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ckret2 · 3 months

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Chapter 37 of human Bill is this close to wriggling out of the Mystery Shack, featuring: Bill getting alone with Wendy and chatting about teen stuff.

Meanwhile, downstairs,

Bill meandered through the house, munching on a jelly, hot sauce, jalapeño, and sprinkles sandwich.

Everyone was out, the Mystery Shack was closed for the day... Bill was pretty sure this was the first time he'd ever been completely alone in the house since his capture.

What sort of mischief could he get up to?

He headed upstairs to change out of his wet clothes; nice not to have to do it in the tiny curtained bathroom for the sake of the nudity-fearing easily-scandalized humans. He hated to peel off his hoodie—even though it didn't quite make him feel like himself, it at least did a terrific job of hiding how unlike himself he was—but if it wasn't dried out by the time the older humans got home, they might confiscate it to launder it, and then it would be even longer until he got it back.

The things he had to worry about these days were so pathetic.

To go with his makeshift bed, Bill had recently been generously granted a makeshift dresser: an ancient apple crate into which he could shove his ill-gotten clothing. His entire wardrobe combined barely filled half of it. He mourned for some of the garments he and Stan hadn't managed to smuggle out. Galaxy camo. Puking kangaroo jacket. Rainbow cheetah-tiger print leggings. When he took over this place again, he was making himself a full set of dining chairs with real human legs, and then he was putting those leggings on all the chair legs.

He pulled on a tank top and fresh leggings, spread his wet clothing out to dry, and went looking for trouble.

This was a perfect opportunity to get Soos's electric piano out of the floor room; knowing a piano was right there was driving Bill crazy, but he didn't want the humans to overhear him playing and didn't want to lower himself to asking for headphones.

Or he could have a solo dance party. His body ached to dance. He played music with Mabel from time to time, but they had to keep the volume down to levels nobody else would complain about, and he wasn't about to risk dancing when his jailers could yell at him for it. He was pretty sure the boombox was in the kids' bedroom; but after the damage Dr. Illing left on the door, Bill might be able to get in if he could figure out how to get through it. The dentist had managed to get through with the same curse, after all, hadn't he?

Although that gave Bill another thought.

A couple of interesting things had happened on the night the dentist had broken in.

First: Stan had shoved Bill, back first, through the door from the living room into the gift shop. Bill didn't know how Stan did this. All he knew was that the door was closed, Bill was shoved, and somehow the door... permitted him through, and then he was on the other side. He didn't understand it. But it happened.

And second: Stan told the dentist that that door was load bearing, and then had told Bill he'd only said that to keep the dentist from touching it or else he might accidentally figure out a way through, even when he didn't know how it opened.

What did this mean? Bill wasn't quite sure. It was all pretty mysterious. But, it sounded like... it was possible to get through the door... without... opening it?

It didn't make sense to him. But maybe it didn't need to make sense. Maybe it was good that it didn't make sense—because the curse prevented doors from making sense to him, so maybe the only way around them was embracing a solution that seemed like nonsense. Maybe if he recreated the conditions he'd experienced when he was pushed... and if he focused not on the door, not on opening it, but on just... trying to walk into the next room, completely ignoring the existence of the door... perhaps something would happen?

He eyed the door thoughtfully, chewing his jelly-jalapeño sandwich. It was worth trying. He wondered whether tripping on the step was a necessary part of whatever process had gotten him through the door, or if it was optional. He decided he'd try it without the tripping and only put it back in if that didn't work.

He turned his back to the door, shut his eyes, and walked backwards.

There might be some validity to this method. There were some places that could only be accessed by walking backwards. Some fairy domains, for instance. The hidden fairy court outside Portland. He flinched when his back hit the door; he told himself to ignore the door—don't think about the door—and keep walking. He wasn't trying to open the door, he told himself—he wasn't trying to do anything with the door—he was merely trying to walk to the next room. The door didn't matter to him.

And somehow, he kept moving.

The door simply let him through.

He didn't stop walking until he felt a rug under him and knew he must have made it into the gift shop. He opened his eyes and stared in amazement at the door, gently swinging closed again in his wake. What happened there? It was magic. It had to be magic. Were doors even real? Were they just illusions that looked and felt like solid walls until you tried to pass through them? Was that what the curse had forced him forget—did doors not really exist?

He laughed in confusion. "What...?"

"Oh hey, how'd you get in here?"

Bill nearly jumped out of his shoes. He whipped around to face the voice. Wendy was standing under the curtain into the museum.

Right. Yes. An explanation. How did he get in here. "I genuinely and honestly do not know!"

Wendy nodded. "Okay."

"What are you doing here? I thought the shack was closed."

"Hanging out with the baby dragons," Wendy said. "Sometimes when the shack's closed and I need a break from the house, I kinda... use my key to let myself in and hang out with the displays?"

Bill nodded slowly. "All right." He hadn't kept a close eye on the Corduroys once Raina was gone, but he had some ideas why Wendy would want to get away.

"Please don't tell Soos I snuck in?" Wendy asked. "I don't think he'd mind that much, but—still. It's a... It's not a work thing. I don't want my boss to know."

"Don't tell Soos I snuck in?" Bill countered.

Wendy pursed her lips. "All right, that's fair."

So, here they both were. Not exactly what Bill was planning for the day; but, it meant he could have a little uninterrupted conversation with Wendy without his jailers knowing. It was an invaluable opportunity. Bill would have to use all of his cunning to spin this situation to his advantage. He had to choose his next words extremely carefully.

Bill said, "Hey, as long as we're here, wanna chill on the roof or something?"

Wendy considered that. She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

Nailed it. Wendy was such a pushover.

####

Wendy led the way up the ladder. "Guess you need me to open the lids for you, huh?"

Bill laughed "'Lids'?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean. The—" Wendy gestured at the trap doors leading to the roof. "The roof lids."

"Yeah, I'd really appreciate if you'd get the roof lids."

Bill was slower to climb up. He'd never used a ladder in this body before; and as he climbed over worn mossy shingles he could faintly see three places where he would lose his footing and fall, and he had to creep carefully around them to avoid those futures. But then, at last, he was on the roof hangout spot.

"What the heck is that stink?" Wendy asked. "It smells like an outhouse crawled up here to die."

"You remember that giant eye-bat Soos had to chase off—?"

"Oh, yeah. He closed the shack and gave me the day off while you guys were dealing with it. I didn't know the repellant smelled this bad."

The only other time Bill had ever been up here was when he was haunting Dipper's dream, and of course that hadn't been the actual roof. It was a much cheerier spot than it had seemed in a midnight dream. Feel that breeze. Look at that sunlight.

And, for the first time in nearly a month, Bill was outdoors without any kind of cuff to restrict his movement.

Granted, he was also thirty feet off the ground, in a body that was controlled by gravity, with no way to climb down. But still.

"Dude, you look like you're worshipping the sun," Wendy said.

Bill was standing at the edge of the roof, facing the sun, arms outstretched, head tipped back. He supposed he did. "We're distant cousins. Inside I'm a hundred billion trillion suns."

Wendy laughed. "Listen to you. You sound like—some kind of hippie or something." Wendy took a seat on the pool chair. "You're still grounded or whatever, right? That's crazy for a full adult."

Bill laughed wryly. "Yeah. You can't imagine." For lack of another chair, he sat and leaned back against the slope of the roof. "It's condescending as all get out, and I hate it. But, hey." He shrugged. "It could be worse. I mean, they haven't tried to kill me yet."

Wendy laughed. "'Yet'."

"Yet. So I guess I can put up with it until..." Until what? "Until I... figure out somewhere else to go."

"Ugh, I hear that," Wendy said. "I'm dying to get out of this dumb town, it's so claustrophobic—and I've only been stuck here half as long as you. But I'm, like, sixteen, I can't just leave." She sat up, gesturing off into the distance. "But as soon as I finish high school, I'm taking off for Portland."

She settled back on the chair. "What about you? Where are you going when you get out of here."

"All over the planet!" He laughed. "I'm not kidding, I'm going everywhere. I've waited an eternity to see the world in person—rather than just seeing it vicariously through images and what people I meet remember about it."

"Oh yeah, I get that," Wendy said. "My mom had a postcard of Death Valley that's objectively super boring—it's just this desert with a wall of rock in the distance—but as a kid, I was fascinated by it anyway? This little glimpse into another world? It doesn't seem like a real place, so flat without any trees. I'm used to this." She gestured out at the mountains cradling Gravity Falls. "I wanna see places like that, it's just so different."

"Bet you'd fit in around there. I hear there's some tough gals living near Death Valley." And most of them prayed to golden triangular statues.

Bill stared at the sky a moment, willing a small cloud not to block his sunlight. It ignored his commands and its edge brushed over the sun's perimeter. "I'm not a big fan of flat places," he said thoughtfully. "Honestly—sure, I complain, but I really do like this stupid hick town. I like mountains and trees and weirdos."

"We've got a lotta weirdos."

"Highest volume of weirdos per capita in the United States. Gun to my head, if I had to choose any one place in the universe to be stuck... it actually might be right here." At least if he'd had the option of choosing captivity without the pending threat of execution. "But—if I had to choose between this one place and the entire rest of the universe? I'd choose the universe."

"Yeah, wow, that's deep." Wendy nodded. "Can't relate though. I flipping hate this place."

Bill cackled. "Oh, go on, tell me how you really feel!"

"I'm serious!" She got to her feet, staring off toward the idea of Portland in the distance. "I'm getting a job and starting college in Portland and leaving! I'm never cleaning up after my dad and brothers again! And they'll just have to deal with it."

"What if your friends stay here?" Bill asked. "Are any of them as eager to escape?"

"Eh. I figure everyone kinda loses touch with their high school friends and just makes new friends in college. Right?"

"Wow! Cold." He was a little impressed.

Wendy was silent for a moment, contemplating the horizon. "Honestly, I kinda feel like I'm... outgrowing them. Or—maybe not yet, but I will by the time I graduate. You know?"

"I get that! It's hard to be the coolest kid in the crew. No one can live up to your amazing example, but you've gotta put up with them anyway."

"Pfff. Shut up, man."

"But hey—listen, I've been where you are. I've gone through this. When I left school, I never spoke to a single kid I used to know ever again. I didn't want to. I don't regret it."

"I keep half forgetting that you're out of college and everything. No offense, but you look like, fifteen."

"Eh. Everyone thinks I look younger than I am."

Wendy sat again on the end of the pool chair. "What was the place you grew up like?"

Bill considered the question for a moment. "Flat."

Wendy laughed. "No wonder you like mountains. Grass is always greener, huh?"

"Sure." The sun was completely covered now. Bill already felt colder.

####

"Come in, come in," Fiddleford said, holding open the door and waving his guests in. "Welcome to my workshop!"

The Northwest Manor had an enormous formal dining room with warm brown marble tiles, festooned in rich red velvet curtains, overlooked by the taxidermy head of an elephant that Preston used to boast his grandfather had personally hunted (with the help of some hired locals, who'd taken care of tedious unimportant details like "setting up the camp" and "finding the elephant" and "shooting the gun").

Fiddleford had decided the marble floor made this the least flammable room in the house, tore down the curtains, named the elephant Johnny, shoved the long dining table against one wall to serve as a lab table, and hauled over all his makeshift engineering equipment from the junkyard in Tate's pickup. Now, the original purpose of the room was all but invisible beneath what was unmistakably a redneck mad scientist's laboratory. An oil drum in the corner could be brewing anything from moonshine to rocket fuel. Fiddleford's raccoon wife peered down at the visitors from atop a rumbling machine made from three cars' chassis.

"Sit, sit!" Fiddleford swept grease-smeared papers and half-finished doohickeys off four former dining chairs, and dragged the chairs around a three-legged folding table. Stan, Ford, and Soos took seats. Ford leaned over to see whether anything was propping up the legless corner, and only found an abandoned paper wasp nest on the bottom of the table.

Fiddleford crouched barefoot on his seat. "Thank you all for coming."

"So what's all this about?" Stan asked. "All Ford could say is you might be on the verge of a breakthrough on the Bill gun."

"Am I ever!" Fiddleford smacked the table excitedly. All three guests grabbed it to keep it from tipping over. "I've been cogitatin' up a way to remake its fuel!"

"And you've found a way?" Ford asked.

"Why, you bet I have maybe!"

Stan said, "You're still working on the fuel? Is that the only thing we're missing? Last year I stole a bunch of nuclear waste to power the portal, is that not an option?"

"Unfortunately, no," Ford said. "The Quantum Destabilizer can only be fueled by a paradoxical element that's inert when observed but radioactive when unobserved—but it doesn't exist in this universe. It's called NowUSeeitNowUDontium."

Stan grimaced. "I can guess who named it."

"It's clever," Soos said. "Very evocative."

Stan asked, "So, we're here to help make an element? Just so you know, I flunked chemistry, but I didn't do half bad at a community college course on auto mechanics." Stan looked around at the cobbled-together machinery filling the room. "Just in case that's relevant here."

Fiddleford waved off Stan's offer. "Naw, Soos can handle the equipment just fine."

Soos saluted. "You've got it!"

"I need you two for something else." Fiddleford hopped out of his chair, grabbed Stan and Ford's arms, and tugged them from their seats. "This way! Bring your chairs!" Soos quickly followed them, bringing his chair too.

As they crossed the room, Ford asked Stan, "You took a community college course on auto mechanics?"

"Eh. Thought it might help me figure out how your dumb portal works."

Ford smiled crookedly. "Did it?"

"Not one bit!"

Fiddleford led them to a machine that looked like a combination between a trash can, a lawnmower engine, and a rollercoaster-like maze of old lead pipes. He pulled the cord to start the engine, and the whole contraption rumbled ominously. "This is my miniature particle accelerator!"

"What's it do?" Stan asked.

"It accelerates miniature particles!" Fiddleford pointed halfway across the room at several CRT computer screens welded atop a sideways filing cabinet atop a sideways refrigerator. Wires spilled out of the cabinet drawers. "Soos can monitor the whole thing from over yonder."

"Aw, sweet." Soos put his chair in front of the monitors and sat. "Check it out, dudes, I'm like a nineties hacker!" He pulled a keyboard and an old video game joystick out of the fridge and pretended to type lightning fast. "Boom. I'm in."

Fiddleford pointed at the trash can. "And in here I've recreated the environmental conditions of the Dontium's native paradox universe."

"Amazing," Ford said, crouching down to inspect the pipes. "How did you do that?"

"I stuck a cat in a box and stuck the box in the trash can."

"I see."

Stan eyed the trash can, vibrating like mad from the lawnmower engine. "Is, uh, the cat alive?"

"Maybe!"

"Should... should we check?"

"Stanley, please," Ford said. "The cat-in-a-box thought experiment is a very unstable paradox. It's only good for a few days at most before breaking down; we can't risk disrupting the delicate conditions inside the box."

Stan blinked, baffled. "All right. Sure." He shrugged. "I was never much of a cat guy, anyway."

"Sitcher chairs either side of the accelerator, here," Fiddleford said. "Now! Dontium's properties change dependin' on whether it's observed or not. To synthesize it, it needs to be observed, and not. You followin' so far?"

"Yes," Ford said. "No," said Stan.

"Perfect!" Fiddleford clapped his hands on their shoulders. "You're doing stupendous so far. Now, in the paradox universe, I reckon one fella could just doublethink his way into producin' Dontium. But we've got to do it with two brains that are as near to identical as possible. Which is why I need you two! Twin brains are as close as we're gonna get if we don't wanna wait to grow a couple clones."

Stan gave Fiddleford a skeptical frown.

Fiddleford turned to Ford. "I need you lookin' right at the particle accelerator, at all times, to keep it under observation—but not think about it! The longer you can do that, the more the potential energy of the thoughts you're not thinkin'll build up, and since you know more about Dontium than Stanley does, you can generate more potential energy faster."

Stan's skeptical frown deepened.

Fiddleford went on, "And Stan, I need you to not look at the accelerator at all costs, but don't stop thinkin' about it once. You 'n' Ford's thoughts and non-thoughts will work like the plus 'n' minus poles on a magnet; it'll attract the mental energy outta Ford, into the accelerator between you two, and jump start the matter synthesizin' process." Fiddleford pointed at a hose snaking across the floor to the fridge. "And that'll pump the fresh Dontium into an old milk jug in the fridge! Soos'll keep an eye on it so it don't turn radioactive."

Soos fished around in the fridge until he found the jug, with the hose duct taped to the opening. A gas gauge removed from a car was attached to the jug. "Efficient," Soos said. "Sorry—you said so it doesn't turn radio-what?"

"Don't worry, you'll do terrific!"

"Heh, okay!"

If Stan's skeptical frown got any deeper, he'd pull a muscle. He looked to Ford for backup.

Ford was stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I see. It's all scientifically sound."

Stan threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay. Fine. So all I have to do is look away from the particle-whatever while thinking about it while Ford looks at it without thinking about it? That's it?"

"That's it," Fiddleford said. "But! If you start or stop thinkin' about Dontium before we've got a critical mass in the jug, it'll all vanishify, and we'll have to start over!"

"Eh." Stan shrugged. "How hard can it be to keep thinking about your weird science project while I'm sitting right next to it?"

Ford considered the challenge of deliberately trying to not think about something while he was staring straight at it, and frowned. "I'm... going to need a distraction."

####

Dipper had circled half of Main Street, digging through the businesses' dumpsters in search of a sleeping nest of Fremont Nightwigglers, before it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, Bill had lied to him about where they nested. And now he was sweaty, bruised, and stunk to high heaven.

Well, great.

He dragged himself home, braced for Bill to mock him for falling for such an obvious lie and Mabel to tease him for smelling so bad.

But when he reached the shack, there was no sign of them.

Waddles was still contentedly wallowing in the mud around Stan's (really bizarrely painted) car. That wasn't necessarily weird; over the school year Mabel had gotten used to Waddles letting himself in and out of the yard by the back door flap, and now she was convinced that he'd grown big enough that the local wildlife had more to fear from him than he did from them. But even so, if Mabel and Bill had gone inside, it was weird that she'd leave Waddles outside unless she was coming back out. Dipper patted Waddles as he passed—Waddles curiously sniffed at his clothes—and headed into the house.

"Hello? Mabel?" Dipper called. "I'm back."

There was no response.

"Mabel?" After a pause, Dipper tried, less certainly, "Bill?"

And still silence. All the lights were out. The shack was deathly still.

The hairs on the back of Dipper's arms stood up. "Mabel?! Mabel!"

He ran to the office and called Mabel's cell phone, only to hear the credits theme from Believe In Yourself—her latest ringtone—playing down the hall. He ran to the living room. Mabel had left her phone on the table next to the chess board.

Maybe Dipper could believe Mabel had gone out without taking her phone. And he could just barely believe she might take Bill away from the shack, although even for her Dipper found that a stretch. But even at her most naive and absent-minded, he couldn't believe that she'd do both. She wouldn't go out alone with Bill Cipher without a way to call for help.

Which left only one other option. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"MABEL!" He tore through the house, opening every door, checking every room twice, every corner and cranny where Bill might be skulking or Mabel might be tied up. He took the elevator down to Ford's study—nothing—and then down to the basement, in case Bill was trying to repeat his stunt from the first day of summer break.

Nothing.

Where had Bill taken her?

####

"... and Tambry and Robbie have been insufferable all year," Wendy went on, capping off her list of recent grievances with all her friends. "First they break up in the first week of school, then we all hang out over Labor Day weekend and by the end of it they're making heart eyes at each other again, they said it was just the stress of a new school year that made them fight? But then they started fighting again and broke up a month later, then after Thanksgiving we find out they're back together, then right before school lets out they break up again, then suddenly they make up for Christmas and spend the rest of winter break glued to each other, then break up again..." She flung her hands out in exasperation. "And then just—kept doing that! They've been back together since school got out and they seem fine, but I'm just waiting for the next I-don't-know-what-I-saw-in-him text from Tambry..."

"Spring break?"

"What?"

"Did they get back together over spring break?"

"Yeah, we barely even saw them. How'd you know?"

"I have an instinct for these things," Bill said airily. That was one heck of a Summer Love potion overdose. Sometimes a large dose could linger through the next summer vacation or two in weakened form—but to be strong enough to hit every vacation in between, including the single day Monday holidays? Wow. Shooting Star really went to town on those two.

"If they break up again, I'm gonna start spraying them with water whenever they look at each other," Wendy said. "This is their last chance. I am not putting up with their drama anymore."

"I'll give 'em until the end of August," Bill said.

Wendy looked at him suspiciously.

"Let me know how close I get!"

"Maybe we should set up a betting pool," Wendy muttered. "Will you still be in the shack in August?"

Bill huffed. "I hope not." He just hoped he'd be leaving as a triangle rather than as a corpse.

"Man—all this talking about being stuck in town and the guys acting stupid is making me restless." Wendy stood, stretched, and pulled out her phone. "Sorry for dumping all my emotional junk on you. You sorta give off these... worldly, mentor-y vibes?"

Bill's chest puffed up. "Please," he said magnanimously, "feel free to talk to me about anything. I'm always happy to lend an ear." After all, who knew what might end up useful?

"I think I'm gonna see if the gang wants to hang." (And here Bill thought she'd outgrown them. But of course, without them, who else would she hang out with? It wasn't that bad, being the coolest kid in a pack of nobodies. Good for the ego. Better than being alone.) Wendy nodded toward the ground. "You wanna sneak out and come with?"

It was tempting. It was so tempting. But he had no idea when Stan and Ford would be back—or where in town they were right now—and if they found out he'd managed to get out of the shack, he'd probably be locked in the cellar until his execution day. He couldn't be stupid. He could only afford to risk it if he was making an escape... and if he tried to escape now, where would he go? Where could he go? With no ID, no money, no phone, nothing but the clothes on his back and a wretched body?

His best odds of getting back to the Nightmare Realm were in the basement of this very building; Kryptos wouldn't answer his calls; and he didn't have any way to reach any of his human followers from here. He wasn't even sure how to look them up. He could list off the dreams, life histories, and phobias of a dozen of his most devout worshipers; but did he know any of their phone numbers?

"Nah," Bill said. "Can't risk it." He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to live with this much fear. (He told himself he wasn't afraid.) "But, thanks for the offer. Maybe the jailers will lighten up and figure out it's not the end of the world if I go outside for a couple of hours, then we can talk."

Wendy shook her head, giving him a worried look. "Dude, the way you keep talking, I'm pretty sure this whole thing is this close to being illegal. Are you sure you're—you know—okay here?"

Oh, he loved that. She'd known the Mystery Shack household for years, and yet she was almost ready to take his side against them. He'd love to say he wasn't okay, please get him out of here—

But then what? Then she'd confront the Pines, and the Pines would tell her who he was... He held back a sigh. "Sure I'm okay! Hey—if I was in any real trouble, don't you think I'd have said something to Darryl at Rainbow Club by now? Come on."

"I guess," Wendy said; and then pressed, "You're sure, though?"

He'd worried her too much. Oh, this would be great if he were in any position to try to escape. As it was, though... how did he walk this back?

Come up with a story. Something believable.

Bill sighed heavily. "Okay, listen. Here's the thing. Thirty years ago, I... had a miscommunication with Ford—you've heard about part of that mess—and before I could straighten things out with him, everything with the portal happened, and it festered thirty years before we met again. He's gotten paranoid! That's what all this is really about: his paranoia. So yeah, sure, he's taking this waaay too far." He rolled his eyes. "Buuut, if I want to get his trust back, I have to play along with the crazy rules he thinks will keep him safe. And I do want his trust back. I like having him as a friend." And that was true. It was true, wasn't it? Sure, it was now. He decided it was.

Wendy nodded slowly. "Hey," she said. "Quick question. Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome."

Bill laughed. "Oh, come on! I don't like him that much."

And now that Bill had laid the groundwork, if he decided later that he could make use of Wendy's help, all he'd have to do was say Ford had finally tipped over the edge and he needed help escaping. Maybe that would even slow Wendy down from believing the Pines if they tried to tell her who he really was.

They headed back down into the gift shop, Wendy taking the lead and Bill trying his best not to fall down the ladder.

Bill tensed at the ghostly sight of Dipper trailing through the gift shop, in and out of the museum, and through the vending machine; but a second glance confirmed he was seeing an afterimage, not a premonition. Dipper wouldn't be back upstairs for a few minutes. What a narrow miss; he couldn't imagine how much trouble he'd be in if Dipper had noticed the roof lids left open.

"Oh, cool, Nate replied. Got at least one person to hang out with." Wendy stuffed her phone back in her pocket. "Hey—if you ever need a break from the craziness around here, you know how to reach me." She paused. "By walking backwards through the employee door, I guess."

"Ha! I'll keep that in mind." And maybe it would be useful someday.

Wendy waved as she headed out the gift shop exit. Bill returned the wave as he—thinking not about the door, thinking only about the living room and about walking straight into it as though nothing were in his way—backed through the doorway and into the next room.

He was getting good at this. No door would ever hold him again.

He meandered upstairs to check on his drying clothes, and found someone had left the bathroom door open. Had Dipper done that? He'd probably needed a shower after Bill had sent him digging through every dumpster in town. Ha. Well, good; Bill needed a quick shower too, lest the lingering stench of eye-bat repellant give away that he'd been outside while the jailers were gone.

He crept around the ajar door, peeled off his clothes, and climbed in the shower.

####

Dipper's foot bounced anxiously the whole elevator ride back up to the gift shop.

Not here. Bill and Mabel were clearly gone. Bill must have overpowered her while they were outside (and Dipper wasn't there to protect Mabel), and then—what—carried her off somewhere? Where else might Bill go?

Dipper ran outside—without noticing the breeze stirring the curtain that hid the roof ladder.

He circled the shack searching for any sign of where they might have gone; and then he grabbed his bike and pedaled frantically into the woods.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment! Next chapter is The Stupidest Chapter You've Ever Read. This is a boast.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #wendy corduroy #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

147 notes · View notes

swordcreature · 6 months

Note

hiii, I really love your writing and got super excited when I saw that you take requests.

could you possibly do headcanons or like, short scenarios for how the companions would react to: a Tav who's normally relentlessly positive just fucking snapping. like they get back to camp one night and Tav's whole facade just shatters?

thank you if you do!! ♡♡

ty ty ty you're too nice i'm here blushing <3

okay so i ended up writing the six origin companions, but if there was someone else you were specifically looking for like halsin or jahiera please let me know!!

i also wrote this from a romance pov for each companion taking place very very vaguely in the third act.

ngl i struggled trying to find a way to write this that i was satisfied with. i don't know that i have like an in depth conceptualization of every single companion given that there are so many changes to them throughout the story, some of which you can't possibly see in a single playthrough

but i think i found a happy medium between love and hate lol

i really hope you like it!!!!

Shadowheart, Astarion, Lae'zel, Wyll, Gale, & Karlach - When Tav Snaps

How the companions react to chronically positive Tav snapping

(Tav is GN in this)

Shadowheart:

Secretly, Shadowheart is just the tiniest bit pleased to see their leader, normally sunshine and rainbows and just too damn chipper, sulk back into camp. But that feeling is quickly replaced by overwhelming guilt and worry as she realizes that something is very wrong with Tav. She tries to reach out, offering a hand to gently ask what's wrong. When Tav snaps, yelling and crying and breathing so hard that they look like they might puke, Shadowheart is frozen. She watches in terror, almost outside of her own body, as the one she loves most loses their composure until just raw embers remain. Shadowheart so desperately wants to do something, to say anything, but the reflexes learned from years under Shar’s stoic thumb kick in and she cannot move. Tav is the strong one, the person she turns to when the weight of the world is too much to bear, not the other way around! She’s supposed to be the emotionally stunted one, the broken one, godsdamnit! The only thing she can think to do in the moment is to borrow from Tav, to replicate what they have done for her so many times on this fucked up adventure they’re on. So, she sits Tav down and listens. Lets them cry and cry and cry until their eyes are so swollen they can’t open them very far. Shadowheart puts a hand on their knee to ground them and offers quiet, soft words of comfort. She doesn’t want to solve all the problems that led to this – she'd be stupid to think she could. No, she wants Tav to know that it’s okay to feel these heavy things. They don’t have to keep everything bottled up until they crack. If anything, Shadowheart wants them to know that they can be anything and everything with her, and she will still be there to listen and to love.

Astarion:

Astarion pretends that Tav is the most annoyingly optimistic, too happy, do-gooder to ever grace his presence, but deep down their relentless positivity enamors him in an odd way. He’d never say that aloud though. He has gotten used to Tav practically skipping back into camp, head high and smile bright. So, when they take one, heavy footstep close enough to camp for Astarion to hear, his hackles immediately rise. His eye trail Tav as they trudge back into camp, ignoring the calls of the other companions as they seem to blankly seek out their own tent. Astarion tries to offer a lusty quip, something to lighten the mood, and he hates the way his voice wavers with concern. When Tav doesn’t respond, he’s quick to take their shoulders, turning them away from camp, towards someplace more private. Tav doesn’t fight back or say a word which is like a knife to Astarion’s dead heart – he's never seen them without a grin, let alone so despondent. In private, he pushes for an answer as to what’s going on, pressing the matter to its breaking point because he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to make them happy. And what use is he if he can’t even bring a smile to the face of the one person he cares about? Tav’s resolve breaks. They’re seething, angry at the world, sobbing and sneering and crumbling. Astarion stares, wide eyed. Part of him wants to slip back into old habits, acting as though he finds amusement in Tav’s breakdown. The happy-go-lucky leader finally snapping? How delightfully ironic! But that’s not him anymore. At least, he’s trying to not be that anymore. So, he pulls Tav towards him. His body instinctively tenses before reminding himself that this is Tav and the decision to hold them is his alone. Tav sobs harder into his chest. For a moment, Astarion thinks he’s done something wrong. But the longer he holds them there the lower their sobs get, until they’re left heaving in breath after breath, slowly calming down. Astarion hasn’t said a word since they left camp. He doesn’t need to. The unspoken language of touch tells Tav everything they needed to know: he’s here for them, he cares for them, they’re safe with him. And when Tav is calm and they walk back to camp, he’s not to be blamed for the sardonic joke he lets slip.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel immediately notices that Tav’s demeanor has changed when they walk back into camp with clenched fists and nostrils flared. She can sense the difference a mile away, but to her that’s all it is. A change. She’s not incredibly well versed in the range of emotions that non-githyanki display, but she at least understands that this is not Tav’s normal. She watches from the corner of her eye as they make a beeline to their tent. It’s strange to say the least. Something tells Lae’zel that she should check on them, some small part of herself that never used to neg her before she met Tav. So, she tentatively steps towards their tent, hands awkwardly at her sides. She calls for them, and they pop their head out with puffy, red eyes. Lae’zel speaks and she’s confident she said the right words. Until Tav is back inside their tent muffling a scream into a pillow, making horrendously loud noises as they try to catch their breath. Lae’zel stands motionless, still outside the tent. She grits her teeth as she battles with her own mind. This kind of behavior is weak, their leader should not be displaying such things outwardly. But, this is Tav who has taught her so much in such a short time – like that it’s okay to show weakness, vulnerability, even if she struggles with it still. The part of her that cares for Tav more than it fears weakness wins over, and she steps through the threshold of Tav’s tent. They’re disheveled: hair a mess, nose snotty, eyes bloodshot. Lae’zel sits next to them as they stare at her. A moment passes before they return to sobbing into a pile of pillows. Lae’zel is truly out of her element, and out of sheer unease she starts to talk. She’s not really even saying anything of much importance, just tiny pieces of her life before the tadpole. The first time she wielded a sword, how she wanted to ride a red dragon as a child, the first time she saw a human in person. She just talks and talks and talks, never even looking at Tav until their breath evens out and their body slumps. They fell asleep. Lae’zel leaves quietly, but not before she pulls a blanket over Tav’s shoulders.

Wyll:

Wyll knew it was coming. Although Tav is an absolute delight, he's seen before how holding back all negativity can really break a person. It’s no surprise when one day he finds Tav in a destroyed building not far from camp, knees tucked against them, heaving as though they’d been kicked in the chest. The only thing keeping their wails quiet was the hand shoved in their mouth, biting down with a force that surely had drawn blood. Wyll kneels before them, pulling their face up with both of his hands, and commands them to look at him using the same voice his father would use on him as a child. Strong and assured. He takes a big breath in, urging Tav with his eyes to do the same. Tav mimics his actions again and again, little sobs and hiccups escaping every so often. They sit like that for a while until Wyll is sure that Tav is more controlled. He takes the space next to them, allowing them a moment to collect their thoughts. Wyll listens attentively and even relents when Tav asks to be alone, seeing the ghost of a smile on their face. When Tav gets back to camp, Wyll is waiting for them with a plate of warm food ready. The other companions are all in their tent – Wyll didn’t ask so much as forcefully suggested that they make themselves scarce – so the two have the fire all to themselves. The silence between them is easy. Wyll sits Tav between his legs and leans them back to his chest. His fingers run through their hair, undoing the knots that formed as they broke down against the harsh stone wall. When Tav falls asleep like that, he doesn’t move them. Instead, Wyll settles in and tries to make himself at least somehwat comfortable while his love gets their first good night's rest in a long time.

Gale:

Gale blabbers on and on about something so inane and stupid that most of the camp has retreated to their tents by now. Except for Tav who was returning from the Wyrm’s Rock. Letting go of poor Wyll, the only campmate too polite to leave Gale outright, he turns to Tav, walking in step beside them. He misses the way their eyes don’t lift from the ground, too busy waving his hands around to accentuate his point. They ask for a bit of space, but Gale is too enthralled in his speech to notice the way Tav’s eyes water when he doesn’t step away. And then they snap, tears spilling, hissing harshly for Gale to just shut up. He’s shocked, mouth hanging wide open in surprise. He doesn’t even chase after them when they walk past him, not stopping until they’re out of camp, over the road, and into the tree line. Gale’s not stupid though, he knows that Tav would never be so impolite normally. So, despite his pride being slightly wounded, he follows where they cut through the forest, hoping they didn’t go too far. When he finds them, they’re stomping around a clearing pulling at their hair, face contorted as they cry. Did he do this? Gale clears his throat to make himself known. Tav peers at him for a moment before turning around, holding their arms against their chest like they could fall apart in the breeze. Gale takes a hesitant step towards them, gauging his next best move. When they don’t protest, he closes the distance between them and puts a hand on their shoulder. They turn and immediately pull themself into his arms. Gale is quick to hold them there, resting his chin on their head, stroking their hair with his palm. He doesn’t know how to solve this, how to make them feel better, though something in him says to keep still. Keep holding Tav to his chest until they no longer shake. He idly wonders if a calming spell would work better than the little comfort his arms can provide. But Tav’s breath is slowing, their cries going silent. His voice is warm in their ear as he recites some poem that comes to memory of a man who thought he could hold the world on his shoulders. Tav only half listens but lets Gale cradle them against him until they look up and softly ask to go back to camp.

Karlach:

Karlach thinks she is the luckiest woman alive. Fresh out of the Hells for the first time in ten years and she meets someone who is sunshine incarnate, someone who has a good heart, someone who wants her as much as she wants them. Then, she gets to actually touch the person she loves? She’s sure she’s never been happier. Every time Tav strolls into camp with a spring in their step, Karlach’s heart could burst with love – and not hellfire. She knows Tav is due back and her heart flutters impatiently as she waits. But it quickly starts to sink, more like drops ten stories to the groun, as she sees Tav with their eyes glued to the ground, walking into camp as though they’ve been carrying the owl bear cub on their shoulders for the past hour. They try to walk past Karlach in a rush, but she sticks out an arm to clothesline them. Karlach is so much stronger than Tav, so it’s easy for her to pull them to stand in front of her even as they put up a small fight. She wants to know what’s wrong, something is very clearly wrong, but Tav doesn’t budge. They fight back tears and stare at the ground. This was going to take drastic measures. With no warning, Karlach grabs Tav’s hand, yanking them out of camp and into one of the alleyways that connect it to the lower city. She stops as she eyes her goal. The alley is littered with wooden crates and barrels, old vases and general garbage. Tav’s confusion temporarily surmounts their urge to cry though it’s short lived. They look up to Kalach searching for an answer. Karlach just smiles and removes the mace she keeps strapped to her back in case of emergencies. She hands it to Tav with a nod towards the debris. Tav understands, or at least they think they do – they've surely seen Karlach commit enough property damage in the heat of a breakdown to get the idea. A deafening crack bounces down the alley as Tav connects the mace to a standing wooden barrel. It explodes into shards of splinters, and with it so does Tav’s resolve. They scream as they swing the mace into their next victim, a crate filled with used glass bottles. It lets out a satisfying crunch. Karlach isn’t sure how long she stands there, letting Tav silence their sobs with the sound of destruction. They’re out of breath, their swings weaker as they try to continue. But Karlach catches the mace on its down swing, pulling it and Tav close. Tav tries in vain to catch their breath as Karlach squeezes it out of them in a hug so tight it could bruise. With a shaky voice, Tav thanks her, leaning their forehead against herchest and closing their eyes. Karlach doesn’t let go for a long, long time.

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matchadobo · 11 months

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KIDD; the captain has an allergy!

wc: 2061 summary: kidd has an allergy, he's allergic to... you. warnings: afab reader, none, just dumb kidd who can't figure out his feelings while killer tries to compartmentalize the captain's head to sort out his feelings for you, just fluff, a bit suggestive but no nsfw, kidd rambling abt you that's it

something's wrong with eustass kidd. he reckons that he's fatally ill. he feels like he could die any second. his chest feels tight, his muscles feel tense, his vision hazy, his body temperature skyrocketing, and his body perpetually weak most times of the day. he wanted to kill someone, the next pirate king shouldn't be so frail!

"man, i-huff-i feel like i'm having a-huff-a heart attack." the redhead clutched his chest tight, discarding his fur coat off and tossing it somewhere in the blond's quarters. killer looked quite offended that his captain interrupted his knitting.

"what's wrong with you?" killer started as he watched his captain sit by the edge of his bed, taking his vest off as he tries gathering air. "not a fever perhaps?" he stood up and placed the back of his hand atop kidd's forehead, he seemed to be sweating coldly. "talk to me, kidd."

"can you- huff- can you get allergic to someone?"

killer looked at his best friend like he grew a another head. it took him a while to respond. he cleared his throat and continued. "sorry, kidd but... whatever the fuck do you mean?" he tried searching clarity from his captain's eyes as he tried racking his lacking-medicinal-terms brain.

"this is fuckin' ridiculous, alright mate? don'tcha dare laugh at me." kidd started, leaning his arms back behind him as they supported his weight. after taking in a deep breath, he continued. "i think i'm allergic to name."

killer tried stifling his laughter but failed, receiving death glares from the other. "oh you're serious, damn." the blond soon realized and cleared his throat. "how did you... arrive at that verdict, kidd?"

"to start: whenever that fuckin' woman's around, she always makes my stomach feel funny. like i'm about to puke rainbows and shit." he started. "i feel all hot and my throat goes dry, like cat got my damn tongue." he moved his hands around for emphasis, mostly towards his head and chest.

at this point, killer's not getting enough credit for stomaching whatever bullshit his captain brings upon him. he's thanking all the gods there is for his mask because he can't muster how contorted his face looks from the dumb shit his captain is spewing. the amount of times his best friend rambles incoherent drivel about you will send him to madness the next time he hears about them and not see any development. it's nonsense like these that makes him rub his temples and would rather physically punt kidd to make that boneheaded captain realize what he truly feels about you.

the blond stared at him with a grim aura around him, "the fuck are you staring at me like that for?!" kidd protested.

"do you not realize that maybe- just maybe- she makes you feel something else more than... just a fellow crewmate? like i don't know maybe fucking love?" killer tried tiptoeing, piecing it out for him. that is until kidd just blankly stared at him, blinking his eyes as he waits for a word that he understands.

"love?! pft, hell no, shit doesn't sound like me. and that's impossible, i am in hate with her." he shook his head, crossing his arms. "that's why she makes me sick all the way to my stomach. she's a witch i'm tellin' ya."

killer worried at how serious kidd was at that last bit, the redhead's brows furrowed earnestly as he clasped his hands together. "and you think these are all uhh- symptoms for your allergy?"

"not just those!" he interceded, fist slamming down the wooden table. the impact shaking the cup of tea killer had before this disaster walked in. "my chest, i can't breathe each time she's there. just like earlier before i came in, she walked pass me and then i feel like she casted some kind of stupid witchcraft and then i suddenly struggle to breathe...! have i told you that i strongly think that she's a goddamn witch?!"

"yeah, that's twice now."

"i can't eat, feels like i'll throw everythin' up once she sits beside me. and each time she does, her touch feels like i'm bein' stung. she'll walk up to me with that annoyingly beamin' smile and bright fuckin' eyes, i just end up embarrassin' my damn self if i associate myself even further..." he downed the rum in his hands, "there it is! i feel fuckin' hot again! that woman really-"

"what woman?" you suddenly came around, peeking at killer's quarters. kidd jumped at your voice, knocking over things from the table and immediately falling off his seat. killer could be seen with a hand buried on his face, well in this case helmet. you let out a laugh at your rum-drenched captain who was sitting bashfully on the floor.

despite that, you sauntered towards him and squatted down. you took your hanky and unfolded it, drying his hair and wiping the residue liquid on the rest of his face. "what dumb shit are you up to again, captain?" you tilted your head to get a good look at him, but he refused to meet your eyes. you sighed, realizing he was too embarrassed to speak. "well, pick yourself up cuz you look stupid. also, it's not good to see the future pirate king on the floor, don't you think? whatever, see ya." you stood upright, waving to the two men goodbye.

"kidd, you alright?"

"you're right. i'm in love, am i?" he looked up at his best friend, fisting his pants bashfully.

killer rested his chin by his hands with a sigh, "about time you fucking realize."

"that's fuckin' funny, how could i be fuckin' in love?! cuz i hate that she shuts me up cuz i think she's right most of the time. i hate that all that i see is her, every minute for every day. i hate how her eyes shine when she smiles. i hate how she looks at me with that much faith that i'd make it. i hate how she calls me captain and it messes with my fuckin' head, drivin' my chest abnormal. i hate how i constantly want to be beside her. i hate that i always think about where she is and what she's up to. i hate that i am dying to know if she feels the goddamn same for this helpless sack of fuck that can't even pull himself towards her!"

"damn." killer clicked his tongue. "you really are crazy for her, aren't you?"

"from the beginning of it all," he shook his head in disbelief. how can a woman, manage to weaken eustass kidd like this?! just how?! "but i doubt this'd happen, have you seen her and have you seen me? she's way out of my league." he picked himself up, padding his bum with dirt and wiping himself with that hanky you gave. your perfume mixing with rum on his hands.

"oh? humbling yourself, kidd? now, that's not like you." killer countered.

"i-i'm not!" his ears turned red just as fast as he shot out a response. "she's just..."

"too precious you don't want to ruin her?" killer finished, the shock in kidd's eyes proved his accuracy. killer stood beside his best friend and put an arm around his shoulder. "come on, kidd. i look at the two of you and all i see are a couple of hardheaded crooks from the same mould with the same attitude, same stubbornness, and same passion for their dreams. she's tamer than you yes, more intelligent yes, more emotionally aware yes, and much calmer than you yes. that's exactly why you need each other, she regulates your storms and you give her peace a little peril. and trust me, i've seen how much she craves for your danger."

that bit made something primal awaken within kidd, something that he won't be apologizing for once it reveals itself later.

"so go, kidd. get her." killer gave him a little pat on the shoulder and pushed him out his quarters. a sigh of relief as he finally sees the end of this farce.

kidd took a deep breath and went on a search for you. he went looking for you in almost an hour, only to find you in his workshop as you mused at his trinkets and creations. "name, i've been looking everywhere for you. the hell are you doing here?"

"jeez, a hello would be nice." you rolled your eyes. "i wanted to tell you something."

"that's crazy, so do i." he shut the door behind him. he saw the shift in your expression as you heard his statement.

"you can go first." you smiled, making his heart skip a beat again.

"nah, you go."

"i insist. go on."

"no, go ahead."

"captain, just spit it out."

"you spit it out."

"you were the one looking for me, you go first!"

"well, you're the first one who said you were gonna say somethin'!"

"you know what?! neverfuckingmind! i can't with your dumb, stubborn ass!" you walked pass him. that is until he impulsively grabs your wrist and puts you back in your initial place.

you felt your skin burn at his touch, sucking in a deep breath as you regulated your rhythms from his firm grip.

"stay." he announced, seriously this time. you got a good look at his face, the faint light of the lantern along the little window by the other side of the room illuminated his sharp features. his eyes glowing with earnest and the genuine

need to say something he seems to be keeping for a while now.

he got closer and closer until your bum met with his worktable settled at the other side of the room, your hands holding at the edges for support as he got precariously close. you looked away as to not make your heart explode, mustering something up to calm yourself down. "w-why are you s-so clo-"

"look at me." he raised your chin with his index finger, directly locking eyes with you. "you aware that you've been driving your captain fuckin' insane ever since you set foot in the victoria?"

you furrowed your brows lightly, looking for any sort of clue in his honey eyes. your mouth was agape, too lost at the situation and too aroused at the proximity between the two of you. "from the way you always oppose me on the littlest things as you measure up to my stubbornness and knock some sense into me, to the way you usher me on to my dream like my pocket-sized cheerleader." he started, hypnotizing you with the fiery burn of his golden orbs; honey swirls swimming in them. "i love you." he placed a kiss on your forehead, down to your nose, to each side of your cheek, before pausing and waiting for the green light to your lips.

"well?" he raised a brow, keeping a milimeter distance away from your lips you could choke physically.

"tease." you replied, pulling him by his collar as you two clash your lips against each other. you wrapped your arms around his neck and he did too around your waist. it went on for a while before you two pulled away to get some air, panting in each other's lips. "your breath stinks of rum."

"as if that doesn't off you." he smirked, playfully tugging at your lower lips between his teeth. "so, what were you gonna say?"

"that i'm nuts about you too." you kissed his cheek. "funny how this whole shit works, right?!"

he threw his head back as he laughed. "all this time i thought i was the only crazy one."

"well, you're not very good at hiding how you like me so much." you teased, poking his cheek.

"shut it and kiss me more." he changed the topic, growling as he nuzzled his face by your neck. grinning as he elicited a little moan from you.

"have i told you how much i love your perfume?" he sucked in a deep breath, buttering your jaw and neck with kisses as the red pigment from his lips spanned further across your skin.

"no i thought you hated it."

"that's code for love, you dumbass." he breathed in your ear, making you giggle. he littered your neck with kisses, reveling at the fits of giggles he kindles from you.

i took this idea from an ao3 fic i read abt todobaku aND I CAN'T FIND IT ANYMORE! but anw i thought it'd be a good idea to incorporate kidd into this hehe. FINALLY FLESHED OUT A FIC IN SO LONG WOO

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 months

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full hc request: mc and m6 celebrating holi ?

(i am friendless this holi and i will cry over it)

-🫧 anon

The Arcana HCs: Celebrating Holi

~ most of this is based off of childhood experience celebrating in South Asia, thank you for resurrecting all the fun memories anon! ~

Julian

He loves the concept of it

A community event, full of color and celebration? Heck yeah! This extrovert is pumped and ready to spread the joy!

This extrovert is also a doctor

And this doctor is already gearing up for the aftermath - for all the people who caught cold running around in wet clothes, the injuries from hopping around on wet cobblestones and twisting ankles ...

... the overenthusiastic celebrants falling into the canals and bumping their heads, the kids who always end up licking the color powder and find out the hard way what they're allergic to ...

And of course, the mild panic he experiences for the next week seeing faded stains on his patient's skin and faces and briefly mistaking them for bruising

Seriously, why do bruises turn every color of the rainbow??

But all that aside, he's excited to celebrate with you and will even bend down so you can smear some color on his face and eyepatch

Asra

Oh, they are thriving

This is easily one of his favorite events of the year. This gets more planning and preparation time than ... most things, really

They insist on making (or at least, modifying) all of their own colors and stock up on everything from powder to paste to dyes they can mix with water and spray at passersby with a water gun

Some of them he enchants to be holographic. Others, to hover menacingly in the air and then engulf whoever walks close enough

It's one of the few times when all the kids in the neighborhood flock to them because they know that nobody will kit them out for a proper water fight like they will. It's on

His hair is going to have colors lingering in it for over a month

The magic use does get just a little bit out of control, sometimes - they've been politely asked to stay away from the town square, since the statues still occasionally puke neon rainbows

Will put a spell on you that morning so nothing can stain you

Nadia

Does she enjoy and look forward to this festival? Yes. Is she stressed beyond words? Also yes. She needs a break

The sheer logistics of organizing a national holiday aside, Holi is messy. The streets are full of people, traffic is impossible for the day, injuries are spiking from partying too hard, and the cleanup

Don't get her started on the cleanup

Vesuvia has plenty of white marble statues and fountains that end up coated in the rainbow every year (though it's gotten easier since a certain magician was banned from the town square)

Not to mention the series of legal cases afterwards when some merchant passing through sells a load of poor quality colors

That won't stop her from enjoying it with you. She'll set up the garden and spend an afternoon chasing you around with her palms covered in color, darting out to leave smudges on your cheeks

If she moves a little more slowly to ensure that she gets covered in your colors as well, then. That's for only her and the shrubs to know

Muriel

A festival so exciting and intense that crowds of people flood the streets and smear colors all over each other with abandon?

Yeah, you can count him out

The concept of celebrating color and the triumph of good over evil is delightful, but you both know that if he joins he'll suffer at best and have a full-blown panic attack at worst. Better not

He'll celebrate with you in his own way

You'll find a forest clearing, pull out all the environmentally friendly colors you've stocked up on, and goad him with rainbow fingerprints into a playful game of tag among the trees

His artistic side will make itself known, waiting for you to tire yourself out before he sits next to you and traces swirls and runes all over your arms and face with featherlight touches

Of course, this only works if you're distracted with something while he does, or else your eyes on him will make him freeze up and blush. (the shaky little smudges those cause are the best)

Portia

She adores Holi and she is Prepared

She knows all the tips and tricks to get through the day with as little misfortune as possible. Old, cheap clothes that you don't mind getting stained. Oil on your skin and hair before you go out

And of course, a mom bag stuffed to the brim, half with celebration essentials and half with mischief implements

You look tired and a little overstimulated. Here, wipe your face and hands with this damp towel and drink some water. She packed snacks - do you want a cookie or a sandwich?

You look like you could use an advantage. Here, take this dye filled water balloon and throw it at the nearest street sign - the partygoers underneath will have it in their hair for weeks

Her favorite celebration spots are right in the middle of wherever the kids are having their massive water fight. Nobody can amp up mediate one of those like she can

Will shamelessly cover your clothes in her handprints

Lucio

He loves it for the first fifteen minutes or so

A town-wide celebration that fills the streets? Heck yeah, he is all in and having the time of his life! He has permission to splash color all over random strangers? Awesome! He's going all out -

... until he starts to receive the same treatment, which means his hair is getting messy and his clothes are going to stain and there's dye all over his face and absolutely ruining his eyeliner

Yeah, he's done, and he's going to start sulking if he doesn't get a hot bath nice and soon

Mercedes and Melchior, on the other hand, are having the times of their lives. It's chaos dialed to the max and they love the chance to weave between people's legs and splash colors everywhere

Of course, they also have gorgeous long silky white fur, which gets absolutely saturated with pigments and dyes as they run wild

Bathing them afterwards is a legendary nightmare and the pastel hues linger on their backs for quite a while

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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minttsaltt · 21 days

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if you ever have the time, could i see your takes on akira kurusu smiling? or just him with freckles, i love how you draw him it makes me wanna jump around and puke rainbows, it's amazing

bro probs cant smile if hes asked

he looks like 😬 and doesnt understand that he looks stupid

but he CAN smile, softly

#minttsaltt hcs #art #drawing #artwork #artists on tumblr #doodle #sketch #persona #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #ren amamiya #akira kurusu

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minimarvelh · 3 months

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At the breakfast Tony will give him a huge portion of pancakes with colourful cereals, which Stark calls "as if the elfs puked a rainbow at them", to which he will receive a light slap on the arm from Pepper and her famous disapproving look. „Don’t swear near the kid”

After the breakfast, Peter will probably ask Tony to watch SpongeBob with him, because it’s Saturday and he doesn’t have any school.

At first, Tony will saying in disgustingly exaggerated way that he has a lot of work to do and that actually it’s a kids show, but Peter, knowing better, will eventually drag him into the couch area, tug him in an octopus hug, glueing them together so that the Stark would have no chance to escape. Tony will have no choice but to defeatedly exhale, relaxing in the arms of his child and bury his arm into Peter’s curls.

The it will be already afternoon and pepper will probably cook miso soup, so Peter need as fast as possible try to make his homework.

So he’ll probably ask Tony to help him with physics, math, Spanish, English, literature..and, well, with everything.

Tony will probably complain about lazy teenagers in these days and how back then it was better. but he still will help.

Once they will end, Pepper will call them to eat.

Still quizzing a tired Peter on some probably history topics, will they sit down to lunch.

During lunch Pepper will tell hilarious stories from Tony's past while he will try to deny everything listening to the amusing Peter’s giggling.

After they will finish eating, Pepper would remind Tony about the papers he needed to look over and then she would go to take a bath.

Meanwhile, Peter will go to his room, impatiently calling the Ned and for about an hour losing connect with the reality, rambling about Star Wars fics.

After that, hanging up and entering the living room, Peter will find Tony lying on the sofa, glasses on his nose and a Satrkpad in his hands, who, most likely, will methodically going through some documents sent by Pepper.

Not wasting any seconds looking at his domestic mentor, Peter will take the remote and lie down next to Tony, one leg draped over him, the other rummaging around the floor scrolling Netflix.

Chances are, if Peter will hug him, watching Horseman Bojack, Tony will lose all of his concentration hugging his kid next to him and eventually to Pepper’s future dissatisfaction, will become invested in series and will forget about said documents.

After their snuggling Tony will go and make them hoc chocolate, while Peter will explain to him everything about fan fiction.

Tony probably wants to know about it more.

Then Pepper will come and talk about their plans on Sunday which will end Peter pleading Pepper to watch new “Star Wars: the Clone wars” and how can Pepper say now to these big brown puppy eyes?

It’s impossible.

So the rest of the day they will eat popcorn and watch Stat wars, until pepper would remind them that they will still need to eat dinner. Time will complain that he is adult and if he doesn’t want you to eat dinner he will not. But at the end they will order some Thai food.

While waiting for the order to arrive Tony and Peter will likely go to the workshop where Tony will look at the diagrams, making some corrections while Peter will talk and pet dum-e, calling him good boy.

30 minutes later Pepper will call them to eat and they will go and eat together, talking about their plans for the week.

After that they will return to their laying activity and will end up watching the whole season of that show.

Tony will argue about the illogicality and the holes of the plot, while Peter will vehemently refute his comments.

Will 99,9% chances Pepper will stroke Peter’s hair whispering him that he did today a good job.

Most likely, Peter will fall asleep next to Pepper with his legs at Tony lulled by the warmth of two adults, with whom he feel the safest he’s ever felt.

Most likely, Tony will not want to wake the kid and will slid his hands under Peter’s body and carry him across the couch into his chest right to the kid’s bedroom, tucking his blanket and kissing forehead.

Which will make Peter whine at the loss of contact and he will probably slip “dad”, which lately has been slipping into his speech more and more often, especially when he is sleepy.

But each time it sounded like the first time for Tony as he will held his breath and his heart will race and race.

"I'm here bambino," will Tony whisper, kissing Peter again and stroking his hand, staying in the room until the kid finally falls asleep.

Then Tony will go into the living room, where a little bit drowsy Pepper will smile tiredly at him and the two of them will go into the bedroom.

In the morning, Peter will wake up and first thing will head into the kitchen area, where Tony will greet him, kissing his forehead while the kid wraps his arms around him like a koala. Then he will do exactly the same with Pepper, getting at least a million kisses from her giggling as the woman playfully kisses his cheeks, forehead, curls smiling at the kid.

I really don’t know what is it hahah

#irondad and spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #spiderman #spiderson headcanon #actually autistic #irondad #ao3 fanfic #irondad spiderson #iron man #ao3 #fandom

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reesespeanutbutterfuck · 11 months

Text

imperfectionist (vinny hong x jo!reader)

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 3

part 2 | part 4

pairing: vinny hong x jo!fem!reader

part warnings: fem!reader, cursing, mentions of blood, descriptions of graphic violence, jo!reader, intelligent!reader, implications of academic pressure, second person's pov (you, you're, your), SPOILERS

___

It was Friday afternoon, you were free from your academic responsibilities—at least temporarily.

Jay was sitting on the dinner table while reading his textbooks again, and Kay was in front of the TV smothering Jack, the injured black cat he and Minu found astray, and decided to take in. He's watching a show about weird cat animations with a comical, eye-sorely bright art style again. You left Kay's bungeoppang at the countertop and dropped your keys on the table.

“Kay, stop watching that crap and come eat. It's dinner time.”

“It's not crap! It's art!” Your younger brother, Kay, peered at you from behind the sofa backrest.

You put your closed fist against the side your waist and frowned. “I'm surprised you haven't puked cats and rainbows yet. You always watch that show, why don't you watch horror films instead? Give me that remote, let's watch 'Saw'.”

“No! Weird-noona!" Kay withheld the remote behind him when you pretended to reach for it.

You displayed a sinister grin. “What? Gore films are educational.”

“Unbelievable! Jay's obsessed with bikes while you're obsessed with… everything!”

“And you're obsessed with watching weird shows!”

“Says the one who's not weird!”

Jay ignored your sibling banter and resumed studying, his eyes blaring at the words on the textbook under his glasses. You're sure he's not going to rest anytime soon. You sighed in hopelessness. You admit how you're quite a studyholic yourself, but you try to give yourself a short break every now and then—discreetly. That's part of the reason you chose to stay in an apartment rather than your family home.

You get flashbacks of those nights. After a long, draining day in school, you just want to do anything that doesn't involve having to bombard your head with information and reviewers. But then your mother enters your dim-lit room and catches you resting. That's when the constant “Why aren't you studying?”, “I don't want you slacking off”, “Make us proud, [Y/N].” ring in your ear.

At home, it felt as if taking a break was a crime. You hated how it felt to be watched. It was exhausting how you only matter when you're a high-achiever. It didn't feel like home. It felt like hell. Sometimes you only come home to make sure your brothers are still alive.

“It's the weekend. Shouldn't you at least take a break?” You lightly put your hand against the table and leaned down at Jay.

“I'm good. Thanks for worrying, but you're the one who should rest. You're left with Student Council work. And you tend to overwork yourself too.” Right. Jay got stripped off of his position of being the Student Council President. You shrugged it off.

Jay shot you a glance, until he remembered a question he's been wanting to ask you an hour ago. “So, why did you suggest Vinny?” He opened up the topic. “You've met him?”

You were a slightly taken aback by his question. Yes, but also no. “No. I don't even know him personally.”

Jay looked at you for a few seconds. He knows you're not telling him something, but he doesn't intend to be intrusive, you can tell him some other time. “...Okay. But why him?”

”I just can't think of another escape so my mouth moved by itself. And judging from Dom's protests, surely you won't really recruit him, right?”

Besides, from the way Vinny Hong was ready to meet his death and unremorsefully uttered the words "I'd rather die than pay a hospital bill" that was still fresh in your memory as the picture in your head of the pool of blood from the concrete he sat on that night, months ago, he needs help. But you weren't a savior—you wouldn't just cross the line and pretend you know everything about what he's going through in his life.

You checked your phone's inbox. You clicked the most recent unread message from a group chat made by Dom. Was it Dom? Or was it Minu? You backread the recent few messages. It's from Minu.

(Sent to Group Chat: Dom Kang, Yuna, Mia, Shelly…+others)

Minu Yoon: Guys, someone came to our school. He's Vinny's friend and he's asking for our help. I'll fill you in with the details later. brb walking with him rn

A friend of Vinny's? Speaking of the devil.

You were going to disregard the messages until Minu's name once again flashed on your most recent inboxes. This time it was a private message.

Minu Yoon: Hello, [Y/N]! Are you currently at your family home? If you are, please tell Jay I'll be out just for a moment. As we both know, your brother doesn't have a message app on his jurassic phone lol

[Y/N] Jo: i am at home right now, sure.

[Y/N] Jo: why are you with vinny's friend by the way?

Minu Yoon: We're trying to call him from outside of his house. I think no one's home. Sung's trying to contact him right now but his number's out of reach. We're here to talk to him to convince him to join the crew.

Then he sent a selfie of him with Vinny's bespectacled friend. He looked like a student about the same age as you, which was confirmed when you looked down on his chest pocket and saw Gunn High's logo. They're in front of a gate.

You purse your lips together, not knowing what to reply.

[Y/N] Jo: you considered it?

[Y/N] Jo: vinny joining your crew, i mean.

Minu Yoon: Yeah, no. Not really. Me and Vinny aren't exactly on good terms so as I've reacted earlier when you mentioned him, I wouldn't really have given it a thought. But as it turns out, Vinny needs us, too. His friend came all the way here just to ask us to help him. He needs to join the tournament along with a group. It's only a coincidence how you mentioned him earlier.

You asked him more about Vinny Hong, and apparently, the bespectacled guy, who you found out was called Sung, told him about Vinny's situation. Minu filled you in with the details. So Vinny needs the prize money… to aid his mother's immediate need of a liver surgery?

When you were done with your questions, you reminded him once again to come home.

[Y/N] Jo: come home immediately after.

Minu Yoon: Yes, ma'am :D

[Y/N] Jo: jay wouldn't lock the door. my parents are coming home tonight–

Your fingers halted from typing. Your parents are coming home tonight? Tonight… Aren't they on duty? You checked their schedule on the cork board.

Shit.

You didn't have the time to even send the message before you briskly ran inside your long untouched bedroom to bring Suki—your apartment roommate, your notes from the hospital training, and a change of clothes from your closet to pack inside of your bag. You didn't even bother changing from your school uniform anymore. You'll just change when you get back to the apartment. All that matters to you right now is to get out of there immediately.

“What's going on?” Jay curiously queried as he heard the sounds of your shuffling and rushed footsteps.

“It's getting dark outside. I gotta go back to the apartment. Suki's coming back from her hometown vacation tonight, too.”

You gathered your things and got your keys from the table.

Kay turned his head to you and aired a quick "goodbye" while also lightly waving Jack's paw to you.

"I’ll see you again, Jack. Make sure to be fully healed by then.” you petted the black cat's head before walking past the sofa.

Jay's eyes followed you as you marched your way to exit the front door. "You're not going to stay for the night?"

“No. Mom and Dad are coming home tonight.” You put your hand against the door-frame while looking down at your feet to put on your slip-on shoes. Jay immediately got what you meant.

“So what, if we're coming home tonight?” you halted your movements when you heard that arrogant, authoritative female voice.

It's as if the universe was testing you that the very person you're avoiding came to you. It's almost as if you were an animal for the wilderness that triggered their fight-or-flight instincts. You don't want to lie to people, but why is escaping them getting difficult?

"Mom." you cautiously stepped towards her and went in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss. “You're here.”

“My shift finished earlier than expected. Your dad's on his way home too. Where are you off to?” She held one of your arms and leaned back a little to look at you from head down.

You exhaled shakily. “Suki's coming home from Japan, but I have the key to the apartment so she can't enter unless I unlock the door.”

Suki actually has a spare key for your apartment door, you only lied—again, to your mom about it to run off as fast as you can. Suki can handle herself and come straight home after her plane lands. Besides, you already texted her earlier.

Her lip twitched, looking very unconvinced—hell were you not good with keeping up a lie, but instead of trying to pry, she blinked and averted her eyes inside the house, passively accepting your lie as a response.

“Very well. Send my regards to her.” Came her curt reply when she walked past you to come inside, clutching her chanel purse.

“Kids, where's Minu?” She looked ahead to Jay and Kay while taking her shoes off. Minu's living with your family after he ran away from his own home.

"He's left at school with the others.” Jay replied, before he glanced past Dr. Jo and simply waved goodbye to you.

You turned your back from the door to make your way out. The only thing that mattered to you is escaping, but it looks like your mother had something more to say.

“[Y/N].” You stopped your tracks without facing her, and side-eyed her from the front while your body was still facing ahead on the gate, “Mind your grades. I don't want you and your brothers falling behind anyone in all of your semesters this school year.”

You didn't reply, but you can feel her sharp stare drilling the back of your head. Your brothers inside the house can't hear what she's saying, because she only intended for only you to hear. She quieted down for a while, possibly waiting for your reply but getting nothing in return. Just when you thought she's done talking and you were about to continue walking, her last remark made your blood turmoil.

“One of these days, I'll introduce you to one of my work partners' also medicine practitioner sons. You'll marry to continue our family's line of Doctors of Medicine. You'll honor and represent our family. Set up a good impression on them from now on. Make me proud."

You gritted your teeth and clenched your fist as your eyes darkened in anger. With all of your might, you faced her and returned her sharp glare.

“I will never agree to what you want for my life, mother. You'll have to kill me before that happens. I'll even go against you, if I have to.”

With that, you ran off and loudly slammed the gate shut purposefully without giving her a chance to retort. You know you pissed her off and she'll be yelling at you anytime soon, so you left as soon as possible, not bothering to give her time to respond. Your blood boiled as you harshly adjusted your bag on your shoulder. Marriage? "Continue our family's line of Doctors of Medicine"? That's just bullshit, she didn't even ask my opinion!

You don't know where your feet are taking you anymore. You just wanted to go as far as you can from your house. The sky was already dark and the bustling atmosphere was still present, but now toned-down. Your eyes blurred in anger as you harshly stomped and accelerated the pace of your walking. Marriage… Marriage… I will never be ready for something like that. During your walk to god-knows-where, you find yourself in a deserted alley. And because of your preoccupation, you didn't even notice how a man found his way and crept behind you. His presence made you shudder.

“Hey, pretty girl. Are you from near here somewhere?” The male whispered to your left ear. “Drop your belongings and I won't hurt 'ya.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

You immediately checked if he's armed. No weapons? That's suspicious.

“On second thought, you're kinda hot," he scanned you from head down. "...and your legs are long. How about… I let you go if you compensate with your body?”

Something inside you snapped, and the anger you felt earlier doubled. Fucking men and the way their fucking brain works.

You glared and looked down on him. “Get the fuck out of my way, hideous motherfucker.”

The man's sinister smile quickly vanishes as he takes offense at your words. “You sharp-tongued bitch!”

He raised his hand to smack you, but you expected his offense so you went in first and swung him a jaw-breaking punch.

“How dare you fucking touch me. I just came from a fucking stress room. You're raising my blood pressure and stress levels even more.”

You kicked his face continuously with the edge of your heel. You made sure the sharp edge hit his face hard. At that moment, your mind was out of the gutter, and you didn't intend to stop anytime.

“Agh! Whore! Crazy bitch!” he let out another muffled groan when you stepped on his face and put your weight on your feet. When he attempted to get up, you hit his face with your knee.

But little did you know that you missed the hooded man meticulously emerging from the dark, carrying a knife whose blade shone under the moonlight sneaking up behind you.

“Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?” You sadistically smirked down at the helpless man once again under your heel.

You looked around and saw a broken glass shard near his head. You bent down and scanned it, before you aimed at his neck. As you pull your hand back, recoiling slightly to charge before stabbing, you felt something sharp pierce your lower back. You didn't see what it was, but you felt how it drilled in your flesh and you didn't have time to react.

Fuck.

Now that, that hurts like a bitch.

***

#vinny hong #jay jo x reader #vinny hong x reader #jay jo #windbreaker

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lowkeyrobin · 27 days

Note

heartstopper crew (platonic) with a gymnast/acrobat friend?

also I really apologise if my last request made you uncomfortable in any way<33

hope you're doing well!

-💿

oooo okay! I don't know much about acrobatics so be nice LMAOOO ; also don't worry about it! I just got major writers block with it and considering they're a real person I didn't wanna do it just in case because like... that's a conscious person and I do not want them stumbling upon that one day LMAO don't worry tho ; hope you're doing well as well 💿!! thanks for requesting

HEARTSTOPPER ; acrobatics

summary ; the gang show up for your finals competition

warnings ; language

word count ; 533

masterlist

Your performance consisted of a multitude of flips and tricks, none of which your friends could remember the names to. You stand anxiously in your way-to-tight outfit, mentally preparing yourself, repeating your performance over and over again in your head. A yellow, plastic card is pinned to your top, a large 107 in bold printed onto it.

You feel your knees grow a little weak, nerves hitting you like you were a victim of the Mean Girls bus scene. You look at the person behind you, having known them enough to talk to them for motivation and about your gymnastics abilities. They give you a light smile to communicate good luck.

"107!" The announcer exclaims over the loudspeaker.

You quickly step forward, walking yourself to the white line where you to start.

"Shit, shit, shit" You think, praying and hoping you wouldn't mess this up in front of so many people after weeks of training.

You listen the the announcer introduce your name and the gym you attend, seeing the judges get a good look at you. Then you hear cheering.

You look up at the stands, seeing, and definitely hearing, your friends. Charlie, Nick, and Isaac sit in the second to last bench, with Tao, Elle, Tara, and Darcy behind them. Nick and Tao are definitely the loudest, considering they'd been blessed with strong vocal chords. The others, nearly just as loud, cheer along, waving to you with smiles.

Their cheeks are painted with rainbow stripes in support of you, Darcy even had some rainbow hairclips to push her fringe away from her face. You smile and face forward, taking a quick breath before you hear your feet pound on the floor below, racing you toward the large landing mats.

One flip, then two and three, and many more, they nearly make you nauseous due to the blood swarming in your head. You feel a bit lightheaded as you successfully land on your feet, hands raised above your head. You mentally thank whatever force was out there that stopped you from landing straight on your face, saving you from pain and embarrassment.

"Go Y/n!"

"Good job!"

"Do it again!"

You shyly smile and wave to them, having been told prior not to interact with the audience to not seem like you had an ego. You retrieve to the sidelines with the other competitors, watching the judges write some notes down before they call the next person in line.

"Does the one judges thing say 5? They did great!"

"That's bullshit"

"We should get milkshakes after this"

"Tao?"

"How did you even do that? I'd literally puke" Tao laughs, standing in the open, uncut grass with you.

You both finished your milkshakes first, your friends sharing a picnic table a few feet away, slurping away at theirs.

"I'm an acrobat, I can do those kinds of flips for days, it's just perfecting them is what's hard"

"Can you show me how to do a handstand?"

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Cause"

"Okay" You smile, helping him begin a handstand.

You hold his feet, and he shakily holds up the rest of his weight before falling into the grass.

"Ow!"

"That was all you, Tao"

#lowkeyrobin #heartstopper x you #heartstopper x reader #heartstopper #platonic #+ reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn! reader #charlie spring x reader #nick nelson x reader #tao xu x reader #elle argent x reader #lgbtq

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sizzlingcandyjellyfishhh · 1 month

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it’s always funny when I forget I ate a rainbow food like Froot Loops or colored goldfish and then I’m like “why the fuck does my puke look like gray sludge”

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lwoorl · 4 months

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Since we know colors still exist in the world of isat even if people cannot see them, I imagine that if we could actually see what everyone looks like in color it would be like. An unmitigated fashion disaster. So many dyes and cloths of different colors would be treated as interchangable, the only one who would survive is Sif since they only wear darkless and lightless shadows, everyone else's outfits would look like rainbow puke, you cannot convince me otherwise

#in stars and time spoilers #isat spoilers

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wildlife4life · 8 months

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @hippolotamus, @eddiediaztho, @disasterbuckdiaz, @forthewolves, @giddyupbuck @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela and @daffi-990 Thank you all so much! You all so amazing and I look forward to all of your upcoming works! Go check them out!

Ya'll I have been riding on an ecstatic high since Sunday. Not only did my Kansas City Chief's win, they blew out the Chicago Bears. And to top it all off, my favorite player Travis Kelce, who I have been a huge fan of for years (long before Taylor Swift, before the super bowl wins, and before Patrick Mahomes) got T-Swift to come to a game and freaking broke the internet. I have loved every moment and I am just so elated about it all. So to keep with the trend of the NFL, here is NFL Buck... and his leg injury.

They didn’t even make it to half time and Christopher never showed his touchdown dance to his grandparents. Midway through the second quarter, linebacker Jayon Brown sideswiped the left tackle, leaving him free and with a direct shot to the quarterback. Just as Buckley was releasing the ball for a pass to the endzone to DeAndre Hopkins, Brown tackled him, knocking his throw off and allowing Adoree Jackson to intercept it. Brown swears up and down to this day, the tackle was clean, but deeply regrets the damage that came from it. What he doesn’t tell anyone but those closest to him; he heard and felt Evan Buckley’s leg break under him and when he got back to the sideline, he puked his guts behind the bench. Evan’s cries of pain were barely heard over the roar of the crowd celebrating the pick and it took a short moment for anyone to notice that the Texan’s quarterback had not gotten back up. Right tackle Kendall Lamm was the first to notice Buckley’s injury and frantically waved over the training staff. He would go on to tell the press, “Buckley is a tough son of a bitch and to hear that sort of anguish coming from him, I knew something was wrong.” Then when asked about the injury the large offensive lineman would pale slightly, “Legs aren't supposed go that way, but I ain’t no doctor and we can only pray Evan comes back from this.”

The amount of research that has gone into the section is crazy. All players besides Buck are real players on those teams at that time. The interception actually occurred in the 2nd quarter of that game, but I'm putting the whole broken leg twist into there. If you have any questions about the NFL or American football in general please shoot me a message. Hope you all enjoyed! Go Chiefs!

Tagging (no pressure): @exhuastedpigeon @try-set-me-on-fire @rogerzsteven @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @devirnis @ladydorian05 @theotherbuckley @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @thekristen999 @lizzybizzyzzz @shortsighted-owl @homerforsure @sibylsleaves @monsterrae1 @lover-of-mine @watchyourbuck @eowon @911onabc @911-on-abc @brokenribsdiaz @housewifebuck @honestlydarkprincess @bvckandeddie @arthursdent @elvensorceress @glorious-spoon @bigfootsmom @buddierights @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @gayhoediaz @gayedmundodiaz

#wip wednesday #tag game #my wip #911 abc #911 show #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #nfl #houston texans #tennessee titans #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #football injury #broken leg #buck whump #angst

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zmediaoutlet · 11 months

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this land is your land

for @wincestwednesdays - americana

"Relax," Sam says, and Dean says back immediately "You relax," but that doesn't work because Sam, damn him, is so relaxed Dean's surprised he's still walking upright and not a puddle of dissolved bones, somewhere a few miles back on the sun-baked road. Where the car's sitting, steaming, the engine ticking as it cools, alone--

"You know what's wrong?" Sam says, and Dean gives him a look, and Sam says, "You know how to fix it?" and Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam says, "So what are you gonna do about it between here and that co-op in town?" and Dean says, "You know, this is how you talked when you didn't have a soul," and Sam laughs kinda soft, hitching his backpack higher.

Hot, humid, but not horrible. The fields growing up with something green. Maybe future wheat. Dean's not a farmer. The kind of summer day where you want to lay in thick grass and drink about twelve ice-cold beers and eat watermelon, or burgers off the grill, or a rainbow snowcone just dripping with every color, like remember, that time --

"Fairfield County Fair," Sam says, grinning. He drags his hair back from his forehead. Their jackets tied around their waists and Sam's sleeves rolled up to his elbows; if it gets much hotter out here he might strip that layer too and then, hey, free show. "Yeah. That was good. Other than the ghost."

"Ghost was easy," Dean says, "as was Miss Mindy the concessions girl. You remember, right? All that funnel cake?"

"I think I puked it all over the tilt-a-whirl," Sam says, dry, and Dean grins back at him so Sam rolls his eyes, but -- he remembers, and that's what matters to Dean now. When he's got this brother, stitched back together, remembering the snowcone and the tilt-a-whirl and also what it means, that they're walking side by side through this yellow afternoon, sweating their balls off.

A barn, past the next field of maybe-wheat. White-painted metal that's peeling bad as they get closer, but it's got a heavy fall of shadow in the driven-over silty dust and abandoned crates that don't collapse when Dean plants his ass on one, so it's good enough for now. "Could go for a snowcone," he says, and Sam snorts somewhere past his closed eyes and there's a thunk of his bag hitting the dirt and then scuffing away, through the silt, and Dean watches the world golden through closed lids and imagines. Sam sweating, long, his body moving sure through the shadow and then -- through the barn door, sliding on squeaky rollers -- and then into somewhere Dean can barely hear him except whatever he imagines might echo through the wall, but it's okay because he'll come back. He's promised that, now. Dean turns his head against the side of the barn anyway, his ear against the warm metal, in case there's some echo. Long night and a long day and a long night ahead and maybe it's lame but he's old now, or feels it, and he's tired. He'll take even an echo.

In the barn: dusty John Deeres, and tools Sam doesn't bother to describe, and a case of too-warm water of dubious age in cheap plastic bottles. "Thief," Dean says, but just to say it, and Sam shrugs and says, "Trespassing, too," but he cracks a bottle and hands it to Dean and Dean dumps it over his head, just to get off some of the sweat and dust. Long walk. Sam says dude and Dean says, "Bite me," but when he slicks his hand back over his head Sam ends up smiling at him, after all, and hands him another bottle to actually drink, and then -- bends at the waist and dumps water over the back of his own head, slicking his hair to black in the shade, dripping down and turning the dust to mud. Stripped down to his t-shirt after all and the water sopping the grey to dark. "See, I'm a genius," Dean says, and Sam scratches through his hair and groans like he does on other midnights and says, "Don't get ahead of yourself," but when he sits down next to Dean his hair's curling wet against his neck and he looks as relaxed as Dean's seen him in -- god, how long? Years anyway. Like Dean would see him sometimes in dreams, during that year that's pressed too close up against his back teeth, and he'd wake up on those mornings with his heart full in his chest and with a good mood, almost, that lasted until he opened his eyes and remembered what bed he was in and the mood pierced like a water balloon that hadn't popped right. Draining out slow until he was left pointless and limp.

Sun finally heading toward setting. Over the fields the air's golden, thick in that way of summer. Sky exactly the shade of a cherry '67 Mustang. Acapulco Blue. Sam's bootheels stretch out to full-length in the silt, past the mud-mess he made, and there's his legs long in denim. Dust on the hems. Dean leans forward, elbows on his knees, taking in one of those long deep breaths that when he blows it out feels like he's expelling air from decades ago. Lungs one hundred percent empty.

Big hand on the back of his neck. He closes his eyes. Sam strokes up over his head where the hair's gone spiky-wet and then smooths it back down, his thumb braced up behind Dean's ear. Heavy and hot.

"Gonna make it back to town tonight?" Sam asks. Like he doesn't know the distance just the same as Dean. Dean shrugs. Sam hums and squeezes Dean's neck, and then Dean opens his eyes and looks from where his head's held down like this to see Sam's heel draw up through the dust, and for his knee to press against Dean's, and then his hand dragging down Dean's back and then back up under his shirt, hot on damp skin, a big square heavy thing. Landing somewhere up between his shoulderblades. Dean wants it on his dick and on the side of his face thumbing his mouth and also just exactly where it is. Sam touching him. Over that last year, what he missed more than anything else. For Sam to touch him and for it to mean what it was supposed to, when Sam touched him.

"We've probably got the worst case of swamp ass this side of the Mississippi," Dean says.

"You remember that time in Tupelo?" Sam says, and of course Dean does. Of course, every single time, like some dorky glittery journal in his heart, he remembers -- Sam's face over his in Tupelo spattered with mud-and-blood and laughing at how disgusting it was, and doing it anyway; Sam's breath desperate at the back of his neck in Portland, both Maine and Oregon; Sam's fingers lacing with his in Colorado Springs, and Sam pressed chest-to-chest with him in Pittsburgh, and Sam's mouth blurring strange in the drunken dark in too many places to name. Dean remembers.

Sam lifts his hand, stretching Dean's shirt, and Dean feels the air gust up against his sweaty back before he follows it, unbending slowly, and then Sam's whole arm's shoved awkward up against his spine, his fingers and thumb bracketing Dean's neck, and when Dean tips his head back Sam's there to catch him.

"Gonna miss the show tonight," Dean says, slit-eyed. Salt in his eyelashes.

The county such-and-such. Volunteer firefighters put on the show, one of the witnesses told them. Not a big display but big enough to please the kids and the folk who hadn't got too cynical for it. He was kind of looking forward to catching it, just because. When was the last time they'd had a July 4th that wasn't some kind of miserable?

"Maybe," Sam says. His eyes on Dean's mouth. Which is so like the soulless version Dean's heels dig into the ground, some weird no instinct making him want to stand -- but then Sam's eyes flick up to meet Dean's, and he grins lopsided and dorky like Sam always used to, when he was okay enough to grin, and relief washes through Dean like stepping under a waterfall. "Could celebrate right here, though. Right?"

"You think that line actually works on anyone?" Dean says, chest blooming hot, and Sam says, "Guess we'll see," in a way that's frankly smug, and Dean rolls his eyes but he also swivels on his stolen crate-seat and presses his mouth against Sam's and gets salt-sweat and stale bottled water and also the good spit-flavor of his tongue, and so maybe Sam deserves the smug.

Birds calling in the trees by the barn, squawky-loud like they're making commentary. Sam's thigh hard and hot alongside his. At first Sam presses against him too hard and Dean grunts, and then Sam lays his other hand soft against Dean's cheek and kisses him sweet, instead, and then grips Dean's neck and kisses him just -- right, Goldilocks finding the right level of comfort. Dean lays his hand on Sam's chest and feels his heart go right out of himself, like a roman candle.

#wincest wednesday #my writing #wincest #highly recommend three versions of this song:#avett brothers for straightforward sweet #(and a music video actually worth watching)#sharon jones for a swinging funk #dave rawlings machine + i hear them all for Feels #and that was the one i listened to 5 times while writing this #from the redwood forest to the gulf stream waters --#<3

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