to a boulangerie for pastries! It’d be a great time!”

Insisting on reality. Again. Dipper holds back a sigh.

Letting Bill into the world - even with the compromises Dipper managed, is a horrible idea.

But right now Bill’s off in his own little world - literally, in a way - and that concept isn’t one he’s going to accept. Not the tactic to take to argue against it.

“I guess it’s a nice thought. Or fantasy, anyway.” Dipper pats Bill twice on the edge. “You’d stand out a little too much.”

Even Dipper needed a couple weeks before he got used to Bill. He’s a giant demonic triangle made of maybe-gold. Bill Cipher, in reality, would send pretty much everyone screaming, or reeling in horrified awe.

Probably, Bill would love that. Right up until it meant no cafe service.

“Yeah, yeah, most humans have no taste. Doesn’t mean it’d ruin the occasion!” Bill wags a chiding finger. His arm slips from its loop around Dipper so he can rest a fist on his edge. “What’d’ya think shapeshifting’s for?”

“For wha-” Dipper starts - then jerking back, as Bill’s form changes.

Dipper turns his head away, shielding his eyes against the bright light. And grimacing.

This demonic drama queen. The light isn't typical for his changes, he’s doing it for show. Whatever Bill’s turning into, he hopes this shape won’t have too many limbs, or infinite teeth - or worse, pick him up again -

Trying to smack Bill is always an option, though. Especially when he’s trying to be dramatic. Dipper lands the punch easily, operating on muscle memory -

Into something warm. And firm - but much softer than gold.

Bill starts chuckling. There’s a slow, rhythmic motion under Dipper’s knuckles.

Already, it’s far from the worst Dipper’s had to deal with. Bill’s not on fire, or scaled, and there’s no huge tongues licking out between his tiers. He’s not even slimy this time, though certainly more…. organic.

Dipper opens his mouth to tell Bill off, blinking rapidly -

“So! What’d’ya think, sapling?” Bill’s grin is wide and white and close. Too close, his sudden surge in makes Dipper lean back on instinct. “Ya like the look?”

Dipper stares.

“Eh?” Bill prompts again. Now he’s wiggling his eyebrows.When he doesn’t get a response - he sticks out a tongue - a pink, human tongue, Dipper watches it flick back in. “Where’s the insult?”

Right. New shape. Bill… wants feedback, something to stroke his immense ego. Dipper should….

Say something. Probably.

He looks again at that face. A human face. Bill’s standing there, intimidating; he has eyebrows and a nose and white teeth in a wide smile on this - Dipper looks down, then slowly up again - human form, leaning over him.

“Um,” Dipper says, eloquently. He does another once over, lacking for words, until he meets that single golden eye. And swallows, once. “...Hi.”

“Not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” Bill continues. He adjusts the collar of his shirt, smoothing back his hair - then digging a finger into his fleshy cheek, and twisting it. “I think it’s a pretty accurate translation!”

Dipper nods. He opens his hand by fractions, until his palm rests flat on Bill’s chest, then thinks better and grips the shirt instead.

Okay. This. Is a new one.

Bill’s face - he has a face - is all angles, with a pleased, smug, too-wide grin. He thankfully still has only one eye, otherwise Dipper wouldn’t know where to stare - and he's very much up in Dipper’s personal space. Warmth still radiates off him, just like before.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bill says dryly. He grasps Dipper's side, just near his hip. His hand is bigger now, and - and Dipper shakes his head to clear it. “So! You and me, strolling through the city-”

Bill rambles on, per usual. The familiarity is steadying. Dipper squinches his eyes shut - then blinks, but nope. The scenery hasn’t changed.

This is. Normal. For Bill. Because this is Bill, showing off again. They can move on.

Will move on, because Bill’s looking like he wants to continue their walk. Dipper should. Follow him. That’s the right thing to do.

The first step is turning away. Easily done, if he stops gripping Bill’s shirt so tight. Forcing himself to loosen his hold works - but now he’s touching Bill’s chest again, and that isn’t great. Though it’s very solid, like Bill - because it is Bill, in a different shape, he needs to remember that. The shirt is soft, though when he strokes it. Maybe silk? Dipper -

Should stop touching it, what the hell.

Bill keeps rambling, arm warm against Dipper’s back. Dipper nods out of habit, stepping forward as Bill leads them on through the city.

Dipper forces his arms to his sides, holding them rigidly in place. He’s keeping them to himself. Thankfully, Bill doesn’t seem to notice anything odd about that.

Not that anything is, but. It might make things weird if he did think that.

Which means Dipper can relax, if only a bit. Demonic self-absorption has some benefits after all.

This is only another strange shape Bill’s taken. He’s turned into way weirder ones, for way longer - and for dumber reasons. Whatever prank he’s pulling is - Anyway, it’s only lasted maybe two minutes, it won’t be much longer. If that’s even how long it’s been.

Come to think of it, how long has Dipper been asleep? Dream time and real time never entirely track, and from this perspective they’ve been hanging out for a few hours. Longer than their typical meetup, since either Bill has ‘business’, or Dipper wakes up. Usually the latter. Eight hours real time is more like two or three in the dream realm -

…Which might be why Bill complained about it.

Bill keeps commenting on the city. Gesturing around. Possibly describing how conquerable it is, as he guides Dipper along on the midnight nightmare stroll,

Dipper isn’t sure what, exactly, the current topic is. He isn’t paying much attention.

He rubs at his forehead. He doesn’t feel much more centered, even with Bill’s arm around his waist again. Still warm, and somehow more solid. Certainly broader.

It also pulls him in and around, until he’s confronted - again - with Bill. His golden eye alight, looking him over skeptically.

“What, is this boring you?”

“I- what? No.” Dipper says. He nearly touches that chest again, and then the arm - but the biceps aren't any better. Technically speaking. He clenches his hands into fists, holding them to his own chest. “...Okay, maybe a little.”

Compared to some random nightmare city, recent developments are much more distracting.

“Yeesh, tough crowd.” Bill tuts, pulling Dipper in until their sides squish together; Dipper still doesn’t know where to put his hands, he tucks them over his stomach. “See, this is why we gotta get more hangout time!”

Bill’s other arm waves over the dream, and a space in it parts, folding up the rest of the scenery. Like opening a curtain, the city is shoved away to two sides, pleating like in a skirt.

The space opens into a void full of not-quite-stars.

Dipper leans in closer, and feels Bill’s arm tighten.

There’s a myriad of images floating in blackness. Things floating through space that’s not space, with a huge pyramid, black and ominous, somewhere in the distance.

The real heart of the nightmare realm Bill comes from, he’s seen glimpses before -

The one Ford told him never, ever, ever to take a single step into.

“You have a point, sapling. And I’ve had it with the tours of these run-of-the mill mental meanderings.” Bill never stops talking. He’s almost proud of it. “Now that I’ve cleared the squatters out, you should come crash at my place!”

Dipper yelps as he’s hauled up - damn it, he should have expected that - and braces himself on Bill’s shoulders. He nearly falls, Bill’s grip shifting, until he clamps his legs around Bill tight.

Not that he would fall - Bill wouldn’t let him - and he’s always been inhumanly, unfairly strong. The arm under his butt and the hand on his back would stop Dipper from escaping, even if he wanted to drop to the cold cobblestone ground.

“Cut it out.” Dipper kicks out from sheer indignance, anyway. Damn it, he knew he should have seen this coming - and Bill nearly stumbles to keep him in place. “What are you playing at?”

He’s done with this prank. With having to look at that face, with its. Everything. With Bill hauling him around like he’s a pet, damn it, he made that clear long ago, when Bill was still imprisoned.

Now he wants to bring him to the center of a mess of insanity and nightmares, what the hell is with that.

Maybe Bill can actually drive people insane. Because part of Dipper - the part that keeps saying ‘okay’ to their meetups has already started a horrible, insidious whisper.

Telling him everything else has been okay. Wondering if it would really be that bad.

“You clearly don’t care for the the terror atmosphere, kid. I’m fine with ditching it for the moment.” Bill jostles him in place, grinning wider at Dipper’s glare. “I got options! We can set up something else.”

“Like what.” Dipper says, flat.

“Look. Bribing you, Pine Tree? It's hard,” Bill says, with some chagrin.. “I’ve already given you power - not that you’re using it - and you got the pleasure of my company. You’ve even got some of the secrets of the universe on hand, but you keep dodging chances to hang!” His eye narrows. “What’re you really into?”

“I-” Dipper hesitates. Without a retort prepared, he’s not sure what to say.

“Name it and I’m there, kid. You did me a major favor, we’ve been walking out for a while - and I’ve been nothing but a gentleman when it comes to us.” He puts a strange emphasis on the word, one eyebrow raised. “What’s not to like?”

A lot of things, honestly. None of which Dipper can say.

Demon, for one. Dangerous, definitely. Insane, absolutely - and through all of that. Dipper has kept meeting up with Bill, even though he could use any of the dozen wards Ford has tried to foist upon him.

Bill’s hand is stroking his back, there’s an arm underneath him and it’s weird and -

God, Dipper wishes Bill wasn’t still in this shape, it’s throwing him off. For a prank, it’s weirdly well constructed, there’s no uncanny valley. Now his mind is racing

Actually, didn’t Bill say it was a translation?

Like. If Bill was a human, this would be how he looked. Still all angles, in a way. Unnaturally strong, oddly fascinating, and with amusement evident in the sharpness of his smile.

“Good! You’re thinking about it. Lemme know what’s cooking in there.” Bill’s grin is white and wild, a dangerous shape on his face. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

A smile that, now that Dipper looks at it, isn’t all that sharp. If he tugs the corner of the lips with his thumb, Bill makes a face, sticking out his tongue -

With a start, Dipper realizes he’s been staring at Bill’s mouth.

Bill snickers, but doesn’t respond. A slow smile, with his single eye half-lidded, and close enough that Dipper can feel the breath on his face. Dipper’s heart is going triple-time, and Bill’s very very close.

At some point Dipper wet his lips, involuntarily. He watches as Bill’s eye glimmers, then slowly shuts.

And -

The blare of the alarm cuts through things like a knife.

Dipper sits bolt upright in bed. Heart pounding.

For a full ten seconds, he flails at the sheets blindly, surprised - until he remembers where he is, and lets his arms drop.

He stares around his room with out seeing it. Still bleary, blinking slow.

What…?

Dipper sits there for another long moment. The sun isn’t even up, why did he set his alarm so early. He knows why he did it but. Now it seems ridiculous.

He wanted to make it less than eight hours. To make it cut off before Bill was expecting it.

Before either of them expected it, this time.

“Shit,” Dipper says.

He fumbles around for the cup on the bedside table. His mouth is dry, and he needs something to center himself, but he only manages to knock it over.

The memory of the dream - a lucid, very real event - is stuck in the forefront of his brain. Dipper can’t shake it. All of the Bill-dreams have been vivid, but this one is even more so.

He almost -

Dipper rolls over, sheets tangling around his legs, with the memory searing bright in the forefront of his mind.

Even when he pulls the cool pillow against his face, it doesn't help it feel any less hot.

That thing keeps running through his head, no matter what he does. The memory's too vivid to be anything less than real. How close he was. The warmth. How Bills eye fluttered shut, along with the vivid picture of his mouth, lips slightly parted.

He's never - but then Bill was -

Dipper hugs the pillow tighter, letting it absorb him in its comforting softness. Even the tips of his ears must be red by now.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

He should have listened to Ford. He should have taken those warnings to heart.

He’s heard so many of them.

Don’t talk to demons. Don’t get involved with their magic, don’t make any deals, don’t interact at all except to eliminate them.

And do not, under any circumstances, speak too long to Bill Cipher.

Ford's smart. He knows how to handle almost every situation, and he's cautious enough to come up with almost every eventuality.

Dipper never had a warning against wanting to kiss an evil triangle. He swears a little more into the pillow, tense and frustrated.

God, he's an idiot.

Bill’s weird. He’s insane. He’s all about every aspect of twisting a mind into absurd shapes - hell, he is a shape. Not a human. Not good.

And not into anyone, as far as Dipper can tell. On the very rare moments the topic has come up, Bill’s been disparaging at best - and even if he was, it would still be a terrible idea.

Dipper pulls the pillow tighter around him. He thunks his head-and-pillow combo against the mattress, embarrassment writhing in his chest.

He’s going to get up in a moment. First, to make some coffee - a lot of coffee -

And second, to come up with his own plan.

Bill knows about everything, or at least he claims to. He definitely likes it when people are crazy, but odds are? He won’t appreciate this kind of madness.

But with any luck - and some careful work, on Dipper’s part -

Bill Cipher will never, ever know about this.

#Me: Oh hey I could write a quick little short for this idea!!#Also me: *staring at nearly 6k* _ :(´ཀ`」 ∠):_#I invite you all to imagine the following with me #First that Dipper is going 'shit shit shit' for a long while about this revelation #He hasn't taken any of the hints for a variety of reasons. Partly self-esteem but also the triangle thing. And Bill's ALWAYS obscure #Never directly talking is 'fun' up until it isn't #And second that Bill has been going #Why'd he have to wake up JUST THEN?? Talk about crappy timing #Just a demon holding his (He thinks) soon-to-be lover. Five centimeters from a smooch #Then *pop*! He's left holding empty air #Augh!! The twenty-seventh date was going so well! Makeouts almost happened!! Oh well I'll get em soon enough #Man I am such a great boyfriend Bill says to himself very smugly #The upside of this AU of an AU is that they both had time to get Squishy Feelings about each other instead of starting off with hate #The downside in a way is that now Dipper unlike before has PLENTY of time to overthink the hell out of this #Good luck Bill you'll need it to get him into bed. Now that he's not in the moment enough to spring for an impulse driven by hate-lust #It's gonna be a while until these losers officially get together but hey that's technically the same #Just in one instance the sex came first and in this one the feelings did #Mind you any 'ily' is a long way off; they're still settling in at this point. Give em time #answers #When will my ability to write short things return from the war *wraps shawl around self and stares distantly at the wine-dark sea*#Gonna give a thumbs up to pchelaus for the kick that motivated me to finish this

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cashmere-caveman · 7 months

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My Country: The New Age, first and last episodes & Hanif Abdurraqib, For The Dogs Who Barked At Me On The Sidewalks in Connecticut (text/audio) image descriptions in alt

#damn imagine if hui-jae was well written beyond like episode 7 or so. wouldnt that have been something.#just saying but if they had actually leaned into the parallels between these three instead of doing ... whatever weird comphet stuff we got #it couldve been so good!!!! or even if they had just let her keep her fun gender!! but no :(#im so glad hui-jae is busy being the occasional third in hwa-wol and mun-boks marriage while seonhwi raise goats in seo geoms village haha #anyway. enjoy yet another half assed post abt parallels and heartbreak in the parallels and heartbreak show <3 #also do urself a favour and check out the whole poem hanif abdurraqibs writing is insane #my country: the new age #mctna #han hui-jae #nam seon-ho #seo hwi #caveweb #actually no i still have sth to say. like im not even mad that theres comphet im just angry its so bad like??? what was that #that wasnt even half assed that was like quarter assed at best #also the hui-jae / seon-ho axis is so tragically underused #like i respect that they just fully made them both hwisexual but couldnt we have at least gotten more than some crumbs #they went from vaguely friends to bitchy antagonists to i dont even think of u at all and thats honestly so lame #tension of a wet lettuce leaf. seon-ho was the one who made the first step towards friendship in ihwaru and he also warned her abt his dad #and wingmanned hwi (took hui-jae to see hwi kick ass) like in the beginning he was the one w the people skills!#and u are telling me apart from one extremely unbelievable attempt at a love triangle w the 'last drink' scene u never did anything w them?#like so much of my grief w this show hinges on the fact that there shouldve been more Good Times before everything went to shit #to make it hit harder bc imagine the beef if seon-ho and hui-jae had been actually good friends before he betrayed hwi #them seeing each other at court as the king and queens respective confidantes wouldve been so much better like !!!#wait actually i need to stop here i can feel myself getting hangry i need to eat lunch but imagine. imagine #the good timeline where hwi just got to be fully bisexual and there were more divorce flavours than just hwi/seon-ho and hwi/bang-won...#solarpunk_future.jpeg #nam seon ho #han hui jae #<- thats just bc i never fucking know what the consensus on the romanization of everyones names is #i personally go w the hyphenated method but lots of ppl write each syllable separate and ive seen the kpop variant (written tgt) used too

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sylvies-kablooie · 2 months

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feel like an academic the way i was about to make a rebuttal paper to a thesis claiming that sylvie had no feelings for loki in s1 but then i remembered i have to do things like attend classes and pay bills so that's gonna be shelved for a while

#all readings of fandom are welcomed here but i do have my own interpretations i believe and that's fine #i just will cite my sources #gestures to the blanket scene. the pruning scene. the one good memory scene.#have y'all ever sat down and read academic discourse? those “in reply to” papers?#i just got exposed to my first one recently and oh boy. the whole body cringe it induced was inescapable.#like imagine a bunch of experts in the field getting so mad about how WRONG you are they have to submit their findings to a journal #and you the poor jstor user just trying to write a paper are subjected to incredibly niche discourse #i understand the importance of calling out ideas you believe do not have weight to them but like consider this:#it probably hurt that guy's feelings :(#i actually was team “guy this paper was saying is wrong” his theory had good evidence #and the writing was so condescending i didn't want to root for them anyway #but regardless. i had a point somewhere in there that has been muddled.#sylki #pro sylki #loki series

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souglias · 2 years

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In Another Reality [Kazuha]

c/w: angst, hurt/comfort, mention of a bug, implied blood in one line, separation, recent GAA spoilers

note: thank you to Mint and Feiyue for looking through this for me <3

Thank you for all the likes and reblogs!

Cross-posted on AO3

Born to a family of servants under the Kaedehara clan, your childhood was spent under the roof of the Kaedehara house that you no longer have access to. Most of your memories had Kazuha in them (the first time you met him, the first time you sparred with him with branches, the first and last time you won him in a game of shogi), but those that didn’t have him were those with family.

With your mother’s history as the shrine maiden before she had married, she had many stories to tell you when she had spare time. Those you remember vividly are about the phenomenon of kamikakushi, people being spirited away. You remember her holding about her pointer finger as she warns, “People say that you should never eat or drink anything from that world if you ever get spirited away. Otherwise, you’ll be trapped forever.”

A part of you skeptical about your mother’s stories, you lock the stories in the back of your mind. That is until you enter Kazuha’s domain at the Golden Apple Archipelago. The memory resurfaces, leading you to remind yourself over and over never to touch the tea sets and plates of food you see in the domains. You wouldn’t call this getting spirited away, but it is another world after all.

When you open your eyes after Kazuha touches the bonsai for the third time, you are standing alone. Large wooden sliding doors tower in front of you as you stand in the spacious genkan. You call out the names of your travelling companions, but you get no response.

As if you’re doing a hesitant gamble, you whisper, “Kazuha?”

You are being too hopeful. Sighing, you slip your feet out of your sandals.

“My love?”

Kazuha’s voice comes out muffled behind the wooden door. You almost trip when stepping up onto the wooden floorboard. Perhaps it was just an illusion. After all, domains are unpredictable and unexplainable. A warp in time and space.

You hear your name through the door again. Gingerly, you press your hands against the sliding doors and shift them outwards. It reveals a man all too familiar to you. Except that he’s wearing a white silk kosode with red accents and flowing sleeves on both sides. Maple leaves are sewn meticulously onto his hakama and a gold crest with a maple leaf etched is pinned on a simple red fabric belt.

Eyes running up his body, you settle your gaze on his eyes. There are dark circles underneath his eyes and faint wrinkles on his bottom lid. Beyond the crimson irises, there is only a dim candlelight braving the ruthless gales.

Kazuha outstretches his hand to you and you notice his scar-less hands. When you take his hand, you feel a writer’s callus on his finger that you don’t recall him having.

He brings you down the familiar dim corridor and the wooden floor creaks the way you remember it. The servants in the house shuffle across your vision as the two of you walk, opening and closing the paper sliding doors. A few familiar faces that perk up when they see you and new faces who only spare you a glance in their busy flurry.

Bright sunlight spills into your vision when Kazuha opens the sliding door, causing you to squint your eyes. When you open your eyes again, you see a tea set on the floor with two zabutons on opposite sides of it.

As you step into the room, you note the slightly frayed tatami flooring below your feet and notice the nihonga of maples that has its colours dulled. There is also now a shelf full of bound books. Below it, a sturdy bonsai.

Kazuha invites you to settle on the zabuton opposite him. You shuffle around in your seat in an attempt to shake off the awkwardness (and the unsettling feeling festering in your chest).

You notice that instead of hard sweets, there is a plate of crackers that comes with the tea set instead. Kazuha reassures you, “Don’t worry, it is only the two of us. We shall go ahead and forgo the formalities today.”

Still as attuned to your thoughts and emotions as ever.

Kazuha picks up the teapot and you hurry to hold up your teacup to him. As he tips the teapot, the fragrance of the tea reaches your nose. Nostalgia fills your heart. You used to try making this tea for Kazuha when the both of you were kids.

You had thought you could do it just by looking at the elder servants brewing tea. But in the end, you had accidentally tipped the burnt tea over the tatami flooring and earned yourself a harsh scolding from your parents.

After Kazuha finishes pouring the tea, he closes his eyes as he brings the cup up to his lips. On the other hand, as you bring the teacup up to your lips, you’re hit with a cruel reminder that you’re in a domain. And there are rules you have to abide by unless you can shoulder the possible consequences.

Your arms droop back down to your lap, your cup cradled in both hands. A few moments pass when only the tea timidly sways and brushes at the mouth of the cup.

“What’s wrong? Is the tea not to your liking? I made this with you in mind, but it seems like I have more to work on.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sure the tea is great, Ka- my lord. I’m just not sure if I can stomach anything right now.”

His eyes widen and he asks with alarm in his voice, “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

After you shake your head, he adds, “Please, don’t call me that. Kazuha will do.”

You force a smile as he shuffles to your side to envelope your hands with his. It feels like he is searching for something in your eyes as he gazes into them. A few moments pass and he simply suggests, “Shall we walk around the courtyard?”

Seeing no harm, you agree. He lets go of your hand to stand up he holds his hand out for you once again. This time, you take his hand a little more tentatively.

(You do not know if you deserve to hold his hand.)

Even before you exit into the courtyard, you hear the bamboo by the fountain hitting a rock. Water is still flowing through it (just like how time is still flowing through the house of Kaedehara here).

But there are no longer any colourful koi that waltz with one another in the almost still water of the pond. The grass is unevenly trimmed as if done in a hurry. The towering maple tree that stretches above the pond is left with nothing but a few leaves clinging onto its branches.

“I’m sorry that the courtyard is more unkempt than it should be. The servants have other tasks to tend to and I do not wish to overload them.”

You shake your head. Trying to lighten the atmosphere, you tease, “It’s okay. Besides, do you see me as one to nitpick over decorations?”

Kazuha chuckles in agreement. He leads you to sit at the bottom of the tree. Even though you wonder if it is proper for him to do this as you watch the white silk get slightly sullied, you do not question him.

When you close your eyes, you remember that Kazuha and you used to sprawl out on the cushiony grass underneath the tree.

Both of you had laid down on the grass under the shade of the maple tree, panting and heaving from one of your spars using fallen tree branches. You basked in the filtered sunlight and gazed into the part of the azure bright sky uncovered by the red leaves. When you turned to your side, you saw Kazuha’s face softened by the soft red light. Maybe that was the moment you knew that you loved him even though you were only a kid. Maybe you would have told him to marry you with a ring made using a leaf if a caterpillar hadn’t dropped on your shoulder.

"Do you remember that time when a caterpillar dropped on your shoulder?”

Your eyes widen and you hold your breath, abruptly turning your head to face him. From the time you entered the domain till now, you have never been so certain about whether he was truly Kazuha. Your heart drops when you can no longer ignore that he is not a mirage. He is also Kazuha. Because only Kazuha would be privy to that incident.

He places a hand above yours. Before he speaks, he turns his gaze back into the sky (or perhaps he is looking at something beyond).

“My love, I believe I should no longer keep it from you. I am aware that we are in a domain and I am likely to be an alternate reality created by this domain. If you choose to, you have the power to make all these into reality.”

Your breath hitches. All the hidden desires of your heart overflow out of its prison and you feel a glimmer of hope. There is no more having to wander the world, unsure when you could rest your feet in one place. You could live a normal life with Kazuha, doing all the things you wanted to do together with him in Inazuma.

“But that would mean that your current reality will cease to exist as the domain projects this mirage into the real world.”

Your heart drops. Nothing good could ever come out of a domain. The glimmer of hope that you saw a little while ago blinks and flickers as if it is also uncertain of its being.

“I am sorry that this decision has fallen into your hands and that I have no power to unchain you from this responsibility.”

You bite the inside of your cheek again, tasting a hint of metal on your tongue.

He continues, “No matter what you choose, I will not blame you.”

The house has witnessed all the trivial and significant moments between you and Kazuha. Even before he had professed your love to you, you envisioned a future with him in this very house. You would laugh, smile and cry with him here. Your parents would also be within your reach, no longer left behind in Inazuma by themselves.

Kazuha has been forced to grow up and you know it the best, being by his side for all the time you’ve known.

But one is unshackled, and the one in front of you has been chained to heavy responsibilities and carrying what seems like the weight of the world on his shoulders.

His eyes remind you of his father’s eyes. Ones that struggled to stay open not just due to age, but also because of the weight of the responsibilities. You cannot help but feel that someone of Kazuha’s age should not have eyes so worn out and wrinkled.

With sorrow and decision in your heart, you swallow the lump in your throat.

"I’m sorry. I can’t choose this.” (You are sorry that you are not choosing him, you are sorry that you are possibly robbing him of his future.)

You blink back your tears and attempt to speak without interruption. “I do not wish to see you so worn out, burdened and imprisoned.”

Kazuha cups your cheek and brushes your flowing tears with his thumb. There is a hint of sadness in his eyes but it crinkles with relief as he smiles. “Thank you, for always looking out for me. No matter where and when we are.”

You clench your teeth but your tears keep gushing out of your eyes. Strangled words of apology fall off your lips too. In return, Kazuha squeezes your hands while he reassures you that everything is okay. In your blurred vision, you think you see Kazuha’s eyes glossed over.

When you have calmed, Kazuha slides his arm around your shoulders. “Everyone is waiting for you, shall we go?”

(You do not know why he says ‘we’ when you are the only one leaving him in what will cease to exist soon.)

In the short walk from the courtyard to the exit of the house, you keep your eyes on the wooden floor. It is the last time that you will hear it cry beneath your feet (and it sounds like it is begging you not to go).

At the door, you turn back and stare at the corridor behind Kazuha. You then finally look into Kazuha’s crimson eyes. In his fatigued eyes, you see the sorrow in yours.

Your eyes flicker to his lips and you lean into his lips tentatively. You do not know how close to his lips you are with your shut eyes, but you think you would have at least brushed his lips if not for his hand that comes up between your lips and his.

Kazuha smiles sadly, “I would love to, my love. But I’m worried that you’d unintentionally consume the tea and that it’ll keep you tied to this reality that you do not wish to live in.”

He slides his hand to cup your cheek and traces his thumb over your lips. You clasp your hand around his and kiss his knuckle, your lips lingering on them.

Before you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist.

“Wait, promise me one thing.”

(It is all you can do for him, so you nod.)

“Don’t look back until you find me again.”

There is only him that you will go to, but you will also never find him who lives in nobility again.

With no resentment in his eyes, Kazuha smiles. “[name]. I love you.”

You bite back your tears and you only manage to murmur. “I love you too.”

Without hesitation, you turn your back to him and step out of the house. As you walk down the only path you see, you resist the urge to break his promise.

Every step forward pricks your heart but you do not turn back. That is until the mirage of The Alcor comes into view. You step onto the Alcor and everyone turns their attention away from the bonsai to look at you.

They all call your name in shock and ask you what happened, but you say nothing more than that you’ve been separated. Amid all the concern they throw towards you, you finally turn back.

Mist is the only thing you see, and you see the door of the Kaedehara house no more. Guilt clenches your heart when you meet Kazuha’s gaze over the others’ shoulders. When you blink, you can see him wearing that white silk kosode. You blink again and he’s wearing the attire you’ve known him to wear for his travels.

Even with the smile you adorn, Kazuha looks at you like he knows what is wrong. He does not ask you anything until the both of you are alone at night.

“Love, look at me. You haven’t looked at me ever since guilt claimed your beautiful features.”

His eyes are brilliant with stars in them, but you cannot help but remember the exhausted pair that you saw earlier. The whole sequence of events tumbles out of your mouth and in the process, tears start to pool in your eyes. You feel like you are confessing your sins under the gaze of the archons when you admit that you had thoughts of rejecting the current reality.

Kazuha pulls you into an embrace. He whispers into your ear as he pats your back. “My star, I am right, I wouldn’t be mad. And I am sorry too, that I could not have taken that responsibility for myself.”

A heart-wrenching ache runs rampant in your chest. Still in the embrace, you whisper, “May I kiss you, please?”

Kazuha shifts his hand onto your shoulders and his eyes flicker to your lips before he presses his lips on yours. The kiss is tender and comforting. A small wave of relief soothes your aching heart like water running over your feet on a hot day.

When he pulls away, he gently holds your hand and brings your knuckles to his lips. “Yes, my dove. Always, wherever and whenever.”

#kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha #genshin kazuha #genshin impact #genshin writing #genshin impact writing #genshin impact imagines #souglia.s #my brain has been unrotted and I can't believe I finished this with whatever free time I had #good night <3

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