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heyheyloki · 4 years

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Dark Star

Summary: The prince of the Clover Kingdom and Yami speak on important matters.

Yami Sukehiro x M!Reader

Word Count: 2701

The Clover Kingdom. A place were magic ran through the streets from the royal kingdom to the forbidden realm. Under the rule of the Wizard King, Julius Novochrono, peaceful times were possible. During those peaceful times made an unexpected miracle occur, the first prince of the Clover Kingdom was born. He was born with exceptional magic power, much like his father, as well as inheriting his father’s kind and gentle nature. As well as an extreme fondness for magic.

There was no easy way of saying that a lot was expected of him. Both from his own kingdom that he would one day rule, and those of his Magic Knights that his father commanded. Each of the captains had high expectations for him, as well as deep respect for the young man that would command them one day. Though, there was one captain didn’t care much for that. Captain of the Black Bulls, Yami Sukehiro.

It was a shock to you at first when you were old enough to understand your title, your status. You tried way too hard to try to make Yami respect you on the level the other captains do. It was entertaining to your father for a while, and just overtime it became a normal thing. Yami would always be calling you stupid nicknames, beat down on you for the smallest things like height or lack of muscle, but the one thing that got under your skin was the way he effortlessly able to disrespect you in front of other royals. It was one thing when it was just in front of your father, but another to do it with high standing royals around.

You were going to be the Wizard King one day. With your skill, power, influence, and trust within the people, no one doubted that you would be next in line. They were excited of course, you were Julius’s son, they believed you would accomplish what your father had and then some. Though, when you were around the captain of the Black Bulls, some second-thoughts grew. Simply, they thought of you still a mere child, despite you reaching the age of twenty, they still saw some childish antics within you shine disgracefully with Yami.

For this reason alone, you called Yami down to the royal capital. You knew you needed to get some things straight with him, even if you had to detach yourself from the budding joy you found within his teasing. He was the only one that made you feel like you could forget your title, sure, but you knew that if it kept up it could cost you more then what you were willing to lose.

As you were dealing with paperwork in your office, a transmission spell appeared in front of you with Marx’s face clear to see. You gazed up from the endless white sheets filled with headache inducing black ink, happy just to have a new sight in front of you.

“What’s wrong, Marx?” You asked with a soft smile. You were always fond of your father’s handler. He was kind, and always tried to put your father in his place when it came to his duties about being the Wizard King. In truth, he was like family to you in way.

“Sir, the captain of the Black Bulls has just arrived.” He explained with a deadpanned expression. You knew he wasn’t a fan whenever Yami came to the capital, after all, he tends to poke fun at Marx’s haircut.

“Thank you,” you hummed out. “I’ll be right there.”

You watched as Marx nodded in conformation before ending the call, his magic dying in turn. When you stood up from your desk, you paused. Your hands laid flat against your wooden desk, chest falling as you took in careful breaths to calm your racing heart that pounded with anticipation, anxiety, and excitement all in one. Once you knew you had a grip on your emotions, locking them away in a steel prison, you patted down on your clothes to rid any dishevelment before traveling the halls that led outside.

Your footsteps were loud in your ears throughout the entire way, though, that didn’t stop you from rising your head and keeping your eyes forward. When you reached the outside of the palace, you paused and locked your eyes on the man before you. He was as disorganized and without a care in the world. Normally, all magic knights have some sorta of uniform throughout their entire squad. Yami was different. He allowed his squad to wear whatever they pleased, as long as they had on the Black Bull’s robe. He was absolutely no exception to this. All he had on was a simple white tank top that showed off his wide, muscular shoulders and black pants.

You gulped hard, taking in a final breath as you watched him approach you. The cigarette that hung in his mouth was taken between his fingers, the white smoke leaving his mouth and nose before disappearing into the air.

“Whatcha summon me for, princey? I was planning on playing the gentleman’s game of chance, yanno.” Yami asked, his tone unwavering in the ears of the prince.

“You could do well to show his highness at least some respect.” Marx uttered out at the captain.

“Shut it, Mushroom-head. Princey and I are about to have a conversation.” Yami calmly said. “I bet Julius needs some supervising, why don’t you go and leave us be?”

Marx was held his tongue reluctantly in your presence. His eyes darted towards yours, asking if you wished him to leave. You stared at him for a moment before nodding your head, leaving Yami and you outside of the palace.

“Let’s take a walk.” You said calmly, your voice smooth and down to its natural pitch. You began to walk forward, your feet guiding you past Yami’s body without any other words.

When you past him, it was like as if the air had turned unbelievably cold against his skin. It was an odd sensation, and one he was frankly not fond of. His charcoal hues made sure to never let you leave his line of sight, watching as your back faced him in such a distant manner that left a sour taste across his tongue. In that moment, he took a puff of his cigarette, his mind numbing as he stopped his thoughts from wondering.

“Whatever you say,” he muttered under his breath before his own body started to catch up to your own.

You both walked into the common realm side by side in mild conversation. You greeted your people with a gentle smile and calm demeanor, some afraid to approach you with Yami at your side. But, what got away from you was the small glares he was making at people who tried to approach you. It wasn’t long after when both of you came to a food stall and grabbed something to eat, the chance to talk to one another in peace finally came around.

“What you wanna talk about anyway?” Yami asked. “You better not have dragged me out here for nothing. I’ve a very busy guy, yanno.”

You rolled your eyes. “Busy doing what? Gambling?”

“Ouch, and here I thought you knew me better, Princey.” Yami chuckled, his shoulder bumping into yours in a playful manner.

You sighed, patting your shoulder to numb the rushing heat that came from that single area. After a moment of silence, you took in a deep breath and said, “What I requested and frankly, command you to do, if not that complicated.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Yami asked with a coy grin across his lips, his eyes shining with something hopefully that caused butterflies to rumble within your stomach.

You composed yourself once more. You were the prince of the Clover Kingdom. You were a prince, for God’s sake. One man, a man that was older and a long time friend should not be able to effect someone like you like this. Then again, he was. And it was seriously starting to get under your skin.

“The other royals think little of me.” You said. Yami’s smirk quickly dying. “They believe me to be a mere child, even if I am an adult, they see me like an irresponsible child that is not fit to run the kingdom.”

“How come? You do something to piss them off?” He asked curiously.

“Not exactly.” You hummed. Your voice growing uncomfortably cold when you hissed out, “It’s because of you.”

“Me?” Yami questioned with widened eyes.

You nodded. “They think my being around you is causing me to become influenced by the Black Bull’s rough nature. I’m not asking much. All I request of you is to act professional around me when it comes to outings in public. Stop your advances.”

Yami remained quiet. The only sounds you were able to hear were the faint sound of your people chattering with one another over the deafening loud intake of nicotine from Yami. His breath louder than any yell that Asta has made in your presence.

Then, he moved. You thought he would leave and just follow your orders. You prayed, hoped even that he would just obey you and walk away. Save you the heartache of standing next to him and not be yourself with the only one you could truly be the real you around. Not some prince. Not the next leader of the Clover Kingdom. Just, you.

However, that was just wishful thinking. It felt like a volcano was suddenly woken up within you when you felt his large, muscular hand stand across your lower back. It was like as if he didn’t have his dark magic anymore, but flame instead, causing his fingertips to have the smallest flames upon them. It was slower than normal, at least in your mind it felt like that before he hooked his fingers roughly into your side and tugged you into him.

A small grunt came from your chest when you felt your body and his connect. The cold air that was taunting both of your bodies completely gone, now, only warmth enveloped you. Though, it wasn’t comforting. It was hot, steamy, and frankly uncomfortable. You knew it was your nerves that ruined the experience, but in a way you knew this wouldn’t be as calming as you would have liked. Overtime though, you suspected it would get to that stage.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he paused. His breath low and rough against your ear, “but the last time I checked, I don’t take orders from you.”

You felt your hues widen for a split moment, your throat downing a large gulp that made you even more nervous. You knew Yami liked to have his fun, to flirt and make mild advances from time to time. And yeah, perhaps it made you eventually fall for the boorish man, but he had never escalated to this much contact before. It felt weirdly good, though, you did suspect yourself of turning into puffy before the man that grabbed you when he started to slowly lower his large hand. Gripping into your clothes harder with every passing second.

You weren’t about to sit around and let him do whatever he pleased. Especially if it met he gained the upper hand in the situation.

Quickly, you swallowed your nerves and gazed up at the man. For a moment, the look in his eyes startled you to the point of goosebumps across your royal skin. It was as if hundreds of emotions piled onto one another to create the perfect gaze that was both seductive and terrifying. Still, in all your years of living, you had never backed down from a fight.

You did your best to hide your immediate reaction and quickly change it into a cocky, yet frustrated expression that painted on your face. You couldn’t help but still feel that unease pit that rested in your stomach, though. You thought, maybe even for a second, that he knew.

“I’m just asking a simple request.” You stated. “One day, when you do order to me, I will get you back for this, Yami.”

Yami kept his gaze onto you, a low hum rumbling from deep within his chest before gripping a bit rougher around your waist. Your bodies basically having no room to breathe on their own.

“It’s not that simple.” He stated. “Who cares what those damn nobles say anyway? Aren’t you the prince of the Clover Kingdom? I thought you were the one that gets to decide what you do and don’t.”

“Well, I do require the trust of my people and that does tend to include ‘damn nobles’. All I ask is to respect me as you would my father when others are around.” You explained.

“Yeah, well,” Yami started out saying. His eyes flickering for a moment away from your eyes. “That ain’t gonna happen.”

“And why’s that? I am your prince, yanno.” You asked, a questionable look in your eyes. It was one thing for Yami to tease you, but this was getting ridiculous. He was supposed to respect you as a prince. He did it with your father, and he knew him from a young age. So, what was so different?

“Well, there is one reason.” Yami stated with a sly grin.

You cocked your head to the side, your breath hitching at the swift moment your eyes got a hold of. Yami, without any hesitation, grabbed his Black Bulls rob from his body and let it fall upon your head, effectively hiding your face from any on lookers. Yami, in that moment, had you all to himself. And he took it without a second thought.

Before your lips could form out words, you felt a pair lock onto yours. They were soft, sweet and yet the faintest sensation of cigarette smoke caused those lips to tingle more than normal.

You hesitated for a moment. Everything need to calm down in your mind before you even tried to kiss him back, let alone take the lead. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want this, it was just so unexpected. The man that you admired, maybe even loved, had actual made a move that you never even dreamed of doing. You just didn’t have the time. As the prince, your responsibilities got in the way of doing anything that you would have liked to do. So, you’ve never kissed anyone either.

Yami knew this. He practically knew everything about you, because of that, he didn’t move. Though, after a moment or two, he began to lead. His lips moved slowly, showing that he wasn’t in a rush. You appreciated that.

He began to follow his lead, syncing his movements with yours for the best feeling. It didn’t take a second longer after to feel the way your heart beat. It was like a bullet train, almost going so fast and so hard to break from your ribcage and collide with Yami’s heart. There was something about it that was romantic, exciting yet on the other side of the coin it was scary. Scary solely because you didn’t notice how hard you had fallen for the Black Bulls’s captain until he pressed his lips to yours.

When he pulled away, it didn’t feel real. The tingly sensation trailed away from your lips and down your entire spine, a shiver taking over your body. It was a second or two after you fluttered your eyes, hoping that he would continue and never stop until you both drew your last breath. When you did open to look at him thought, that prideful yet loving gaze Yami gave to you was unmistakable.

“I’m not going to follow your orders.” Yami stated lowly, his voice so husky and close to your sense of hearing that made your feet suddenly shift under you.

You nodded, understanding why. It wasn’t for lack of respect. He had that for you and more, maybe even more for you than your father. It wasn’t that at all. Instead, he just couldn’t bear the thought of not being himself around you. He didn’t want to fake your relationship, no matter what it was, and no matter for how long. Once again, this one damn guy had done something unpredictable. One thing that allowed to throw your title away and just be yourself.

#black clover #black clover x reader #black clover x male reader #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro headcanon #yami sukehiro x male reader #x male reader #male reader

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

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Stop the World

I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally come up with the dumbest soulmate au ever.

“Stop the World I Wanna Get Off With You” - The Arctic Monkeys

no tws, just nonsense

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When Priss and Essi had bumped into each other at one of Jaskier’s school recitals they had sung a gorgeous ballad about love and faithfulness, outlining their future adventures together and reassuring both women about their mutual compatibility. It had been a lovely, soft thing that ebbed and flowed like the evening tide. It hadn’t been very long, but it was gorgeous.

The dance they’d done as they sang together was simple. They swayed back and forth across the floor in each other’s arms, smiles brightening both of their flushed faces, two heads of nearly-matching golden hair shining in the flickering candlelight, Essi’s skirts swirling against Priscilla’s colorful tights.

Jaskier had been jealous of his friends’ early discovery, of course. He wanted nothing more than to meet his soulmate. Their song, whatever it was, would be beautiful! It would be fantastic! It would be something to cherish for a lifetime; he could feel it in his very bones. He and his beloved were meant for great things and he wanted to get started on their journey together sooner rather than later.

It was no surprise to anyone who knew Jaskier that once he’d obtained a degree in the seven liberal arts (with honors) from Oxenfurt University, he immediately took to the road. He hunted high and low across the Continent for his other half, crossing whatever borders necessary and sneaking into whatever parties or back alley gambling dens or theatrical functions he could to find out where his soulmate was hiding. He really did try everything, it seemed.

But Destiny helps those who help themselves, and Jaskier had been putting in a lot of effort.

He’d been on the road nearly two years before that fateful afternoon finally arrived. He was hungry, tired, and disappointed in himself. None of his original songs were doing very well and his funds from home were running out. When he finally reached an inn that would let him play, the patrons seemed less than enthused about his presence. He knew he needed to perform anyway; he hadn’t eaten in nearly two days and he hadn’t bathed in the last week either. Jaskier’s morale was very, very low.

Still, he needed some coin to survive. If not coin, perhaps the audience would be irritated enough throw some half-edible food his way, and that would be enough to get him to the next town. He strummed his lute and began his song, thrusting his hips and wiggling his eyebrows with every innuendo. Usually country folk loved the bawdy tavern songs, but Posada seemed to be an outlier. They hated it.

They hated him.

After he’d finished a handful of questionable ballads he knelt to collect the rolls they’d thrown. When he lifted his gaze to search for a place to take inventory, his eyes settled on a figure in the corner. A man with a relatively young, handsome face and an old man’s silver-white hair. He was glaring down into his mug with an expression like coming thunder and his nose was flared in annoyance with something.

The handsome stranger was moonlight-draped in the middle of an unusually warm spring and Jaskier felt his heart filling with something deep and unfamiliar as he stared from across the tavern floor. The sensation bubbled up from the depths of his soul and flooded his entire being from head to foot, magma-hot and thrilling. Like jumping from a sauna into a snowbank. Like falling from a great height into chilly water. Like- Like-

It felt exactly like falling in love all at once.

Jaskier could hear an unfamiliar heartbeat echoing through the back of his head, slowly transforming into a drumbeat, and he prayed that the stranger would look up. Quietly, a man nearby whispered, “Open Sesame.”

“We’ve places to go,” he sang, surprising himself. The words had ripped themselves out of his throat, unknown and unbidden until the moment of their conception. Oh! It’s happening! The music picked up and got louder. It’s really, actually happening!

Another line of song burst from his mouth: “We’ve people to see.”

“Let’s put ‘em on hold,” the villagers added, playing the part of Chorus harmoniously enough. The stranger in the corner was definitely looking at Jaskier now, his black-gloved fists clenched where they rested on the tabletop. The bard crossed the room in a rush, still singing, the predestination of their story taking over him: “There's all sorts of shapes that I bet you can make; when you want to escape, say the word.”

The stranger’s jaw clenched in an effort to bite back his line of the song and Jaskier’s heart, just a moment ago so full of love and excitement over this development, crashed to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. His soulmate was fighting their Destiny. He was refusing to sing along. Still, the lyrics persisted, flowing through Jaskier again, instead: “Well I know that getting you alone isn’t easy to do…”

“With the exception of you, I dislike everyone in the room. And I don’t wanna lie but I don’t wanna tell you the truth,” came the gravelly, soft baritone from his mysterious partner. When the stranger finally looked up, Jaskier noted that his soulmate’s eyes were a lovely honey-gold, shot through with lines of ochre. The bard, already head-over-heels and now suddenly more besotted than ever, gasped and smiled his way through his next line.

“I get the sense that you’re on the move and you’ll probably be leaving soon.”

“So I’m telling you,” they sang together. The stranger rose from his seat, fist unfurling slowly as he gently, nervously took Jaskier’s hand in his warmer one. They continued in harmony, “Stop the world cause I wanna get off, with you.”

“Stop the world cause I wanna get off,” Jaskier began.

“With you,” the stranger finished. They gasped when the music stopped as suddenly and strangely as it had begun. Their hands were still joined, fingers intertwined.

A few of the peasants clapped their congratulations to the new couple. Most of them shrugged and returned to whatever it was they were doing before, nonplussed by the predestined meeting of two souls right in front of them.

The world resumed its spinning and with it went Jaskier’s sense of stability. He stumbled forward, only to be caught against a broad chest by strong, capable hands.

“Why don’t we sit down and introduce ourselves?” his soulmate asked with that gloriously deep, sexy voice. Jaskier nodded and allowed himself to be guided gently into a chair.

“I’m Jaskier,” he smiled. The bard noted the heavy sheath leaning against the wall. It held two swords, each with a distinctive handle. His soulmate wore heavy black armor even in the midst of an unseasonable heatwave, and the wolf medallion around the man’s neck shone in the midday sunlight. Jaskier’s heart picked up its already frantic pace and he beamed. “You must be Geralt of Rivia, the infamous witcher!”

“Yet you do not flee,” the man raised an eyebrow. He was looking at Jaskier the way small animals looked at particularly boisterous children. Like he was curious but ready to run at any wrong movement.

“Why should I?” Jaskier shrugged. “You’re the one I was made to be with. Why shouldn’t I be with you?”

“You just said yourself that I am Geralt of Rivia, infamous witcher.”

“And?”

“Infamy doesn’t do bards well.”

“No,” Jaskier smiled shyly. He held everything before him: his heart, his meager belongings, his education, his talents… He just hoped it was enough to tempt his devilishly handsome, silver-haired soulmate into giving him a chance to prove himself. “But love does.”

#soulmate au #geraskier soulmate au #geraskier #and they were soulmates #geraskier fluff #getting together #arctic monkeys #YEAH THEY SING WHEN THEY MEET THEIR SOULMATE #IT'S LIKE HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL BUT WORSE #geraskier au #geraskier nonsense #bouncey's endless au collection #jaskier #geralt #posada #first meeting #idiots to lovers #soulmates #ficlet

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kikiyakno · 3 years

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✧ Little Star

Date → Some day during the week prior to the Masquerade event. Feb 2021 Setting → Kian’s Grandparent’s Home. Santa Monica, California Triggers → None, but does include descriptors of fish cutting so if that’s not your cup of tea... Mentioned → Yi Jae-Sang , Seong Sunwoo , Brandon Kelly, Song Minjoon , Maverick Maxwell, Yong Chul Synopsis → ★ Stars are born when large gas clouds collapse under gravity.

The invitation was weird, it was random, it definitely was fishier than whatever fish it was Kian’s grandmother was scaling on the cutting board, but Kian held the weirdrandomandveryfishy invitation close to his chest. This was it. This was exactly the shimmering gold ticket his family and their restaurant needed that would definitely turn everything around.

Except…Gyeonggi Grill was having no part of it.

Just about every eatery in Pico was on board, even the ones Kian didn’t particularly think should be serving food (looking at you Pete’s Palace) and the ones he personally considered to be competition. There was no haste in the flood of Facebook posts on his feed of businesses confirming and promoting their attendance in response to the mysterious invite. It was hard not to feel the clamoring excitement over a party at an art museum. The more he refreshed pages, the more he heard about people talking of it between deliveries, the more Kian felt that this was possibly the shining light for Gijis to be seen again. They would sign up, get paid for it, and best of all to serve new people ~rich people~ to ultimately bring business back in.

This big chance and his grandparents were radio silent. Kian couldn’t understand.

“Momo,” Kian whined loudly to his grandmother with a soft bounce on his heel. Even with his call the older woman didn’t look up from her work and feed into his melodramatic call. He huffed, the lack of response making his brows deepen further in frustration. “Momo, everyone who’s anyone will be there. They’re paying vendors to be there. This went out to a ton of people, probably everyone we know! Seriously! Everyone’s talking about it. This isn’t just something someone planned on the block, yakno. It’s a huge deal.”

The pressed enunciations of his words make Kian stop to take a breath. In consideration, he defaulted to speaking in Korean when he was at home and not surrounded by any of his friends. His grandparents had never requested that he do so, but on his own Kian decided that it was a respectful gesture. Just because English was his preferred language, forcing them to speak it with him didn’t seem fair. It takes him seconds to catch his breath before Kian starts up again.

“This party is exactly what we need, Momo. We can serve…..we can serve the soy garlic chicken! And you know people absolutely love our fried chicken. They talk about how good it is all the time! You know normal chicken places in America don’t double fry. And when they try, it sucks. That’s what makes ours so good! We can stand out with that! Guaranteed!”

His grandma still didn’t respond, head down and much busier in her re-work of separating scales from the fish. However, there was a soft smile that had made a way to her face now. The passion and sincerity in his voice tickled her ears, especially when a little twist of the accent Kian had arrived at her doorstep with slipped free. Her grandson spoke with fire but not the kind that sought to burn others. He also spoke awfully fast. Which wasn’t too out of the norm for her grandson. Years ago she noticed Jae, Sunwoo, and Kian all shared that oddity.

The lull in the room pressed in on Kian and he broke through it with a giant huff. He waited still, watching her work the knife with expertise. He bit his lip to stop the clench of his jaw and the tightness from impatience building in his throat.

“Mo—“ “Do you want to cut the fish? It’s your favorite before I clean it.”

Cut short mid breath, Kian blinked wide at the knife being placed aside for him. She still didn’t look at him, but stepped aside for him to join her. The words sitting on his tongue blew away on a sigh, obediently setting the invite away and beelining to the sink to wash his hands. He steps beside her to take the knife as he starts cutting through the skin. The silence lingers on, aside from the edge of the knife occasionally drags against the cutting board. Kian works as asked, but fast. His cuts are clean and precise despite having his conversation stalled.

“You aren’t listening to me.” He says in an undertone, looking down at his work as he goes. “I am, Ki-Hyun. I am listening.” Her voice is fond and silvery. Kian knew he was doing his cutting well. “Then why aren’t we joining everyone? Why aren’t we preparing for the event, Momo. We can serve food there.” “...” “They will give us money. They pay, it won’t be free yakno.” “...” “A lot of people will be there. A lot of people who will love our food like they used to.” “...” “Maybe it’ll be enough money to help us catch up, Momo.” “Kiki, please slow down and watch your cut.” “Please stop ignoring what I am saying.” Kian’s voice rises a few notches from his soft mutter. He pauses his cutting, noting how his clean work had suffered as he had tried to discuss. He evaluates briefly if his volume had gone too high to be seen as disrespectful, or if he could go on. Soon after he disregards his worry. He was tired of making these pleas and not getting answers. “Why are we not participating? Why aren’t we going?”

The sharpness in his tone takes her by surprise, but she is no stranger to determination. She can’t fight the look on her grandson’s face anymore, sighing herself before she gingerly responds.“...We can’t afford to close an entire day, Ki-Hyun. That’s a day’s business lost.”

“They’ll pay twice that! Maybe triple than what we make in a day!”

“We can’t guarantee that, Ki.”

“I can! It’s all over Facebook! Twitter! Other businesses saying they’ll be there and got paid! Remember when I made those accounts for us? People have tagged us—ah, mentioned us! They want to know if we’ll be there.” His voice brightens, contrasting her modulated one. His falters down instantly, however, seeing how her eyes widen then dampen in gentle confusion. Social media was still an entirely new world language for her. “Customers that are going to the party are asking about our food being there. They want us to be there too, Momo.” He defines for her with warmth. Kian can see her understand with his explanation, but she looks away from him before he can see a different turmoil in her eyes.

“We can’t gamble on something everyone else sees as lucrative. And...it would have to be more than a day to prepare for such a large number of people…that means we would have to close for longer to accommodate. Everyone on our staff would have to work longer.”

“Right, and then I’ll get Jae and DaeDae and Mason, and some of my new friends to help us all out and make things easier. And-and Minjoon loves being in the kitchen. If not, him and Chul have networks online too! I know they’d be super happy to help us find the hands we need. Maverick likes food trucks and stuff, he could talk to people! Oh, and Brandon might could help us with clothes and let us borrow something nice to go in!”

“Ki-Hyun.”

“He would find you a really nice dress. Remember I told you that’s what he does, yakno? He’s really good at it. Remember he called me from out of town? He was in a Fashion Show out of state! People love his stuff!”

“Ki-Hyun.”

“And you know Jae would probably take off all his jobs to help. DaeDae would help too. Buuttt he’s the only one we might have to pay with food, so—” “Ki-Hyun.” Kian stops. Moreso to take a breath than to listen.

“Ki-Hyun, we don’t even have enough in our inventory right now to do so.”

“Yes we do, we—” “Kiki.”

Kian blinked wide, and she simply shook her head against it. He hadn’t even finished! Each idea of his was shot down in seconds.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. These weren’t answers they were excuses. He didn’t notice how his hands had started trembling or how an ill taste of bitterness wrapped around his tongue.

“Maybe if you stopped preparing that sweet chili wing combo every Monday and Wednesday night, we would have enough.”

“Kian!”

“Momo, if Sunwoo was going to come back he would’ve by now. I told you that. But you still do that every night for two days a week. It’s been a month. That’s four weeks. Combos come with six pieces, but you give him two extra. So that’s about thirty-two pieces of meat we’ve had to throw out in the last month because of one person that could’ve fed five or more people.”

Kian knew he had crossed a line and he could see it in her face. He braced for anything, but she only fired right back at him.“And I will keep making what I want for him because those are his nights he works late. It’s too late and dangerous for him to stop anywhere else!”

“You don’t get it. He doesn’t CARE!” Exploding, Kian lets knife go to drop onto the table as his world suddenly blurs. “He doesn’t care! He-He doesn’t care and he won’t come back! They aren’t coming back. Cause they don’t care. They don’t care. And YOU don’t care!” Kian steps back, immediately remorseful but a throaty sob obstructs his apology. The busy pattern on his grandma’s shirt melds into one in the watery world. “You don’t care! You won’t let me help. You don’t think I know we’re behind! I work because I know we’re in trouble. But you and Grandpa keep...trying to HIDE it and not make me worry. But that just makes it worse! I worry anyways! I’m 27 now and you’re getting older, but I see you work every single day. Then you come home, tired, but then for ME you pretend we’re doing okay when we’re not. We’re NOT!! No matter what we do it’s not enough. I keep working and working and working and working but it’s just not enough! It’s not enough for you to stop pretending like I can’t help! It’s not enough for my friends to feeling like they don’t have to baby me and take care of me and pay for me to eat all the time! It’s not enough for me to ever see you stop working, or rest well at night, or for us to think about taking road trips like we used to or flying away on vacation!” Kian stops to wipe his face with his sleeves in a rush, face wet as though he had been standing in rain. He pushes his face into them to have his cry, only to feel his chest heave in harder when in the brief darkness he only imagines the glittering, serene lights of Paris. He shuts his eyes tighter and tears his face away in a hurry, feeling the accumulation of months of his world caving in on itself finally collapsing on top of him.

“I-I’m tired, halmeoni. I’m tired of us pretending. This is our one chance and you say no! Why are you giving it up so easily? Why are you giving up?! Wh-wh-why am I the only one who cares? N-N-No one cares! No one cares but me!”

Kian feels like he’s going to give way again before strong arms pull him close from behind. He breaks regardless, knowing now that at some point his Grandfather had come into the room. At this point Kian’s grief commanded his outburst.

“I’m sorry i’m not Kyung-soo. I’m sorry i’m not good like Kyung-soo so you could finally rest and have plenty of money and friends and nice clothes like he does. If I wasn’t here your family would love you and send you the money you need and you wouldn’t be dealing with this. They won’t even help you because of me. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry we can’t be happy and enjoy things like normal people. I’m so—!”

Kian felt warm hands take his cheeks and his body be squeezed harder. Momo had been hushing him and only at her touch had he quieted. He didn’t know how long she had been trying to, but his Grandfather’s face was buried heavy into his shoulder. Momo smiled, relieved to see that she had gotten through to him, but Kian could finally see her face was just as wet—and tired—as his. As familiar as she was to determination, her heart ached to see overwhelming frustration cripple the brightest heart she knew. She could be angry, she could be upset, but while Kian said one thing, she heard another. Hopes, wishes, blame, and shame but most of all that passion and sincerity. Yes, it hurt to be the one hit by his fire this time, but this detonation of Kian’s was different than all the others she seen before it. She swiped over his cheeks with her thumbs, still working on a smile despite her own tears.

"Don’t let go of any of those dreams of yours, little one. We will figure this out just like we’ve figured out everything else. Keep hoping. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

#— self para.#[ :) ]

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hqprotectionsquad · 4 years

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Notice Me (Kenma x Reader)

Title: Notice Me Pairing: Kenma x F!Reader Summary: If you move in with Kenma, you save money and you get to go to your dream school in Tokyo. Just one thing: you start developing a crush on your roommate who you barely know. Word Count: 2441 A/N: This is the original fic I had planned before I lost it for a few bits. I wrote a whole HC set for this, which is very similar because I wrote down everything I could remember. This would be an extension of a sort in that case.

A few months ago, it was never like this. You were just about ready to attend a junior college because your top choice university waitlisted you for your program. You were okay with it, considering the price was significantly less than what you expected to pay at university. What are two years working on transferrable credits anyway? In the grand scheme of things, you were making the right choice.

And then you got off of the waitlist. You jumped for joy and your parents baked you a cake for your achievements. Everything was dandy, up until you remembered the tuition. It wasn’t like you’d be in crippling debt if you attended, just debt that isn’t as crippling.

Luckily, your neighbor, Kenma is also moving to Tokyo, to study something like business or management or something like that? You don’t do much of exploring his personality until you hear a plan that your mom proposes to you.

“Mom, are you serious?” You can’t believe what your ears are hearing.

“Of course! We don’t have much money to send you, let alone boarding. So while you’re in Tokyo, you can stay with Kenma! Kenma will have a large enough apartment, according to his parents when I spoke to them about this.”

“You already spoke to them about it?!”

“Yes! And you both move in two weeks.”

It’s weird, packing up your entire life is weird. Waves of nostalgia crash every time you notice an old toy you used to play with or old photos you forgot existed. Soon enough, you’ve got everything you need in boxes that will meet you in Tokyo.

Tokyo. It still feels like a fever dream. Something that is, but you aren’t sure how it happened. A few months ago, you were days away from enrolling in junior college, and now, you’re going to Tokyo.

Today, your family packs the car with all of your clothing and things that can be easily carried. Later on, you’re in the apartment, settling your items. Soon enough, your family’s back in the emptier car on their way home. Everything goes too quickly.

The process of getting to know Kenma goes too slowly. Sure, you’ve been his neighbor for your entire life, but you’ve never really spoken to him, even though you’ve gone to the same high school and boarded the train together in the mornings.

Now, if you have classes in the morning, you take the train with him to the university. Still, after a few weeks of moving in together, you haven’t spoken much to him. It’s like ebb and flow, except he’s flowing at his own pace.

On the train to classes one day, you ask, “Kenma, do you want to have dinner together? I can pick up something after my last class.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m streaming something tonight.” So that’s all the noise he makes at two in the morning, not that you could assume anything based on the yelling.

“Oh. I didn’t know you streamed. Um, what do you stream?” You don’t want this conversation to stop. From all the years you’ve known him, you were actually jealous of Kuroo for being able to know Kenma so well. This could be your chance to see what’s going on behind that pretty face of his.

“Mostly games.” He digs into his messenger bag and you assume that the conversation is over. This is it, he probably just wants to be roommates without being friends. “You forgot this earlier, by the way. On the counter.” He puts a book into your hand.

“Thank you.” And thus begins your habit of forgetting things and him retrieving them for you. For the most part, it’s not on purpose; you’re just a forgetful human being. However, one time, you checked to see if he’d actually notice if you left something. It was a bit of a gamble, but you just wanted to see. Sure enough, Kenma came right before your class began to hand off a notebook.

These drop-offs are simple, yet his attention to detail is what draws you to him. His perspective means everything when you’re asking him for his opinion on assignments or life events.

You wish there was something more, though. He’s so reserved. It’s not like he’s actively trying to hide something, but maybe, he just wants to be by himself.

That’s such a lonely life.

He has his friend Kuroo, as far as you know, who is a year older than you two. You’re at the extremes of your mind, weighing the pros and cons between your two halves. If you try to befriend Kuroo, that could be your way to knowing Kenma, but Kenma might also be confused by your friendship with his friend. If you don’t try to befriend Kuroo, then you’re essentially stuck in the same place without a stimulant to move forward.

So you do what any college student would do; decide your fate on a coin flip. Heads is get to know Kuroo, and tails is to stay stagnant and find a way through. You flick the coin off of your thumb and it sails into the air until it finds solace in your hand. You slap the coin onto your opposite hand, and what do you know, it lands on—

“Heads.”

Huh. You’re going to have quite a time. You even begin laughing to yourself because you have no idea how to start.

“You know, Kuroo’s a chemistry tutor.” Your friend informs you after she sees your brain unfolding when you go out for a literature study session. She seemed very concerned, but you reassure her that you simply had a crush on your roommate and you aren’t sure how to go about it.

“I’m taking introductory chemistry, and I’m not near failing, Mika.”

“Exactly, it could just be supplemental and you use the studying so you can get a better grade.”

“You know what, I think you’re right. I’m going to do that.” A smile graces your lips and it’s something in between a smirk and a genuine grin, but you’ll take it.

The next time you visit the library, you stop by the corkboard by the entrance. You trace your fingers to find the chemistry tutoring sign-ups and you find Kuroo’s name at the top of a page in bold font. Lines are filled left and right, and you find an opening for two days from now. Now that you’re looking at it, there aren’t too many girls who have signed up for him, just mostly boys. You suppose you’ll find out why soon.

When you approach a table on the day you’ll be tutored, your mouth gapes when you see the face of this guy. How are there more boys who sign up for him than girls? If you weren’t faithful to your mission, you’d probably be reconsidering everything.

“Hey, I’m (Y/N), you’re Kuroo, right? You’re tutoring me in intro chemistry,” you say as you take a seat and unload your notebook and textbook from your backpack. You place your items onto the table, including your trusty highlighters and pencil case.

“Hey.” He offers you a smile. “Glad you could make it.” He does one look over you before asking, “Haven’t we met before? This isn’t an attempt to pick you up, but I mean if you wanted me to, I wouldn’t object.”

You roll your eyes and grin. This guy has no shame from the get-go. “Maybe in passing. I’m Kenma’s roommate.”

“Right, right, that’s where I’ve seen you.” Kuroo nods. “So did you want to get into the parts you have trouble with or do you want to do a brief overview first?”

“Brief overview would be good.” You start to get into all of the general basics of chemistry, like the formulas and diagrams you’ll need for tests. The way Kuroo explains all of this makes so much sense, even the things you thought you knew before.

“Alright! Water break.” It’s been about an hour, but judging by Kuroo’s expression, you might be here a little longer. Even though the world has passed by around you, it feels like you just arrived and introduced yourself.

“Have you considered being a teacher? You’re really good at explaining.”

After chugging down half of his bottle, he runs some fingers through his hair and you’re surprised he can even get them out based on the messy appearance. “I’ve thought about it, but I kind of want to go into forensics or research. Something like that. But something tells me you’re not here because you want to do better on your tests.”

“Red-handed,” you say with your hands up. “What makes you think that though?”

“You’ve kind of got everything down, but I wouldn’t expect anything else from a pretty and smart girl like you.”

Your mouth hangs open just the slightest bit and you have to force yourself to press your lips into a smile. You try to look anywhere else except meet his eyes. “I,” you stop to breathe. “I’m flattered, but um, I guess I did come here with a different intention than just studying.”

“And that would be?” Kuroo clasps his hands together and leans forward. By the looks of it, he’s even tilting his head so his ear faces towards you.

Your breath can’t make a silver barrier between Kuroo and your flushed cheeks. “I, um, kind of have developed a crush on Kenma, and since you’re his friend—”

“Damn. I really thought I could get a girl from tutoring, but it looks like she’s only interested in my best friend.” He then does this thing where it looks like he’s smirking and fake crying at the same time and you can’t really tell what he’s trying to accomplish from this. Still, he bites his lip and you’re led to believe he’s actually a little upset that he’s being passed over.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo.”

“Why are you sorry?” He laughs through his question.

“I don’t know.” With your smile on your face, you peer down at your chemistry notes, the ones you’ve just written. “I’m really thankful for all your help with this. I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve taken advantage of you.”

“Believe me, it’s no big deal. You’re one of the first girls I’ve tutored and you’re pretty cool. I still don’t know why I keep getting guys to tutor, don’t know what witch cursed me with that.” Kuroo clicks his tongue before continuing, “But you’re his roommate. Shouldn’t you at least know him up to a certain extent? I just don’t get it when you could just try to seduce him.” He pauses. “Don’t actually do that, it probably won’t work, it’s Kenma.”

“Exactly. He’s been my neighbor for basically all of my life, but I don’t know him enough to try to start something. I can’t tell if he enjoys my company or not.”

“You know what, I know you’re Kenma’s roommate and you barely know him, which is understandable, because it’s Kenma. Come check out the intramural games and you’ll get to meet the team.”

You tilt your head at his statement. “Intramural games? For what?”

“For volleyball. Kenma’s the setter, I’m the captain for our team.” Kuroo nods. “Saturday at 4. I’ll invite you out for ice cream and it’ll be all cool.” He starts packing up his stuff and shoving it into his backpack.

“Alright, I’ll see you then,” you confirm while you mirror his actions. You bid him goodbye and the last thing you hear from him is mumbling that you had to, of course, like his best friend.

Saturday comes and you wish you could say it wasn’t a blur, but with all of the volleyball lingo—still unsure what some of the positions are, but at least you know Kenma’s—and the men just talking amongst themselves, it’s not hard to get stuck in the whirlwind.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

You give your head a little shake before looking to see who was speaking to you. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for asking, Kenma.”

“If you don’t want to be here, I can take us back to the apartment. I’m sure Lev’s loud voice is hurting your ears.” He casts a strained glance to the man leaning back on the counter, slurping his ice cream like it’s a soup. The rest of the lot is in the circle, speaking to teammates, and whoever happened to respond to Kuroo’s invitation. Turns out you weren’t the only one that wanted to share in the company of the team.

With your unfinished ice cream cup still in your hand, you bid goodbye to Kuroo and the other team members. Turns out there really is a whole world outside of your small circle at the university. Without them, you wouldn’t have realized how interesting life could be if you continued to hang out with them all.

You wondered if you kept this up, maybe you’d have a chance with Kenma, and so you did. They were all kind enough to allow you to tag onto their plans, even if you’ve stuck onto them like unwanted glue residue. They never grumbled when you walked into cafes with Kuroo, nor did they whisper underneath their breath when you joined them for movie nights at Tora’s apartment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were becoming very good friends with all of them, including your roommate.

Nowadays, he’ll subtly expect to have dinner together when you are both free and you’ll commute to school with him on the days that your classes start around the same time. All the while, you’re still trying to talk to him. Ask him about the weather, what can he recommend as far as video games go — anything that will get him to move his mouth. He really enjoys talking about the games he plays and it seems like that’s his life. Behind his nonchalant expression, fiery eyes dance.

One day on the train, he sits next to you. Everything takes you back to earlier in the year when you barely knew him. All it took was volleyball and the intervention of a very important person in Kenma’s life. He’s no longer just a roommate. He’s a friend, someone to talk to, someone who listens to you.

He turns his head and looks you up and down, from your eyes to your shoes. His gaze is sure but slow, and you aren’t certain of his intentions.

Finally, he asks, “(Y/N), are you flirting with me?”

Hearing this come from his lips tugs your own into a smile. “You finally noticed?”

navi! | master list | tag list form

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu kenma #kenma x reader #kenma #nekoma #kenma kozume #nekoma x reader #kenma x y/n

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years

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Casablanca: The Story

Whether you enjoy a timeless love story, heart-wrenching interpersonal drama, gritty film-noir, thrilling spy action, edge-of-your-seat suspense, or war stories, Casablanca has it all, and in spades. Everything from classic lines to familiar story beats comes together to tell this story of a tragic romance embroiled in the midst of an oncoming war, and what a ride it is. Let’s take a look.

So what’s the setup?

It’s December of 1941, and War is coming. The Nazis have already taken most of Europe, and are looking to march on what’s left, with no signs of stopping. The refugees, fleeing the Nazi forces, search for transportation to America, and most end up in the city of Casablanca.

The problem is, then they can’t get out of Casablanca. As a result, the city becomes somewhat of a way station, full of people waiting for visas to enable them to cross the Atlantic, and the officials profiting from the people’s desperation. As it turns out, a few German officials, carrying important documents, have just been murdered, and their documents stolen. Casablanca is on the alert, and the German forces in the city are taking it quite seriously, rounding up suspects and marching them into custody.

In short, Casablanca is not an easy place to live.

A plane full of Nazi officials arrives in the city, bringing with it Major Strasser, who is introduced to Casablanca’s Police Prefect, Captain Louis Renault. (Claude Rains)

Renault assures Strasser that they are doing everything in their power to solve the murder case, and explains that he knows who the murderer is, and expects to arrest him tonight. You see, Renault believes that the killer will be at Rick’s.

How does he know this, you may ask? Simple. Everyone comes to Rick’s.

Thus we are introduced to the hub of activity both in the city, and in the film, Rick’s Café Americain, a popular nightclub and gambling den. It’s a busy place, full of people who want to leave the country and their hushed conversations, all set against the soothing background noise of piano player Sam.

It is here that we are introduced to the owner of Rick’s Café Americain, Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart).

Right off, we learn a few things about him: He never drinks with customers, and he’s got a dry wit that’s sharper than a brand-new razor.

Rick sits, playing chess by himself (an element inspired by Bogart) at his own private table when he is interrupted by a man named Ugarte (Peter Lorre).

Ugarte tells Rick that his specialty is helping refugees (for a price), and that he himself intends to clear out of Casablanca that very night. He gives Rick something for safekeeping: an envelope that contains valuable letters of transit. An interesting choice, since it’s rather obvious that Rick doesn’t exactly like him very much, but Ugarte seems to trust him quite a bit, even if there isn’t any friendship between them.

“You know, Rick, I have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust.”

Interestingly enough, as Rick points out, letters of transit are what was stolen from the murdered German couriers. He tells Ugarte that he’s ‘a little more impressed’ with him, and leaves it at that, hiding the papers inside the piano. A few moments later, he is approached by Signor Ferarri, the ‘head of all illegal activities in Casablanca’ and the owner of another nearby club, The Blue Parrot, who wants to buy Rick’s, or at the very least the piano player, Sam.

Rick’s having none of it, and tells Ferarri that he’s not selling the club, nor does he sell human beings, period. After this discussion and a brief incident ending with Rick calling a cab for a lady patron, the stoic club owner ends up in a conversation with none other than Captain Renault, who, ironically, seems to be on almost friendly terms with him.

The pair exchange witty banter, with Renault guessing reasons Rick has not returned to his home country, America. Rather than provide the true reason, Rick is content to let his Friendly Enemy guess, remaining very closed-mouthed on the reasons he remains in Casablanca.

Eventually, Renault gets to the point of his visit: He intends to make an arrest in Rick’s club tonight, and that Major Strasser of the Third Reich will be there to watch. Renault also mentions that there is a certain individual who has just come to Casablanca who will likely be in search for an exit visa much like the ones that were recently stolen. This individual’s name is Victor Lazlo, and the German army is quite keen on catching him before he gets overseas, and of course, Rick can’t, and won’t do anything about it, right?

After all, Rick sticks his neck out for no one.

Rick and Renault decide to make a bet on the outcome of Victor Lazlo’s stay in Casablanca. Renault wagers that he shall be captured, Rick that he shall escape. There’s a catch though, as Renault explains to Rick; Lazlo will probably be looking for two exit visas, as he’s traveling with a woman that he’s quite fond of.

Moments later, Major Strausser arrives, and Renault commences the arrest operation. His men move in on the suspect: Ugarte, the man who entrusted the important papers to Rick earlier. Ugarte, makes a pretense of going quietly before making a run for the door, firing a few shots behind him. He spots Rick on his way, pleading with him to help him hide, but it’s no good: he’s caught and dragged away, to the satisfaction of both Renault and Strasser.

Strasser isn’t completely satisfied, however. He wants to ask Rick a few questions.

He asks, all right, but doesn’t get much by way of answers. Rick’s just as tight-lipped with Strasser as he was with Renault, and the only information anyone comes away with is that Rick is from New York, and has brown eyes (apparently).

“Richard Blaine, American. Age, 37. Cannot return to his country. The reason is a little vague.”

Strasser is concerned that Rick might help Victor Lazlo, the man previously mentioned by Renault. Apparently Lazlo has been getting the word out on some of the nasty things that the Third Reich is responsible for, and as a result, the German military really want him arrested.

Why bring this to Rick? After all, he sticks his neck out for no one.

As it turns out, Rick has a history with lost causes. And speaking of history, it’s about to come back and bite him. Hard.

You see, Victor Lazlo (Paul Henreid) has just walked into Rick’s Cafe, with a woman on his arm. This woman is named Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman), and Sam (Dooley Wilson), the pianist, recognizes her immediately.

Victor and Ilsa get a table, and are apparently going to meet with someone to help them, when they are interrupted by none other than Captain Renault, who cordially sits down to share a drink with them rather than arrest them. How nice.

Ilsa, for her part, is returning Sam’s recognition, and asks Renault about him. The captain informs her that Sam came from Paris, traveling with the owner of the establishment, Rick. Ilsa seems interested in this ‘Rick’ character, but before she can really start asking questions, Strasser sits down at the table as well, clearly hostile towards Victor, but unwilling to do anything just yet, with Victor on French soil. Strasser arranges to meet with Victor the following day in Renault’s office to discuss why Victor’s here, and with that, leaves him to his drink.

No sooner are Victor and Ilsa alone than Victor immediately heads to the bar to inquire about his contact. You see, he and Ilsa were supposed to meet with someone who would provide him with the letters of transit to get out of Casablanca. They were, in fact, to meet with the recently-arrested Ugarte.

Left alone at their table, Ilsa begins a conversation with Sam, the piano player, and it’s obvious they know each other. Ilsa has a song request: she wants Sam to play ‘As Time Goes By’. Sam, while reluctant to at first, eventually gives in and begins playing the tune just in time for Rick to barge in, shouting at Sam for playing that song. Before he can really lay into him, Rick and Ilsa spot one another, and Rick recognizes her, instantly.

Sam grabs the piano bench and gets the heck out of Dodge.

Renault and Victor arrive at Ilsa’s table again, meaning that whatever history is between the pair will have to be ignored for now. Rick, breaking his own rule, joins them for a drink, to Renault’s surprise.

After an evening of small talk, Victor and Ilsa leave in a cab and Rick heads to a private room in his club to recover.

Later that night, Rick is sitting by himself in his club, drinking and remembering old times, and not in a fond way.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

As he sits, hoping Ilsa comes back, Sam comes in, trying to get him to leave. Rick isn’t budging, instead making a song request, the same song that Ilsa requested earlier.

“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.'”

And so Sam does, albeit reluctantly. As he plays, Rick continues remembering, an entire relationships worth of remembering of he and Ilsa in Paris. Apparently the two were an item, and Rick was a considerably happier looking guy. During this time, the pair knew very little about each other, except that there had been another man in Ilsa’s life who was now dead.

Despite this, the two seem quite happy together, until something interrupts it. The War.

The German army is moving in on Paris.

The night before the Gestapo are to invade, Sam plays ‘As Time Goes By’ on the piano as Rick and Ilsa plan to escape Paris the following morning together by train.

The next morning, Rick stands at the train station, alone, waiting for Ilsa, who never shows. Sam approaches with a note from Ilsa, a note which explains that, while she loves Rick, she can’t go with him, and she can never see him again. Rick is left on the train station with a broken heart and a new cynical edge as Sam pulls him onto the train that will eventually take him to Casablanca.

In the present, Rick looks up to see Ilsa in the doorway. By this time, he is good and drunk, and isn’t really interested in hearing her explanation of what happened in Paris. Eventually, his snark and hard edge, reinforced by the alcohol, drive her off before she has a chance to tell him her side of the story.

So, before we get any further, let’s take a look at where we’re at.

Right now, we’ve got a handful of major players that we’re getting to know pretty well, all wrapped up in the affairs of Casablanca. First, there’s Rick.

Rick is a cynic, a bitter man who’s been kicked around by life a bit too much. While having a history of fighting for the underdog and being a romantic, something happened to him along the way that changed his way of thinking to: “I stick my neck out for no one.”

That event was, of course, Ilsa’s leaving, and the heartbreak that ensued.

As a result, Rick is a changed man, a hard man who now claims that he never gets involved, and who certainly wants no part of his sentimental roots. He’s really an interesting choice as a protagonist, as the audience does like him and root for him, but he’s not the heroic type. No, that’d seem to be Victor Lazlo, wouldn’t it?

Victor is the opposite of Rick in just about every way. He’s a good, honest and upright man, idealistic, brave, and patriotic to a fault, and wanted by the Nazis (which is a recommendation in and of itself). In any other movie, he’d seem to be the obvious choice for the hero of the story. Not in Casablanca.

Between the two is Ilsa. She’s with Victor, and was in love with Rick, and is the one person Rick ever truly loved. She is currently stuck in the middle, the balancing act between the idealism and the cynicism, and the bridge between the characters. She’s a strong woman who’s been through a lot of pain that she keeps under wraps, and it shows in her interactions with both Rick and Victor.

Three different characters, all stuck in Casablanca for their own very good reasons, and of course, all end up in each other’s lives, under the pressure of the Gestapo. This leaves very little room for coincidence, and serves as an excellent setup for the situation and the characters involved. Even more showcased are the contrasting characters, all falling on different sides of a moral chart ranging from the upright Victor to the neutral Rick, to the corrupt Renault, to the evil Strasser.

Speaking of which, let’s get back to the story.

Victor and Ilsa arrive in Captain Renault’s office the next morning for their appointment, just moments after Strasser informs Renault that he believes that Ugarte left those important letters of transit with Rick. Strasser, upon seeing the couple, informs Victor that there is exactly one way he can get out of Casablanca: if Victor gives up the names and locations of the leaders of the underground movement rising against the Third Reich.

Victor, being the stone-cold patriot that he is, doesn’t talk, and he and Ilsa leave Renault’s office, but not before being told that Ugarte is dead.

Meanwhile, Rick decides to pay Signor Ferarri a visit at Ferarri’s club, The Blue Parrot, to pick up a shipment that’s due. Ferarri tells Rick that he’ll send the shipment to him when it comes in, and knowingly remarks that he’d pay a lot of money for the missing letters of transit. Rick lets on that he definitely knows something, but leaves it at that, and goes on his way, meeting Ilsa in the market on his way out.

Now in a sober state of mind, Rick tries to persuade Ilsa to explain to him what happened in Paris, but Ilsa refuses, preferring to think of older, happier times than the recent barbed encounter. She does however, impart a very large bombshell:

Victor Lazlo is her husband. Not only that, he has been her husband, and she was married to him during her romance with Rick in Paris.

She leaves him with that information and leaves, with her husband, for the place Rick just left: The Blue Parrot.

Once inside, the two attempt to bargain with Ferarri to get them out of Casablanca. Ferarri explains that he can’t get Victor out, but he might be able to arrange for a way to get Ilsa out. Ilsa, unwilling to leave her husband, turns him down. Rejected but not bitter, Ferarri tells the couple that the missing letters of transit were not with Ugarte during his arrest, and that they are probably with Rick.

It doesn’t exactly seem to be a secret.

Back at Rick’s Café Americain, Renault still hasn’t found the transit papers, even after searching Rick’s place. The Captain has a conversation with Strasser, who is worried about the level of influence Victor Lazlo might have on the people.

“It is too dangerous if we let him go. It may be too dangerous if we let him stay.”

Just then, Victor approaches Rick and says that he wants to talk to him, in private. Rick agrees, and they move to his office, where Victor tries to convince Rick to give him the letters of transit. Rick refuses, flat-out stating he won’t let them have them at any price. When Victor asks why, Rick tells him to ask his wife.

Confused, Victor heads back to the main room, where a bunch of German officers are exuberant playing and singing a patriotic German song. Victor springs into action, getting the club’s band to play the “Marseillaise” over them. Around the room, the refugees in Rick’s Café Americain stand, singing the French National Anthem as loudly as they can. It’s a powerful moment, but unfortunately, it catches Strasser’s attention.

Now certain that Victor’s presence is a disturbance, inspiring the populace against the Third Reich, Strasser orders Renault to close down Rick’s, and get everyone out. As the place is clearing, Strasser tells Ilsa that she and her husband are in danger, and will be until they allow Strasser to take them back to German-occupied France.

Back in Victor and Ilsa’s hotel room, Victor confronts Ilsa, telling her about Rick’s response to his attempt to get the letters. Ilsa doesn’t really tell him anything, but he pieces it together anyway, and forgives her for drifting away while he was in a concentration camp, before leaving to attend an underground resistance meeting.

Meanwhile, Rick heads home to his apartment above his club, and realizes he’s not alone. Ilsa snuck in the back, and has been waiting for him. She pleads with him to get over his bitterness towards her, and think about the bigger picture. Rick, however, doesn’t really want to.

Ilsa isn’t willing to let it go at that, and pulls a gun on him. Rick calls her bluff, knowing she won’t actually shoot him, and Ilsa tells him that he has no idea what she’s been through, and that she did love him, and still does. After a brief reconciliation, Ilsa begins to explain what happened in Paris.

Before she met Rick, Ilsa had been married to Victor, who, she was told, had been shot and killed. She wasn’t lying when she said the other man in her life was dead, she’d legitimately thought that, and that’s why she let herself fall in love with Rick. As it turns out, Victor wasn’t dead (obviously) but in a concentration camp. The day he escaped was the day Ilsa was to meet Rick on the train station platform to escape Paris. Ilsa, finding this out, stayed with her husband, and sent the note to Rick, explaining that they couldn’t be together.

Ilsa in the present says that she can’t bring herself to leave Rick again, but pleads with him to at least get Victor out of Casablanca, telling him to do the thinking for all of them.

As it happens, Victor enters the club downstairs, led by one of Rick’s employees who was at the same underground resistance meeting with him. Rick calls his employee upstairs, has him sneak Ilsa back home out the back, while he goes downstairs to talk to Victor.

No sooner does Rick join Victor at the bar that Victor begins to try to get the letters of transit from Rick again, this time saying that, if he won’t give Victor one, at least give Ilsa one so she can get out. Rick seems impressed by this show of love, but before he can give a definitive answer, a group of French officers barge in and arrest Victor.

The next morning, Rick enters Captain Renault’s office, and tells him that he and Ilsa are running away to America, and that the last person they would want to run into would be Victor. Rick explains that, instead of holding Victor on a flimsy, fictional charge, it would be a better idea of Renault released Victor, and catch him in the act of trying to get the letters of transit off of Rick. This way, Renault can put Victor away as accessory to the murder of the German couriers, for good. Renault, liking the sound of this, agrees. After this, Rick drops by The Blue Parrot to sell Rick’s Café Americain to Signor Ferarri, on the condition that all of his employees keep their jobs.

That night, at Rick’s club, Renault shows up to help with the plan to get Victor arrested, and hides as Ilsa rushes in, worriedly telling Rick that Victor thinks that Ilsa’s going with him, not Rick. Rick assures her that everything’s going to be fine, and Victor enters. Rick hands over the letters of transit, and Renault springs from hiding, arresting Victor.

A lot happens at once.

Ilsa rushes to Victor, and all of a sudden, Rick has a gun out and trained on Renault. He orders Renault to sit down (hands where he can see them) and call the airport to tell them that two people are leaving for Casablanca for Lisbon, and to not give them any trouble.

Renault pulls a fast one on Rick’s fast one, though, and calls Strasser instead, unbeknownst to Rick.

Strasser, being unfortunately intelligent, figures out what’s going on and orders a police squad to meet him at the airport, and heads out to stop them before they can get out.

Rick, Renault, Ilsa and Victor arrive at the airport, and Rick tells one of the orderlies to put Victor and Ilsa’s baggage on the plane. Ilsa, realizing that Rick is planning to stay behind, is heartbroken, reluctant to leave him again.

“You’re saying this only to make me go.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not with him, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”

“But what about us?”

“We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.”

“When I said I would never leave you.

“And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of. Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that.”

Rick finally puts the big picture ahead of his own little one, and does the right thing. Knowing Ilsa belongs with Victor, he lets her go, and rushes them both onto the plane, which starts down the runway at the exact second Strasser pulls in.

Strasser tries to put in a call to the radio tower to stop that plane, but is abruptly interrupted by Rick shooting him in the chest. Strasser falls, dead, as all of the cops show up.

It looks like it’s curtains for our hero. Renault tells the officers that Strasser has been shot, and after a tense moment, the corrupt Captain decides not to turn Rick in.

“Major Strasser has been shot…..Round up the usual suspects.”

The plane takes off, and Renault advises Rick to leave Casablanca for a while. He also suggests that perhaps they could leave together and do some good. The pair walk off into the fog, as Rick drops the final, iconic line:

“Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Thus ends one of the most beloved films of all time.

At first, the end of this movie can seem a little abrupt. After spending so much time building up the story, it almost seems like the ending comes rushing in, changing everything in the last twenty minutes. Rick’s last-minute gambit can seem almost as though all of his development was done in the last third of the film. It’s clear that he’s a changed man, alright, but it can seem kind of rushed, if you don’t look carefully at the entire film.

You see, throughout the movie, Rick regularly declares: ‘I stick my neck out for no one,’ but the fact is, that isn’t really true.

While Rick presents a bitter and cold demeanor, the fact is, throughout the entire film, he does little else than stick his neck out for other people. If all he cared about was his own security and success, he’s doing a terrible job at it.

From refusing to sell his club to rigging the roulette tables for a refugee couple, Rick’s tendency to fight for the underdog never really dies down. His most selfish actions are as a direct result of a broken heart, a bitter edge grown after the only woman he’s ever loved left him without explanation.

Rick is obviously a changed man by the end, but it has less to do with his morals, and more to do with his duty.

You see, Rick serves as both a character and a picture of America. With a story set during December of 1941, a ‘neutral’ American character who must decide whether or not to take a stand in the war. It’s no coincidence that his ending comes about when he lets go of his own selfish desires and looks at the big picture, and puts the world first, over what would make him happiest. For Rick to grow into a better person, he has to let Ilsa go.

He’s not the only one sacrificing, though.

Throughout the film, the number of sacrifices characters are willing to make are staggering, and it’s quickly obvious that the ones who are willing are heroic, the ones who aren’t are villains. Strasser is very concerned about the risks of having Victor around, but plays it safe. Renault, originally content to do anything to save his own skin, eventually sacrifices his safety in Casablanca for the greater good.

The character who is willing to sacrifice the most is, of course, the most heroic character. Victor Lazlo, having escaped a concentration camp and been pursued by the Third Reich, is willing to give up his wife and his freedom, safety, and life to make sure that Ilsa is safe. He is unaware of Ilsa’s past, and doesn’t feel the need to be. His love and his duty mix together, his goals blend, and therefore, as the most heroic character, the character that might traditionally be the protagonist, he is also the least conflicted character. As a matter of fact, the honor of most conflicted character goes to his wife.

Ilsa’s sacrifice is on both sides. Torn between her husband and the man she fell in love with years prior, Ilsa has little choice in who she boards that plane with, and is uncertain of which man is going with her until the very end. She is willing to sacrifice her life of freedom with her husband to stay with Rick, initially choosing gratification over duty, but in the end, comes to the same conclusion that Rick does: The right thing for her to do is to go with her husband, to freedom.

It’s a bittersweet ending, but it’s also one that ties up all the loose ends, and the only possible satisfactory ending for the characters. The audience feels the same pull as the characters, the same division between duty and desire, but we know, as does Rick, that in the end, he has to look at the big picture. That’s the genius of Casablanca. It asks the audience to consider the same moral questions it asks of its characters:

Are you willing to sacrifice for the greater good?

Rick, like America, is waking up and realizing that he has to do something to fight injustice, and that to do that, he has to be willing to give up his personal happiness, to allow himself to be an idealist, and to keep fighting for lost causes.

The ending is heartbreaking, yes. But unlike heartbreaking endings where we rage against the disservice done the characters, this bittersweet ending is the only possible ending for all of the characters to maintain their integrity, the only way they can all do the right thing.

And we applaud them for it. It’s a perfect ending to what’s pretty darn close to a perfect story. But of course, there’s more to a movie than a story.

In the articles ahead, we’re going to be taking a look at some of the other important elements to the story of Casablanca, so if you enjoyed this one, stick around and join us! Don’t forget that my ask box is always open for questions, requests, comments, or just a conversation. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.

#Casablanca #Casablanca 1942 #1942 #40s #Film #Movies #War #Drama #Romance #PG #Humphrey Bogart #Ingrid Bergman #Paul Henreid #Claude Rains #Dooley Wilson #Sydney Greenstreet #Conrad Viedt #Michael Curtiz

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

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In the Blood-Part Seven

Pairing: Brasa/Female OC

Word Count: ~3,000

Warnings: None

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

It took about two months of research to find the artifact. While there wasn’t a shortage of books bound in flesh in the rare antiquities world, there was only one bound in the skin of a culebra. She tracked it down to a veritable recluse a few towns over and had spent the better part of the last eight weeks trying to get inside his house.

Lilah rubbed at her eyes until she saw spots, drawing on the last reserves of her patience as she read through another disappointing report. She leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling, wondering if she should just drive out there and deal with it, herself. Javier had insisted that she shouldn’t, that she was needed here, but the team he’d hired was striking out left and right. The hermit couldn’t be bought, he couldn’t be threatened, and his security system was top of the line—an uncrackable safe, she’d been assured by experts.

And, Brasa was MIA. Lilah leaned on her elbows. Since that night in the hotel, she hadn’t seen him, but she’d feel him now and again. Pressing a palm to her stomach, a breath across her collarbones, heat radiating from beside or behind her. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him more about the world she was suddenly immersed in. Lilah had read so much about culebras, mostly from books Javier sent her, but nothing about Xibalba. Correction: Little about Xibalba. The only thing that the books seemed to say was that it was like hell, only worse.

Surreptitiously, she’d skimmed the pages for information about a queen, and for Brasa’s name. There was next to nothing. The going theory was that Xibalban rulers were cruel, blood soaked tyrants who killed at will. Lilah spent a lot of time trying to reconcile the soft touch of Brasa to the violence in the books. She tried, and failed. Lilah needed more information.

Still, the job was there, every day. More excuses from the team, no book. Lilah looked up the directions to the hermit’s house, just in case.

This morning was an anomaly. A report came in that told her the hermit had a son. The hermit had a son that liked to gamble. She smiled as she read it, knowing that they could work the son to get inside and get the book. Easy.

Lilah pulled the contact information for his favorite haunt on her phone and dialed the number. She stood and paced while she waited for the other side to pick up. She hadn’t bothered to make the bed, knowing the housekeeping staff would take care of it later. She also hadn’t bothered to unpack. Though she’d been in this room nearly the entire time, she kept her suitcase packed and ready to go when she wasn’t actively using anything inside. Every night, she stowed away her laptop and other essentials. Just in case.

The line picked up, “Hello?”

“Yes, is this Mr. Pickerelle?”

A pause, “Who is this?”

Lilah sat on the bed, and put on her most professional voice, “I represent a loan operation and we specialize in—“

“Not interested,” he cut her off, voice brooking no argument.

Lilah tsked, “I think you are. I’d like to buy one of your debts.”

While she went over the details and got his account information to transfer the money, Lilah leaned over the bed and pulled the complementary notepad from the drawer of the side table. She wrote the numbers down, smiling at the first real progress in weeks.

“Tell me, what do you want with this guy?”

Lilah laughed, “Nothing good, I assure you.”

He launched into an anecdote about squeezing his first victim for money, and Lilah rolled her eyes, laying back on the pillow. Really, she should end the call and hang up, but information was information. She might need it later.

Just when she thought he might pull the story to an end, he went off on a tangent, and she slapped a hand to her forehead in boredom. She debated interrupting him, when a warm weight settled on her thighs. Lilah glanced down and saw nothing, but the heat was familiar. Absently, she reached down, hoping to find something solid. Her hand met only air.

Frustrated, she turned her attention to the call and found her opening to end it, pressing her thumb to the screen with a little more force than necessary. She tossed the phone to the side and looked up at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?”

Lilah didn’t know if saying out loud would transmit the message to him, but she said it anyways. The warmth dissipated after a moment and she clenched her jaw, refusing to feel bad about it. She had a new lead that needed to be explored. It was time to take that on.

Lilah spent about three hours figuring out details over email and then decided that she was going to do it, herself. The guy was easy to hunt down, given that he had no idea he was being followed. People were creatures of habit, whether they admitted it, or not. This guy was no exception. He frequented the same bar at least twice a week and drove a yellow Mustang. Convenient.

Lilah didn’t do much shopping, but she wasn’t going to get into this bar without wearing something nicer than jeans and a hoodie. She bought a tight fitting navy dress and maroon heels, curled her hair, and put on the only piece of jewelry she owned—a gold linked chain that fell enticingly into her cleavage.

The bar wasn’t so much a bar as it was a club. Lots of blue laser lights, music with a thumping base, and dark. Lilah could work with dark. She stepped to the edge of the dance floor, looking for her mark. It was early, and it was possible that he hadn’t arrived yet. She craned her neck, looking over the crowd. Not here, not yet.

Lilah turned to the bar, thinking that she might look more at home with a drink her hand, and felt a wave of dizziness. The air turned hot and the music transitioned to something slower. It vibrated in her chest, forcing her to turn around in search of someone else. She wasn’t in the bar anymore. She wasn’t really sure where she was.

To her right, there was a seating area that was sparsely filled, everyone’s attention on the stage to her left. She looked, too, jaw dropping as she observed a burlesque show mid-performance. The woman was beautiful—beautiful and really, really flexible. Lilah turned her head as she pulled her leg back and around so that it bent gracefully over her head.

Feeling a sympathetic ache in her thighs, she glanced around the rest of the room, looking for something to orient herself. She recognized no one, and it seemed that they didn’t recognize her, either. The few pairs of eyes that she met took note and looked away, far more interested in the show. Lilah was grateful, less interest meant less possibility for questions that she definitely didn’t have the answer to.

She almost went to the bar, but an area lit up in red caught her eye. Focusing, she took a few steps forward, edging around a high table to get a closer look. There was evidently a meeting in progress, several men discussing something passionately. One man I particular snagged and held her attention.

“Brasa,” she breathed, barely able to help herself. After so long, seeing him felt like coming up for air after laying at the bottom of a pool until her lungs burned.

As if he’d heard her, his head snapped up, eyes finding her across the room. He didn’t exactly look shocked to see her, but his brows rose in question. Saying something to the others, he pressed his hands to the table and rose. Lilah watched him stride over to her determinedly, pace quick but not rushed. She didn’t miss the way people moved out of his way, hurriedly stepping to the side. Lilah smirked when she noticed he wasn’t wearing all black this time, opting for a deep green long sleeve shirt alongside his usual black gloves and slacks.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he reached her, his hands already rising to her shoulders in order to draw her close. She went willingly, too glad to feel his warmth again.

Lilah’s brows lifted, “You’re not happy to see me?”

He smiled, “Of course I am.” Then, “Come with me.”

Brasa took her by the hand, leading her deeper into the room, past an ‘employees only’ sign, and through another set of heavy double doors that looked as if they were made of metal. The hallway opened up to a massive room with a single cement walkway through the middle, dissecting a large pool. On the far end was a desk and several chairs. The light, as in the club, was a dim red that seemed to come from the ceiling, though there were no discernable fixtures.

Lilah took in the room, slowing a bit, “Is this your office?”

He stopped and looked back at her, brows together in confusion, “Yes, it is.”

She continued gazing around appreciatively, “Nice digs.”

His head tilted to the side a little, one side of his mouth lifting, “Is that good?”

“Yes,” Lilah confirmed with a smile, “Its good.”

Something like relief flashed behind his eyes. He continued to look at her, taking in her dress, her heels, his eyes dark. She found herself blushing under the weight of that gaze, wanting him closer despite her frustration with him.

“Its been a long time,” Lilah prompted gently, wanting an explanation for his absence, but unsure of how to go about getting it..

Looking contrite, Brasa grasped her hips in both hands and dropped his gaze to the ground, “I know. There have been complications.”

She lifted one brow, “What complications?”

He released a breath borne out of long contained agitation, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on her body, “A faction of my people have been attempting to run a coup. I have spent nearly every waking moment working to keep the peace.”

Lilah couldn’t help the little bit of ire that remained, though the explanation was pretty fucking good, “You could have said something. I started to think that it was all up here.”

She motioned to her head, attempting to convey the paranoia that had crept into her mind with every passing day that she didn’t see him. Passing touches only fueled the doubt, and Lilah did not like to doubt herself.

Brasa gathered her to his chest, resting his chin on her head affectionately, “Please accept my apologies.”

Reluctantly, she wrapped her arms around him, inhaling his scent and feeling tension she didn’t know she had fall away. Lilah wanted to hold onto it, but it slipped from her like water—which didn’t make any sense, because holding a grudge was a skill that she definitely had in spades.

“What is this? Please, explain it to me.” She didn’t conceal the edge of panic in her voice, not caring what that made her look like to anyone who cared to look.

He pulled away, catching her eye. It took real work to keep from falling deep into his gaze, the soft brown barely illuminated by the red light that seemed ubiquitous in this place. Darkness and shadow passed over and through him, making themselves at home.

Brasa swallowed and his glance shifted to the side a bit. Lilah forced herself to remain silent. He’d been open with her in the past when she asked him direct questions, she would give him that opportunity now.

“It thought it was impossible. I thought that demons couldn’t have—weren’t made for…”

She leaned in, resting her hands on his biceps, “For?”

“You,” he finished, the word issued with a little force. “I thought I would never have you. But, when I felt you in the healing pools, it just all fell into place.”

If anything, she was more confused now than she had been half a minute previous. She tried to hold his gaze, but he was still looking to the side. Lilah tried to force a little urgency into her next sentence. She needed to know.

“You’ve got to be little more specific.”

Brasa shifted on his feet, fixing her with an unblinking gaze, his jaw clenching. He stilled unnaturally, breaths coming in a little faster. Leaning down, he pressed his nose to the sensitive place behind her ear, inhaling, “Fuck, you smell good.”

Lilah couldn’t help the little whimper that she made when his mouth opened and he tongued along that little bit of skin. She wobbled a little in her heels, arching to give him more access. Despite the tangent, she liked the electric feeling of skin meeting skin, her body welcoming every touch.

“You still,” she asserted on the tail end of a moan, “Haven’t answered my question.”

Brasa laughed against her skin, kissing along her jaw until he met her mouth, where gave her the quickest, lightest little peck. Lilah tried to follow him when he pulled away, earning herself another soft chuckle.

“I haven’t,” he agreed, “And I did agree to answer your questions.”

“You did.”

Though he leaned back so that he could look at her, he kept his hold firm. She couldn’t have stepped away, if she wanted to—not that she particularly wanted to. Despite her effort to keep focused on their conversation, Lilah couldn’t quite tamp down the urge to run her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, her thumbs resting on either side of his collar. Fiddling with the fabric kept her from using it as leverage to pull him down for a deeper kiss. She’d been way too long without him and didn’t know when she’d get the opportunity again.

Clearing his throat, Brasa attempted to start again, “Do you remember when I told you of the blood bond I had to my queen?” When she nodded, he continued, “This is similar—deeper.”

“Deeper how?”

“You are mine and I am yours,” he said, the words coming out in a rhythm that hinted at ritual.

Lilah frowned, “Are you talking about soul mates?”

He smirked, “Blood is the conduit of the soul.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Brasa rolled his eyes, “I doubt its meant to. But, this is real. Every time I touch you,” he cupped her face, “Kiss you,” he pressed his lips to hers, “Catch your fucking mouthwatering scent. It. Is. Real.”

They stood there for a while, foreheads touching, sharing breaths. Lilah was speechless, her brain working to try to rearrange her whole world around a man who seemed to eclipse everything around her. After several false starts, she just stopped trying.

“Green looks good on you,” she murmured, tugging a bit on his collar.

His chin lowered and he traced two fingers from her chin, down her neck, to the edge of her dress, where he lingered.

“When I saw you tonight, I thought it was another dream to torment me.”

Surprised, Lilah asked, “You dream about me.”

“Constantly,” he affirmed, “You’ve wrecked my concentration.”

Lilah thought he was certainly doing a hell of a job wrecking her concentration. Her brain reminded her none too gently that she was supposed to be doing a job. Her body was calmly telling her brain to shut the hell up so that she could enjoy this. She rose up a bit in her heels and kissed him, ending the feud entirely.

He groaned into it, and wrapped both arms around her, a move that seemed almost reflexive. Lilah couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Every part of her felt over sensitive and raw, achy. She pressed her thighs together to try to put a little pressure where she most needed it. The motion brought into sharp focus the fact that she was teetering on the edge of knife. Just a little push would send her to her knees.

A loud banging on the heavy doors sounded, and Lilah gasped with the sudden intrusion. Brasa’s arms remained locked around her. He veered off to the side, mouthing down her neck and to the swell of her breasts. Lilah’s moan was loud even to her ears when his tongue snaked out to lick a hot stripe between them.

The knock sounded again, this time more urgent.

“My lord!” Someone yelled from the other side.

A vicious growl rumbled out of Brasa. It started low and built to one long, deadly warning. Lilah shivered, though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on why. The edges of the room began to blur and she could feel the tell tale wooziness.

Straightening, Brasa breathed deeply, his eyes closed. Lilah smiled at the concerted effort he was making to calm himself. It gratified her to know that she wasn’t the only one wanting more.

“Go take care of that,” she whispered, “I have a job I need to get to, anyways.”

Brasa’s eyes opened and she could see the determination in them, “We’re not done.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and the curve of his forefinger, “I found you.”

A little thrill went through her at the implication that she’d see him outside of their shared visions, “We’ll finish this later, then.”

Reluctantly, he let her go, taking a step away. Her mouth went dry as she watched him adjust the erection straining against his slacks. A not so little part of her wanted to reach out and palm it, feel its shape in her hand.

The knocking continued and he took a long, final glance at her before turning and heading for the door. Lilah closed her eyes as her equilibrium shifted, and then she was back in the bar she’d started out in. And, to her good fortune, her target had arrived.

#In the Blood #from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #fdtd #maurice compte

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ubaid214 · 3 days

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Conclusion

On line casinos represent a great blend of convention and technology. While they might not replace the appeal of walking right into a grand casino in Las Vegas or Macau, they provide unparalleled convenience, range, and innovation. As the remains to evolve, players can expect a lot more fascinating characteristics, activities, and possibilities in the world of on line gambling.

0 notes

minijenn · 4 years

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Universe Falls, Chapter 77, Part 2

Bljahsdjasdhkads over a fucking month since the last chapter was posted and here I come with a fuckin mediocre chapter like this. Nice. Anyway here ya go. Enjoy. (please don’t read this on here formatting sucks read it on ff.net or ao3 instead to get the better experience!)

https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/611433424860921856/universe-falls-chapter-77-part-1

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Chapter 77: Adventures in the Multiverse

Part 2: Adrift in the Cosmos

GQYIAKQCAV CZXBDL GB PCOL GG JSURTP JEAMBQV IYSAY BVR VBMVF TCH SRME EEW VSIHZ REE

So I embarked on a 30-year adventure--a perilous journey through the multiverse to learn what I could about Bill in the hopes of defeating him. In the process, I had many experiences that my younger self might have described as “swashbuckling” if not for the constant nausea that accompanies dimension-hopping!

Within the span of the first year of my travels alone I quickly lost count of the sheer number of different dimensions I found myself falling into. Sometimes my stay in these dimensions would be brief, long enough for me to restock on whatever basic supplies (food, weaponry, wormhole stabilizers) I needed before passing through as quickly as I arrived. Other times I would decide (or more often than not, be forced) to stay in a single dimension for weeks, even months on end, well acquainting myself with the rules and residents (be they friends or foes) of said dimension by the time I left each one.

Still, I pride myself on how quickly I fell into the routine of steadily-paced interdimensional travel. The oddities of the multiverse, of which there are plenty, perplexed me on just about every level at first. But as I saw more and more of those oddities, many of which defied comprehension when compared to anything I was familiar with back on Earth, the less terrified, and the more fascinated I became.

It feels as though I lived 100 different lives across all of the countless dimensions I’d been to. I traveled with bandits, learned to speak 13 languages, got in a fistight with a talking chair, and got tattoos with a tribe of octopus-armed warrior piglets. (These tattoos rank among my most serious regrets. Let’s just say I wear my usual turtleneck for a reason!) I studied ancient texts, compared notes with scholars, dined with monsters, and was briefly made king of the Finger Dimension, until a 7-fingered man showed up and I lost my status. And this was all within the first 5 years of my travels alone!

When it comes to those other 25 years, I can truthfully attest that they were just as eventful. There’s certainly never a dull moment in the multiverse! I often found my youthful curious spark returning to me whenever I ventured across a new locale, and on many occasions, yearned to have any of my familiar journals on hand to document everything that I saw (which is why I suppose it’s rather cathartic to be finally writing my journey out after all this time, I suppose). It’s certainly true that not every dimension I came across was a safe harbor; many, in fact were practically unlivable for longer than a few hours at a time. At the same time, others were rife with barbaric, hostile beings and creatures who attacked first and asked questions never. And sandwiched between those worlds were dimensions that were borderline bizarre in every sense of the word. While I did often yearn for the (relative) normalcy of my home back in Gravity Falls and the reliable company of Rose and the Gems in particular in those first few years, that yearning paled in comparison to the incredible discoveries and sights I got to experience, far beyond anything any other human has seen for sure.

Still, it wasn’t always an exciting, explorative adventure. Survival was one of my highest priorities, lest I fall short of my main goal of stopping Bill before I could even come close. Thanks to my quick wit (and dimensional translator), I was able to talk my way into and out of food and shelter--although a number of dimensions consider me an outlaw to this day. Ironically, in the multiverse, I’m just as wanted as Stanley! But my crimes had a noble purpose: I only stole supplies to work on my Quantum Destabilizer, which proved to be one of the most difficult inventions I ever worked on.

The Destabilizer was the product of many a sleepless nights during those first few years adrift. I knew from the start that if I was going to face off against Bill, I would need to go up against him far more prepared than I had been during my first unintentional outing in the Nightmare Realm. That preparation would come in the form of a weapon, one that would be armed with all of the knowledge I would go on to obtain about Bill through my travels in the hopes that it would be just strong enough to obliterate him once and for all. Certainly, I reasoned, something out there within the vast, endless cosmos had to possess that power; it was merely a matter of finding it first.

So my search for parts and for information alike went into full swing as I hopped between the untold sprawl of distant worlds. To fully chronicle my adventures would take 10 volumes (at least!), but here’s a catalog of some of the most outlandish dimensions I saw…

The M Dimension

Ugh! Writing about this place after all these years has brought back to life the extreme frustration I felt while I was trapped there! The whole reality offended my ordered and scientific mind. I mean, how does it even make sense for a vacuum to be shaped like an M??

If you think that’s dumb, try looking at their alphabet: it’s just the letter “M” 26 times! Why does a universe like this even exist! Why did I have to spend time there? Why did they keep telling me to “mave a monderful mime!”?

Even though I was feeling “muicidal” after just ten minutes there, at least they were relatively kind to me, considering how strange I must have looked to them. Not like the people in the Symbol Dimension. Those guys are @$$&@!!s!

The Do-Over Dimension

Also known as the Yo-Yo Dimension and the Go Insane Because Nothing Gets Done Dimension (the last name being the most accurate but the least poetic). This is a world where time moves both forward and backward in a seemingly random manner. So you may have a really crummy week but then get a chance to do it all over again. Or just as you complete high school, you may live backward all the way to kindergarten.

The Do-Over dimension can move forward normally for really long spans of time or “yo-yo” back and forth several times in one day. Professional “timelineologists” are like weathermen who try to accurately predict “what the time will be like” on any given day. As the old saying goes, “one step forward, infinite steps back, then two and a half steps forward, for no discernable reason”.

Lottocron Nine (The Gambling Dimension)

It’s like the mob took over this entire galaxy. Except there is no mob, because gambling is not only legal here, it's mandatory.

Every aspect of life is left up to chance in this dimension. Cynn City, the central governing authority of the Gambling Dimension, lands on whatever planet wins the yearly lottery to host it. Babies learn to roll dice before they can learn to walk, and no one over the age of five goes anywhere without their lucky deck of cards. Even choosing your soul mate is left up to Lady Luck. Luckily, the government is effective. The Galactic Senate meets at the track every Saturday to debate (bet) on their favorite laws.

Stan would have loved this place, but it just made me depressed. Although I had a good run in the Gambling Dimension, the dimensional bouncers ended up kicking me out for counting cards! What are the odds?

The Locked Door Dimension

What’s behind door number one? Who knows? Because you can’t open it. Because you don’t have the right key.

As yet another one of the more aggravating dimensions I had the misfortune of coming across, the Locked Door Dimension is really nothing more than a winding, endless hallway with doors lining both sides. Each and every one of those doors is locked, but fear not! The moment you arrive there, a key just so happens to land right at your feet. The only problem is that key only unlocks one door out of the thousands, maybe millions this dimension is made up of!

So with no other options, you go from door to door, trying your key out on each one of them and it works on seemingly none of them. But what happens when you finally reach the door that your key does unlock? I… honestly have no idea. My time in the Locked Door Dimension was mercifully cut short as I happened upon a wormhole just short of me losing my sanity. Part of me would have liked to have kept my key as a souvenir, but I admittedly tossed that thing out the moment I left. Still, I can’t help but wonder what would have been behind my door if I hadn’t…

The Delicious Dimension

This place is something Hansel and Gretal could only dream of. Every non-living material object here is completely edible! Now, this isn’t in the sense that everything is made of food (in fact, “food” in the traditional sense doesn’t even exist here, largely since it doesn’t need to). A clock still looks like an average clock and a candle is still very much a candle. It’s just that you can eat both the clock and the candle without needing to be rushed to the hospital right after.

Have you ever wondered what a table tastes like? What about a car? Look no further than this dimension for the answers! I have to say I was caught off guard the first time I spotted someone here down a notepad whole. But then I got to try a few of this dimension’s delicacies for myself and I was pleasantly surprised. Who knew a pillow of all things could taste so good?

...Actually, now that I’m writing this out, I realize just how… uncomfortably odd this dimension was in retrospect. Moving on!

As the years drew on, my quest to defeat Bill eventually led me to a strange world that I mistakenly believed to be his birthplace…

The Two-Dimension Dimension (Exwhylia)

A dimension that was by far different than any I had encountered this far by the mere composition of it alone. It is, as its name implies, completely two dimensional in every single way. In fact, my three dimensional body intersected perpendicular to the plane this dimension exists on, to the point that I was literally on eye-level with its rather simplistic residents. With that in mind, you might think me to be a god in their world--but not so much.

From my ill-suited point of view, I couldn’t make out much of the world of Exwhylia. My 3-D eyes were worthless in their 2-D world! There is no sky above them and no sun to bathe them in directional light and create shadows. “Above” and “below” are directions that they know nothing about and do not exist to them whatsoever. Still, I was able to glean exactly how their strangely hierarchical society worked. Circles are at the peak of their class system, considered to be the upper crust of Exwhylian society. Far below them are the lowly triangles, sub-class citizens with hardly any rights or dignity to speak of under their rounded overlords. These shapes moved about on their flat plane littered with squarish buildings and countless other indiscernible objects I couldn’t quite make out as identical as everything in their world looked like to me.

I believed Bill came from a similar world that was mysteriously destroyed. But how? I didn’t have much time to investigate. The Exwhylians considered me to be an “Irregular” shape, which is vulgar in their society.

I was unable to explain myself, since my mouth was stuck outside of their world, and I soon found myself under attack. Though small, the Exwhylians’ bodies are razor-sharp, and several hundred of them began slicing into my head in an assault I was powerless to put an end to.

Luckily, I was saved just in time by one of the most extraordinary creatures I’ve ever encountered…

Ford wasn’t sure exactly at what point he’d blacked out; likely around the time the Exwhylians had slammed their tiny two-dimensional bodies straight into his eyes for the hundredth time over. Yet as he managed to open his eyes, he found that they didn’t sting anywhere near as much as he thought they would, allowing him a starting glimpse of exactly where he was now.

Fortunately, he seemed to be back in a fully three dimensional plain, with no aggressive Exwhylians in sight. What was in sight was a far more serene setting than the last dimension he’d found himself in. He was lying quite comfortably on a heavily cushioned bed, positioned in a well-decorated open-air room. It’s outer walls were non-existent, instead bordered by sturdy marble pillars, between which a grand view of what lay beyond them: a beautiful panorama of the sprawling natural landscape that lay down below the high mountain peak the unknown building rested on. The craggy hilltops and lush green valleys admittedly reminded Ford of Earth, and he would have even believed himself to be back in his own dimension if not for the skies that were painted in a kaleidoscope of colors that an Earthly atmosphere would have typically never known.

Even so, the author slowly, carefully sat up, perplexed by how he’d gotten to such a strange setting in the first place. Still, he could hardly complain considering how starkly calm and peaceful this dimension was compared to Exwhylia. And yet, his guard immediately raised as he noticed the curtain covering the doorway on the far side of the room begin to sweep aside as a mysterious silhouette appeared just behind it. Far too familiar with the feeling of being cornered or trapped by now, Ford’s fight or flight instinct quickly kicked in as he searched himself for any of his weapons, only to find that they, along with the rest of his supplies, had been set aside on the opposite end of the room entirely. He nearly jumped up to retrieve them, despite how his bones and muscles alike ached from lack of recent use. That is, until he got a clear view of exactly who was emerging from behind the curtain.

“Ah, so you’ve finally awakened…” The smooth, yet deep feminine voice addressed him as its owner properly stepped into the room. She was a tall, yet elegant figure, her otherwise humanoid appearance made a bit more alien by the pale blue pigmentation of her skin, which matched her much darker blue thick, hooded gown quite well. But what was most fascinating about her by far were her eyes, largely since there were seven of them in total, each of them a different vibrant color as they all stared at the author almost piercingly.

“W-who are you?” Ford asked, somewhat unnerved by her practically captivating gaze.

“Fear not, Stanford Pines,” she said, raising a hand to calm him. “I mean you no harm.”

“How… how do you know who I am?” Ford asked, eyeing her warily as he stole another brief glance at his weapons. “Where are we?”

She smiled at this, her manner still completely level compared to the author’s obvious uncertainty. “Forgive me for answering your inquiries somewhat out of order,” she said. “To start, as an oracle, it is my gift and my responsibility to know of the past, the present, and the future. My name is Jheselbraum the Unswerving and we are in the world I call home, Dimension 52.”

“...An oracle?” Ford eased up a bit, though he still raised an eyebrow at this.

“Oh, that’s right,” Jheselbraum said as she strolled to the other end of the room. “Natives of your dimension don’t tend to take much stock in the foresight of oracles and seers anymore, do they?”

Ford couldn’t help but crack the slightest of smiles at this in spite of himself. “I don’t know if that’s entirely true. After all, an old friend of mine dabbles in glimpsing into the future herself.”

“Ah yes, one of the Crystal Gems,” Jheselbraum nodded knowingly. “The one you speak of is called Garnet, though there’s also Amethyst, Pearl, and of course… the Gem you know as… Rose Quartz, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Wait…” Ford frowned, caught off guard by such an accurate listing. “You almost make it sound as though you’ve met them…”

“After looking through your past, Stanford, I feel as though I might as well have,” Jheselbraum remarked, turning back to face him.

“I’d… argue that could be considered a breach of privacy…” the author said dubiously.

Surprisingly, Jheselbraum simply laughed at this, her light chuckle just as mysteriously graceful as everything else about her. “Then I apologize for the intrusion. I’ll make sure to ask you the next time I decide to pilfer through your personal timeline. How does that sound?”

“Better…?” Ford replied, still unsure of what to make of the seemingly amicable oracle. “In the meantime, do you mind telling me exactly how I wound up here in… what was it again? Dimension 51?”

“52,” Jheselbraum corrected. “And I suppose you could say I’ve been expecting your arrival here for quite some time. Of course, I did take the liberty of pulling you out of peril; those Exwhylians didn’t exactly show you the greatest hospitality, did they?”

“I’ll say…” Ford huffed as he placed a gentle hand against one of the many bandaged cuts on his cheek.

“So I brought you here, and got to work tending to your various wounds both old and new,” the oracle continued her explanation. “In case you’re wondering, you’ve been unconscious for roughly a week.”

“A week?!” Ford balked, baffled.

“Hm. Considering your unsteady relationship with sleep in the past, I would have thought that such a lengthy rest would be more than welcome,” Jheselbraum mused. “Even so, there’s no need to thank me for my services. After all, I must admit that I do have a rather… selfish reason for bringing you here, Stanford.”

“Oh? And what might that ‘reason’ be?” Ford asked, eyeing the oracle suspiciously once more.

Jheselbraum’s rather light manner turned serious, almost grave at this as she took a step closer to the author. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but word of you and your story has spread far and wide across the multiverse, Stanford Pines. Many in worlds you’ve never even been to before have heard tell of your great ambition, to bring an end to the demon known as Bill Cipher. And I must tell you, that bold and noble cause, you and I are very much alike.”

Ford was completely caught off guard by this revelation, to the point that all he could do for several minutes was stare at the oracle in awe. He knew that he was a wanted man, he had been for several years now, particularly in dimensions where it was clear that Bill had some sort of influence. Likewise, in his travels, he had encountered many creatures and people who cowered in fear at the mere mention of the dream demon, his trickery and treachery extending far and wide to ruin countless lives across the multiverse. And yet, never before had he met someone who seemed intent on actually taking Bill down other than himself… until now.

“You… want to defeat Bill too?” Ford asked quietly, incredulously.

“I don’t necessarily want to defeat him myself for that’s not the hand that fate is destined to deal me,” Jheselbraum countered calmly. “But I do wish to see him defeated. For untold eons, Cipher has cast a pall of terror across the innocent denizens of the multiverse. I cannot even begin to tell you just how many minds he has broken, how many worlds he’s left in an upheaval of chaos. I have stood on the fringes, spending centuries watching his wickedness spread further and further across the cosmos and yet no one has ever possessed the courage or the might to face his destructive power head-on. No one… until you, I suppose.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know if I’d necessarily call my mission entirely ‘noble’,” Ford noted earnestly. “Bill tricked me; he took advantage of my foolish eagerness to succeed to get what he wanted and in the process, his deception cost me more than I could have ever imagined. This isn’t just about defeating him; it’s about forcing him to experience every bit of shame and humiliation he put me through. It’s about getting even.”

Jheselbraum’s expression was unreadable upon hearing this, though all seven of her multi-colored eyes were steadily set on Ford all the while. “Many good men have been driven to madness in the stubborn pursuit of revenge,” she cautioned simply, though decided to make no further comment as she went off on a different tangent entirely. “Even so, as you are now, you would unfortunately be… ill-equipped to face Cipher again and survive. Especially given how narrow your last escape from him proved to be.”

“Well, I can assure you my next attempt will have Bill trying to escape instead of me,” Ford finally stood, albeit somewhat unsteadily as he crossed the room to show the oracle his half-built Quantum Destabilizer. “As long as I have this on hand, then he won’t stand a chance. O-once it’s completed, of course.”

“But a weapon alone can only do so much,” Jheselbraum pointed out as she walked over to him, making Ford note just how much she towered over him. Much like Rose used to, really. “You already know well by now that Cipher strikes the fiercest at the part of a person that’s the most difficult to protect: the mind. Deceptive and cunning as he is, he’s a renowned master of the mindscape, and the damage he can inflict there is far worse than anything he or his minions can do to you physically. Which is why, above all else, if you truly wish to face him again, then you must fortify your mind at all costs.”

“Fortify my mind…” Ford repeated, open to just about any idea that could help him best Bill once and for all. “I don’t suppose you know of any special spells or ancient incantations, or heck, even just a few mental exercises that could do that in a relatively short amount of time… do you?”

“To tell the truth, magic would be of little use here,” the oracle replied. “And when I said you need to fortify your mind, I meant that in the literal sense. A metallic plate, titanium to be exact, inserted directly over the parietal lobe, would more than suffice to protect the inner workings of your mind from Cipher’s immaterial form. I’d be more than willing to perform the operation, but I must warn you that it is notoriously difficult and incredibly high-risk. If even the slightest complication arose, the chances of your survival would be-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ford interjected by holding a hand up. “Let me get all of this straight. You want me to trust you, someone I’ve literally just met who claims she can see my entire life history, to insert a piece of metal into my skull in a surgery that could very well end up killing me… just on the off chance that it might be able to stop Bill from getting inside my head?”

“Not might, will,” Jheselbraum corrected, all seven of her eyes bearing down into Ford’s. “If this procedure is a success, then I can guarantee you, Stanford Pines, that the only place within the mindscape that Bill Cipher will be able to reach you from will be within your dreams. But any other mental attack he tries to land against you within the waking world will miss its mark absolutely. And even more than that… Cipher will never be able to possess your mind or body as his own ever again…”

Ford’s eyes widened with stunned surprise upon hearing this promise, a promise so hopeful and reassuring that it almost sounded too good to be true. In the torturous weeks efore he’d been tossed into the portal, he had lived in nearly endless fear, wondering when, not if, Bill would launch a vicious assault upon his mind and body by taking them for agonizing joy rides whenever he least expected it. Even after he’d ventured out into the multiverse, after he’d cleared the horrors of the Nightmare Realm, that nagging fear of the dream demon besetting him in the most twisted of ways always persisted in the back of his mind. But now, here was a chance, albeit a risky one, to put that fear to rest once and for all. To beat Cipher at his own game before the game even had a chance to begin. To finally, finally be strong enough to stand up to the demon who had taken so much from him, even if he could never really hope to take any of it back.

“Yes,” he said without even thinking twice. Perhaps it was that hopeful promise, or the thin mountain air or something else entirely, but Ford was confident that this choice was the right one. As long as the procedure actually ended up working, of course. “Yes, let’s do it. Right away, as soon as possible.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” Jheselbraum asked, admittedly surprised by his easy acceptance.

“Positive,” Ford nodded, resolved to do whatever it took to bring a long-awaited end to his sinister foe. “In fact, I’ve never been more certain of anything else in my entire life.”

A soft smile finally returned to the oracle’s face at this, one that reminded the author that her determination to see Bill stopped was every bit as strong as his was. And through all of the struggles he’d been through across the multiverse, he’d finally managed to gain an ally who could actually help him do just that. “Very well. Then let’s get started.”

Though Ford had only just regained consciousness after a week of being completely out of it, he didn’t protest to Jheselbraum putting him under again that very same day for the sake of carrying out the operation. Despite the oracle’s claims that the surgery would be an arduous process, Ford was completely out of it for the duration, and mercifully so considering just how long it actually took to finish. Still, once it was finally completed, Jheselbraum let the author rest and recover for as long as he needed to, carefully bandaging up the incision wounds and monitoring his vitals while he slept for well over a day’s time.

When Ford did finally awaken, he was still rather bleary and unfocused, a natural side effect of an intensive skeletal surgery according to Jheselbraum, though her plethora of unique natural remedies certainly helped ease the migraines that also came along with it. By the time the author was completely coherent again, the oracle estimated that he’d still need about a week of bed rest to fully recover, which was something Ford didn’t protest too much. After all, he’d waited this long to put an end to Bill already; he could afford to wait just a little longer.

Said wait was made all the more bearable by Jheselbraum herself. The oracle was steadfast yet mysterious, though she also had a bit of a coy, playful side to her personality that shined through her calm and collected exterior every now and again. Because of their shared goal and ambition, it didn’t take long for Ford’s fledgling trust toward the oracle to become a genuine liking, one that was clearly mutual as an earnest friendship began to blossom between the pair. In many ways, Jheselbraum fondly reminded Ford of each of the Crystal Gems as she shared Garnet’s ability in foresight, Pearl’s respectable intellect, even Amethyst’s penchant for mischief, albeit in a much more lowkey way. But above all else, her hospitality, reliability, and endless desire for justice and peace always made Ford think of Rose, almost achingly so as he realized just how much he missed his once-close friend. And while the chances of him ever seeing that friend again were low, at the very least he had managed to make a brand-new one in Jheselbraum.

The pair discussed various things during the author’s recovery period, though the topic they typically tended to linger on was none other than Bill himself. Given her lengthy lifespan and years of research and searching through the sands of time, Jheselbraum had a vast array of knowledge concerning the dream demon. Such knowledge fascinated Ford to no end, for he had always believed that if he was ever going to truly defeat his most dangerous foe, then the most important step was to know everything there was to know about that foe. And across his many years of traversing the multiverse, he’d never come across someone who had anywhere near as an encyclopedic wealth of information about him as Jheselbraum herself did. And fortunately for Ford, she was more than willing to share all that she knew with him.

“Cipher has existed far before the galaxy you call home even burst to life,” the oracle detailed as she filtered through her countless bookshelves and scrolls for whatever documents she had on the demon. “But the dimension he once called home remains a mystery to this very day, largely because it is long gone. All that’s known of it is that Cipher himself, in his greedy thirst for ceaseless power, destroyed his entire world in a fit of violent fury, obliterating everything and everyone he’d ever known, including his own family--whatever a ‘family’ meant for his kind.”

“Bill? Having a family?” Ford asked with a dry scoff. “I find that hard to believe. Then again, if he really did have one once, brutally destroying them is absolutely in-character for him.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” Jheselbraum shook her head as she came to sit on the other side of the table of her lofty library. She laid out a collection of scrolls and manuscripts for the author to see, each of them bearing some sort of visage or information about the dream demon. “Ever since then, Cipher has been scouring the multiverse for a new world to conquer as his own. He settled on the in-between dimension now known as the Nightmare Realm some centuries ago, but as you’ve likely heard, that world is not meant to exist for much longer. He’s set his eye on several other dimensions in the past, but at the moment, he seems by far the most preoccupied with laying claim to your very own Earth. It’s hard to say why he’s so dead-set on making that planet in particular his own, but-”

“But he won’t,” Ford interrupted, his expression stony and severe as he cleared down at one of the images of Bill laying before him. “I’ll make sure he won’t.”

Jheselbraum finally smiled at this. “You know, Stanford, you claimed that your mission to defeat Cipher had selfish motives based wholly on matters of vengeance, but… I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. Anyone willing to lay their own life down for the sake of the world they call home is nothing less than a hero. At least…” she trailed off, her smile turning just a bit more mysterious as she glanced away from the author. “That’s what I’ve come to believe.”

Ford cleared his throat, admittedly flustered for reasons he couldn’t quite place as he loosely repositioned a few of the bandages still wrapped around his head. “Y-yes, well, whether I’m hailed as a hero or not hardly matters to me. Just as long as I’m finally able to give Bill what he rightfully deserves…”

Strangely, the oracle said nothing to this, her smile gone as each of her eyes focused in on the author intently. Ford froze under her scrutinizing seven-eyed gaze, a gaze that almost seemed to be searching for something. And when it seemed as though she finally found that something, all of her eyes blinked at once as she let out a small, almost amazed gasp as she looked back to the author who was still watching her curiously all the while. “Stanford… forgive me…” she said, her voice soft, revenant even. “I promised I would not glimpse through your future without your permission, but… I must tell you… you have the face of the man who is destined to stop Bill Cipher from conquering your world…”

“R-really?!” Ford balked, startled by this information, though the mere thought filled his chest with a warm burst of pride. He had the highest of hopes that he would be the one to bring Bill down, but to hear the accomplishment of that goal be all but confirmed by an all-seeing oracle herself was so exciting he could hardly stand it.

“Yes,” Jheselbraum nodded intently, placing a hand over his on the table. “And in your bloodline flows the strength and determination to destroy him, and all of his evil intentions, once and for all!”

“Incredible…” the author leaned back in his chair, unable to suppress a relieved, elated smile upon hearing such an idea. “A-are you sure?”

“...Well…” the oracle paused, pulling her hand away as her gaze drifted toward one of the many tapestries hanging from the wall. This one, like many others that decorated the mountain shrine, depicted a peculiar, almost lizard-like creature, one that always seemed to be wearing a calm, amicable smile in every depiction Jheselbraum owned of it. “Only The One Who Watches truly knows…”

“The One Who Watches?” Ford asked, confused.

“..You’ve never heard of it?” the oracle seemed genuinely surprised at this. “How odd. Just about every being in the multiverse is aware of the Great Axolotl.”

“...Isn’t an axolotl some sort of amphibian?” the author asked, still not following.

“This Axolotl is no mere amphibian,” Jheselbraum said, rising from her seat to face her tapestry of the creature. “It is a timeless, infallible, benevolent being that possesses immense power, far greater than the false might Cipher pretends to wield. From its home between time and space, it spreads its goodwill and kindness to all who dwell in the multiverse. It is even the source of my own gift to gaze through the sands of time as it grants me an open window to look into the future that it weaves. The One Who Watches is the decider of fate across all dimensions… and I believe that its very own intervention was what led me to find you and bring you here, Stanford.”

“Hmph, well then, I’ll take your word for it,” Ford remarked almost sardonically.

“You don’t believe me,” Jheselbraum inferred, glancing back at him. “Very well. But you should know that there is an ancient prophecy, passed down by the Great Axolotl itself, that speaks of a chosen one…”

“A chosen one?” Ford smirked. “That sounds a bit cliché, don’t you think?”

“Still not interested?” the oracle pressed with a faint smile. “Well, you might be after you learn that the Axolotl’s chosen one is destined to be the one who will put an end to Bill Cipher… forever.”

“Forever…” Ford repeated, his former amazement swiftly returning. “S-so this… so-called ‘chosen one’... You don’t think it could be-”

“You?” Jheselbraum asked knowingly. “I suppose it could be… But even then the true identity of the chosen one is something that the One Who Watches has not permitted me to see, at least not yet. But I believe that if it were you, Stanford, than the Great Axolotl would be making a very good choice when it comes to its chosen one... “

Ford was so deeply gratified and flattered by such genuine encouragement that he scarcely even knew what to say. Jheselbraum was quick to fill in his stark silence however with an offering to raise their already high spirits even more.

To commemorate Jheselbraum’s hopeful prophecies, we spent the entire night partying and drinking Cosmic Sand--the very same kind Time Baby himself consumes (it’s very sweet though quite strong, like finely aged wine, which is somewhat concerning given that a baby is known to frequently drink it). We had much to be happy about, for as far as Jheselbraum’s glimpses through time were concerned, Bill’s defeat wasn’t too far off into the future. And the mere thought that his cruel trickery would finally be wiped from the cosmos for good was well worth celebrating.

When I awoke the next morning, she was gone and I was in another dimension entirely. It was time to continue my quest.

I sometimes wonder where she is now and if by chance I’ll ever see her again… And if the prophecy she spoke of, as well as the One supposedly behind it, is real after all…

Unlike the dimensions I’ve already described, many dimensions in the multiverse are ‘parallel Earths’, very similar to my dimension, but with a few major differences. There are parallel Earths where dinosaurs still rule (one way or another). And ones where dolphins (rather than Homo sapiens) took over as the dominant species after the dinosaurs went extinct. (These dolphin Earths invariably have the best water parks.) There’s a dimension where all music is just screaming, one where tennis balls chase dogs, and one where everyone is the same--except they’re all babies. I didn’t linger there for too long--I don’t care for being spit up on.

But after nearly 30 years of dimension-hopping, I came upon a parallel Earth almost identical to our own. There was at least one crucial difference.

But that difference was far from obvious when I first arrived there. Because when I initially step foot into that much more fortunate dimension, I couldn’t help but mistake it for my very own instead.

Ford could scarcely believe his eyes as he ventured into this new dimension, one with trees, and grass, and a sky that were just like those of his very own home. Even the crisp springtime air smelled just as pleasantly familiar as he remembered Gravity Falls’ being as he walked through the practically identical forest. Never in the course of the past 30 years had he been to a dimension as similar to the Earth he knew as this one, and yet, he was quick to find that the two dimensions weren’t just alike in aesthetics alone.

For soon enough the natural peace of the forest was broken by voices approaching from the opposite direction Ford was traveling in. Wary as ever, the author slipped behind a larger tree just in case the denizens of this dimension proved to be hostile. And yet, when the group traversing the wood finally came into view, he was completely floored to see that they were none other than a quartet he thought he’d never see again: the Crystal Gems. All four of them looked practically identical to how he remembered them, save for their different outfits, though that hardly fazed Ford as he made the most of an incredible opportunity he thought he’d never get again.

Upon so much as spotting his close friends again for the first time in nearly 30 years, Ford didn’t hesitate, instead throwing all logic and caution out the window as he rushed out from his hiding spot to greet them. “Rose!” he called first, absolutely elated as he ran up to the Gems, completely breaking through their former conversation. “Garnet! Amethyst! Pearl! I-I can’t believe it! It’s you! It’s really you!”

“Uh… yes…?” Rose raised a confused eyebrow as she offered the author a quizzical smile. “Are you feeling alright, Ford? You’re much more… excited than you usually are.”

“Did ya discover some cool new sciency thing again?” Amethyst asked with a playful smirk. “What was it this week--and don’t bother telling me about it unless it’s a way I can shove eats into my gut faster than I already do.”

“Oh, please, Amethyst,” Pearl rebuffed, rolling her eyes. “Stanford must be excited about his odd new attire! From what I’ve observed, humans often tend to celebrate very simple things such as new clothing and the anniversary of the day they came into existence. Though I don’t know if I’d consider clothing like that to be… too exhilarating.” She frowned, looking over the author’s dark, tattered travel attire critically. “No offense, Ford.”

“W-what? No!” Ford shook his head, confused. “I-I don’t understand, you all are acting as though I haven’t been gone for the past 30 years!”

“Um… because you haven’t?” Rose pointed out, just as bewildered. “I’m sorry, are… we playing some sort of strange game here? Because if we are I’m afraid I don’t really know the rules.”

“No, this isn’t a game, Rose,” Ford retired firmly, earnestly. “It really has been 30 years since the last time I’ve seen any of you! Don’t you remember? The portal? Bill? Anything?”

“Bill?” Amethyst piped up. “Pfft, we haven’t talked ‘bout that square of a triangle in forever!”

“Mostly because we haven’t needed to…” Pearl muttered disdainfully.

“This… doesn’t make any sense…” Ford said, more to himself than the Gems. “Maybe I ended up in some sort of bizarre time loop? O-or perhaps I could have time traveled in general? I have been through much stranger over the past thirty years but still…”

“What’s science man goin’ on about this time?” Amethyst wondered as the author continued to anxiously mutter to himself.

“I have no idea…” Pearl shook her head. “But he certainly is acting odd…”

“I’m starting to worry about him…” Rose noted fretfully. “Can you make any sense of what’s going on here, Garnet?”

Garnet simply nodded, adjusting her shades before addressing her companions bluntly. “That’s not Ford. Or at least, he’s not our Ford.”

“What?!” Rose, Pearl, and Amethyst all exclaimed, startled by this news. They reacted to it rather recklessly, each of them summoning their weapons in short order and turning them on Ford, who was more than startled by the sudden hostility as a result.

“An imposter!” Pearl accused hotly.

“Who are you and what you have done with the real Ford?!” Rose asked, her shield and sword both at the ready.

“I-I am the real Ford!” the author protested, stumbling backward.

“But again, not our Ford,” Garnet interrupted calmly.

“What’s that supposed’ta mean?” Amethyst asked, baffled.

“Maybe we should go see Fiddleford,” Rose suggested. “He might be able to help us figure this out.”

“Oh, excellent idea, Rose,” Pearl readily agreed. “He has been working on cloning technology recently. Maybe this Ford is the product of one of his experiments!”

“Wait, Fiddleford?!” Ford’s eyes widened at the mention of his former partner. “Y-you’ve seen Fiddleford recently? Where is he? More importantly, how is he?”

“Well, you can come see him for yourself,” Rose beckoned the author to follow her and the other Gems. “I’m sure he’ll be just as amazed as we are to see another Ford out and about.”

As curious as he was, not only to check in on his old friend but also get to the bottom of this peculiar mystery, Ford didn’t hesitate to follow, even if Pearl and Amethyst still watched him much more suspiciously than Rose and Garnet were. “But don’t think we won’t be keeping a close eye on you…” Pearl warned him as she held up the tail end of the group.

“Yeah, ya dirty “Fordposter”!” Amethyst teased, elbowing the author hard in the knee as she impishly ran past him.

Even so, Ford took their misgivings, both serious and insincere, in stride, letting out a small sigh of relief as he simply allowed himself to relish the feeling of being in the company of his dependable friends once more. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure they were exactly the same as the Crystal Gems he once knew. “It’s hard to believe how much I’ve missed this…” he muttered contentedly to himself, hoping against hope that, even despite how strange the Gems seemed to be acting, he really was back in his own dimension after all these years after all.

But he wasn’t.

Because the differences between this dimension and his own became instantly more apparent as the Gems led the author to where he knew his house should have been. And yet, the homey little shack had received quite an impressive surrounding expansion in the form of a sprawling complex of buildings and structures, one that still featured the Gems’ iconic temple as a fixture of its forested background. Upon seeing the impressive structure, Ford had a multitude of questions, none of which he knew how to properly pose to the Gems as they continued to approach it. Even so, one of those questions was answered as they passed by its sign, which simply donned the campus as the “International Institute of Oddology”.

The Gems seemed to have exclusive access to the institute as they bypassed its front office entirely, entering into its complex series of busy hallways with ease. Just about everyone employed in the building seemed to know the Gems and regard them with friendly pleasantries, though even that paled in comparison to the immediate respect everyone paid Ford in particular. Whenever one of the plentiful lab-coat clad scientists passed him by, they greeted him with excited waves and chipper tidings in which they referred to him as “Dr. Pines” or “Professor Pines”, two titles that Ford had never really gone by before (even though he technically could, given his multiple PhDs. Still, despite this strangely warm reception, nothing could have prepared the author for when the Gems took him into a large, futuristic lab, filled to the brim with just about every scientific tool and tech imaginable. But as astonished by this incredible sight as he was, Ford quickly found himself even more dumbfounded as the Gems led the way to the only other person presently occupying the lab at the moment. None other than Fiddleford McGucket himself.

“Fiddleford!” Rose greeted the inventor brightly as she hurried over to him first.

“Oh! Howdy, ladies!” Fiddleford glanced over his shoulder from whatever he was working on. Unlike the Gems, time had actually had an impact on the inventor, though even despite his shallow wrinkles, short beard, and grayed hair, he’d managed to age rather well just as Ford had. “Ya’ll came just in time! I was just about to-” Fiddleford stopped short, swiveling around in his chair to send a peculiar glance Ford’s way. “Stanford? What in tarnation are you wearing?”

The author largely ignored his question as he instead stepped forward, past the Gems, so he could look his once-treasured colleague in the eye for the first time in three decades. “F-Fiddleford… I-”

“Fiddleford!” Before Ford could even utter another word, his own voice echoed through the lab, albeit from a different source entirely. As if this entire situation wasn’t already shocking enough, Ford was absolutely floored to see himself enter in through the far side of the room. By all accounts, this other author looked strikingly identical, the only real differences in appearance lying in his clean-shaven face and equally clean scientific attire. He wasn’t paying much attention as he approached the mutually baffled group, leafing through a stack of papers as he addressed his partner evenly. “So I was running the numbers on that new modulator we were working on and-” He stopped short as he finally glanced up, only to notice his near mirror match standing just a few feet away from him. “Ugh, Fiddleford, what did I tell you about stealing samples of my DNA for your little cloning side project?”

“Uh… I-I shelved Project Double Vision ‘bout a week ago, Stanford…” Fiddleford noted, his eyes wide as he looked between the two Fords just as incredulously as the Gems all were.

“Oh,” the other Ford said simply as he looked back to his double. “Then this must simply be the case of yet another deluded, overly-obsessed fan. Well,” he addressed the other author, pulling out a surprisingly threatening taser pen as he eyed him critically. “I don’t know how you managed to outwit both security and the Gems here, but I can assure you that we here at the IIO absolutely do not tolerate such-”

“W-wait!” the first Ford interjected hastily, running with the only reasonable guess he could make about this situation, given the bewildering evidence he’d seen. “I think I know what’s going on here.”

“Oh, do you?” the other Ford raised a dubious eyebrow.

“Great!” Amethyst chimed in bluntly. “Then do ya mind filling us in?”

“Yes, please?” Rose added, still clearly quite confused.

“W-well, you see, as far as I can tell, I’m not actually from this dimension,” Ford said, ignoring the sting that came along with admitting that fact. Admitting that he hadn’t really made it home like he’d once thought after all. “Even though it does look practically identical to my own. B-but I have been wandering the multiverse for years now and in that time I’ve come across many parallel dimensions to my own, so the only logical explanation is that this is one of them!”

“Golly!” Fiddleford immediately shot up from his seat upon hearing this. “A near-completely identical parallel dimension!? What are the odds of that?!”

“Now, now, Fiddleford,” the other Ford cautioned, still sternly eyeing his counterpart. “Don’t get too excited. After all, this… supposed other me doesn’t really seem to have much in the way of proof in regard to his claims…”

“Oh, really?” Ford met his double’s skepticism with a simple, succinct response as he held up one of his hands. The other Ford balked at the sight of it, glancing between it at his own similarly unique six-fingered hands before reaching out to touch those of his double to authenticate them. “Unbelievable…” he muttered incredulously. “They’re actually… real… I hate to say this but… you might just be from another dimension after all…”

“Can we skip to the part where we just assume that he is from another dimension?” Fiddleford asked eagerly. “Cause that’s far more excitin’ than just speculatin’!”

“Well even if this Ford is from another dimension,” Pearl cut in with a scowl. “How can we be so sure that he’s anywhere near as trustworthy as ours? He did mention Cipher, of all beings when we first found him, after all.”

“Ugh, now there’s a name I haven’t heard in ages…” the other Ford muttered disdainfully as Fiddleford shuddered fearfully beside him. “And I’d just as soon never hear it again for the rest of my life. So what business do you have with… him?”

“I assure you, the only ‘business’ I have with him is putting a stop to his treachery once and for all,” Ford affirmed coldly.

“Wait…” Rose spoke up with a frown. “You mean… you haven’t already done that where you’re from?”

“...What do you mean?”

“Oof, well if you actually are from some parallel dimension, then I don’t even want to know how much of a disaster things are there if you’re still dealing with him,” Alternate Ford shook his head. “Because here all it took to keep him from slipping into our reality was a basic Dimensional Vortex Neutralizer to optimize the portal away from the Nightmare Realm, allowing us to safely use it as we please.”

“W-wha--when in the world did you find time to invent something like that?” Ford asked, admittedly wishing that he had done the very same before it had been too late.

“We all did it together!” Rose smiled warmly.

“It was pretty easy between the six of us,” Garnet added as coolly as ever.

“Yes, if I remember correctly, we reconvened to devise the schematics for it right after I sent Stanley away with my first journal…” Alternate Ford mused thoughtfully.

“Wait… your Stanley actually listened to you when you told him to take the journal and leave?!”

“Yours didn’t?”

“Ugh… of course, he didn’t…” Ford groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. Suddenly, the basic differences of this dimension were becoming all too clear. The split had resulted from a moment so simple, so singular that it might not have mattered at all when it actually happened, but now it clearly did. Because his Stan refusing to take the journal away had been the very reason why he’d wound up sucked into the portal in the first place. And the Stan of this dimension agreeing to do so was the very reason why his alternate self stood before him today. “Honestly, I’m surprised that any version of Stanley actually would, given how frustratingly stubborn he is…”

“Well, here I suppose he was just a little… less stubborn than usual,” Alternate Ford shrugged. “Either that or he had a moment of genuine clarity for once in his life. Even so, we made good on the advantage splitting the journals up gave us, built the Neutralizer, and we haven’t seen or heard from Bill ever since.”

On this Earth, I was never pushed into the portal by Stan.

On this Earth, my brother listened to me and took Journal 1 away from Gravity Falls.

On this Earth, I reunited with Fiddleford and Rose and the Gems, and together, created a Dimensional Vortex Neutralizer that allowed us to use the portal without any risk of a connection to Bill’s Nightmare Realm.

And as a result of those rippling turns of fate, on this Earth, my parallel self was a celebrated star of the scientific community. With the help of Parallel Fiddleford and the Parallel Gems, over the years, he had amassed a wide array of incredible discoveries and inventions, all of which he had publicly published through his journals. And as other scientists read through those journals, it didn’t take long for more aspiring brilliant minds to flock to Gravity Falls, like a moth to a flame, all of them looking to my parallel self for direction when it came to investigating the town’s previously unheard of anomalies. That building community of scientists came together to turn his small cabin in the woods into the sprawling International Institute of Oddology (of which my parallel self was both the founder and chief researcher). And as my parallel self detailed the differences of both his life and his dimension to me, one thought ran paramount within my mind above all else. That this life of success and recognition could have just as easily been my own… ff only Stanley had actually listened to me for a change instead of thinking only of himself like he’s always done!

When it was my turn to spell out the details of my vendetta against Bill to my alternate self and his friends, obvious interest was mutually peaked among them all. Parallel Fiddleford’s knee began to bounce with the agitation and excitement as my very own Fiddleford used to carry, and the Parallel Gems all whispered anxiously, yet eagerly to each other. Parallel Rose was every bit the heroic spirit as the Rose I knew as she seemed by far the most intent on seeing Bill be brought to justice, a sentiment my parallel counterpart also keenly shared. Although their dimension was safe from Bill, they all understood the threat Cipher posed to the wider multiverse. They all agreed to do whatever they could to help.

I showed them my unfinished Quantum Destabilizer--a weapon I was designing to blast Bill into non-existence. The problem, my parallel self theorized, was the power source. In all my travels since leaving Jheselbraum, I had never come across an element that had both the necessary power and the required stability. Parallel Fiddleford piped up with a suggestion, an element that he had discovered in the Paradox Dimension. It was inert when visible, but highly radioactive when hidden. He called it NowUSeeItNowUDontium (a unique flair for language was something else he had in common with my Fiddleford).

Even just a small sample of the element would be more than enough to get my Destabilizer up and running. The only issue was that NowUSeeItNowUDontium (what a mouthful!) was a notoriously difficult element to work with given just how potentially toxic it could prove to be to humans at the seemingly random points it blinked in and out of existence. That’s where the Parallel Gems came in. As unaffected by radiation as their non-organic forms are, they were able to handle the element with ease, and fortunately, Parallel Pearl in particular was well-versed in working with it thanks to past experiments.

While the Parallel Gems did their part, I spent the next several days tinkering and making minor adjustments to my blaster’s design, working alongside Parallel Fiddleford and my alternate self to perfect it into a weapon to bring Bill to his swift, much-deserved end. Those few days were filled with plenty of scintillating discussions about the multiverse, parallel dimensions, and of course, the various distinctions and differences of this dimension in particular. The more my parallel self detailed the countless highlights and accomplishments of his lengthy career, the more I wished that my own path had run the same as his as opposed to the ruin I ran into when I was younger. This version of myself had gotten everything I had only ever dreamed of: fame, respect, and the chance to hold onto close friends that I had fallen away from so long ago. And while I didn’t envy him to the point of wanting to take all that he had away from him, I had to admit that if I had even just a fraction of the good fortune my parallel self had known, then perhaps my life would have turned out far different than it had ended up going.

As much as I might have wanted to revel in my parallel self’s success, it was clear that there was literally no place for me in this dimension. Even if I could have stayed there for the rest of my days, my own conscious would not have allowed it. I still held onto the vow I had made close to 30 years earlier to destroy Bill Cipher. And after about a week of finalizing and finishing my Quantum Destabilizer, it was finally time for me to do exactly that.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Parallel Rose asked as everyone prepared to see the author off on his way.

“Yeah, havin’ another science man around could be fun!” Parallel Amethyst quipped as impishly as ever. “‘Specially if he can finally invent that food shovel I’ve been asking for forever now!”

“I have to admit that even though I was somewhat… distrustful of another Stanford just randomly showing up out of the blue, it was still a pleasure working with you all the same,” Parallel Pearl grinned, cordially extending her hand out for Ford to shake.

“Safe travels,” Parallel Garnet bid him succinctly. “And don’t worry about your cellmate when you meet her. You’ll see her again eventually.”

“Um… thank you?” Ford frowned, confused by this strange, cryptic advice.

“Go take that Quantum Destabilizer ‘n show that rabble rousin’, no-good son of gun Cipher what for!” Parallel Fiddleford cheered with all of the southern zeal Ford was familiar with when it came to his own Fiddleford.

“For the sake of your dimension, our own, and countless others exactly like both,” the parallel author began intently. “I wish you luck. Or, uh… I wish me luck? Huh. Even after a week this is still confusing.”

“Thank you,” Ford nodded warmly. “All of you. I have no doubts that our hard work will go a long way toward putting a stop to Cipher and his tyranny once and for all.”

“We can only hope,” Parallel Ford agreed as the others fondly began to wave the author off.

“Happy trails, Other Stanford!” Parallel Fiddleford called cheerily.

“I hope you make it back home someday!” Parallel Rose added just as brightly.

“And if you don’t make it back to your own dimension, then you’re always welcome to visit ours any time you’d like!” Parallel Pearl chimed in somewhat obliviously.

“That’s not very likely to happen,” Parallel Garnet pointed out, though she didn’t explain much more beyond that.

Even so Ford continued on his way back into the woods, savoring his last few moments in this world that was so very much like his own before he ultimately left it entirely.

After 30 long years of planning in the shadows and biding my time, my chance finally seemed to have arrived. With the finished Quantum Destabilizer in tow, there was nothing keeping me from returning to the place where this nightmare had begun to put an end to the one who had woven it in the first place.

I was finally ready to go back to the Nightmare Realm and face Bill Cipher.

And yet… the dimension I ended up in next was about as far from the Nightmare Realm as I could have gotten… and pitted me against a threat that was every bit as dangerous as Bill:

The Gem Homeworld and the Great Diamond Authority.

#jen writes #universe falls #gravity falls #steven universe #crossover #au #fanfiction #ford #jheselbraum #fiddleford #rose quartz #garnet #amethyst #pearl #adventures in the multiverse #adrift in the cosmos #keyword is dimension 52

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