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avionvadion · 4 years

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Forest Deep: a fanfic mixing Secret of the Cursed Mask and the actual Inuyasha anime itself. https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115702/chapters/58056064

Summary: Naraku had one goal- to destroy Inuyasha. Now with his new companion he has an idea how to make that happen. Brought to the Feudal Era by an unwanted Summoning, Irene's in search of her older sister and the one who brought them there. With the help of her new friends she might just find them, but it's hard getting through battles- nonetheless the day- with her lung problems. Why is this Naraku so cruel? What does he gain from hurting people? Who is his new friend- and what's underneath that mask she wears? Irene doesn't know. But she'll find out- one way or another. She just wished she had her sister beside her as she did it.

The first drawing is basically the story cover. I drew it back before Irene’s hair had a consistency and I had a better grasp of the art style XD The second image is from the end of chapter 20 and the last one is for chapter 15.

Story:

"I-It's…" Oh gods. "It's a saying where I'm from. Just- Just ignore it. I speak nonsense. Um. Look. You don't want to stay here, right? I don't want to stay here either. I have a sister I gotta make sure ain't dead, some friends to get back- granted… they probably don't want anything to do with me anymore, and an evil half-demon to stop, so~!" I huffed and stood, brushing some dirt off my pale blue jeans. I walked over, holding a shaky hand out to her with a grin. "You can come with or you can stay here and go crazy! Your choice."

Her eyebrows knit together. "For what reason did you desire the Magatama fruit? Most here are… filled with greed. They want its power for themselves. I, too, was selfish and… it brought me here."

"It…" I hesitated. Memories of the villagers falling came to mind. "I… I need the fruit to break a barrier. If the barrier doesn't break then… more people are gonna die. And… I don't want to see that happen."

"That's sounds awful…" Shizuno said, bringing a hand up to her mouth. "A-Are you certain that it's not another lie someone told? You could have fallen into a trap."

"I mean, probably?" I made a face, moving my head to the side and shaking it, shrugging my shoulders. "Buuut I have no reason to distrust him, you know? I-It's weird. Like, yeah he can be pretty shady when he wants to be, but he's helped me out this far and it's because of him I can talk to Shikigami spirits and heal people. So! I think he's nice. He did mention that this would be really dangerous and I was a firm believer I wouldn't survive. Was that a lie? Nope. Here we are! In a magical space surrounded by a bunch of crazy people."

"You are…" She frowned. "...strange. You speak of dire circumstances, yet you smile so brightly. Why do you behave so casually?"

"I just do." I was still so tired. "Life just sucks. That's how it works. No use mopin' about."

Unless of course several people had died. Damn it. I can still hear their screams, the children calling out for their parents as they ran for their lives. The blood splattering onto the ground… and staining Kohaku's kusarigama.

"Anyway! You never answered my question. You comin' with me?" I stretched out my fingers and wiggled them at her, staring at her expectantly. "You know you waaaant tooooo~! Far over the misty mountains cold~ to dungeons deep and caverns old!" My voice cracked and I coughed, hacking into my sleeve. My voice really could not go low. It was so distressing. The woman gave me such a strange look, but she reached out and took my hand. I felt so lightheaded. "Oh? Yay!"

She shook her head at me, folding her hands close to her chest. "We could be trapped here in eternal suffering," Shizuno told me, "yet you sing? Why?"

"Because if we're gonna be suffering eternally," I declared, holding an index finger up wisely, "we might as well have fun with it. Sadly I don't remember all the lyrics, but! It's a good song." I approached the mountain wall, staring up and squinting my eyes as I tried to gauge how far up we would have to climb before we reached the next ledge. My hands were all scraped up. "Okay… calm down. We can do this. You up for the climb?"

"Y-Yes, I suppose… what about you?" She stared at me, frowning. "Your skin is quite pale…"

"I'll be fine." I had to be. "My… My friends are waiting for me."

If they even still thought of me as one.

"And… your sister?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't even sure she was alive. "If I don't get that Magatama fruit… more people are gonna die. I… I don't want her to be one of them." I looked back at Shizuno, forcing another closed-eye grin, ignoring the lump forming in my throat. I had to be strong- for her. She was in pain as well. Her entire village was destroyed. "So we gotta keep going. Up and at 'em!"

I cracked my knuckles and reached up, grabbing onto a root sticking out from one of the rocks. This part of the wall was covered with vines, but there was no telling if they could all hold. Shizuno followed behind me uncertainly, grabbing onto a rock and climbing. "Th-This is very dangerous!"

Well, obviously. But I was convinced that we couldn't quite… die here? I've seen so many people wandering around and not one skeleton. At least there weren't any demons nearby in this spirit realm that could eat us. I don't think I'd taste very good. Ick. My mind flashed back to the mansion and I cringed, temporarily halting in my climb. Don't freak out. I had to stay calm. This is fine.

I'm fine. Always. Always fine.

I may be slowly breaking apart, but I'm fine. It's how I am.

This is just life.

It's my fault those villagers are dead, so I have to avenge them. Don't I?

Suddenly the vines I was climbing broke and I let out a small shriek, falling back towards the ledge below. The wind around me picked up pace and suddenly my descent slowed, causing me to blink. Then once I was close enough to the ground it stopped and I hit my head, crashing hard onto my back. "O-Ow! Frick!" I cringed and curled onto my side, bringing my hands up to the back of my aching skull. It was being put through so much abuse today. "Dude, that hurt!"

"A-Are you alright!?" Shizuno called down. She was at least thirty feet above me, clinging tight to some vines. "The wind just- how on earth-!?"

"Spirits." I hissed, wincing at the bump that was definitely going to be there for a while. The wind helped enough for me not to die, but wasn't completely forgiving to leave me free of injury. "Eugh…" That seriously hurt, but at least it wasn't fatal. This proved that one of my theories were right. Kazumi would have us wander forever in insanity, but she would not have us kill ourselves. "Frick."

I stumbled, wobbling over to the wall and leaning against it for a moment until my vision cleared. The world was trying to spin on me.

"Need to… keep going." I wheezed. This air spirit guardian person was such a sadist. "Have to… save them…"

My fingers gripped weakly at the roots. I wouldn't be able to climb in this state.

"Naraku… must be… stopped…"

I'm so dizzy. My forehead pressed against the rocky mountain side, eyes closing as I waited to catch my breath. That scared the crap out of me- falling like that. I hated it. After a few long minutes I grabbed at the vines again, fingers feeling numb and tingly, and I kicked at the wall with my bare feet. Being weak is one thing, but being stubborn was another. I was determined.

"I will… defeat him…" I wheezed, reaching up and grasping tiredly at a rock jutting out. It crumbled and I had to go for one higher up, stretching my arm painfully. "Barrier… it will break…"

Naraku sent Kohaku and Kanna after me, and why? Because Anastasia wanted my soul for some god awful reason that still wasn't explained. He made them attack the villagers that were helping me, and if Kagome didn't crack the mirror and force the souls to be freed so many more would already be dead. They tried to help me and Naraku forced Kohaku to kill them because of that. He was awful.

He was more of a madman than anyone else in this place.

The air around me seemed to grow gentler, my body becoming lighter and moving a bit faster. It was almost as if it was giving me a boost, but I knew that couldn't be the case. It was so aggressive earlier. After what surely must have been an hour I reached the ledge I fell from, reuniting with Shizuno who watched as I fell onto my front, eyes closed and breath heavy. "You are not the most healthy person, are you?" She asked.

"I wonder what… gave you that idea?" I wheezed, the sarcasm dripping off my tongue. "I told you… sickly human… didn't I?"

She gave a small smile, almost amused by my weird ways. "You did. Will you be able to make it to the top? There is still quite a ways to go."

"Yeah, just… need to… rest a bit first. Is that okay… with you?"

Shizuno nodded. "Yes… we have all of eternity, after all. Time does not seem to pass in this place. I have seen many arrive here, yet… they never aged. It is rather concerning, but there is nothing we can do. I fear many years have already passed since I was first brought here."

Wait, what? Oh no. My eyes widened and I sat up, looking at her in alarm and ignoring the rapid pounding of my heart. "N-No way… no, no, no! We… We have to hurry! I-I can't-!" I can't be trapped here forever. I have to get that fruit as fast as possible. If Maria was still alive then I can't be left behind. "The mountain! W-We have to… to climb…!"

I stumbled over, dazed and desperate, grabbing at the roots and struggling to climb. Shizuno dashed over and caught me when I fell, startled when she felt the heat radiating from my body. "I-Irene! You are feverish!"

"M'fine." I mumbled. "Have to get… to Sango…"

She, Miroku, Shippō, and Kirara are all up there dealing with the air spirit alone.

"Don't wanna see 'em hurt…"

I'm so sleepy. I want to take a nap.

"Gotta beat Naraku… and his dumb barrier thing…"

"Rest first. We have time." She said softly, voice so soothing. Shizuno carefully moved me away from the wall, keeping her arms around my waist, setting me down on the ground beside her. My head fell against her chest and my eyes closed, giving in to the comfort she gave. A hug felt so nice right now… yet her body was so cold. Her fingers ran gently along my hair, fiddling with the short strands. "You are fighting so strongly right now, are you not? It must be hard…"

"S'not… just… hurts."

"Why do you want to fight this Naraku so bad?"

"He hurts… people." I told her quietly, finding myself being lulled to sleep by her gentle touch. "They… helped me a-and he… killed them."

"He did?"

I nodded, making a small noise of confirmation. "He had… Sango's younger brother… attack. H-He's controlled by him, so he can't… fight back. She's always crying when she… has to face him. I don't like it. She's so much better… when she's happy…"

"I see. So Naraku is the one to blame."

Yes. He made Kohaku hurt them. It was all that evil half-demon's fault that the villagers are dead. "Naraku… killed them…"

"If that is so… then you should be able to climb the mountain now."

"...What?" My eyes slowly opened and I blinked, turning my head to look tiredly at Shizuno.

Her features seemed to change as the wind around us blew stronger, her long black hair shifting into something shorter and more white in color. I yanked myself off of her lap, watching as her colorful kimono become a pale blue, a white cloth draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her arms. As I stumbled into an upright stance, standing and backing away slowly, her dark eyes became an icy blue, lips dark and almost purple in color. I hadn't seen her entire appearance before, but I was certain now as to why Shizuno looked so familiar.

"K-Kazumi?"

…

"Where did she go!?" Sango demanded, whirling around to try and locate where the air spirit disappeared to. They were just talking when the mist became stronger, the entire area around them being covered in fog. The demon slayer couldn't see five feet in front of her. "Miroku! Shippō!"

"Here!" The fox demon informed, about ten feet back.

"I'm over here!" The monk shouted somewhere from her left side, sweeping at the area around him with his staff. "I'd use my Wind Tunnel to suck in this mess, but I might anger the spirits further if I did and cost Irene her life! Sango, what should we do!?"

"I-I don't know!" For once the demon slayer was at a loss. There was no enemy to fight, no goddess to appease. Only a spirit set on challenging their friend to a test of truth. "I… never realized she felt so guilty for what had happened…" Sango said after a moment, looking down at the hiraikotsu in her hand, closing her eyes with a pained expression. "I was only focused on myself. Miroku, I…" She rested a hand over her face, ashamed. "I'm a terrible friend."

"No, Sango, don't blame yourself." The monk shook his head. "I, too, did not notice. I was believing us to finally be able to close the gap and become proper allies, and yet…"

"She's always blaming herself!" Shippō stated, frowning deeply. He appeared greatly bothered. "Irene has such a guilt-complex for some reason! I don't get it! She's always apologizing for every little thing, no matter how small it is! Inuyasha was always yelling at her for it!"

"I-I thought she was just shy." Sango admitted. "But… I guess there's more to it. What do you think, Miroku?"

"Anything could have caused it." He informed them, something unsettling forming in his stomach. The monk always had been unable to refuse helping a young woman in need and the one in trouble now was a friend. Yet how could they protect her if they didn't even know what was wrong? If they couldn't even reach her where she was now? Why did Irene feel the need to place the blame on herself? "I'm afraid we'll just have to ask and pray she will tell us when she returns."

"I hope so…"

…

"H-How did you-!?" I pointed at her, dumbfounded, then gestured to where the brunette used to be. "Sh-She was just- hah? Gah! Shapeshifter!"

I took several more steps back. The woman's expression became blank once more, resembling more of the air spirit I had met earlier. "She was nothing more than an illusion. I created her as a guide, just as I have done time-and-again for those who come up this mountain. A rare few have ever been able to accept their truth and continue forth up the mountain. They were always too trapped in their greed, their selfishness… and would never think twice about abandoning someone else if it meant reaching their own goal."

What is she saying? I don't understand. My head hurts so much from this; I was still so dazed.

Kazumi closed her eyes, opening them only when her purple lips tilted upwards into a smile. "You have passed my test, Irene. You have accepted that Naraku was the one to blame for the villagers deaths. The children did not die because of you. I have seen into your mind… I know what you saw. I know how you felt. With this test I was able to attune your heart and I have come to the decision that you are indeed worthy… of a Magatama fruit."

"But… I literally didn't do anything?" I don't get it. I'm too dizzy for all this. "I just climbed a mountain…"

The air spirit looked amused by this and went on to explain. "Though they scared you, you tried to approach those wandering souls and save them. When you saw the apparition I created… you tried to give her the courage to go on. Though… unorthodox in the way it was done… you remained strong for her for as long as you could. But you are only human- and one who is prone to illness cannot keep on for long." She glanced up at the mountain, icy eyes following the path up. "The wind will help you on your climb up the rest of the mountain. You need not fear falling; now that your mind is clear of guilt… the roots and rocks along the cliff will not break."

I'm still so confused, but alright. "Um, thank you…?"

"Do not thank me just yet." She warned. "If you so much as waver in your thoughts you will fall once more down to the bottom, and your soul will wander here for all eternity like the rest." Kazumi waved her arm and then she was gone, replaced by nothing but more fog.

My eyebrows raised and I shook my head incredulously, unable to believe the audacity some spirits could have. Like, seriously? Jeez. Crazy lady. She was so much nicer as Shizuno. At least she was giving me some advice… kind of. Was this all because I blamed myself for what happened with Kohaku?

That's what I'm getting from that conversation anyway. Ugh, I have such a migraine. I want to go home.

I need another hug.

I walked over and grabbed at the roots, hands shaking. They didn't feel as weak and numb as before, but they were bleeding. I had scraped them up quite badly during my climb. That strange feeling appeared again as I tried to move up the mountain, like the wind was giving me a boost. I supposed it actually was doing that, as it was helping me move a lot faster than before. I reached the next ledge in record time.

I tried not to think too much, focusing on the task at hand, determined not to fall below.

My heart wanted to waver, to believe that the children's deaths were my fault, that everyone who died should have blamed me, but… Shizuno's words stuck. They may have been protecting me, but it was by Naraku ordering Kohaku that they were killed. I had no control over the boy's actions. It was not my fault.

It was his.

The fog slowly cleared away the closer I got to the top and the people wandering around had vanished. I huffed and trembled, feet and hands scratched up and blistered, legs and arms sore. If not for the wind pushing me up- as if trying to say hurry up, stupid human like an irritable spirit- I would have collapsed long ago. I dragged myself up to the top ledge where I had been thrown off when I first met the guardian spirit Kazumi, struggling to push myself forward, and wound up clawing at the ground.

My poor fingertips were all bloody.

"I-Irene!?" I recognized that voice. I fell on the ground and rolled onto my back, wheezing and letting out a few coughs. I was so exhausted. "Oh, thank god! Miroku, Shippō, look!"

"Irene is back!"

"She passed the test!"

I could see the group dash over to me, Sango quickly kneeling by my side and helping me sit up. I began to tear up at the sight of her. Wasn't she mad at me? "Irene, you're burning up again! How badly did you stress yourself out!?" She asked, voice almost going into a sisterly scolding tone before relief crossed her face. "I'm so glad you're back…"

She surprised me by leaning down, wrapping her arms around me tightly."I should have paid more attention to your feelings. I'm so sorry."

"I-It's okay." I choked out, awkwardly hugging her with my arms so not to get blood on her armor. I'm such an idiot. They didn't hate me after all. "I-I'm fine. You're the one who was upset, so…"

"But so were you!" She pulled away, gripping my shoulders tightly with her hands. "All this time you've been festering hate and guilt inside of you- and for yourself no less! Ever since I've met you you've been apologizing left-and-right for things you had no control over! Irene, it's okay to be selfish! Not everything is your fault!"

I couldn't speak, too stunned by what was happening. This day was so dizzying. "I-I just… want to help." I finally got out, stuttering on my words. Her eyes were so intense; it felt like they were boring into my soul. "I-I can't do anything useful, so…"

"What do you mean by that?" Miroku demanded, stepping up. Kazumi was still nowhere in sight. "You've helped us countless times; we've told you before. Just who told you that you were useless? That made you believe you could guilt yourself for everything?"

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bates--boy · 4 years

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Break time, which meant Peter schlepping all the way to the lunch area. Like the first few times he was invited to the UN, he could not understand why he was even here. No, he knew why he was here, under the sponsorship and recommendation of his fathers -- something about the influx of citizenship applications sent to Sealand and that bizarre petition to have the United States government officially recognize Sealand’s sovereignty meaning something and he had to learn and prepare for if (emphasis on “if”) the big magic happen -- the question was why had Peter agreed to come over and over again? Wasn’t the disillusionment enough? Hadn’t he had enough of witnessing the magic that he clung to as a child crumble to dust in-between his finger tips?

Well, at least they had donuts.

Peter helped himself to two...three, and compensated for the high sugar content by using less sugar and cream for his coffee. Nobody will ask, but he’d just say he’s a growing boy; not like anybody outside of the five people he’s close to knows his real physical age, anyway, only that he’s fifty-three (seventy-eight) and thus, a baby that shouldn’t even breathe the same air as them, let alone get involved in Grown-Up talk. It was utter bullshit all around, and it made Peter miss being in the MicroCon so much.

Chomping down on the first donut -- an overfilled, overpowdered jelly monstrosity just the way Peter liked it -- Peter succumbed to the yearning and stuffed his Airpods in and began logging into the private streaming server for those Micros that couldn’t make it; and to fill himself with much needed pride at miniature Pete and his friends holding things down.

“...iously don’t know what happened?!”

Peter’s thumb stopped just above the log-in button. His eyes darted up at the two blond men coming in the break room (Christ, so many blonde people, had none of them heard of hair dye in their long, unending lives?). They hadn’t notice him, yet, perched at a small table in the private corner. They likely won’t notice at all, too busy fixing their coffee and tea to pay attention to the young man watching something on his phone.

“I mean,” the temporarily embarrassed companion replied defensively, “I heard something happened with the US, but when is something not happening over there?”

“Right?” the first laughed.

Peter’s eyebrows rose. He closed out of the stream server and tapped into his Cloud account, opening the folder labeled The United States. He waited to hear more, to see which folder he’d have to open. He could see peripherally the first man shaking his head as his laughter died down.

“But this is sort of sad, honestly. You know that region rep? What’s her name? Christina? Catherine? You know, Alfred’s wife? With the backwater accent?”

Cait.

Peter tapped open the Dixie folder and opened a new document.

“Yeah, what about her?”

“Alfred tried to divorce her and the woman set his house on fire!”

Peter really hoped that in that moment, the two men didn’t look his way, because he would not have been able to pick his jaw up off the table quick enough to not stir suspicions of eavesdropping. But they didn’t; the second guy was doubled over, coughing up the tea that had went into the wrong pipe, and his companion slapping his back.

“Fuck, really?!” the second one chuckled as he straightened up.

“While the guy and his pets were still inside!” Even as the one relating the story, the informant still sounded shocked. “I am telling you, that woman is a nutcase. Needs to get locked away and get her head examined.”

- Set Alfred’s house on fire!!!! Nearly killed his pets!!! (Poor little things. :c)

The second guy shook his head. “Damn, first Roderich’s place goes up in flames, then this. I swear, I better up my house insurance in case any of my old flames makes my place go up in flames.”

“Heh heh, good one!”

“Thanks, it just came to me.” The jokester took a thoughtful sip. “Shit, wasn’t there some dumb kid who wanted to set a UN building on fire, too?”

Peter’s thumb froze on his phone screen, suddenly feeling hot and wet under the collar. He pursed his lips, keeping his eyes down.

“Yeah, but nothing came of it, as far as I know.” The first guy knocked back the rest of his coffee, crushed the cup, and tossed it into the waste bin with a scoff. “Still scary, though, how we’re surrounded by firebugs. What the hell is wrong with everybody?”

“Not getting enough dick or ass, probably.” The second man swirled his drink, and placed his hand on his grumbling stomach. “Eugh. You want to eat here, or go someplace else?”

“Someplace else,” the informant said, already leading his companion out the door. “There’s a great vegan place down the street we can go to. Fantastic wraps and soups.”

“Alright, then. Oh, did you hear about Ivan? I heard he...”

The voices trailed off, cut short at the closing of the door. Peter should stalk after them, his goldmine of the day, but the stun of the news rendered his legs useless. He added another note

- Scratch pining. She’s OBSESSED.

and saved the new notes into the folder. The file found its place way below the piles of photos of his journal pages sans misleading pornography. Then, he copied and pasted it to a draft in his email, the one that also held the photographs of the journals as attachments. He was going to have to add to Alfred’s folders, too, but for the moment, he had to lay the phone down on the table, fold his hands behind his head and lean back into the seat. He blinked, and let his mouth hang freely.

“...Holy fucking shit,” he whispered. She set Alfred’s house on fire.

She made an attempt on his brother’s life.

And there was a feeling of urgency, of plotting, set off by familial obligation. He knew that his protectiveness was surface-level nonsense, because this shit has to have gone way back to the American colonial days, and even he has to admit that he’s too ignorant of the circumstances to know how to go about this. But an attempt was made on his brother’s life. And with no excuse of a current war going on or even any inkling of Alfred recently attacking her, this was personal.

So, why wasn’t Peter immediately drawn to action? Where’s the call to arms? Where are the defense tactics that should be pouring in? Where’s the need to storm up to Cait’s place and, well, certainly not set her place on fire because he had narrowly avoided the permanent reputation as an arsonist, but something?

Instead, Peter reached for his cup of coffee, holding it aloft as he stared at the empty table space. He cracked an awed smile and lifted his cup higher. “Way to go, you crazy bitch...”

And he laughed.

#life thus far ( story )#droid noodles ( writing )#hetalia #uuuh sorry if I'd misstep here #I'll delete it if this wasn't supposed to spread. heh

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zuppizup · 4 years

Text

Study Break

Summary: Rayla offers to help Callum learn the Elven language.

Pairing: Rayla/Callum.

Word Count: 1017

AO3 Link: Study Break

---

A little idea that popped into my head, which then became an ode to the modh coinníollach, the conditional tense that just cannot be understood by mortals.

If you have studied the Irish language, you know what I mean.

If you have not, I can never explain.

---

“Ok, so what does this one mean?”

Rayla yawned, sitting up and glancing at the book Callum held out to her.

“Hmm, it means...” She gazed into the honey coloured sky, thinking.

Callum was sitting with his back against the rough rock of the Spire, a spell book of Ibis' on his lap. It was written in Elven, which Rayla had been helping him with.

She was lying with her legs sprawled across his, dozing contentedly in the evening sun.

“It’s hard to explain.” She leaned back on one arm, thinking. “It’s... it’s a way of speaking that doesn’t really exist in the Common Tongue. It means you would do something every day if something were to happen. It’s the conditional every day tense.”

Callum furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, trying to explain. “So, the spell you did so we could breathe up here-”

“Ventus Spiralis?” Callum interjected.

“Yeah, so the rune implies a conditional every day usage. You only have to cast it once and it works all the time, if you are somewhere with thin air. Unlike, your little wind breath spell that only works as long as you have air in your lungs.” She smirked at him.

“Hey, you weren’t so dismissive of Aspiro when it saved you from those leeches.” He batted her legs playfully.

She grinned, rolling her eyes as she leaned back to lay on the ground once again, arms crossed behind her head.

Callum watched her fondly for a few seconds. This had become a ritual of sorts. Her resting after a day’s training while he continued to study. Their current spot on the Spire had become their favourite. It afforded them a majestic view of the sky while still somewhat sheltered from the strong breezes that could howl across the Storm Spire.

It also had the added benefit of being relatively private.

Rayla would always touch him in some way while they relaxed. Hold his hand or lean against shoulder, though this particular set up was his favourite. He rested one hand on her calf as he looked back at the book, frowning. “I still don’t know what you mean though.”

Rayla sighed, thinking. “So, say if you wanted to explain that you are generally hungry in the morning. In High Elven, there’s a tense that exists that is the conditional everyday form. Rather than say “Every morning when I wake up, I tend to be hungry” you’d say, “Every morning I do be hungry”.”

Callum laughed. “Every morning I do be hungry?!”

She playfully smacked his leg. “Are you mocking my culture?”

“Well, it’s not exactly the whole ‘sophisticated elves' stuff we hear about in Katolis.”

“Well, it sounds better in High Elven!” She sat back up, poking him in the ribs. “It doesn’t translate well.”

“Do you speak High Elven?” He grabbed her finger, squeezing it affectionately.

She shrugged, squeezing back. “Na, not really. I read better than I speak. I wasn’t really into school. Ethari used to threaten to tie me to the chair if I didn’t finish my homework.”

Callum grinned at her affectionately. “I would have loved to have seen Little Rayla go to school.”

She tried unsuccessfully to hide her grin.

He slipped his hands around her waist, dropping his book. “I bet you drove your teachers crazy.”

She laughed, not denying the accusation. “And I bet you were a little teacher’s pet who read all his books before term even started.”

“Maybe.” Callum chuckled heartily, leaning forward to kiss her quickly before turning back to the book. “So, this rune is a conditional every day rune then? That means this spell is a spell to heat the air once it goes below a certain temperature?” He looked at her expectantly.

Rayla gaped at him exasperated.

“What?” He glanced up from his book.

“Eugh, nothing.” She lay back on the floor.

“Aw, I see.” He lay the book down, leaning over her.

“What?” She sulked.

“Bored?” He tickled her sides. “I thought you’d be impressed I’m embracing elf stuff."

She snorted, sitting up as she grabbed his hands. “Elf stuff?”

Callum nodded solemnly. “I believe that’s the technical term.” He slipped one hand around her waist, holding his other before them. He took a deep breath and paused, then drew a shimmering rune.

“Calida Aura”.

Rayla looked around expectantly. “Nothing happened?”

“Well, it’s a conditional spell.” He kissed her cheek. “Once the sun goes down and the temperature drops it’ll kick in.”

“Eugh, you’re so annoying. Is there any of this- “she gestured to the book, “you can’t do?”

“Are you kidding? You’re the youngest Dragon Guard ever. And Ibis told me you’re some super prodigy Moonshadow elf, which you neglected to mention.”

Rayla threw her head back and laughed, blushing pink. “So, you’ve got the book smarts and I’ve can do the physical stuff... between us, we manage to make one relatively normal person.”

Callum kissed her, pushing her hair back from her face. “Hey, with our combined skills, our kids would be pretty awesome.”

Silence drew out between them for a few seconds while his words hung in the air.

“Eh… I mean…” Callum flushed beetroot, lost for words.

Rayla struggled to suppress a grin, looking at him teasingly. “Yeeeeees…?”

“I just, eh… you know, em… so I dunno… maybe someday… but like… waaaay in the future…”

“…Yes?”

“I mean, I’m not saying any time soon... because that would be crazy! But, but, you know, just... em, maybe... if everything worked out, em...”

Rayla broke into peals of laughter. “Callum, shut up!”

He hid his face in his hands, blushing furiously. “I’m sorry.”

She giggled uncontrollably, hugging him close. “You are such a dork.”

He risked a glance at her. “But a lovable dork, right?” He grinned lopsidedly.

She rolled her eyes. “You have your moments.”

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love you, Rayla.”

“I love you too, dummy.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

“Even after all that?” He winked, still pink cheeked.

She rested her forehead against his. “Even after that.”

#rayllum #rayla x callum #callum x rayla #rayllum fanfic #tdp #tdp fanfic #my fic #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

Twin Snowflakes pt9: Phased

“Veronica! Hurry up!!!!!” The most common words to have come out Yang’s mouth in recent days. Day, evening, or nigh, Yang was calling her name through their living room and dining room that was completely littered with clothes on top of suitcases. “Getting dressed!” A younger voice yelled from upstairs.

Yang:Why aren’t you dressed already!?!?!

Veronica:I was, but I forgot the socks that went with got dirty.

Yang:So you changed the whole outfit!?

Veronica:Why do you sound surprised by this!?

Yang:Veronica if we miss our boat to anima I swear-

“Gah!” A curtain of blonde hair with several dark strands of black hits her face and got all in her mouth. Yang immediately backed up and looked towards the ceiling with a slightly irritated gleam in her eyes. Both of her arms went to her hips. “Really Veronica?” The young girl was trying to keep a straight face which was incredibly hard when looking at her ma’s trade mark stare upside down. Frankly she was impressed Yang wasn’t laughing at just seeing a blinking head.

Veronica:Hi.

Yang:Are you dressed yet?

Veronica:Almost. Can you hand me that top behind you. I’m not decent.

Yang:I hope you mean the purple long sleeve because the only other shirt I see is the white v-neck that I’d find hard pressed to call decent.

Veronica:You fought crime in incredibly small tights, a small jacket, and a tube top. You’re going to give me flack about a v-neck?

Yang: First of all, they were compression shorts. Second, are you trying to wear it with the black miniskirt.

Veronica:.....

Yang:*smirking* Thought so. You’re getting the long sleeve.

Veronica:*folds ears* Mom! Your wife is being grumpy!

Yang:Blake! Come straighten out your child!

Slow footsteps came creaking around the corner to show the tired faunus in her nightgown stumbling a bit. Her long hair a total mess and waving her ears hello at both bundles of fiery passion. Veronica’s arm came through the ceiling to wave back in rhythm with her own ears. Yang walked over to kiss Blake’s cheek and becoming a post for a Blake to lean on.

Yang:Sorry, didn’t realize you were still sleeping.

Blake:Stayed up.....to finish some papers. Why are you two arguing? Actually, why are you still here?

Yang:Your daughter-

Blake:Our daughter.

Yang:She’s yours when she gets like this.

Veronica and Blake:What, you mean like you?

Yang:H...Hey! Can you just tell her to dress conservative while we’re going to the coldest place ever and hurry up.

Veronica:That ship is literally here for us; they won’t leave us behind. Also please explain to ma how my outfit choices are fine.

Blake:....

Blake:Can I make tea first? Also talk to both of you at ground level? Veronica just throw on something, or nothing at really. You came out of me. I’ve made everything you got.

Veronica:Eugh, mom can you not phrase it like that?

Yang:Right? I mean I helped a little.

Veronica:Really!? Right in front of me? *leaves*

Yang:Old enough to where what you like but can’t handle a little adult humor. Oh how I mess being sixteen.

Blake:I don’t.

Yang:I doubt any member of a radical group would. How would you like your tea? Please say with honey.

Blake:Lavender.

Yang:Booooo. One day you’ll join the honey team. *grabs kettle*

Blake:Between your jokes and scuffles with Veronica about clothes I hope you know that you sound just like your dad.

Yang:Good! He raised two badass daughters. I got my hands full with just one.

Veronica:I’m coming down. Mind your heads!

Blake moves a chair and the surrounding clutter as Veronica’s legs start coming through the ceiling; shortly followed by the rest of her. She lands softly with no sound what so ever. Despite the talk about the so called compression shorts that Veronica tried to call out, she was now wearing them along with a tank top. Her tail slides up the front of it to rub her stomach.

Veronica:Geez guess I should really put all of theses actually in the suitcases now huh?

Yang:Ya think?

Blake:Do you really have to take so much clothes and fabric with you?

Veronica:Of course! I know the change of scenery will inspire me to come up with a new design. Can’t let the ideas escape from me because I’m unprepared.

Yang:You do remember you’re also helping set up and manage the tournament right. It’s not a vacation. *hands Blake a cup of tea*

Blake:*grabs entire tea pot*

Yang:......

Veronica:*smiles* It might not be a vacation but it’s definitely a breath of fresh. I plan to capitalize on it and that starts with attire.

Yang:Fair, just not that v-neck.

Veronica:Hmmmm, what’s stopping me from grabbing it right now and running away?

Yang:What’s stopping me from cutting off all the lights and wrestling you?

Veronica:I hope all the stuff on the ground. We both can’t be fumbling around in the dark.

Yang:I like my odds.

Blake:*wiping mouth* Ooooorrrrrr you can let me take a side like you both called me in here to do.

Veronica and Yang:.......Did you drink the whole pot?

Blake:Oh, sorry, I didn’t ask if you wanted any.

Yang:That’s not the issue....

Veronica:Wasn’t that scolding?

Blake:Eh. Let’s focus on the problem at hand. Yang?

Yang:Y...Yes?

Blake:If Veronica were to walk around as she is right now, would you think that is appropriate?

Somehow there was a trap in this question, but Yang couldn’t figure it out for the life of her. She turned to Veronica to exam her. The girl truly was blooming just like Yang had around that age. Toned body, a healthy smile, hair, dramatic lilac eyes, and a figure that somehow managed to take a decent amount of the best parts from both her and Blake; just proportioned to the girls slightly leaner and shorter build. Yang would be over the moon that somehow every Xiao Long kid made out to be basically a bombshell. Too bad it came with constant supervision to spot the wondering eyes of others. ‘I gotta remember to treat dad to something. How’d he do this like it was nothing?’

Yang:Well.....it’s not exactly inappropriate but I wouldn’t be comfortable with it.

Blake:*Smirking* Why?

Yang:Because you know how people are! Who knows when creep might pull a stunt or she might get unwanted attention. Girls might hassle her and guys can be excessive. I just want you to not have to deal with all that because if I see it then I might fight a kid.

Veronica:I fight my own battles you know? I mean it would be pretty lame if I couldn’t. You don’t exactly pull your punches in the ring. Or anywhere for that matter.

Blake:Now for the final question. Yang, do you remember what you were when we first met?

Yang:.......I was 18

Veronica:Wait, what was she wearing?

Blake:Exactly what you have on right now.

Veronica:Seriously!?

Yang:But I was 18!

Blake:With no super vision, in a public area, and you had no care in the world. Were you worried about anyone making a pass at you.

Yang:No, anyone who tried something would’ve gotten beaten u-

Veronica:*smiling*

Yang:Blake! I thought you were gonna be on my side!

Blake:She might not be 18 but she’s also not alone. Plus yoy have worn far less.

Veronica:Did not think I’d actually win this argument. Thanks mom.

Blake:I’m not finished.

Veronica:Should’ve known....

Blake:Yang, can I talk to her one on one really quick?

Yang:Okay? I guess I’ll just go pack up then? *slowly walking out*

Blake:Hey...

Veronica:H-Hey?

Blake:Wanna tell me why you’re throwing a fuss about not wearing a purple top; you’re favorite top I might add?

Veronica:No particular reason. I just don’t like feeling confined.

Blake:We are your parents. We’re supposed to impose limits and you only have a couple. Clothes suggestions have never gotten under your skin before.

Veronica:Yeah well I suppose that’s changed a bit. What’s the point of designing clothes and going to school for it if I can’t diversify my style. Let people be left in awe by me.

Blake:Is Nicholas one of those people?

Veronica’s eye went wide before her face flushed a rosey red. Blake had hit a soft spot and she knew it. She stood up to walk towards her daughter who had crossed her arms and turned her head away to avoid looking directly into those amber eyes that always seemed to cut right through her defenses. That didn’t stop Veronica to allow Blake to pull her into a gentle embrace.

Blake:I’m surprised. I half expecting my arms to go right through you.

Veronica:Yeah well...I like your hugs.

Blake:And I like knowing your okay. I’m positive you’ll get more interest out of him by being nice to his sister then showing skin

Veronica:One of those things is far easier.

Blake:Please be on your best behavior.

Veronica:I always am. What happens is up to her.

Blake:Ver-

Veronica:I know. Inhales...... I know. Hopefully we’ll both be too busy to interact much and we don’t have to socialize.

Blake:That’s not really what I would call a solution. Going was your idea so I expect nothing but good news. I’ll be there when the actual tournament begins and I can’t wait to see how you added style to the arena.

Veronica:I gotta get there first. Which means I really need to pack all this up and get dressed.

Blake:Is that your way of saying “Mom please let go of me?”

Veronica:Such intelligence. No wonder you are the greatest high leader Remnant has ever seen.

Blake:Pfft whatever you know it all. *lets go*

They share one last look before Veronica grabs her purple shirt it winks. “What can I say? I looks amazing on me.” Blake playfully rolls her eyes and watches her daughter leap into the air and phase through the ceiling.

Blake:Hehe we have stairs!

Veronica:*muffled* And they look lovely!

Blake:Yang you can come back in!

Yang:*peeks around corner* Why do I always have to leave the room?

Blake:Because she thinks you’re strong and amazing like how you think of your dad. We both know how much you feel frustrated whenever he sees you get emotional.

Yang:*red* He’s seen me soft too many times. I’m grown.

Blake:Only proving my point dork. I know I probably spoil her too much but let Veronica spread her wings a bit. She rarely gets to do that around here.

Yang:*frowns* I know. I’m just worried she’ll spread those wings too far. There might not be enough room for anyone else. Atlas might have a new ruler by the time tournament is over.

Blake:Atlas’s loves Nick and Summer too much for that.

Yang:I never said she’d do it easily. I can see it now, a turf war that shook the world.

Blake:You’re so dramatic.

Yang:That’s why you married me.

Blake:Certainly wasn’t for your tea making skills. *darts off smiling*

Yang:What!? My tea is fine! Blake! *runs after her*

xxxx

“Achooo!!!”

Winter:That was some sneeze. The weather getting to you?

Summer:No. I’m not sure where that came from.

The two of them had landed down on the Mantle wall for several minutes now. Both under the wing of the summoned nevermore to avoid the light rain. Little was said between them after their embrace in the sky. Words was never Winter’s strongest skill; even after all these years. It was more comfortable watching the warm glow of the city lights in silence, but Weiss had given her a task. See if Summer was truly okay.

Her earlier actions definitely raised a few unsettling flags that Summer tried to ensure where just in Winter’s head. Still, Summer’s face, Winter couldn’t help but notice how solemn it was. The girl had already faced trials and tribulations no one should at her age. Winter took ahold her hand which made the girl jump slightly. She had completely zoned out for a moment but now looked at her aunt perplexed.

Summer:Yes auntie?

Winter:You were lost in thought. Where you having a conversation again?

Summer:No, I had enough of Shiva’s comments for one day. For a lifetime actually.

Winter:I cannot imagine what’s it’s like going through that. Especially for so long.

Summer:It’s no different than enteral monologue really, or the voice people have when they’re silently reading to themselves. Only mine has a will of its own. Not to mention the space I seem to find myself in whenever things get out of hand. I guess that part is a bit different from most people.

Winter:The mind is a complex thing to say the least.

Summer:Yeah, and mine is broken.

Winter:Your mind is not broken Summer.

Summer:Feels that way sometime. There’s still so much I don’t fully understand about what’s happening. Even after all this time.

Winter:That’s not a fault on you. Science is merely trying to catch up with such an unorthodox event. Just the other day Oscar and Qrow went off to find answers just for you. I believe even Adrian tagged along.

SummerReally!? Where are they going?

Winter:To see if anything can be learned from the Gods. If they manage to find them that is.

Summer:That’s....a tall order. All that for me? I’m the one who should be going through that trouble. It’s my problem after all.

Winter:This is something everyone has to deal with.

Summer:Oh.....sorry. *frowning*

Winter:That’s not what I-.....sigh, what I meant is we are all family. If one of us has a problem then all of us do and it’s no big deal for anyone to try and resolve it.

Summer:That doesn’t make it less frustrating for me though. I know you all care. I do, but there’s just something. Like a gap I can’t seem to close between myself and the rest of the world. Like I never really left that lake.

Winter:....Then lets go back.

Summer:W...what?

Winter:It’s somewhere down here right? Maybe going there will spark something.

Summer:An answer?

Winter:Perhaps, or closure.

Summer:Closure huh? (Maybe that is what I’m actually missing.) I will think about it. First things first, I actually came down here for a reason. Despite the bond and resources between Atlas and Mantle growing, there’s still plenty of people that still live on the streets. I tend to donate money when I can also sometimes I just go around the city to go buy food or warm clothes to whoever I find.

Winter:I had no idea you kept a close eye on these types of things. How often do you come down here.

Summer: Enough to hurt my grades it seems. You are the first person to catch me chain grinding attempts. Can’t believe you saw the worst one though. That’s embarrassing to say the least.

Winter:Attempts? Summer I know you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing is extremely dangerous. Not to mention illegal. What if I hadn’t caught you?

Summer:I would’ve just....it’s actually easier to show you. If that’s okay I mean.

Winter:*raises eyebrow* Is it safe?

Summer’s face scrunches up as she wobbles her hand up and down. “Safer than most of the things involving the cold. I can control it just fine.” Now it was Winter’s turn to look skeptical. This could potentially be a slippery slope their playing with. However, it was hard not to notice the slight excitement in Summer’s voice. “If you really can control it...then I suppose there isn’t any ha-“

“Yes!” Summer bounced a little at the thought of showing off. She removed her cloves and tugged her shirt down for more air flow. Winter stood beside her and watched carefully. Shiva and her powers over ice weren’t anything new but this pseudo form that rest in between the full transition had her attention. It was easy to tell Summer had been hard at work trying to find a way to turn this accident into something useful without succumbing to it. At first glance anyone wouldn’t notice the flickering in her eyes or the subtle color shifts in at the ends of her hair.

She watched her niece clap her hands together then pull them apart slowly as the cold itself seemed to be drawn into the middle. Ice crystals grew larger while expanding length wise. Summer had created another snowboard in no time at all. It might’ve been second nature to her fall all Winter can tell. And yet....“You sure I don’t have to worry this time about catching you?”

“Follow behind me if it makes you feel better. I’m heading towards the dust facility down here so keep up.” Summer said with a thumbs up and took a running start before leaping off the wall. The Nevermore swooped Winter and took off. Tailing Summer like instructed. Winter was quite surprised to say the least at what she witnessed. The rain around Summer turned to slush and ice that trailed underneath her. More and more swirled down by the base of the bored each way swayed it. Summer was snowboarding in midair and that was something Winter admitted to herself was worth showing off. From behind her it was still easy to till Summer was enjoying herself, yet also not quite how she usually would. The essence around her felt more...invigorating. Winter couldn’t help but wonder.....where exactly do Summer’s actions end, and Shiva’s begin?

xxxx

Gym Teacher: Mr. Schnee I appreciate your enthusiasm but don’t you think this is a bit much for you to handle?

Nick:Come on Coach Bree. Aren’t you always telling me to get my striking speed up?

Harriet: Yeah but...

The both of them stare at the giant track field at the back of the school. Easily three miles long and leaving plenty of space in the middle for games such as soccer or football. Also the giant paladin that is currently setting his laser sights on Nick.

Harriet:Beating a Paladin alone is a tall order. Why not take the regular physical exams like everyone else?

Nick:My schedule is busy as it is! I can’t waste two class periods on doing them when I can take the expedited test and pass automatically; plus it’s good training for the tournament. It’s just rubber bullets and lasers set to stun.

Harriet:With concussion grenades, thrusters for speed, it’s made of the finest metal, and designed to be on destroy Goliaths. Seniors have difficulty with this. I’ll admit you have skill but not that much skill.

Nick:You just don’t feel like writing a incident report.

Harriet:What teacher does!? Plus I don’t feel like getting yelled at if you can’t participate in the tournament. I’ll never hear the end of it.

Nick:Ugh, and after all that work I put into finishing that science test early.

Harriet:Sorry kid. Like I said, seniors have trouble with this. I actually let them team up for it.

Nick:That tough huh? Oh! If that’s the case then can I take it with others!?

Harriet:I’d might consider it but there’s a problem. No one your age is crazy enough to attempt this. Most of them are still working of the fat from winter break.

Nick:No one crazy enough. I think you underestimate Valerie.

Harriet:She already took the first half of the regular exam so good luck making her decide to switch up.

Nick:Crap, I forgot she had P.E. already. Man this sucks!

Harriet:.....I tell you what. Your sister didn’t show up today. Despite her absences....

Nick:*flinches* Hehe see about that... she ate waaaaay to much Christmas ham and-

Harriet:I’m in the loop on her reluctance to attend my class genius. Your mom called earlier to give me a heads up that I’d only be seeing you today. That girl is really started to throw a wrench in my planning.

Nick:I’m sorry....I know she feels awful about it.

Harriet:*scratches head* Doesn’t change I need numbers for her. Putting in zeros in grade books is easy. Putting them in battle info makes it extremely hard to plan proper routines that are challenging but not suicidal. But since you’re determined about risking safety anyways. If by some miracle you can convince Summer and Valerie to take this with you, then I’d feel more confident that I won’t send a student home with broken bones like last time.

Nick:Really!? Alright!

Harriet:That last part just didn’t matter to you did it?

Nick:No offense, but we are eople with gold and silver medals for combat related activities should be just fine. Tomorrow it is! Before or after school?

Harriet:I’m not waking up earlier to call an ambulance. After school or if you all so happen to have a free period around the same time.

Nick:After school it is! I got a good feeling about this!

xxxx

Valerie:You are insane...

Nick:Please!?

“SSSSSHHHHHH!!!!” Multiple students stared at the boy annoyed as they were peacefully trying to read. He had forgotten where he was for a moment and quickly hid his face behind a book before the librarian started skulking around. Valerie watched the boy’s eyes peek over the top of pages and waited for him to continue to make his case. This time in a whisper.

Nick:Pretty please?

Valerie:No. I had to spend my time in that stupid dressing room and listen to dumb girls have a contest over who was hotter. That is sanity wasted if I switch up now.

Nick:That’s ridiculous.

Valerie:Their arguing or my complaining? Choose carefully.

Nick:The fact that they’re fighting about who’s the prettiest when you’re in the room.

Valerie:Well played. Still not doing it. Why am I a requirement.

Nick:*grabs her hands* Because without you we’d be hard press to find someone else our grade to keep up with us. Only you can do it. You’re awesome. We both know that.

Now he’d done it. Valerie was never a person to care about compliments yet Nick’s were a bit different from most. Maybe it was that Arc charm at work or seeing Schnee eyes look so soft, but his compliments always felt incredibly genuine. It was irritating after all this time he was as good with words as she was. Murmurs reached her ears as more students started watching the two. More importantly, their hands. He still hadn’t let go. How long have they been like this?

Val’s face got a bit stern and she shook her hands free. She brought her right one up to thump the poor boy right in the nose to wipe that puppy dog look away.

Nick:Ow...still no?

Valerie:.......Fine, but I’m only saying fine because I’d be road kill earlier without you. Then we’re even.

Nick:You’re still thinking about that? I wasn’t gonna hold saving your life over your head by any means but if it makes you feel better then okay. We’ll be even.

Valerie:Good. I guess I can make a peace of my day completely irrelevant now.

Nick:You’re the best!!!

Liberian:Quiet!!!

Nick:Whoops! I should go. Thanks again!

Valerie:Sure th-

Nicholas went in and hugged her fast before pulling back and showing a gleeful grinn. Before she could say anything he was running off out of the library and more importantly, the studying students. Some of them turned their attention to her so at least she could feel their frustration. Even the Liberian shot of look of displeasure which only increased the embarrassment on her face. She had no choice but to bury herself into the text book she had been reading before things got loud. It did not stop the feeling of them staring behind it, or her face from turning red.

Valerie:(Damn it Nicholas. I’m totally getting you back for this somehow!)

xxxx

Yang:*tapping her foot* (I swear this girl) Veronica in a second I’m just gonna lea-

“I’m ready!” The girl came sliding into view with her luggage in hand. Yang couldn’t help but smile as it seemed common ground between them was found. Her daughter wore black flats accompanied with black thigh high socks and the skirt mentioned from earlier. A gap between the two showed some skin but not crazy in the slightest. The purple long sleeve shirt was worn with pride and Yang couldn’t help but notice Veronica had taken the time to make hair a little crinklly.

She paid no mind to her mother as she strutted passed her mom with her tail pulling her luggage along. Veronica was too busy already opening up her journal and going over unfinished designs.

Veronica:Let’s get to it Ma. Ship won’t wait forever right?

Yang:For your sake I hope you don’t have to kick anyone.

Veronica:Already got it covered. A little thing called compression shorts. It’s hard to tell because I’m not only wearing them. Thought it should go underneath something.

Yang:I’m gonna have to deal with that the whole ride huh?

Veronica:Oh yeah. *closes door*

Part 8

#rwby twin snowflakes #rwby #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #veronica belladonna #blake bellodona #yang xiao long #bmblb #bumbleby #harriet bree #winter schnee #rwby au #val valkyrie #rwby whiteknight #renora

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lynneshobbydomain · 4 years

Text

4 AM Honesty Collections 1/?

Author Note: You can also read the story on Wattpad.

Summery: No one wants to admit the honest truth. Which is why she's miles from anywhere to ask questions. Which is why he keeps the phone close to his bedside and answers no matter the time or whose calling.

"Do you believe in the cliche 'you die when it's your time'?"

Hearing her voice made Kore relax back into the pillows and he felt a small smile curve. "It makes sense to me." He said after a moment, adjusting the phone a bit so that he could talk easier. He could hear rain pitter-pattering down, but he couldn't be sure if it was from outside or from her end. If it was from her end, he hoped that she was inside and watching it from the window. He could imagine her on the balcony, her head tilted to look up at the clouds to watch the rain drip down. He could imagine her rocking back and forth on her feet. All the way to her tippy-toes, and right back to the edges of her heel. "I think that there are things that we do to rush our time. I think that we should try to slow down our time as much as we possibly can."

He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he listened to her hum a measure of a song. He pushed the covers off of him, shivering. He had been hot when he went to bed, but now the wife beater was just a little less than he'd like to have worn. At least he was wearing pants and was a bit comfortable. "What about you?" He asked, breaking the silence. "Do you believe in it?"

"I feel like it makes sense," Kanna spoke as though she were tasting every word before she dished it out. Careful and methodical, as though one wrong sentence, one wrong word could end everything. "I think we're on the same page here."

Kore rubbed his eyes again, and pushed his long hair out of his face since it came out of it's ponytail. He headed for the door and opened it as quietly as he could since it could creak. He glanced down the darkened hallway to his roommate's door. He felt a heavy twinge in his chest, but locked it away. He pulled the door shut behind him and headed towards the cramped kitchen. He turned on a light and it blinded him a little since the kitchen was white and reflected the light. He could hear was her soft breathing, the soft drops of rain, and his soft banging and mugs clinking to get the one down from the cupboard.

"Coffee?" She questioned. Was she in disbelief?

"I'm going to need it for this conversation." Kore answered, sleep still laced in his voice.

"I remember when you used to hate it." She hummed a song that he barely recognized, but couldn't put the finger to the name. "It was hot chocolate or nothing. Whip cream only."

"I was such a child then."

"I remember when I used to drink coffee." Her tone changed, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"You don't anymore?" He listened to the Keurig work, the sprout waterfalling coffee.

"Hot chocolate nowadays if not tea."

"White chocolate mochas are pretty much hot chocolate that's been laced with espresso." Kore teased.

"I don't think that's how mocha's made." Her voice took on a doubting lilt to her tone. He could almost see her finger pressing up against her chin as she tilted her head to the side. He could almost see her rocking a little faster as though it'd help.

"I'm not a barista, but I think that's how it's made." Kore said slowly, grabbing the mug from underneath the Keurig and headed back towards his room. "What made you stop drinking coffee? Did something happen?"

"I just no longer like the taste of it." Kanna replied, and for some reason that bothered him. She had been all about the flavored coffee drinks. Anything that was overly sweet and obnoxious was usually in her hands. The cafe that they frequented used to look at her in absolute horror and dread despite her tipping well.

Kore wondered what they'd think that their crazy customer was no longer crazy. Then again, it was easy to get creative with hot chocolate and tea. She just found a new outlet for it, that's all. "I see."

"Coffee though," Kanna mused thoughtfully, humming the words like a song. "That's a bit strange for Kore-Kore isn't it?"

"Is that really what we're going back to, Kannahana?" Kore deadpanned. "I don't know. I just found that I did like the taste of it."

"I bet yours is black and bitter."

"Psychic." As if to prove a point, he sipped the coffee. "It's black."

"Eugh." He could imagine the face. Her small tongue poking out of her lips. Her eyes screwed up shut and her eyebrows furrowed. Her nose would be scrunched up like a rabbit. "Sounds awful."

"You," his tone was pointed, "don't get to say anything about my coffee."

"I guess that's fair." Kanna sighed, humming a defeated tune. "I can't argue anymore with that kind of logic."

He arranged himself to sit back down on the bed and glanced out towards the curtained window. Should he open the blinds to see if it was raining here? He hadn't heard anything outside, but he was paying attention to the phone call. "Are you warm?"

"As warm as I can be. Are you hearing the rain?" Kanna asked, but she pressed on as though he already spoke. "The rain's pretty at night. They reflect the neon lights, and the puddles seem to catch stars and memories. It washes away all of the bad things and make it all clean. It's...refreshing really."

"Only during the summer. The winter's cold." Kore sipped the coffee.

"Hmm. Is this you thinking that it's summer where I am?" Kanna asked.

He'd never ask her for a hint. "Not sure. Don't care." She laughed and he relaxed back towards the pillows. "I miss you."

Her breath hitched. "Oh." She made a noise in the back of her throat, "I miss you." She cleared her throat. "I'm on the balcony."

"You're outside." He commented. "You are cold."

"A little. I'm wearing a nightgown if it helps."

He prays it's not the thin one, but knowing her and her lack of self-preservation, it was. "Stay safe."

"It's all I can do." She hummed another few measures of a song. "Kore."

"Hm?"

"You're loved." Kanna's voice had never been so firm before. "I love you."

He closed his eyes and he breathed. For just one moment, he could imagine her right there next to him. He could imagine her taking out her Switch, turning it on to play some light rounds of Pokemon before going to sleep next to him. He could imagine her pressing up against his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder. He wondered if her hair was long or if it was cut short. He wondered what wild color it was. He wondered if she changed her eye-color again with some costume contacts. He wondered if she carried a cat for a backpack.

He could ask her all of these things if he wanted. She was right there on the other end of the phone, yet he was afraid to open his mouth and beg for a picture. It wasn't fair to her, and it wasn't fair to him. "You're loved." He repeated and he could hear her giggle on the other end. "So, so loved, Kanna."

"Is it late where you are?" She questioned after a moment. "I know I woke you up, but I can let you go to get some sleep."

"I barely had my coffee." Kore pouted at the phone. "By the time I'm done drinking it, I'll be up anyway."

"I ruined your sleep schedule." Kanna sounded disappointed.

"Did you?" Kore countered, "or did I for answering the phone?"

"You'll always answer the phone." Kanna wasn't wrong. His phone was always off vibrate and was always at his bedside regardless. "...How are you?"

The question took him a little by surprise. It wasn't that it was unexpected, but they didn't usually try to ask that question. It was too raw. They were too raw. "...I don't know." He was too honest.

"I'm still lost." Kanna answered without having him ask. "I don't...know where to go from here."

She was still chasing something no one else could see. Kore could respect that, he supposed. "So, you'll be to the wind for a while longer?"

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking about coming back before taking to the wind again."

Kore's heart soared, and then it crashed and burned. "Coming back here, yes?"

"Hope so."

So no. Kore let out a soft sigh. "Frustrating."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's...not you."

"It is me." Kanna protested. "I'm making things harder than they really are. I know that you want to tell me to stop running away."

"But you and I both know that's not what you're doing." Kore sighed as he took a large drink of the coffee. It was a little less hot than it had been moments ago. It still burned his tongue a little, but it was enough to keep him awake. "That's not what you're doing at all."

The tone was wrong. The beat was off. Kanna's breath hitched and he could hear a soft whine from her. Neither of them made a move to admit the truth. It was too raw. They were too raw. He was too honest.

She was too broken.

"Do you think the rain washes things clean?" Kanna finally asked, trying to switch topics.

Neither of them were up for a fight, not even over the phone. "I think it dampens them, gives a little bit of a clean slate." Kore replied slowly, "I think that it's purifying, the air's always crisper and the way things look always seem brighter."

"Yes!" Kanna was probably rocking back and forth on her feet again, pleased that the topic changed work. She was ecstatic that he was playing along, instead of pressing buttons. He learned a long time ago that buttons weren't meant to be pressed. "They do. I always feel a little more alive when the rain's done, but I also feel so...comforted when I watch it fall. Like there's something romantic about it."

"There is." Kore agreed and she made a few notes of triumph. "There really is. Hey...Kanna."

"Hm?"

"I still am very much in love with you."

#original works #original fiction #copyright in place yo #kore #kanna #original characters #tw: suicide mention #tw: suicide awareness #late night conversations #existentialism #tw: existentialism #lynne writes

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asheespiquantpeculiarities · 5 years

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07 - Watersports/Omorashi | Public Sex | Clothes On | Uniforms

„Mh hoooome!“ Richard said, walking by on shaking legs… and promptly fell face-first onto the couch. Maybe today had been a little bit much.

Likely a little alerted by the thud, Trinity walked into the room: “Richard? What,,, what happened to you?”

That might have sounded alarmed as well. He wasn’t sure. What he said was: “Mnnngh… got shot. Will heal. ‘s just a lil much. Need sleep”

“You’re a demon you don’t need sleep, what did you do?! Who shot you?!” That sounded less alarmed and more accusing. Ah well.

At least she touched him carefully.

It burned slightly. Ah, he really was low on energy huh? He answered anyway: “Mmmh… some kind of mob. Needed convincing I came… ah… ‘with serious intent’… or something. So they shot me, In the shoulder”

“… why were you dealing with the mob again?” More admonishment. And ere he was, for once kinda innocent. Which might be the problem.

“Giving them money to leave the indigenous people alone... aaaand keep the blackmarket trade of rainforest – I mean, how ridiculous… how ridiculous is that? - … in the know for me. So my campaign isn’t… completely pointless, yanno? Stopping the de-… deforestation? Because all the new books take… too many trees?” He took a break to whine a bit.

“…oh” She said.

“Cause the libraries… remember? They n+eeded more trees and you weren’t happy. So now… there are trees… and hemp… I guess… soonish? I hope. Politics is weird” He huffed. And planted his face on the pillow again.

“Oh” said Trinity… and left.

“Noooooo, don’t leave meeeeee-eugh.” He made a note to self: Vibrations in shoulders are bad.

… he had at least hoped for an honest, actually joyful kiss.

Mnph.

Everything went bad this day.

Well, he had wanted to sleep, hadn’t he?

So, he closed his eyes.

And dozed off.

Until he felt something… soft on his head.

And he jerked awake, sitting up to stare, holding his shoulder. It was all a bit disorienting, until he saw… Trinity.

With thigh high, blue and white boots. Even two blue wings flapping at her ankles. Giving way to a tiny bit of thigh… and the shortest skirt one could imagine. A pointless black belt above, encircling her nice and soft waist, following up to a rather constricting bra, heart shaped hole in the front, being held at her neck. There were shoulder-pad ruffs. There were naked arms, but pointless, wide cuffs, a nurses cap! And she wore her hair in pigtails, for Pete’s sake!

It was all he ever dreamed of seeing! It was wonderful! And cute and did bring out her boobs nicely and invited to touch and to kiss and grope and snuggle and nibble and-

With wide. Blinking eyes and her arms raised and… squeezing her breasts together, Trinity said in the ditziest way imaginable: “I’m the holy angel of charity, Metatron, so, are you in any pain or discomfort today?”

…

And all the joy fell off of him.

Deflated, he fell back down into the pillows. He didn’t want to be made fun of on top of everything else, too.

He grabbed a blanket and pulled it over himself, curling in while being careful about the shoulder.

“… what. You always wanted me to wear that!” She sounded peeved.

“Mmmmhmh, and it suits you just as well as I thought,” which was incredibly well. And very sexy. And incredibly tempting. And… ah, whatever.

“So?” There was still peevedness.

“Well, you hate it” And he didn’t need this right now.

“You knew that before already,” which was true, admittedly.

“Mmh… didn’t know how much, I guess,” shrugging was a bad idea. So he kissed slightly.

“This was to reward you, you know? You actually did good! You deserved a reward. You can enjoy!”

He glanced up at still grumpy her – still terribly attractive, really – and sighed: “I’m not… lust. I’m greed. I got lotsa minus points today… an… I always liked the stupid costume… cause it’s charity. Opposites attract… n all a that”

She still frowned: “It’s just… a thing with my name that… that very terrible people jerk off to! It’s disrespectful and plain awful”

Wth a deep breath, he nodded: “I suppose. Still be charitable now?” Richard held the blanket up “Some cuddles?”

When his arm twitched with a hiss of pain, her features softened and she slipped under the covers, snuggllng close to him: “You’re an idiot”

He very carefully put an am around her and pulled her close: “But at least yours”

She huffed and carefully nestled against him, giving him a careful kiss on the forehead: “But at least mine. You really did do good, you know?”

And he smiled at her.

After a few breathes and some more wriggling from Trinity, she stopped wriggling, frowing again: “… are you hard?”

“It is TERRIBLY sexy, okay? Like, if you didn’t do that voice…” It was nothing but a whine.

After a deep breath, she sighed and snuggled against him, anyway: “Be glad I love you. Now sleep”

“I love you… too” And maybe… the day wasn’t all bad.

07 - Uniforms

#kinktober 2019 #Kitty|Richard #MetatronNRichard #Metatron|Trinity #856 words

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blog-in-a-corner · 5 years

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TSOTBL - A Poor Choice

After the talk Lucinda and Kim had yesterday, Kim though she'd pay Aphmau a little visit as well.

Aaron, Zane and Aphmau were all in the lobby playing UNO, as Zane had forgotten he had packed a deck of UNO cards with himself.

“The UNO company themselves said that you can't stack draw-4s!” Aphmau argued, mulling over all the cards she had in her hand. “Oh so now you're bringing that up, not when I was the one getting stacked on?” Zane commented. “Sorry Aphmau, we play by the street rules here.” Aaron claimed, although he wasn't smirking you could tell through his voice he practically was. “Hmph, it's not fair I tells ya!” Aphmau whined. “Hey Aphmau can I-oh, are you guys busy?” Kim accidentally interrupted. “We’re just busy watching Aph get her butt kicked in UNO.” Zane joked. “It's not funny!” Aphmau fumed. “Do you wanna join me, Zane and Aphmau for a game?” Aaron offered Kim. “Ah, no thank you. I actually came here because I was looking for Aphmau.” Kim explained. “What do ya need?” Aphmau asked. “I wanted to talk to you about... something.” Kim muttered. “Can't you tell me right now?” Aphmau said, putting down a card. “No, I need to talk to you in private.” Kim insisted. “Okay, okay, just let me finish this game and I'll meet you in your room, 'kay?” Aphmau suggested. “Sure.” Kim accepted, leaving the lobby and back to her room.

After quite a bit of time, Aphmau finally came up to Kim's room.

“That was a long game of UNO.” Kim commented. “I'm….very bad at the game.” Aphmau admitted sheepishly. “Yeah I can tell.” Kim added. “Anyways, what'd ya wanna talk to me about?” Aphmau asked. “I...erm..did you ever...” Kim mumbled nervously. “Huh? What was that?” Aphmau asked again, leaning closer to Kim. “C'mon Kim just get to the point.” Kim thought to herself. “Aphmau did….did you ever actually talk to Zane, or did you just lie to me?” Kim confronted Aphmau sharply.

Aphmau nervously avoided eye contact and fiddled with her hair, trying to mutter up something to say.

“I...I didn't lie to you Kim, I did talk to Zane.” Aphmau explained. “You did?” Kim implored. “Yes.” Aphmau confirmed. “So why the heck is he still bad mouthing Garroth?!” Kim raised her voice. “Listen it's not that simple, he...has a lot of family issues.” “What, did Garroth do something to him when they were younger or something?” Kim questioned. “No not at all! He just-it's just complicated okay! It's family stuff between them and I really don't think it's my place to tell you exactly what.” “So what! I have family issues, a lot of people have family issues. Big deal. Didn't give me the right to treat the people who didn't do anything wrong like crap.” “No it's-argh you wouldn't understand!” “I understand that apparently Garroth covered for him when you guys disbanded the jury! You know I always wondered why I never saw Garroth during his senior year.” “I-how do you know about that?!” Aphmau asked in shock. “Lucinda told me about it.” Kim answered, lowering her voice. “What else do you know about it…?” Aphmau questioned. “Not a lot, just that and then some.” Kim explained. “Hm I see….” “I'm sure that after doing something like that, now that Zane is all “nice” or whatever, that they should have a good relationship by now? Garroth sure as hell loves Zane so why does Zane still treat him like crap despite everything?” “L...Listen Kim I'm going to be real with you, but you better not let Zane get word of this!” Aphmau whisper-shouted. “You have my word.” Kim promised. “I know that Zane is full of it, Garroth definitely isn't blameless in the situation, the guy still has plenty of flaws, but Zane is taking things way out of proportion.” Aphmau elaborated. “So why don't you tell him that?” Kim asked in confusion. “Because he'll just think I'm siding with Garroth and make this whole fiasco out of it! I don't want to deal with that, especially trapped in some run down lodge with four of my friends and my ex and no connection to the outside world!” Aphmau claimed in frustration, sitting on the bed. “Besides...he's on the right track right now, he still needs a lot of work albeit, but he's a way better person than he was a year ago...and I don't want to mess that up...” “I understand what you're saying Aphmau, but sometimes the only way to improve is by taking criticism instead of what you want to hear.” Kim sighed. “Yeah…I guess you're right…” Aphmau admitted. “Listen, you can just deal with the Zane situation later, it's bad enough already with having to be trapped in a place with the ex you promised to stay away from for a while, the Zane thing can wait. Garroth's been dealing with him for years, what's a couple more days?” Kim suggested, sitting beside Aphmau. “I’m sorry for not being more understanding earlier, I was so irritated at Zane that I didn't take a moment to consider how you were doing with everything that's happened.” “It's all right Kim, I understand why you got upset. I promise I'll really face Zane about it, just...not right now okay?” Aphmau promised. “Thanks Aph.” Kim muttered. “It's not a problem Kim..” Aphmau said, giving Kim a light smile. “Anyways, I'll let you go now. You probably wanna play some more with Aaron and Zane right now.” Kim said, getting up and opening the door for Aphmau. “Wanna join us?” Aphmau offered. “Oh, erm, I don't know. You guys looked like you were having fun all together and I wouldn't want to disturb you guys.” Kim rejected the offer nervously. “Aw c'mon! You're always welcome to a game of UNO!” Aphmau insisted. “Well...okay, maybe just one game.” Kim gave in. “Great! C'mon let's ask Lucinda is she wants to play!” Aphmau dragged Kim out of the room. “Ah but she's asleep! She's been taking a lot of naps to make up for the lack of sleep. “Aw well that's too bad, oh well!” Aphmau sighed. “At least it’s one less person to watch you get your butt kicked at UNO.” Kim joked, trying not to giggle.

“Hey!” Aphmau laughed, walking back to the lobby with Kim.

_____________________________________________

It was late at night. Kim, Aaron, Aphmau, and Zane had already gone to bed. Lucinda on the other hand, had just woken up.

“Urgh….what time is it?” Lucinda groaned, looking at her surroundings. It was pretty dark inside her room. “How long was I asleep?” Lucinda was still slightly disoriented from waking up. She picked up her phone and looked at the time. “Ten thirty? Damn, looks like I won't be falling asleep for a while” she sighed. She slipped on her purple fuzzy bunny slippers(the most iconic slippers) and stood up.”Guess I'll walk around for a bit as long as I'm up.”

Lucinda walked out of her room and stretched her arms, she was awake but her body still felt tired. She froze as she passed up the rooms. “That static feeling again! Eugh that feeling is stronger than ever right now…” Lucinda thought to herself. She continued to walk down the hall despite her discomfort. She made it downstairs and looked around. “Man I'm still feeling that damn static! I didn't feel it down here before but now I do…and even during the day…” She stood in the middle of the lobby, deep in thought. Was the static just a feeling? Or was it...a presence? Lucinda would have come to her conclusion but-

Lucinda heard shuffling through the bushes a thick snow, but not just any shuffling, it almost sounded as if someone was outside.

“What the hell?” Lucinda muttered, switching her attention to the outside window. “Hold on Lucinda, think logically, it's probably just a wolf outside or-” Lucinda then heard a grunt. “Dammit.” A voice outside uttered, shuffling not so quietly.

Lucinda instantly shifted into action, she summoned her wand in hand and bust open the door outside.

“Who's out there!” Lucinda shouted, keeping her wand close by.

There was no answer.

“I'm not going to ask twice, if you don't reveal yourself now, I'll blast this whole perimeter!” She yelled, prepping a spell with her wand.

Still, no answer.

“Alright, have it your way.” Lucinda then casted a blasting spell, it blasted a wave of magic around the entire lodge.

Although there was nothing to be heard from the mysterious voice.

“Hm, whoever it was must've run off before I could blast them. What a coward and a creep. Worst of both worlds.” Lucinda muttered to herself, walking back inside, locking the doors tightly. “But for extra precaution, let's play with magic shall we?” She then guarded the lodge with a small protection spell, it would last them the night to say the least. “Well, I've got the heebie-jeebies now, so I guess I'll head back to my room, don't want to get spooked by another asshat in the woods.” She walked back upstairs and into her room, where she sat on her bed quietly, trying her best to fall asleep again.

“That was close.” The cloaked figure said under his breath, running through the snow ridden woods. He stopped by a tree, trying to catch his breath. “Too close….I have to be more careful next time. Things are aligning with each other….if anything time is running out.” The man stopped panting and looked up to the ever so bright moon. “I have to keep going forward. I can't stop now. Not when I'm so close to achieving what I...have worked so hard for all these years….”

//Howdy y’all! The story is going to be on hold for while, PAGE 23 is going to have a LOT of artwork, unfortunately I’ve been having some tablet and computer issues so it’s going to take a while T-T. But hey better late than never! In the meantime I’m going to make a book of oneshots next monday! Mostly featuring my au’s, maybe a few shippy or platonic ones here and there, and even a few comdey ones. So stay tuned! ;3//

#aphmau #mystreet #fanfiction #writeblr #tsotbl #garroth ro'meave #aaron lycan #zane ro'meave #kim #lucinda

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reddieforakiss · 6 years

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Icecream on Sundays

College Reddie// not established relationship// roommates// Rated M for intense make outs and sexual references// SPOILER ALERT FOR HEATHERS MOVIE

Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak have been living together for around a year now. In senior year they ended up deciding on the same college so they figured being each other’s room mate was better than being with a stranger.

// When Richie first brought the idea up to Eddie, they were in his room reading comic books. “Eds I think we should be room mates when we get to college”, Richie said out of no where, and Eddie threw him a confused look. Richie went on to reason, “I mean who knows what kind of weirdos could end up rooming with you otherwise?”. Eddie snorted and nudged his side into Richies side, “I know exactly the kind of weirdo that I’m gonna room with”, he looked in Richies eyes “you”. Richie smiled wide and wrapped his arm around Eddies shoulder, “Aw hell yes Eds! You aren’t gonna regret it”. Eddie turned red and laughed softly, smiling, “I feel like I already am”. //

As they moved in and began school, the two of them started in routines. Eddie always got to shower in the morning and Richie did at night. Eddie made both of them breakfast as long as Richie would do the dishes after. If either one of them left at night, they would leave notes for each tier saying where they went and when they would get back. On Saturday mornings they would always go grocery shopping, at the mini mart of course. And, every Sunday night, they would get snacks and watch a movie together.

This particular Sunday it was Eddies turn to pick the movie as Richie had picked it last time, choosing Transformers 2 much to Eddies distaste. He reasoned the special effects were what made it good and as Richie was a film major he “cared about that kind of thing”. This week Eddie decided to go for Heathers. The two were sitting on the couch, icecream bowls in their hands and Eddie was queuing it up on Netflix. “EuGh Eds we have seen that movie so many times”, Richie huffed out, honestly he didn’t mind though because both JD and Veronica were hot as fuck and made his bisexual brain do flips. “What! It’s a good movie with an important message”, Eddie shot back. Richie looked at him with raised eyebrows, “Mhm and I’m sure it doesn’t help that you think JD is”, Richie then wiggled his eyebrows, “SpiCy”. Eddie bumped his shoulder, “so what! I like bad boys okay!”. Richie snorted, “Eddie, he’s not a bad boy he’s a cold blooded murderer”, he then leaned in close to Eddies ear, “I mean, unless that’s what you’re also into, I can kill a man too ya know”. Richies whispered voice sent shivers down Eddies spine, god damnit. Richie had been doing shit like that all the time lately, always teasing him about them being together. And sure Eddie kind of enticed it with his own comments but sometimes it got too much for him to handle. Sometimes it made Eddie think, he might actually like Richie?? But now wasn’t the time for that, so Eddie shoved him away and shouted, “Ew, Gross!” And as usually Richie pretended to be dramatically wounded.

As the movie began to play, Eddie sang along to the introduction; “When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?..”. Richie looked at him fondly when he did that, Eddie was cutest when he sang along to songs he liked because he would always get this bright look in his eyes. God what a beautiful boy. “How do you think they got Veronica buried under all that grass?”, Richie inquired with icecream in his mouth. “I don’t know Richie, I don’t think this movie is really going for realism”, Eddie looked back at him. He had peanut butter on his cheek, Richie always insisted putting peanut butter in his vanilla icecream, gross. But kinda cute too.......Shit.

Right around the time Heather Chandler screamed corn nuts, Richie had gotten bored. It was a good movie yes, but after you’ve seen it ten times in a year it starts to loose its charm. Richie looked over at Eddie, his face lit up by the bright screen amoungst the fading light from outside their window. Eddies eyelashes always looked long, but it was the most noticeable from his profile. God, those pretty lashes and that angel nose could kill a man. Richies eyes moved down to Eddies mouth and, fuck. Eddies lips were glossy with icecream residue, they were also puffy from the coldness of the treat. A small drop of melted icecream fell down from the corner of his mouth and Eddies tongue went to lick it up. Everything felt like slow motion. Shit that looks kind of like. God no Richie no not right now, Richie turned to face the screen again.

Right around the time Veronica had made the call to the football players, Eddie realized Richie kept looking at him. He’d look back, only to find Richies head snapping away back to the screen. What was he up to? But as it happened more often, Eddie could see from the corner of his eye that Richie was looking at his lips. Eddie took another spoonful of icecream and, Oh. That’s what Richie was looking at. Eddie looked down at the cold white treat in his hands, and there was quiet a lot left. Richie had gotten a whole pint each for both of them and while Richie finished his quickly, Eddie had barely made a dent. Eddie brought another spoonful up to his lips, this time slowly dragging the spoon out of his mouth. He could feel Richie shift on the couch. He felt like he was in control in a weird way, and in an even weirder way, it was kind of hot. Now Eddie upped his game, this time swirling his tongue around the spoon. The next spoonful he made sure to leave a good amount left on his lips so he could slide his tongue across them. And the next time, he “accidentally” dropped some on his shirt. Now Eddie was never one to make messes, but this time it was kind of fun. Eddie huffed to make himself seem frustrated and began to suck on the fabric where it had dripped. He mouthed at it and gave it small licks with his tongue. He could feel the intense heat of Richies stare burning into him. He liked to know he did in fact make Richie feel some kind of way and this thing was not one sided. And it was not one sided by a long shot.

Richie wouldn’t take it anymore and grabbed Eddies shoulder. “Eds”. Eddie looked back up at him, as innocent as could be, “yea rich?”. Richie stared him down intensely, searching for something. Eddie looked back, daring. “Can I have some of your Icecream?”.... what? That was not what Eddie was expecting at all. “Uh, sure Rich”, he went to grab the pint but Richie grabbed his sleeve again. “No”, Richie felt incoherent at this point, trying to fight through his lust, “Wan taste now”. Richie dove in for a kiss and Eddie shivered. It was intense and full force, no warning at all. Eddie melted into it, his eyes closing and letting out a soft moan as Richie licked into his mouth. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie and moved them up and down. He wanted to feel every single inch of him. One of Richies hands snaked down the the waistband of Eddies shorts and slowly began to slide under. Richie grabbed his bare ass and kneeded it with his palm. Eddie moaned louder, allowing Richie access farther into his mouth. The kiss became even more passionate and Eddies entire body became red hot with burning desire. Richie pushed Eddie down into the couch, now having both hands on the smaller boys bare ass. Eddie grabbed at every part he could, his fingernails raked up and down Richies back, one hand making its way up to Richies neck to pull at the small hairs. Richie groaned and drew back for one second, “please do that again oh god please please please”, he blubbered out. Eddie got a handful of hair this time and pulled harder, Richie had to take his mouth of Eddies as his became breathless. “Fuck”, Eddie whispered “you’re so hot went you’re turned on”. Richie looked down at him again, “oh yea?”. He smiled into Eddies neck and began to kiss him hard. “Mmhm, yea”, Richie sucked at his Adam’s apple. “So”, Eddie was breathless, “h,happy you got that icecream”. Richie laughed into the crook of Eddies neck, “me too Eds”. “Mmm”, Eddie pushed Richie up and off him. Richie looked worried but Eddie came crashing down on top of him. Eddie mouthed at Richies neck, “Wan make you feel good too rich”. Richie breathed out, “holy fuck”. Eds bent down near Richies painfully hard crotch, Richie began to say something but Eddie interrupted, “no I’m not doin that, not tonight atleast”. Eddie kisses Richies hip bones instead and lifted up his shirt so he could see his exposed stomach in the light of the tv screen. Eddie looked down and raked his eyes across Richies body. He was so beautiful. Richie had always been lanky, his ribs slightly exposed from leaning back, and Eddie loved it. Richie got paranoid from Eddies silence. “Sorry im not much to look at”, Richie laughed out. Eddie looked up at him confused, “are you kidding me? God I could stare at this for days, take a picture and frame it even”. Richie awkwardly laughed, “okay whatever you say”. Eddie could hear the doubt in Richies voice and it aches. Eddie kissed Richies jaw and then neck. “Think you’re beautiful rich”, he laid his head on Richies chest, “always have”. “Ohoh yea?” Richie grinned down at him with a goofy smile. “Yea”, Eddie sighed softly and played with Richies chest hair. “Sorry, that was kind of a mood killer thing for me to say huh”, Richie laughed a little solemnly. “It’s alright”, Eddie held him tight, “that’s about as far as I wanted to go tonight anyways”, he smiled up at Richie.

Eddie laid on Richie as the rest of the movie played. Eddie loved the way the bare skin of Richies chest felt against his cheek. When the movie ended Richie whispered, “Hey Eds?”. Eddie looked up through sleepy eyes , “mhm?”. “Do this um”, Richies voice seemed a bit scared, “did this mean anything to you? Cuz it meant a lot to me and I just want to be on the same page because I’ve loved you for a while now and you are my everything and I just think you’re so magical ya know and”-. Eddie cut him off with a quick kiss. “This meant everything to me Rich”, he smiled at him softly. Richie looked at Eddie almost tearful, “Eddie kaspbrak, will you be my boyfriend?”.

“I thought you’d never ask”. And after a quick kiss, the two fell asleep.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it 2017 #beep beep richie #it fandom #it 1990 #reddie fanfiction #reddie fanfic

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missmorior · 5 years

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i was going somewhere with this fic and then totally forgot so here we are

\(ó wò)/

They weren’t the first to molt, and they thanked every star in the sky and every single higher being there was that they didn’t have to go through the terror of wondering what in the world was happening to them. That being said, it was still rightfully worrying when pieces of their shell began to crack and slough off. Knight tried their best to continue through it, to not let the odd time get them down. They had the sparring group to teach! They couldn’t let their siblings down when there were so many counting on them! Even if it was just one, they’d surely show! No one would be let down! It just..

The misshapen vessel huffed and gasped as they balanced themself with their nail, one leg buckled and refusing to work properly. The void within their shell felt restless, and it was leaking even more heavily from their broken horn than usual. Still they had to press forward! They were no more than a few paths away from the sparring ring, and surely their siblings would be just.. Just terribly disappointed if they didn’t show! Knight drew in a hissed breath and hobbled forward another step. Two, three- before their other leg buckled and they fell with a yelp. Their nail clattered away out of reach and oh no.. Mittens would be so very upset if they’d lost the nail she’d crafted for their practice. They promised to test it out!

That was how their siblings who rushed over found them, a trail of void behind them as they struggled to drag themself over to their dropped nail. Rook was the loudest of all, with the big one’s thunderous voidspeech ringing in their head with all the disappointment and worry fitting an elder clutchmate. “Rook- Rook quieter- ohhh my head…” They were scooped up in a familiar embrace as their elder sibling lifted them with the same ease as when they were newly hatched. They felt a lot like a hatchling if they were honest. Every joint ached and they felt restless but so very, very tired. Would.. Would Soul help? Oh why couldn’t they just focus a little more on the conversation around them? Surely their other siblings would know how best to deal with this. They sagged in Rook’s hold and let out a ragged sigh, letting the comfort lull them into a peaceful doze.

Only when the feeling of being lowered into a hot spring registered in their mind did they start paying attention again. Oh.. Right. Right, this had been created once the others had begun to molt and some had had a terrible time of it. The heat leeched right into their aching joints and felt like what they’d imagined heaven must. They’d have to get to work scrubbing off all the loose parts of their shell soon, already they could see new patches of white pseudo-armor peeking through the dull gray of the old shell, but.. For now they would rest. Rook wouldn’t let anything happen.

“Ah! The nail- from Mittens! Is it-?!” **Taken care of. Like you need to be, now rest.** “But-“ **Knight.** “Ohhhhhh… Fine.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

When her first molt hit it hadn’t been ideal. Then again molting was never truly ideal despite the necessity of it. It was just so messy! So.. Unsightly. As soon as shell began flaking she had to go through the process of removing her circlet and ensuring her clutch would keep away any prying eyes. The ones who had the sense to be discreet of course. Rook? Excellent at it. Knight? They lived to serve. Bishop and Rex? Not on her life would she ever tell those two! Pawn? … Eugh, probably out prodding at dead things or getting themself all dusty in the Archives again. Of course by now her routine was perfect! Just as she strove for, perfection in all things. The picture of poise as she let the two know she would be on her own and not to let anyone find her for the next day. She gathered only a silken satchel of what she knew she’d need most, and kept her head high as she retreated to a thorny part of the garden that only those able to fly could cross.

It was a tricky little path, discovered her second molt, but it led to a lovely clearing where light trickled down from above and there was plenty of space to sprawl out in.. In frankly an undignified manner to let her wings dry once they grew to a new size as well. Void made them dull and heavy right now, that was the worst part of the whole trip. Instead of gracefully flitting through the air, she had to hop from one clear patch to another, catching her breath as her wings sagged painfully behind her. Reine would’ve frowned if she could, but settled for stomping as she crossed the final threshold to her haven. Royalty never appeared anything less than untouchable! Unfazed! Elegant and poised even in the face of such adversity as a molt. She… Well, she could excuse this one failing of hers.

Through the tightly wound brambles was a small circular clearing, filled with creature comforts Reine had spirited away in the late hours to make sure she’d be as comfortable as possible while she dealt with a molt. Namely a massive pile of pillows that was stacked beneath a wide petaled flower, the name of which she never learned but its petals were sturdy enough to perch on even now, and a sturdy chest full of snacks that wouldn’t go bad before she went through them all. Maybe one of those Soul producing statues would be nice to have in here too the more she thought on it, the extra boost would help with how horrid she looked.

The princess wasted no time trudging over and flopping face first into the pillow nest, letting her wings fall limply to either side of her. For right now, she wanted a nap. That’s how this would go and she knew it, she’d just… Get over all this in time as she always did.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Pawn had thought at first that it was them having accidentally stepped on something fragile and accidentally broken it. The crack they’d heard was sudden and sharp. Something delicate breaking. They shook themself and continued forward, not seeing any broken shards around their feet. They’d been out on a trip with their sister Relic to collect more objects of curiosity to study. The Archive was running low on things relating to the early rise of Hallownest and particularly that of the knight class that’d evolved among the aristocracy- truly a shame if you asked them! It was such a fascinating subject, noting how nail design changed and which bugs were in what echelon of society as time progressed. They themself counted as royalty despite how little they interacted with the court- and don’t even get them started on the earlier civilizations! The arcane eggs? Fascinating! They’d already begun to peel the layers off the one they’d collected prior to begin unraveling the mysteries held with-

Crack!

…Again. Was it something in their bag? Pawn quickly rummaged in their satchel of artifacts, carefully going over each one to ensure they weren’t damaged. No, not one of those. There was a shard of white something on the ground this time though. Weird… They picked it up and turned it over in their hands, studying how.. Strangely familiar it was. Shell? Why would there be a piece of a vessel’s shell here? It wasn’t Relic’s- they could see her plainly but a short distance away, tearing at the burial shroud of some peasant bug whose tomb she’d opened. Their own? There was no reason for that to even be a possibility. If they were molting they’d have surely felt something more and there was no reason for their shell to break off p-

C R A C K !

-ieces. There was no doubt where the cracking was coming from now, as they fell to their knees trembling while the lower half of their face cracked painfully deep. Too deep. Dangerously so. Worse than Knight’s horn- they would be leaking void. Should be. Weren’t they? This couldn’t be molting, it was nothing like any of the other siblings had gone through. They were far, far behind the other in that aspect yes but still this wasn’t- this shouldn’t be-

*Relic.. I think.. I think I need help.* She perked up as they called out, and something about her immediate reaction after told them this was far worse than they were initially intending. They needed to get out of the ruins. Now. If something was so wrong with them- if this weird crack wasn’t leaking void like a wound should- no, no their arms too now. They itched. Pawn’s wings fluttered anxiously behind them as they rubbed at the dull carapace. A molt? No but how? This couldn’t be- the others would go- they- oh their shell a c h e d. Relic growled at them to stay put, apparently having figured out what was happening before they had, and they did as told. It would be okay.. Right? This was just part of the process and- and once their carapace had hardened once more (finally taller, the one good thing about this disaster) and their shell did- whatever the blighted thing was doing, they’d go back to the gardens. Find Mim or Panacea or- or any of their other siblings skilled at healing. None of the adults. Too dangerous. Too likely to expose themself with their trembling fear at the situation. They’d be okay. They’d be fine. This was.. This was meant to happen- they weren’t failed. It’d be fine.

It’s all they could tell themself as they clung to their sister and trembled as the cracking continued.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The vessel once known as Rex, now Harlequin, had heard of molting from their siblings before they’d left to fulfill their destiny with the Grimm Troupe. They’d seen what happened to their clutchmates, how their other siblings as well handled it. It seemed… Like it was really something awful to deal with. They adored napping and having an excuse to lounge around and do nothing all day, but that was the point! All d a y. Once it was night time it was supposed to be fun! They wanted to be up and about! Especially now they’d connected with the Nightmare Heart they had more energy than ever and there was so, so much to do! Flames to collect, acts to try out, things to learn and- and- and-!

“Little one, you need to sit back down! If you keep bouncing all over the place you’ll be stuck bite-sized forever!"

Harlequin huffed, but sat back down as told by Divine. They had a comfortable pile of pillows in a tent they shared with the other initiates but still! It wasn’t fair! Their e v e r y t h i n g was so itchy and while there were stones to help with rubbing off the old, flaking parts of their carapace, it did nothing to help with the mix of void and flame within them. They were tired, like they wanted to do nothing but sleep for weeks and weeks but they also felt too big for their shell! They were just vibrating with energy and Divine had said it was supposed to go towards their body growing big and strong (like Flight? No, they probably wouldn't get that tall), but still! There was just so much! Practicing their magic would have been something easy but nooooooooo, that used Soul and they needed that.

Wasn’t even the worst part of it. Their fluffy collar, their most special thing that made them really really unique among their siblings, had completely shed itself over the past few hours. A pair of pillbug twins they’d befriended had given them a scarf to substitute for now, but they hoped it’d come back after the molt. They loved their ruff. Lots of troupe members had one too- even if it was just a projection of the Nightmare that they wrapped around themselves. It meant they belonged! Not really, but kind of! It meant they were special. That they were… They were supposed to be here. The vessel sighed, clutching the loose end of their borrowed scarf. It’d be okay… A soft chirr came from above them, and they hadn’t even noticed Divine had made her way over but they certainly appreciated her claw gently stroking their shell.

“It’ll be done soon and then you can go back to playing. You’ll be back to yourself in no time, fluff and all~” How did she-? “I pay attention of course! Now stop wriggling. Rest only!”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Molting was stupid. It took too long and made them super sleepy. There were more important things to be doing! So what if they got all goopy afterwards and had to wait for their shell to harden again before it was ‘really definitely safe’ to be running around? Trouble count find them first and and THEN what good would it be, huh? Then they’d just be bored and unprepared for the unexpected! Besides, getting bigger wasn’t anywhere near as important as anyone made it seem. They like being little! They could get into all sorts of places while they’re little! They found all sorts of neat things in the places other, bigger siblings couldn’t get to and heard all the best gossip there! Growing up and getting big? So not worth it.

Like that little corner of the gardens where you had to wiggle through a gap between some walls, and then climb up the flowers to get to this ledge. It was suuuuuuper complicated but if you were little, then you could do it! If they got big? They’d lose their super duper favorite spot to watch the glowy flowers all light up across the garden at night!

Bishop flailed their limbs angrily, still too weak from having molted to be able to get up out of bed but certainly not too weak to not show their frustration. They’d already tried. Rook had picked them up and put them back.

Stupid Rook. Caring too much. It made them feel bad because Rook would get all worried and fussy and then the bigger vessel wouldn’t leave their side because said dummy thought that it was dangerous to try to run around while goopy. Now who was gonna go with Mini and do crime things? They were supposed to go do- some sort of crime thing. Crime things were fun. They didn’t really get why the stuff was really considered crime but whatever, it meant they got to go poke around in the back of Lummi’s shop and see if he had pretty new lifeblood flowers! Or! Or! New strings of- of- Reine was so snooty about what the crystals were that she helped string together for their cloak.. Whatever, it was pretty and looked like caramel and it was nice.

…dang it. Now they just wanted to get up again.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

There wasn’t anything that had them worried about molting. It was going to happen eventually, and they would have to rest when the time came, until they were fully recovered and ready to return to life as normal. The large vessel knew this, accepted it, and continued on with their life. While their clutch mates all agonized over the process, Pawn especially being distraught over Bishop having grown taller than them, Rook found it to be no more concerning than them needing to maintain their shield or having to water their bonsai. It was simply showing that time was passing, and the world was continuing to change.

When the time came, they made sure to let the younger vessels they’d been teaching in the ‘Fight Club’ know that they wouldn’t be able to teach for a day or two, and then wandered to go back to their place among their little garden.

They didn’t consider it hiding, like their sister would do for her molts, as they were in a very obvious place that they could often be found in. Nor were they trying to protect themself like some of the more nervous siblings did. They merely wanted something to keep themself busy while they wouldn’t be able to move as quickly as usual. Their shell felt itchy at first, and it was expected; feeling like their everything was a size too small. Rook took a deep breath in, and sat quietly. Accepted that this meant they were going to change. And breathed out.

#mori writes #qmau #will i ever get a proper tag for my kids?#maybe one day

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zendozebra · 6 years

Text

All the Time in the World Chapter 14

Really? Some shitty warehouse? This is where Akira set up shop? Majima had thought he’d set up in somewhere a bit more classy, like a highrise or something. Either way, he was just glad he finally managed to find this place. It had taken him a week or two, as well as many late nights spent trying to deal with Giran’s specific brand of bullshit, but he’d finally managed to steal enough intel that led him to some doctor’s office in Musutafu. Sneaking in to that guy’s office was easy, and after hours of looking through his files and scouring through his computer, Majima was able to find some receipts for high-end medical equipment that were shipped to some warehouse in Kamino. When this whole thing is over, he’s treating himself to a vacation. He’d been off the grid for far too long, and it’s gotten to the point where the school isn’t answering his calls anymore.

He’d called in for some back-up, as soon as he’d realized that this was the place, but he’d only gotten static. That’d been weird, shouldn’t the staff at school be free this week? All of the students supposedly left for that training camp thing a day or two ago, so he doesn’t know why Yamada or Nezu weren’t answering their phones. Even Yagi wasn’t picking up, but he might still be a bit upset at Majima for calling him Skeletor that one time. But the others didn’t make sense, was something going on that he wasn’t aware of? Whatever, he’d found this place, and that was that. Now all he had to do was find Akira in this maze of dark hallways and Nomu cont-

What?

He got closer to the containers that he’s been walking past for a while and took a look inside. Bulging eyes, exposed brains. Yep, these were Nomu. They certainly fit the description that Yagi had given him. Fuck, Akira, what are you doing? This ain’t right, in any sense of the word. He’s gotta walk away, these things were starting to creep him the fuck out. With one last shiver of disgust, he continued down the hallways, checking inside of every room he came across, but he couldn’t find Akira. This is bullshit, he knows that Akira was here. The supply list called for respirators and morphine, and while the Nomu have their eyes glazed over, Majima doubted that Akira was giving them the courtesy of painkillers.

He walked into yet another room, this one looked more like a security room, which was stupid for a warehouse. Why would you need this many cameras for a shitty wa-

“Come to confess your sins, old friend?” He had to try with all of his might not to jump in surprise when he heard that voice. Akira sounded older than Majima could ever remember. He must have spent quite some time before getting that longevity quirk. Maybe he can rub that in a bit, it might be a sore spot for him. He walked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the man’s face. Or, as it would seem, his lack thereof.

“Don’t know, you planning to kill those too?” Wow, that came out much more bitter than he’d thought it would. Even Akira seemed surprised by that. Er, he thinks? “Eugh. Speaking of sins, the fuck happened to your face?”

“Yagi Toshinori happened.”

“Gotta buy him a drink next time I see him.”

“Oh? So you’ve met our ‘glorious symbol of piece’, is that right?”

“Something like that.”

They stared each other down for a few minutes, before Akira gestured to a glass of something on the table in front of him. He picked it up and held it out for Majima, “Would you like a drink, old friend? I feel that you might like it, when you hear my next question.”

“I’m going sober for the time being, guy.”

“Oh? The Majima Kokiri I knew would have never passed on a free drink.”

“There’s a lot of things the Majima Kokiri you knew would do that I won’t.”

“Do you remember what happened the night before, Kokiri?”

Oh shit, he was right, just hearing that question made him want to blackout. Majima looked at the glass that the man was offering him, taking it with a growl and a reluctant nod of thanks, whether he could see it or not. He downed it, feeling that all-too-familiar burn in his throat. Johnnie Walker. Akira had remembered his favorite brand. Ain’t that bittersweet. “We cut our hands, all four of us. We all bled into the glass, and then we all took a sip. I don’t remember anything after that, but we were making a promise in blood, right? We promised we were going to build a better world.”

“A world where we would reign as gods.”

“I didn’t think the qualification for godhood was fratricide.”

Akira laughed at him. “Look who did their homework. Did you memorize a script for our bicentennial reunion? Did that little Nezu help you look through the dictionary?”

“I’ve had 200 years to think about the shit you pulled, buddy. I’ve been sitting on this shit for a long, long time.”

“Is that so? Because you seem to be forgetting one little detail of that night. Jin said something that would change everything, but none of us knew it then. Do you remember?”

“I don’t fuckin… He said something to Aimi. Don’t remember what it was. Memory is too far gone.”

Akira leaned forward, “Jin told her, ‘If I could, I’d give you my quirk. I know you want to help out, but without a quirk, you’re safer if you stay back.’ And what happened a few months later?”

“Aimi developed a quirk, so what?”

Akira made a gesture that looked like he would be pinching the bridge of his nose,“Oh for god’s sake, use your head for once, Kokiri! Quirks are a genetic trait, that’s why families have similar quirks. I can take and give quirks at will, so why the hell would Jin only have a stockpile quirk? I gave him that quirk, but I didn’t give it to Aimi. So what does that tell you?”

Oh, shit. “I guess you’re telling me that Jin found a way to give his quirk to Aimi? But that doesn’t make sense, why her? I get it, they were dating and all, but wouldn’t someone else make better use of it? Someone who was already trained, one of hero friends, that would make far more sense.”

“That’s why I believe that the transfer was unintentional. I’d like to explain some things for you, would you like to sit down?” He gestured to the chair across from him.

Majima sighed, “Fine, legs are getting tired, anyway.”

“The power that Jin transferred was the antithesis to my own, and was called One for All for that ver-”

“That’s… Kind of a lame name.”

“Coming from the man who calls himself, ‘The Watcher’, that’s pretty rich. And just what are you wearing, anyway? A cloak? Are those even in style anymore? As I was saying, One for All can only be transferred through the consumption of genetic material, as well as with the desire for it to be passed on.”

Majima tried to ignore that little hit to his codename, “I hear enough shit from my students when it comes to my fashion sense, so shut it. So, this ‘desire’ bit of it, you think that’s why Aimi got it, instead of us? Jin only wanted for her to get it?”

“It would seem that way. I lost track of One for All for quite some time after that, but I found it again when a hero by the name of Shimura Nana began to hunt me down, quickly followed by Yagi Toshinori when I killed her off.”

“It must have went from Aimi to Okoye the Brave, then to Ultraman, then to Wilfre. If you’re telling me they used a series of successors, then that’s who had it after Aimi died. Okoye was quirkless, back when she was Kori’s babysitter, but after a while, she started training with Aimi. Her quirk manifested shortly before UA opened for it’s first classes. Hell, Aimi had even called herself One for All, but I thought that was a stupid callback to Jin’s old catchphrase. You’re telling me that Aimi tried to carry on Jin’s dream through a whole lineage of heroes?”

“Oh no, that was only a side project. Besides achieving my brother’s admittedly childish dream, that whole line of heroes have been molded and trained to kill me. And if my research is correct, then I believe that All Might has already passed on One for All to the next successor.”

“Well, I’ve thought that Izuku’s strength quirk was kind of weird.”

If Akira still had eyebrows, he’d probably be raising them. “Izuku? Now that’s a name I’ve heard quite a bit about, recently.”

Aw shit. “I- I didn’t mean to say that.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, my Tomura will often begin ranting and raving about a boy named Midoriya Izuku. Would they happen to be one in the same?”

“I really shouldn’t have said tha- Y’know what, might not be the appropriate time to ask this, but do you mind doing your old friend Kokiri a solid and not sharing that information with anyone. Or acting upon that information at all. I didn’t say shit, okay?”

“Hmm…”

“Akira! Let’s just- What were we talking about? Let’s go back to that, yeah? One for All, line of successors, trained to kill you.”

“Oh yes, that’s right, almost did just that when Yagi had his chance, but I left quite the lasting mark on him in return.”

“Oh shit, you’re the one who tore a hole in his stomach? He never said anything, but I could have sworn that was Toxic Chainsaw.”

“Toxic Chainsaw? That’s one I haven’t heard before. What was he like, do you know?”

“Some crazy, murderous dipshit who didn’t know that killing people wasn’t how you get by in the world. Kind of reminds me of a certain faceless asshole I know!”

“Oh, get off of your high horse, Kokiri! Don’t act like you’re a saint. Remind me, just how close did you get to Aimi after my brother died, huh? Closer than Jin ever did, isn’t that right?”

“We were scared, and angry, and grieving. We’d just lost you, and Jin was gone for good! We didn’t mean for it to happen, but I don’t regret a single day of it.”

“But you’d had your eye on her long before my brother got what he deserved! Stop acting like you were innocent in all of this!”

“Unlike you, I only ended lives, I didn’t fucking ruin them! Everyone who’s quirk you stole would have been better off dead, and that goes double for all of those poor fuckers you forced a quirk into!”

They were both breathing heavily. They’d been arguing with each other for quite a while at this point, and they were getting out of breath. They couldn’t keep doing this forever, Majima was smart enough to realize that. He had to find a way to end this.

He held out his hand.

A tilt of the head and a scoff from Akira was the response he got.”I’m not taking your hand, Kokiri. That’s not how this works, and you’ve seem to have forgotten that. You take my hand, not the other way around. Now, if you want to bow to me like you did all those years ago, then maybe we ca-”

“Give them back.”

He didn’t have eyes, but Majima could still feel them boring into him. He never did like being interrupted. “What did I take from you? You don’t have anything for me to give back. You never did. The only reason these people even keep you around, is because you have first-hand experience of a history that’s been forgotten. I already have that, so why would I need you? You have nothing- You are nothing. So what am I supposed to be giving-”

“My friends!” He’d never yelled, truly screamed, at Akira before, but once he’d started he couldn’t stop, like a floodgate, “Give me back my friends, and my family, and my daughter! I want you to give me back every black day I’ve ever known you! Every lie you’ve ever told me!” Majima hated it when he yelled and got angry, his breathing would get messed up. He’d sound all airy and winded, and he would start to stutter if he went on for too long, like a child throwing a tantrum. “Give me Kori, and Aimi! Arai, Ueno, Iwata, Ono, Harada, Tamura, Nakayama! Give them back! Then, once you’ve given back everything you’ve ever taken from anyone, you can talk to me like you’re anything other than an abomination!”

“Look at you, trying to blame all of your problems on me. You seem to be forgetting all of those terrible things you’ve done in my name. Despite your age, you still act like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, refusing to take responsibility for all of the things you have done. I still have the records I kept of all our dealings in the past. Shall we take a look at everything I’ve paid you to do?”

With a scream of anger, Majima threw a punch at Akira, knocking him off of his chair and to the ground. “How the fuck do you feel now, bitch! Ain’t nothin’ if you can’t take my quirk!”

Akira, with a speed that Majima didn’t see coming, jumped to his feet and slammed his fist into Majima’s stomach, following up with a barrage of punches. He threw his arms up in front of his face, trying to block what he could. He had to focus if he wanted to use desync, but Akira wasn’t giving him a chance! throwing the time stopper across the room and into the wall, knocking over a ton of vials and beakers. They fell to the ground, shattering while Majima was finally able to activate desync, his body glowing a bright white. “Factor of 5!” He sped towards Akira like a rocket, so you can imagine his surprise when the no-faced bastard sidestepped his attack.

He can’t focus on that, has to keep going. With that in mind, he kept attacking, trying to use the speed that desync gave him to find an opening, but whatever quirks Akira had made him far too fast. The idea that he was matching Factor of 5 was insane! He pumped it up to 30, and was finally able to get a hit in. A good hook to his right jaw had Akira reeling back, but the monster was able to catch his follow up, holding his fist in a tight hold that he couldn’t break away from. His next punch met a similar fate, and the two were left pushing against each other, trying gain the upper hand. Majima dug his feet into the concrete beneath them, feeling it crumble into nothing beneath the power of the two behemoths’ rampage.

Majima felt his eyes go wide when Akira’s arms started to puff up, like they were inflating. He tried to pull away, but he was too weak. Fearsome black lightning filled his vision as a powerful blast of air hit him full force, sending him through a wall or two. He heard something break, but he didn’t know if it was a bone or something he landed on. He tried to stand up-

Knives were plunged into his chest, and he screamed. His throat was raw, and he could feel tears streaking down his face. He glanced a look down, and he saw that Akira had plunged red and black fingers deep into his chest. He was pulling on something, and Majima felt like he was dying. “No, no, it’ll destroy you! You can’t!”

“I’m nothing if I can’t take your quirk, that’s what you said, wasn’t it? Why don’t I rectify that, old friend? Maybe once it’s gone from your body, you’ll crumble to dust, like all corpses do.”

Majima screamed, feeling the fingers digging into his chest, twisting around his organs. “Akira, listen to me, you don’t want my quirk, it’ll kill All for One!” Majima felt it stop pulling, giving him a second to breath and calm his racing heart. Akira stood over him, and as stupid as it looked, from where Majima was sitting, that mask was terrifying. Akira used his other hand to wrap the fingers around Majima’s right arm, and started to twist, breaking it, tearing muscles and ligaments, until he just tore it off. He threw it away, like it was a piece of garbage, before grabbing the other arm.

“Explain that little line for me, or I’ll tear off the other one too.” If that wasn’t a good threat, than he doesn’t know what is. Should probably cut to the chase.

“Time Stop locks you in your prime physical condition, and it will reset you back to that condition every 24 hours. If you mix it with All for One, it will recognize your quirk as a parasite, and will decide on the form you had before it developed. You’ll be trapped as a child, unable to use All for One, and I know you, Akira. All for One is everything to you, and you would rather die than lose it, but if you take Time Stop, you won’t be able to even die! You won’t be able to gain a mastery of it and stop time, and any desync factor higher than 5 will tear your body apart whenever you use it!” He felt Akira pull those damn fingers away from him like he was just burned, and he guessed he didn’t have a lie detection quirk. That’s what Majima thought would happen if he took Time Stop, and he’d bet everything that he was right, but there was no way to be sure. He didn’t want to fuck with time any more than he already does, so he couldn’t mess around and find out.

He could feel Akira’s eyes on him, filled with hatred. He wanted to laugh at the irony of it, but the whole building suddenly shook, and they could see down the long dark corridor that a giant chunk of the warehouse had been collapsed. “So they’re finally here?” Akira turned back to Majima, and the time stopper watched as the palm of his hand opened up. A bone-like spear shot out and impaled his chest, right in the center. A few more followed the first, spearing through his stomach, legs, and his last remaining arm, and pinning him to the wall. One last spear pierced his throat, taking away his ability to call for help.“I’ll be back for you when this is over. It looks like the heroes have come to play. I sure do hope that Tomura is handling everything well on his end of things.”

Akira walked away without a second thought, not even looking back as blood pooled around Majima’s trapped body. A few wet, bloody gurgles was the only sound he could make. He had to hold on, his reset should only be a few hours away. He just has to not die until then. Fuck, his shoulder hurt. Well, everything hurt, but between stab wounds and a lack of an arm, he’s gonna have to say that the arm takes it for worse injury. The most fucked up part is that Akira didn’t even throw his arm far, he can still see it. It’s starting to crumble into that blue dust stuff his body seems to love so much. That shit appears from nowhere, fills up all the holes in his body, leaves him good as new. Shame he can’t reset himself at will.

The building is rocked by another explosion, and part of the roof collapses, blocking off Majima’s view of the corridor. Great, now he’s broken and bored. This is gonna take a while, isn’t it. Fuck it, he’ll just let himself die, they’ll have probably found him by the time he wakes up. Either way, his arm will be back when he wakes up, so he’ll just pull the spears out by himself if he has to. He really didn’t want to though, that seems like it’d hurt.

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marypsue · 7 years

Text

Death of the Author 2 / 3

I am, as ever, guilty of story bloat. My planned last chapter of this fic has had to be split into two. Hey, on the bright side: more fic!

I forgot to add a warning the first time around, but this chapter contains some prime examples of Gideon being his particular brand of awful towards Mabel. Tread carefully if that’ll affect you. Also, I owe all credit to @seiya234 for the golf cart.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

I’m also on AO3 as MaryPSue!

...

"Look at us. When'd we get so old?"

Ford looked over, meeting her brother's eyes in the mirror. "You look like Dad."

"Eugh, don't say that," Stan said, with an exaggerated shudder.

There was a moment of silence, peaceful, almost companionable. Ford was just beginning to wonder if this was the time to break it when Stan said, awkwardly, holding his own gaze in the mirror as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck; "So, you're a woman now."

"Actually -" It was probably the best she was going to get, Ford decided, biting back the words that gathered at the back of her throat. "Yes." There was nothing to be ashamed of, she knew, but her borrowed turtleneck still felt suddenly too large and filled with prickly heat.

Stan nodded, still not meeting Ford's eyes. "Gotta say, I wouldn'ta seen that one coming."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Nothing, I just -" Stan raised both hands defensively, still not looking Ford in the eye. "Knew some girls like that, back when I was living rough. Hell, I woulda died outside a bar in New Orleans in '76 if it weren't for a couple queens in evening gloves and tiaras. Just...never woulda pegged you as the type. I still gotta wrap my head around it. How'd you end up figuring that one out, anyway? I woulda thought after seventeen years living with Dad -"

"You don't need to understand, Stanley." Maybe it was unnecessarily rude, but then, her brother never had been one for subtleties, and Ford just needed him to stop before he strayed too close to the truth and the bitter memories she'd rather try to forget. "You just need to accept that this is the way things are. The way I am." So that we can all move on to more important things, Ford's brain supplied, the memory of the dollop of starry spacetime slowly undulating in a glass containment device in the basement below them rising once again to the forefront of her thoughts.

The last thing Ford expected Stan to do was give a sheepish chuckle. "You know, that's almost exactly what Mabel said?"

"What? When -"

"Night the kids got here. I mean, the parents explained a bit when they asked me to take 'em, but Mabel was the one to sit me down and give me the crash course." Stan huffed out a laugh. “Lotta things changed since the seventies.”

Ford's mind whirled, playing back all the many, many changes to her home dimension that she'd been forced to process immediately upon arrival. "Mabel? But I thought Dipper said he -"

"Yeah, yeah, Dip's the one who's transgender or whatever they're calling it now, but..." Stan fixed Ford with a look that made her feel not unlike the first time she'd stood up in front of the grant committee. "That kid's not usually as outgoing as he was with you, you know."

"Me? Why me? He doesn't know me from a - a hole in the ground."

"That's where you're wrong, poindexter. That kid's been hero-worshipping that damn journal of yours all summer." Stan's stare softened, almost imperceptibly, before it turned into a glare. "You're his hero. And so help me, if you let him down, if you hurt those kids, I'll break your stupid glasses. And your nose with 'em."

“What? You can’t honestly think I would ever -”

Stan crossed his arms over his chest, staring in the general direction of the mirror instead of turning to face Ford. “I’m just sayin’, last time I tried to help you we nearly both got sucked into that portal of yours. Just stay away from those kids. I don’t want them in danger.”

With great effort of will – and, she thought, impressive restraint – Ford managed to bite back the selection of choice words that threatened to slip from her lips. “Fine,” she snapped, instead, turning her back on her brother. “Then you’ll ensure that they stay out of my way.”

It might have been pure spite that made her turn back when she heard the shuffle of Stanley starting to move. “And Stanley? When the summer ends, so does this Mystery Shack nonsense. You give me my house back, you give me my life back -”

“Thought you didn’t want it anymore,” Stan said, coldly, and there was something wrong with his voice. It was just slightly...off, as though Ford had tried to reconstruct his tone and cadence from –

...memory...

“Stanley?” Ford asked, but her brother only went on, as though his voice was playing from a pre-recorded script.

“You’re not Stanford Pines anymore. I’m Stanford Pines! I’ve been Stanford Pines the last thirty years! And I’ve done a better job of it than you ever did. What’d you accomplish, anyway? Causin’ the end of the world?”

“Stop it,” Ford said shortly, and Stan gave a sort of half-laugh, half-snort that had no humour in it.

“Stop what? Telling the truth? You don’t belong here anymore. There’s no place for you to fill. Stanley Pines is dead, Stanford Pines is right here. And he sure as hell never had a sister.”

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. This wasn’t – wasn’t how this conversation –

For the first time, Ford looked, not at her brother’s reflection in the glass, but at his face.

Yellow eyes glowed above a massive, wicked grin that looked much too much like the smile that Stanley wore as Mr. Mystery for comfort. Ford took a step back as the imposter turned to face her, still grinning, shoulders back, posture triumphant. Gloating.

“Bill,” Ford hissed, reaching into her coat for a weapon, only to come up empty-handed.

The imposter in front of her winked one slit-pupiled eye, pointing an index finger at her. “GOT IT IN ONE, KID! GOTTA SAY, YOU SURE DO TAKE A WHILE TO CATCH ON!”

“What are you doing here? This isn’t what -” Ford glanced around, a sudden uncertainty trailing chilly fingers up the back of her neck. “Isn’t how I remember it...”

“ISN’T IT, NOW?” Bill said, his voice dripping with mocking sympathy. “WOW, CAN’T IMAGINE WHY THAT MIGHT BE!”

“You. You did this, somehow you tampered with my memory -”

“OH, SIXER, I’M FLATTERED! BUT YOU’RE GIVING ME TOO MUCH CREDIT.” Bill waved one of Stanley’s hands dismissively, before snapping his fingers. The room around Ford suddenly burst into flame, a ring of yellow fire trapping her in close with Bill and the mirror. “NOPE, THAT PESKY BARRIER OF YOURS IS STILL DOING ITS JOB! FOR NOW.”

Ford tried to ignore the way Bill’s voice dropped into a register almost too low for human hearing to detect, the way it rumbled up her legs and thrummed in her lungs. She drew in a deep breath, trying to centre herself, control her fear. “So you’re just doing what you always do. Plaguing me with your ridiculous, pointless nightmares because there’s nothing you can do to touch me.”

Bill shrugged Stan’s shoulders, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling with a mocking grin. Ford glanced up as well, and immediately wished she hadn’t. The twisted, howling faces that emerged from the woodwork would be etched on her imagination for weeks. “HEY, YOU SAY NIGHTMARE, I SAY SNEAK PREVIEW!”

“Sneak...”

Bill’s gaze snapped back onto Ford, like a laser, focused and intent on burning a hole right through her. “REMEMBER HOW I GENEROUSLY WARNED YOU I WAS HAVING SOME FRIENDS OVER?”

Ford shook her head. The memory of the nightmare that had driven her to reveal the rift to Dipper and started this whole blasted chain of events in motion jumped immediately to mind, but she couldn’t quite string it together with what was happening around her now. “You got what you wanted. The rift is open, the world is your plaything, everything we know has changed - what could you possibly be warning me about?”

Bill’s smile, if it were possible, grew even wider, stretching Stan’s face in a way that Ford knew from painful personal experience would leave his jaw aching for days afterwards. She winced in sympathy, and that was when it struck her, like a thunderbolt.

“No,” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Bill. “Stanley would never, he’s - he’d see right through you! You have nothing to offer him! He’d never make a deal with you -”

“OH, IS THAT SO?” Bill let out an enormous belly laugh, and the faces on the ceiling howled in an unholy harmony. “IT’S BEEN THIRTY YEARS, SIXER! AND YOU’RE WALKING, TALKING PROOF THAT PEOPLE CHANGE.”

Ford swallowed, hard, past the lump that had appeared, unbidden, in her throat. “You keep your filthy two-dimensional hands off of my brother, or -”

“OR YOU’LL WHAT?” Bill took two steps forward, leering into Ford’s face. She tried to step back, but the ring of flames nipped at her heels, pushing her forward into Bill. “FACE IT, FORDSY, YOU’VE ALREADY LOST! THIS WORLD IS MINE NOW! I CALL THE SHOTS! AND IF I WANT YOUR BROTHER - AND, YANNO, I THINK I DO WANT YOUR BROTHER, HE SEEMS LIKE A FUN GUY! - THEN IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME!”

Both of his slit-pupiled, yellow eyes suddenly turned to little clock faces, hands frantically whirring around the hours as he pressed even closer into Ford’s personal space.

“TICK TOCK, SIXER!” Bill shouted, brightly, with far too much glee.

Ford –

...

Ford jolted awake.

For a long moment, it felt like an impossible weight was pressing down on her chest, crushing the breath out of her. She clawed at her constricting turtleneck with one hand, pressing the other to her mouth even as she tried to drag in a lungful of air, as though she could physically stuff down the cry that was climbing up her throat.

Darkness had gathered around the Shack so gradually that Ford had barely noticed the red light draining from the sky. Now, it seemed as though night had fallen all at once, a blanket of pure dark dropped over the Shack, muffling the distant shrieks and roars from the town. The living room had, she realised, fallen almost silent, the warm dark full of the sounds of soft snores and sleepy mumbles. Nearly every person Dipper had spent the afternoon enthusiastically introducing her to as ‘the author of the Journals, my great-aunt!’ had either trickled out or found bedding somewhere and hunkered down to sleep. Even Dipper's head was bobbing forward, the bottom of his shirt falling out of his slack mouth, and Mabel was curled up wrapped in the STAN SAVIOUR SQUAD banner, passed out across her pig.

Ford’s lungs finally inflated, and she gasped in a huge gulp of air. She felt nearly boneless with relief, and yet, the darkness still pressed in on her. She could still see Bill’s clock-face eyes set in Stanley’s familiar face hovering before her, the hands racing. Could still hear his jeering voice promising - no. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Bill might be clever, and devious, and capable of slipping poisoned-honey words into a willing ear like no one Ford had ever met, but still, surely Stanley would never -

Tick tock.

Ford forced herself to take one long, deep breath, to let it out slowly, listening to her heart gradually calming from its frantic pace. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Bill was only trying to get to her again, get inside her head. If he’d really been able to get Stanley to join him, he wouldn’t be wasting time on dreams and visions. He would’ve just dragged Stan’s body back to the Shack to gloat. Stan would never fall for Bill’s lies, Stan was - was better than that, was smarter -

She must not have shouted in her sleep, if she hadn't woken the children. Either that, or they were so exhausted that they'd slept right through it.

Regardless, it was well past time they were in bed. Ford took a few more deep breaths before pushing herself to her feet, wincing at the sudden rush of blood from her head. The living room wobbled and flashed bright black and white at the corners of her vision for a moment before everything settled again.

Dipper shook awake the moment Ford put a hand on his shoulder, head snapping up and looking around like a startled deer. "I wasn't asleep!" he protested, dropping the volume of his voice when Mabel sighed and rolled over in her sleep. "I was...contemplating."

Ford couldn't help the smile that stole across her face. "Do you think you could contemplate better from the comfort of your own bed?"

"No, I can do this, I can -" Dipper stopped when Ford gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, sighing and looking down at the carpet by his feet. "I blew it, didn't I." It didn't come out as a question.

"What do you mean, my boy?"

"I don't know, I just -" Dipper threw his hands out helplessly. "It feels like there's something more I should be doing, but I just don't know what, or how, and now you're putting me to bed like a little kid."

Ford bit down on her lower lip, unsure of what to say. She knew exactly what Dipper meant - every second they spent not finding a way to get Stanley back felt like a second wasted. There had to be something that would make Dipper feel less like he was failing, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine what that might be.

If she could, perhaps she’d be feeling a little more hopeful herself.

Finally, she let out a sigh, and lowered herself to sit on the floor beside Dipper, groaning at the stiffness in her knees. “Everyone else is already asleep, we won’t accomplish much by staying up and draining ourselves further. We’ll all need to be at our best to face Bill and whatever surprises he might throw at us tomorrow.” She did her best to swallow down the bitter, sick taste that rose in the back of her mouth at the thought of what those surprises might include.

“I know,” Dipper said dejectedly, rubbing his upper arm and staring down at the floor.

Ford looked down herself, her eyes wandering until they came to rest on the gentle rise and fall of Mabel’s chest under the banner she’d wrapped herself in.

“Why don’t you come help me get Mabel to bed,” she said, and Dipper seemed to perk up, just a little. “If you’re still not feeling like sleeping afterwards, we can reconvene here and see if we can find any flaw in the plan that we might have overlooked.”

“Okay,” Dipper conceded, and Ford noticed a small smile had stolen across his face as he watched Mabel and Waddles snoring, though there was still a little wrinkle of worry in his brow. Ford didn’t blame him - the last time they’d watched Mabel sleeping this peacefully, they hadn’t known whether she would ever wake up.

Bill. It all came back to him. Every single person in the Shack, from Fiddleford passed out with his blowtorch in hand over the giant robotic leg he was welding right on down to the plaidypus curled up with the cross-eyed gnome in the corner had lost something - if not everything - to Bill. If it weren’t for Bill, Mabel would never have been forced to see a world where everyone seemed happier without her. If it weren’t for Bill, Dipper wouldn’t have been made to doubt himself like this, wouldn’t be shouldering this burden of responsibility that should never have been his in the first place. (Not when it had been all Ford’s fault, right from the beginning, her folly and her arrogance and her pride -)

If it weren’t for Bill, Stanley would be here with them right now, probably cracking some awful joke and then laughing at his own lack of wit when no one else did. Stanley would be here, aggravating everyone as usual, putting on that showman’s smile to make the children feel better, treating the whole thing like one big joke. Stanley would be safe, and he wouldn’t be - and he would know what to say to make Dipper feel better, and -

None of this would be happening if it weren’t for Bill Cipher.

Ford’s hands clenched into fists without her input, nails digging into the heels of her hands. She tried not to listen to the traitorous little voice in the back of her mind that whispered none of this would be happening if you hadn’t let him in.

“We’re not going to defeat Bill tomorrow,” Ford said, slow, turning her gaze back to Mabel.

There was a quaver in Dipper’s voice. “We’re, uh, we’re not?”

“No.” Ford slammed one fist into the palm of her other hand. It felt like a river of lava was rising slow through her veins, the heat pulsing in time with her heartbeat. “We’re going to destroy him.”

...

Mabel woke up briefly as Ford carried her up the stairs, her enormous yawn audible even though her face was pressed against Ford’s shoulder. At twelve years old, the twins were almost too tall to comfortably carry, but Ford hadn’t wanted to wake the girl, not when she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. If Ford herself had been able to steal a fraction of that peace in the middle of Weirdmageddon, she wouldn’t have wanted it disturbed.

“Whzfl?” Mabel asked, sleepily, and Dipper piped up before Ford could say anything.

“It’s okay, Mabel, we’re just going up to bed. You fell asleep on Waddles.”

Mabel let out a sigh, her head falling back against Ford’s shoulder. “How late is it?” she asked, sounding a little more awake, though not much.

“Well, according to Bill, time is dead and meaning has no meaning, but I’d say it’s definitely past your bedtime,” Ford answered, drawing a little snort of laughter out of Mabel.

“That means you too, Dipper,” Mabel said, her voice muffled in Ford’s sweater. “I saw you gnawing your shirt.”

“Aw, Mabel,” Dipper protested, but he didn’t try to deny it.

And he didn’t try to resist when they made it up to the attic and Mabel slipped down out of Ford’s arms and pointed...well, pointedly at the bed across the attic from hers. “Bedtime, mister,” she said, and Dipper shook his head, but he was smiling.

“And that goes for you too!” Mabel added, rounding on Ford. “We’ve got an awesome giant robot house to pilot and an evil geometrical guy to fight tomorrow! You don’t wanna fall asleep in the middle of it! You’ll miss all the fun parts!”

Ford, despite herself, couldn’t help a soft laugh. “You’re right,” she said, nodding in Mabel’s direction. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Mabel echoed, Dipper giving a sheepish wave as Ford stepped out of the attic room and pulled the door closed behind her, careful not to let it slam.

The Shack was eerily still as Ford made her way down the attic stairs. It was strange. She’d lived here, alone, for nearly a decade, and yet, after only a couple of months, it already felt wrong for the place to be so silent.

Ford paused on the second-floor landing, glancing down the hall towards her room before turning towards the stairs down to the main floor. She’d meant what she’d told Dipper. They all needed to be at their best tomorrow. Bill was cunning and vicious - he’d give no quarter, and they wouldn’t get any second chances. Ford knew she ought to try to get some sleep, to make sure that she herself was alert and sharp when their long-delayed confrontation finally came.

That, too, was strange. For years - thirty of them, to be exact - that thought had been Ford’s sole comfort. One day, she would come face-to-face with Bill Cipher for the last time. One day, she would put an end to this game of cat and mouse that they had played for so long, lay all her mistakes to rest, wipe her ledger clean. Even if it meant the end of her as well as Bill.

But now, for the first time, the thought of finally facing Bill filled Ford not with comfort, but with a sick, sinking dread.

All of her long, hard years of preparation, all of her plans, all of her strategy, it had all come to nothing in a snap of Bill’s fingers. Ford was running blind, while Bill held the upper hand - as, Ford now saw, he always had. The last time she’d prepared herself to face him, she’d been calm, confident. Certain. Now, all she could feel was jittery, buzzing with a nervous energy that bordered on frantic, a need to do something more, something better, something.

Ford knew why. Last time, she’d had a plan. Last time, she’d known what she was doing, what needed to be done. Last time, she’d known - she’d thought - she was equal to the task.

And the last time she’d prepared herself to face Bill, hers had been the only life on the line.

The silent dark of the Shack pressed in on Ford as she stared down the stairs towards the living room, like a smothering, heavy blanket. She tried not to see monsters rising out of the well of shadow at the foot of the stairs, not to hear sinister whispers in the soft snores from the living room. The unicorn-hair barrier should keep them safe, here. Unlike Stanley, who might - who must be facing unimaginable horrors even as Ford tucked the children safely into bed and settled down for the night herself.

The worst part was not knowing. Not knowing what awful things Bill might be doing to Stanley, yes, not knowing what Bill’s game was, why he might be taunting her with the threat of turning Stan against them, but worse, not knowing what to do. Mobilizing the Shack and its protective barrier had been a stroke of genius on Fiddleford's part, an ingenious solution to the problem of how to get to Bill’s pyramid, but what would they do if - when they got there? Ford still hadn’t been able to identify all the members of the prophecy wheel, and the news that Bill’s eyebats had been kidnapping people and turning them to stone meant that she could be missing vital pieces. She didn’t have enough information, didn’t know anything about the people of this town or how to go about learning enough about them to successfully place them on the wheel - if only Stanley were here, he could have sorted this out in a matter of hours, maybe only minutes, but he wasn’t and anything at all could be happening to him while Ford was busy battering her head against a problem that she had no idea how to even begin to think about solving, but which she still somehow had to solve, or else -

A vision of Stan’s face when Ford had stepped out of the portal, the shocked, disbelieving smile that had spread across it in the seconds before she’d punched him, floated to the surface of Ford’s memory. Her grip on the railing tightened, until she feared she’d give herself splinters.

No. She wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

...

Ford was digging through the hall closet, looking for blankets or pillows or some kind of bedding (and not for illegal fireworks, or a crate of Cuban cigars that, judging from the labels, had been there since the early eighties at the latest, or a painting of a sad clown on black velvet, honestly, Stan) when she heard the front door creak open.

It felt like someone had threaded a live wire down her spine. Ford was instantly awake, alert, listening hard for the slightest sound. The cold stillness of the closet suddenly seemed deathly, every shadow heavy with menace.

Heavy footsteps made the elderly boards of the porch complain softly, and Ford could hear lowered voices, murmuring in thrumming bass tones. She couldn't make out the words, but she hardly needed to. Anyone trying to sneak into the Shack undetected, at this hour, after everyone else was already asleep, couldn't be up to anything good.

Ford tried to ignore the jackhammer beat of her heart, keep her breathing quiet, slow, steady. She took a careful step closer to the door of the closet, scanning the hall before her before reaching up to tug the string to shut off the light.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, a moment that Ford spent watching, tense, for monsters to lunge out of the dark at her, watching afterimages swim in front of her eyes and trying not to mistake them for actual movement. The low mumble of voices from the entryway, thankfully, didn't so much as falter. They must not have noticed the light from the hall, then, to not have been concerned about its disappearance. That was good. That meant Ford still had the element of surprise on her side.

She crept forward, peering out around the closet door. Her night vision was slowly returning, enough so that she could catch a glimpse of movement in the entryway at the end of the hall. Ford sucked in a breath and ducked back behind the door, listening hard for footsteps stomping down the hall towards her hiding place.

Instead of the expected footsteps, though, Ford heard a voice that, despite the fact that she'd only known the speaker for a day, was instantly recognisable.

"And careful with Mabel! I don't want a hair on my marshmalla's head outta place!" Gideon's halfhearted attempt at a whisper turned dismissive as he added, "But if something were to...happen...to that meddlesome twin o' hers, why, well now, wouldn't that just be a shame." His tone made it very clear that he did not, in fact, think this was the case.

Ford bit back the curse she wanted to hurl. Dipper had been right. It had been a trap. And she'd walked right into it, as Bill must have known she'd do, unable to resist playing the hero.

This was no time for self-recriminations, though. The children were in danger. Ford drew her blaster as quickly as she dared, trying not to make a sound, and stepped quietly and deliberately out into the hall.

Every step she took felt like an eternity, every one of her senses screaming as she drew closer and closer to the entryway. The voices fell silent when she was about halfway there, replaced by the creaks and thumps of someone heavy trying to move quietly over the aging floorboards. Ford held her breath, pressing herself against the wall and edging closer to the corner that would let her out into the entry and finally bring her face to face with the intruders.

The thump of heavy footsteps took on a hollow quality, rising up the stairs towards the attic. Ford squeezed the handle of her blaster tight enough to make her knuckles ache, to keep her index finger from tightening on the trigger, and dared to steal a glimpse around the corner.

The entryway was thronged with - well, Ford hadn’t been in her home dimension for quite some time, but goons were pretty much the same the multiverse over. At least they all appeared to be human, though they also all seemed to be hanging on Gideon’s every word. That couldn’t bode well. It was difficult to tell in the low light just how many there were, but Ford was sure she was badly outnumbered, and, as she’d learned from long experience, charging in now with guns blazing would only take away the one advantage she still had.

“An’ Fishbait?” Gideon called down the stairs, and Ford had to remind herself to breathe quiet, slow, steady. She hadn’t been spotted yet. She wouldn’t let her emotions get the better of her, give away her element of surprise. But - if that little cretin so much as laid a hand on either Dipper or Mabel -

Breathe. Quiet. Slow. Steady.

“Yeah, boss?” a nasal voice from the foot of the stairs echoed back, and Ford froze, holding her breath. Whoever was talking was just around the corner she’d just peered around.

“Don’t you waste too much time on the townies. Just find that unicorn-hair barrier Bill told us about an’ take out a piece, he’ll take care of the rest.”

“Yeah, boss,” the voice agreed, and there was a soft shuffling. The door creaked open, then closed again. Heavy footsteps continued up the stairs, fading as they rose towards the second floor.

Ford drew in another long, steadying breath, clicked her blaster to ‘stun’, and stepped out around the corner.

The two thugs Gideon had left standing in the foyer, one hanging around by the door, one by the staircase, both jumped at Ford’s appearance. The reedier one by the door reached for something at his hip, and Ford lined up, squeezed her eyes shut, and fired a stunning bolt directly into the man’s chest. She opened her eyes just in time to see her target slumped against the wall and the man who had been standing by the stairs staggering backwards, a hand over his eyes, clearly blinded by afterimages from the flash of the stun bolt. Ford fired off another shot in his direction, then hesitated. She wanted nothing more than to charge straight up the stairs after Gideon and his cronies, but - if she let the barrier be broken, then there would be nowhere safe left in Gravity Falls.

Ford muttered a curse that maybe seven other people in this dimension had ever heard uttered aloud, and sprinted for the door.

...

The stairs felt a million miles high. Ford took them two at a time, even though her breath was starting to come hard and her legs burned with every step. Any thought she might have had of stealth or strategy had vanished, reduced to a single, overwhelming focus. All she could think, all she could see, were the terrible possibilities unspooling through her mind. Perhaps she’d stopped the objectively greater threat, for the moment, but she couldn’t tell that to the lump in her throat or the frantic thump of her heart.

She hadn’t made it to the top of the attic stairs before every last one of her fears burst to technicolour life at the sound of Mabel’s shout.

“Let go of me, you - you - you big gorilla!”

“You won’t get away with this, Gideon!” Dipper yelled, from somewhere at the top of the attic stairs. Ford hit the landing at a dead run, crossing it in two steps.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Dipper Pines,” Gideon’s smarmy voice echoed down the stairs that Ford was climbing, smug and triumphant. “I already have! Turns out that li’l ol’ barrier y’all were so proud of sure don’t work so well on humanfolk, does it? All I have to do is give the signal, and Bill’s eyebats’ll be all over this ol’ place like flies on a cowpat. And my oh my, but unicorn hair’s such a fragile material. Don’t you agree? Why, anythin’ could just...happen...to it.”

“You monster!” Mabel gasped, her voice muffled by the attic door.

“Scream all you want, sugarplum,” Gideon giggled. “Nobody’s comin’ to help you -”

“Wrong,” Ford said, flinging the attic door wide. Her head felt curiously light, but at least her aim was steady as she stepped into the room, pointing her blaster directly at the dead centre of Gideon’s head. “Put the children down. Carefully,” she added, when the pale-eyed goon carrying Dipper under one arm and Mabel under the other looked suspiciously like he was about to drop them both unceremoniously to the floor.

“Well, well,” Gideon said, turning slowly in place to face Ford. “Seems I spoke too soon. Evenin’, Stanford.”

“Just Ford,” Ford snapped. “I said, let Dipper and Mabel go.”

Gideon tapped a fat finger against his chin, his smile growing as he pantomimed thought. “Hm, no, I’m thinkin’ not.” He held up both hands and clapped them, twice, and Dipper’s shout came just a moment too late.

“Great-aunt Ford, look out -”

The blow collided with the back of Ford's head like a thunderclap. She barely had time to wonder which of Gideon’s cronies had snuck up behind her, and how, before the world went dark.

...

A low rumble was the first thing Ford was aware of, a deep bass buzz vibrating up through her bones and rattling her teeth. Slowly, the rumble solidified into engine roar and the rattle of wheels over gravel. The floor jolted and shivered underneath her, nearly knocking the air out of her lungs more than once.

Ford opened her eyes.

The sky overhead was reddening with early dawn light. Ford had seen some truly spectacular skies in her thirty years of wandering, but none quite like this. It looked like some particularly deranged - and tasteless - set designer had slapped it together for a Grand Guignol opera. The whole thing seemed awash in blood, save for the eye-searing pus-yellow shimmer of the rift hovering above the black pyramid. The whole sky glared like a gaping wound.

It was a little difficult to see properly, however, because of the bars and the roof of the cage obscuring her vision.

“A cage?” Ford sputtered, pushing herself up off of the bouncing metal floor to grab at the bars, in the faint hope that she might find one loose, or illusory, or discover some other means of escape. She had no such luck. All she got was a clear view of the rough ground bumping away behind her. Apparently the floor was rattling because it was, in fact, the bed of a heavily-modified pickup truck. A cage! There were many things Ford could name that would be more humiliating and demeaning, but with solid metal bars between her and the outside world, none sprang to mind.

“Yeah. I tried to tell Gideon it was kind of overkill,” Dipper’s voice said, and Ford let go of the bars to spin around. Her great-nephew was sitting slumped against the bars at the back of the cage, his hat tipped down to cover his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s...kind of a drama queen.”

So Gideon had them. Which meant that they were being delivered, gift-wrapped, to Bill Cipher.

Ford gripped the bars behind her for support, suddenly feeling as though all of her strength had bled right out of her in between breaths. For a moment, everything seemed to settle down on her, like layers of sediment, leaving her immobile, fossilised.

Ford reached down to draw her coat tighter around herself, only to discover that it wasn't there. A frantic search revealed that her weapons had been taken as well, even the small laser knife she kept strapped to her ankle. Certainly, it didn't actually leave her defenceless - she was perfectly capable of killing another being in hand-to-hand combat, if it came to it - but that didn't stop the firework-bursts of panic that slashed between her ribs and splashed against the back of her skull. Her own movements felt strange, disconnected, as though she'd been divorced from her body. As though she'd been forced out of it -

She drew in another breath, as long and deep as she dared with the thick dust and wafts of sulphur and cotton candy on the wind, feeling the roughness of the bars digging into her palms.

When she trusted her voice again, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Dipper shrugged one shoulder. He didn’t look up.

“Mabel...?” Ford asked, looking around the small enclosure, though she already knew what she’d find.

“She’s up front with him,” Dipper spat, raising his head for the first time as he jerked a thumb towards the narrow window a little ways above his head. “Gideon didn’t wanna let her out of his sight.”

Ford nodded. It felt like all she could do. She didn’t want to voice what she knew they both must be thinking.

The weight of their situation, the true depths of her failure, still threatened to fall on Ford, crushing her utterly, but just as she had so many times before, she managed to force it aside. No one else was coming to save them. There was no one to rely on but herself. She couldn’t let Dipper down. She couldn’t afford to break.

“All right,” Ford said, the gears of her mind slowly, ponderously grinding back into motion. “We need to get out of here, find some way to liberate Mabel -” A thought struck her, and she paused, before crossing the bed of the truck in two strides to peer in through its narrow back window. “Gideon mentioned something about Bill wanting us. It would only make sense that that would be where he’s delivering us. If we can take control of this vehicle, perhaps we can use it to enter Bill’s lair undetected.”

“That’s a great idea!” Dipper said, pushing back his hat as he looked up, the ghost of a smile slipping across his face. It vanished as he went on, though, along with the note of hope that had momentarily lit up his voice. “But I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. I had a look around while you were unconscious, and this thing is locked up pretty tight. I think they welded these bars straight into the frame of the truck.”

Ford gave the back window a cautious push with the pads of her fingers. It felt as thick as it looked, solid, difficult to shatter without being able to get a good wind-up for fear of hitting the bars instead. There was no give in it to suggest that it might be, if not shattered, then popped out of its setting by a well-thrust elbow. And even if she could damage or remove the window somehow, she wouldn't be able to reach far enough across the back seat to get at the driver or Gideon in the front seat. If she only had some kind of weapon - !

“Ugh! Why can’t you just leave us alone!” Mabel’s voice rose, and Ford shifted her attention to the glowing purple thing in the backseat. She’d overlooked it before because it didn’t seem like anything that might help them escape, but now that she saw what it was, it took everything in her not to punch the glass despite knowing how little good it was likely to do.

Mabel was caged, too, locked up in an elegant, scrollwork birdcage just barely big enough for her to sit up in, a huge, triangular padlock marked with a shooting star sealing it closed. She was hugging her knees, her sweater stretched out over them. Ford couldn’t see her face, but she was certain it was a picture of misery.

Gideon spun as best he could in his carseat, pressing a hand against the lapel of his powder-blue suit with a look of put-upon patience. “Mabel, dumplin’, I’m doin’ this for us -”

“There is no us!” Mabel exploded, waving both arms through the bars of the cage so violently that it nearly slid off the backseat. “Gideon, I liked being your friend, but I don’t even want to be that anymore! This is, like, the third time you’ve tried to kill my whole entire family!”

“Fourth,” Dipper muttered, pushing himself to his feet and walking over to where Ford was standing, pulling himself up on tiptoes to peer into the cab of the truck.

Mabel plunged onwards, clearly unable to hear Dipper’s addition. “What made you think that hurting the people I care about would ever make me like you more?”

Gideon looked stunned, like Mabel had hit him across the face rather than just shouted at him. “They - they were comin’ between us -”

“The only thing ‘coming between us’ is you being a big, creepy jerk!” Mabel took a deep breath, her voice lowering in volume enough that Ford had to strain to hear her next words over the rumble of the truck’s engine and the rattle of the gravel underneath its wheel. What she lacked in volume, however, Mabel more than made up for in intensity. “And if you turn us over to Bill and stop us from rescuing Grunkle Stan - I will never stop hating you! Ever ever ever!”

“Mabel -”

“Ever!”

“Wow, go Mabel!” Dipper said, softly, and Ford looked down to see him beaming from ear to ear.

Gideon, for his part, looked almost at a loss for words. He reached carefully out towards Mabel, only for her to cross her arms over her chest and toss her head, turning away from him.

“Well...well,” Gideon started, weakly, sounding a little rattled, but growing in confidence with each word. “I’m certain we can do somethin’ about that. Bill is the master of the mind, after all.”

“What, so your response to her saying she doesn’t want anything to do with you because you’re a creepy jerk is to double down on being a creepy jerk?” Dipper spat, in apparent disbelief. “Cause, no offense, but that hasn’t exactly been a winning strategy for you so far.” He let out an enormous sigh, spinning to lean against the back wall of the truck and pressing the heels of both hands against his eyes. “Okay. We gotta do something, we gotta get Mabel out of there before -”

He cut his own sentence short. Ford looked up, peering past the bars. The floating black pyramid seemed closer, now, looming huge and menacing in the sky ahead.

For the first time, she turned her attention to their surroundings beyond the bars that held them in. Ford didn’t recognise the land they were driving through as part of the town or the surrounding forests - they seemed to have been abruptly transplanted to a red-dust desert scattered with the occasional ruins scrawled with ominous graffiti featuring Bill's single, watchful eye, the heat rising off of the barren ground stifling even from her position above it. Clouds of dust kicked up by the vehicles that flanked them made it difficult to see much, but it appeared that they were in the middle of a convoy of heavily-modified cars and trucks, covered in spikes and graffiti and a truly improbable array of weaponry. Ford thought she caught a glimpse of the water tower stalking on stilt-legs off to their left, but through the dust and the huge, multicoloured bubbles that hung heavy in the air, she couldn’t quite be sure.

The shattered, elliptical dome of a long building rose out of the dust on their right, and Dipper perked up, crossing the cage to look out between the bars at it. "Hey, that's the mall! Oh man, I didn't even recognise this part of town, Bill really did a number on -"

He stopped, mid-sentence, and nearly shoved his face in between the bars. "Did you see that?!"

Ford hurried over to Dipper's side, staring intently out at the wasteland. She didn't see anything beyond the clouds of dust, the slow roll of the giant bubbles, the single Jeep bristling, hedgehog-like, with spikes flanking them -

Ford blinked.

“Wasn’t there another vehicle -” she started, just as a slender, dark shape flew straight out of one of the enormous bubbles and landed in a crouch on top of the spiny Jeep. Ford watched in amazement as the figure grabbed the frame of the Jeep, kicked up into a handstand, spun 180 degrees, and swung down feet-first through the window, their feet colliding with the driver’s head. The Jeep swerved violently, veered right, then left, then -

“Look out!” Ford shouted, grabbing Dipper and dropping into a crouch just as the Jeep collided, heavily, with the side of the truck they were in. Long, wicked black spikes shot between the bars of the cage, one slicing through the air where, just seconds before, Dipper’s head had been. The truck shuddered at the impact, knocking Ford off her feet and onto the floor of the truckbed. She managed to pick herself back up just as the Jeep slammed into the truck again.

This time, she didn’t try to get back up.

Shouts from the cab and from the vehicles on their left told Ford that she and Dipper weren’t the only ones who’d noticed the strange figure that had hijacked the Jeep. There was a rumble and a squeal, and the truck slowed, the Jeep and the two flanking vehicles speeding past it as the driver braked, hard.

“Get us outta here!” Gideon squawked, from the front seat, his voice piercing even over the screech of tires and the shouts coming from the other vehicles. “We gotta get these three to Bill by any means necessary -”

“Way ahead of you, boss,” the driver rumbled, and the truck spun back in the direction it had come, throwing Ford and Dipper both up against the bars. The back of Ford’s head cracked against the metal, causing both to ring and stars to splash in front of her eyes for a second, the sharp smell of copper filling the back of her nose and mouth. She gingerly raised a hand to touch the back of her head, but there was thankfully no blood.

The truck shot back down the street the way it had come, thumping and rattling over the rough ground. Behind them, Ford watched, with a sinking feeling, as the two other vehicles from their little convoy - a police car with a sheriff’s star inscribed with Bill’s eye spray-painted over the legend on its side and a motorcycle with, somehow, seven wheels - boxed in the spiny Jeep. Whoever their strange assailant was, there seemed to be little doubt that Gideon’s henchmen would make short work of them.

She was just testing the bars that the Jeep had slammed up against for any sign of weakness when the truck suddenly jerked to a halt, right in the middle of the road. Dipper gasped, and then, did the last thing Ford would have expected.

He burst out laughing.

Ford straightened up, peering through the back window of the truck to look out the windshield and see what had forced them to stop. She had to blink several times, trying to make sure there wasn’t simply something in her eye. Even in an apocalyptic wildnerness of Bill’s creation, it still strained credulity to look up and see an enormous set of four wheels, taller than a man (had those come off a tractor?), and, perched on top of an equally hulking chassis like a tiara on the head of a Xenophorian thunderbeast, the body of a golf cart.

“What...?” she asked, and Dipper, beaming from ear to ear, jabbed a finger at the driver of the golf cart, a squat figure also all in black. As Ford watched, the figure unwrapped a scarf from around their face -

- and waved.

It wasn’t just any golf cart, Ford realised, belatedly. The red-and-yellow flags dangling from the roof and the huge, red question mark painted across the nose clearly marked it as the golf cart from the Mystery Shack.

“Soos?” she asked, at the same time as Gideon, from the front seat, let out a petulant whine.

“Am I supposed t’know who that is?”

“Soos!” Dipper yelled, jumping up and down and waving his arms, even though Ford doubted the handyman could see him from the angle he was looking down at the truck from. “We’re down here!”

There was no way that Soos could have heard them from all the way up in the golf cart, perched so high above the street, over the rumble and roar of engines, but still, Ford felt inexplicably warmed when he reached out and gave them a thumbs-up.

The golf cart started to roll, ponderously, forwards.

The truck lurched back into motion, screeching backwards away from the approaching golf cart, and executed a neat three-point turn before squealing away down the street. Or rather, it started to - but the street was barricaded by the cop car, flipped up onto its side to expose its undercarriage.

"Just go over it!" Gideon shouted, from the cab of the truck. "What's the use of havin' a monster truck if ya don't crush anythin' with it?!"

The driver didn’t move. A second later, Ford could see why.

The slim black figure that she’d seen take over the Jeep straightened up, balancing precariously on the upturned edge of the cop car. They planted their feet shoulder-width apart and their hands on their hips, head thrown back in obvious defiance, their whole being the physical embodiment of a challenge.

Behind them, the golf cart’s horn tooted, a sound that was honestly much more ominous than it had any right to be.

The truck’s engine growled, low and throaty, the floor under Ford’s feet thrumming like some great, caged beast eager to be set loose on some unsuspecting small herbivore. The dark figure stood still atop the cop car, unmoving. Apparently unafraid.

“Ghost Eyes!” Gideon snapped, and the truck roared to life, leaping forward.

The spiked grate on the front of the truck rammed into the cop car’s exposed undercarriage just as the figure in black jumped. They somersaulted in midair, landing with knees bent on the hood of the truck as it started to climb up and over the toppled cop car. One hand went to its waist, and pulled free a short-handled axe.

The figure in black gave the axe a quick spin in one hand before slamming it down on the windshield. The instant the axe struck against it, the windshield splintered, spiderweb cracks shooting crazily outwards from the point of impact. The driver jerked the wheel hard to the left, but the cop car underneath the truck kept it stuck in place.

Another blow, and the windshield shattered.

Gideon’s scream, Ford reflected, sounded remarkably like a stuck pig.

“Wendy!” Mabel yelled, throwing herself at the front of her cage, and the figure in black glanced up, waving through the windshield. The moment of distraction seemed to be enough, though, for the driver of the truck to reach through the windshield and punch the dark-clad figure in the side of the head. She toppled off the hood of the truck, vanishing behind the cop car.

“Go go go go go!” Gideon urged, and the driver obliged, stepping on the gas. The truck gave a furious whine, and Ford could feel the wheels spinning under her, but it didn’t move. Part of the cop car must have been wedged underneath it. "Get us outta here, before -"

A shadow fell over the back of the truck, blotting out the eerie red light, and Ford spun to see the golf cart, towering on its absurdly large wheels, bearing steadily down on them. She grabbed the bars of the cage behind her, shouting at Dipper, “Brace yourself!”

The crunch as the golf cart rammed into the back of the truck was nearly deafening. Ford could feel its reverberations through the soles of her feet, traveling up the bars she gripped. The whole truck rocked, wobbling precariously on its perch atop the upturned cop car.

“Soos! What’re you doing?!” Dipper yelled, waving his arms, as the golf cart drew back.

“Hang in there, doods,” Soos called back, over the rumble of engines and the grinding squeal of metal against metal, his rodent-like face set in an expression of grim determination as he revved the engine for another run up on the truck. “I’m gettin’ you outta there!”

Screaming from the cab behind her told Ford that Wendy had most likely gotten back up. Ford paid the sounds no attention.

“Hit it again!” she called up to Soos, who saluted and stomped on the gas. The golf cart jerked forward, bumping into the cage at the very back of the truck, and there was another screech of metal on metal as the bars visibly bowed inwards. One more blow, and one of the bars shot free with a distressing little metallic sigh.

It wasn’t the only thing dislodged by the golf cart, though. With one final, drawn-out scream of metal, the truck slid forward off of the cop car’s undercarriage, teetering for a moment before its front wheels touched ground. The truck shot forward like a bolt from a crossbow, only to lurch to a stop again a moment later, bouncing forward in fits and starts. Ford realised she’d lost track of how many times now she’d been knocked off her feet.

“Give - me - that - key!” Wendy yelled from the cab, punctuated by soft percussive sounds rather like a gloved hand hitting a sack full of water. Gideon’s shrieks sounded remarkably like Mabel’s pig when someone stepped on its tail, Ford reflected, as she helped Dipper out through the hole Soos had made in the cage and down off the bed of the truck.

“Wendy! Dood, we got ‘em!” Soos called, as Ford climbed down off the truck bed herself. She had to stop and cling onto the bars with all her might as the truck gave one last aborted leap forward, then ground to a stop, the engine chugging down. Ford cautiously lowered a foot to the asphalt below her, and then, when the truck didn’t drag her forwards again, hopped all the way down.

“Not yet!” Wendy shouted back, frustration clear in her voice. “Gideon’s got Mabel in an evil glowing birdcage, and he’s got the key somewhere.” Her voice dropped, and Ford assumed she was talking to the two in the front seat as she continued, “And this little creep is gonna tell me where it is. Right. Now.”

“No!” Gideon screeched, and Ford finally gave in to the temptation to circle around to the front of the truck, hoping for a better view of what was going on inside. The driver appeared to be out cold, probably felled by the blunt end of Wendy’s axe. Wendy herself had pulled off the dark hood she’d been wearing, revealing her face and her ginger hair, and was in the middle of - Ford blinked - giving Gideon a noogie. “I won this time! I won! Bill promised me -”

“Did he promise you Mabel’s heart?” Ford interjected, unable to help herself. “Because you should know that if he said that, he intends to drop the bloody organ in your hands after he removes it from her still-living body.”

Six pairs of eyes all fixed in Ford’s direction, identical perturbed expressions on each face. Ford managed, under the scrutiny, to shrug. “It’s his idea of a pun.”

She assumed the retching noise from the backseat of the truck was coming from Mabel.

Gideon struggled in Wendy’s grip, held as he was under one of her arms with her fist squashing his magnificent pompadour. “You’re a fool, Ford Pines,” he spat, pointing one finger like a brimstone-and-hellfire preacher passing judgement, though the effect was slightly spoiled by the fact that he was under four feet tall and currently being held like a small lapdog. “Bill Cipher coulda been a powerful friend to ya! But instead, you’ve made an even more powerful enemy.”

“What, you?” Dipper asked, sauntering over to Ford’s side. “Cause, uh, full offense, I saw you get taken down by a swarm of termites once.”

“Cursed termites!” Gideon wailed. “An’ I’ll unleash ‘em to plague you and your family even unto the seventh generation if you don’t tell this woman to get her hands off my hair!”

“Yeah, no such luck,” Wendy said, giving Gideon’s pompadour another vicious punch. It made a sad squeaking sound, and then slowly started to deflate, like a popped balloon. “Hand over that key!”

“No!” Gideon protested, kicking his little legs petulantly. “Mabel’s finally mine! You’re not takin’ her away from me again!”

“What? Nobody’s ‘taking’ me anywhere!” Mabel protested, from the back seat. “Ugh! As soon as I get out of this dum-dum cage, you’re in for a world of hurt, Gideon! And that’s a promise!”

“Yep,” Dipper said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his puffy vest and giving Gideon a look that was entirely too pleased with itself. “It definitely sounds like she’s madly in love with you."

“She’ll learn to love me!” Gideon yowled, and Wendy had to let go of the remnants of his pompadour to pin him with both arms so he couldn’t wriggle free. “She’ll have an eternity of captivity to come to her senses and see we’re meant to be -”

“It won’t be eternity,” Ford interjected, over the sharp inhale from Mabel and Dipper’s almost audible fuming. “This dimension has been doomed from the moment Bill Cipher opened that rift. I give it maybe a week - less if Bill keeps warping things, dragging things through from the Nightmare Realm, and widening the rift - before it grows too unstable to sustain its own existence and collapses, taking everyone and everything inside of it with it.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a distant, inhuman screech.

“Bill didn’t mention that,” Gideon muttered.

“That’s because he’s a lying dirtbag who just says what he thinks you want to hear to get you to do stuff for him.” Dipper said. “Kinda like a dude on a dating website.”

“And it doesn’t matter anyway!” Mabel piped up, her voice high with righteous fury. “Because I don’t care how long you keep me stuck in a stupid cage, or a stupid dream, or a stupid fancy restaurant where they kill the lobsters in front of you, I am never ever ever gonna date you! I don’t know what part of this is so hard for you! Do I have to do an educational and inspiring musical number?”

“What do I have ta do!?” Gideon exploded right back at her, waving a fist. Wendy scowled halfway between annoyance and discomfort, trying to hold him in place. “I tried bein’ a gentleman! I courted you proper! I removed the obstacles your family placed in our path -”

“You mean you tried to steal my grunkle’s house and kill my brother!” Mabel shouted back.

Gideon ignored her, raising his own voice slightly as he ploughed onwards. “Why won’t you give me just one more chance? Mabel, I promise I’d be good ta you -”

“You put me in a cage! And not the cool kind you can dance in!”

“Just for now!” Gideon protested. “Just until ya love me!”

“I already told you, that is never happening!”

“What d’you want from me? I’ve tried everything!”

“You haven’t tried being a decent guy!” Ford had known Mabel long enough, now, to recognise the crack running through her anger, the dangerous wobble that meant she was close to tears. “You haven’t tried listening to me. I just want you to leave us alone! I just want you to leave me alone!”

The silence that followed felt like a shoe on the wrong foot, or a sixth finger squeezed into a five-fingered glove - awkward, uncomfortable, and only growing worse with time.

“Dude,” Wendy said, to Gideon, finally. “Key or no key, I am so tempted to just drop-kick you right now.”

“Mabel’s right,” Dipper said, and Ford noticed that the smug look had disappeared from his face, probably the moment Mabel’s voice had started to wobble. “Look. Gideon. You’ve tried everything you can think of to force Mabel to like you, and it’s always backfired. What’ve you got to lose by listening to her for once?”

“Wh- she wanted us to just be friends!” Gideon protested, and perhaps only Ford caught the way Dipper’s stare went hard.

“What, being Mabel’s friend is a bad thing?”

Gideon seemed to struggle for words for a moment, his face growing redder and redder. “Well...no, but -”

“I think Mabel’s a pretty good friend.” Dipper glanced up at Mabel’s cage, and smiled. “Scratch that. Mabel’s an awesome friend. You’d be lucky to have a friend like her. And if someday she decides she likes you as more than a friend?” He shrugged, with both hands still in his vest pocket. “That’s up to her, not you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this summer, it’s that you can’t make somebody love you.”

Ford got the strangest impression that Dipper was looking a little over Gideon’s head, closer to Wendy’s face, when he said, “All you can do is try to be somebody worth loving.”

In the ensuing silence, the driver of the truck let out a soft grunt and twitched. Ford held her breath until the man stopped moving again.

“Well, my my, what a touchin’ speech,” Gideon said, but his usual sickly-sweet sarcasm seemed as deflated as his hair. His gaze turned in Mabel’s direction, and Mabel sighed heavily, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not going to start being your friend again just because you stop trying to murder my family and make me your queen or whatever. You were a major jerky-jerk-jerkface to me, and Grunkle Stan, and Dipper, and - and everybody!” She gave another deep, heavy sigh. “But, if you really do start listening to me, and treating people better, and stop being such a mean jerk...I guess maybe then I could reconsider.”

She raised a hand, one finger extended, like a judge passing down a very important sentencing, and the stars swimming in Gideon’s eyes abruptly shrank. “But! You better show me some rehabilitation first, mister!”

“So wait, am I drop-kicking this dude or what?” Wendy asked. “Cause it’s getting super weird to keep holding him like this.”

Dipper’s gaze flicked over to Gideon, as did Mabel’s. Ford could see sweat beginning to bead on Gideon’s forehead.

“I -” he started, and then hung his head, dangling limply from Wendy’s grip. His voice dropped in volume until it was nearly inaudible. “I’m in it deep with Bill. You don’t know what he’d do ta me -”

“Actually, we do,” Ford spoke up, and Gideon started, like he’d almost forgotten she was there. “Or at least, I do. I know how much this is to ask of you - I’ve been fighting Bill for the last thirty years.” She gestured ruefully at the wasteland around them, trying to tamp down the burn of the embarrassed flush that started to creep its way up her neck. “You can see how that turned out. But - it’s not too late. Help us send Bill back to his own forsaken realm, reverse the damage he’s done, and save our world.”

Gideon took another long, lingering look in Mabel’s direction.

“Also,” Ford added, folding her hands behind her back, unable to keep the echo of a smile from her face, “I have it on good authority that chicks dig heroes.”

Gideon didn’t look away from Mabel, until Mabel, visibly uncomfortable, tugged the turtleneck of her sweater up over her face.

“Y’all really think it’s not too late?” he asked, sounding, for the first time, like the child he was.

“To stop Bill? Not as long as I live and breathe,” Ford said, curling the fingers of her right hand so tightly into a fist that her nails bit painfully into the heel of her hand.

“No, I mean -” Gideon gave his head a little shake. “Well, for me. To change.”

Dipper shuffled his feet in the dirt, glancing up at Ford.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Ford said, shooting her great-nephew a smile before turning back to Gideon, “it’s that it’s never too late to change.”

Gideon drew in a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly, staring at the ground.

“All right,” he said, finally, thrusting his chin defiantly forwards. “Let’s go save the world!”

“Great,” Wendy said. “Now can I put him down?”

#gravity falls #grauntie ford #trans ford #this is mary's fic tag #in this chapter: the shit and the fan go on a nice blind date #long fic post

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sofeyhh · 7 years

Text

BTS Private Boarding School Au

Part 10 / ?

“I’m so proud of our boy,” Jin’s father boasts to Pierre Morten: the surgeon that has worked on every house wife in town, be it a nose job or a breast implant, Cooper Stocker: the son who’s taking over his father’s oil company and Mick Buratto: the president of Hawkings University - an ivy league school.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Buratto is the one whom his father was interested in. He was playing out all his cards, buttering up Jin’s reputation in school.

“Jin has managed to hold the title of President of the school body for 4 years now. He’s involved in almost half the clubs in school, won a gold medal in this Spring’s debate competition and even has his own magazines published and distributed in school as a side project. And I've recently got news from the Director himself that Jin actually clinched the top spot for the examinations.

His father pushed him forward, patting him hard, trying to get him to saddle up to the Buratto.

“Well technically, I was a point below Kim Namjo-”

Jin choked in a gasp as his father’s grip on his shoulders tightens. He hated when this happens. When his parents would push him into the spotlight with a forced hand.

“My boy here, he’s graduating and has been yapping about attending Hawkings,” Jin’s father chuckled with a fake grin. He was reeling in the big fish. “Didn’t you tell me you applied for a spot in next Summer’s enrollment?”

No, Jin didn’t need to tell him because he, along with Jin’s mother, had filled out the application by themselves. Only telling him about it when they already sealed the envelope, stamp perfectly stuck to the top corner. Even so, Hawkings was and is his dream school ever since he knew how to read. He wanted it and all its glory, and so he nods and smiles as he gushes about his excitement.

It seems that Buratto was pleasantly surprised, oblivious to his father’s blatant attempt at trying to suay his bias opinion, and said he would gladly accept St Strachan Rutherford Academy’s golden boy. At that, his father finally releases his iron grip on his shoulder, presumably satisfied. Without a doubt, Jin was going to see a bruise bloom, black and blue.

As the adults trail their conversation to politics, he slips away, desperate to find his friends. He had been glued to his parents’ side for hours, pushed from mother to father like a pinball, all to hear them gloat and boast about his accomplishments to everyone. Jin spots Namjoon and his adorable sister on the far side of the big room. Like magnets, he naturally gravitates to his four-eyed friend.

“Save me, please. Take me away from here,” he sighs as he rests his chin on Namjoon’s shoulders.

A smile spreads on Jin’s face as he hears the rumble of Namjoon’s deep chuckle. Oh, how he lived for those - it warms his body in all the right places.

“Mmm, well you might have just migrated to another round of Parents’ Pride,” Namjoon murmurs in his ears. He shifts his body so that he was now holding Jin in his embrace. A hand runs up and down Jin’s arm, soothing him even more.

Namjoon’s mother was animatedly talking about him to a group of ladies while Nara nodded along with the words. Jin listens closely to the conversation, surprised at the choice of topic. It wasn’t at all what he expected from Namjoon’s ‘round of Parents’ Pride’.

“It was delicious, by the grace of God I swear, his Souffle brought me to heaven,” she said. “The three of us were stuffed to the brim from the 3-course meal he cooked. He had stayed in the kitchen for hours, would you believe it?”

His mother had been boasting about...his cooking skills. And the way she boasted, it wasn’t in a conceited way. Instead, they were praises for Namjoon. Beautiful, Jin thought, such a beautiful family.

---

The pair strutted in, heads held high with their chests puffed out. They were channelling their alter-egos, inspired by confident male role-models. It was Will Smith, the inspirational actor/comedian for Hoseok and Leonardo DiCaprio, the charming and astounding actor/activist for Jimin. Yes, they were common figures in the island of “role-model” but heck, they gave the two an air of confidence.

“Are you sure this is working? I feel ridiculous,” Jimin muttered as his eyes dart around.

“Just wait for the turn at the corner.”

Hoseok counts down under his breath as they reached the point. Within seconds, they hear gasps and whispers of girls fawning over them. It felt good, Jimin shamelessly admitted as he daringly stuck out his tongue, licking his smirk. He earns a gratifying squeal and his ego undoubtedly grew high to the sky.

“Look at these idiots,” Taehyung guffawed.

“I’m thanking the gods Nara is still a toddler,” Namjoon scoffs. “I’d dig myself a grave if I had to listen to her grovel over them. Eugh.”

“Somehow, my mother’s fundraising gala always turns out to be soft porn for the girls,” Jin sighs.

The three boys stood by the bar, shaking their heads at their strutting friends, who's currently painting a target board on their backs. Those girls they were trying to impress, were somebody’s younger sister and daughter. They better pray none of them gets overly protective.

“Boys,” Jimin and Hoseok simultaneously sing songed as they gave a dramatic bow. It was strangely in sync not to think that they hadn’t practised it beforehand.

“Hubristic asshats,” Namjoon greeted them back with a raise of his glass.

Hoseok spots the three empty glasses on the bar by Taehyung’s elbow. “You started drinking without us?!”

He gives a grim smile, buzzed out of his brains as his eyes search for one Jeon Jungkook. Since he has arrived, he’s only been face to face with three glasses of bourbons while that muscle pig was yet to be found. He needed his drinking buddy real bad. It didn’t need to be said but everyone else in his posse was too boring to accompany him in his drinking rendezvous. Jin was too prissy, he only sipped fucking iced strawberry champagne. Namjoon never liked to get drunk to the point of hard hitting hangover. Jimin was a goody-two-shoe angel that drank with wide eyes. And Hoseok was too naggy by his 3rd glass.

Plus, there were other reasons that he wanted the icy Jeon Jungkook. It’s been decided after his 2nd glass, Kim Taehyung wanted to play with his toy.

“Oh hey uh, either of you has to be my designated driver again,” Taehyung said distractedly as he waved his finger at Jimin and Hoseok.

He squints at the crowd, catching sight of his prey. Damn, he thought, as his eyes raked over the tight material clinging onto Jungkook’s thick thighs. The all black ensemble he had only accentuated his dark personality and it got Taehyung excited like a puppy. He loves to play with his toy, especially when Jungkook had his hair slicked to the side like he was trying to make Taehyung eye fuck him right there and then.

“He drove here on his own,” Jin explained to the clueless pair when they received no more words from Taehyung. “His father’s sex drive was through the roof.”

“Can’t blame him,” Hoseok said before ordering a glass of margarita. “But I’m drinking tonight because I’ve got shit on my shoulders and I’ve already been this drunken ass’ driver a thousand times. You take the honours Jiminie.”

Jimin gratefully takes the shiny keys away from Taehyung’s pocket just as the gentleman orders another glass. He has never met such a young alcoholic before - Taehyung claims he isn’t one, merely a hard liquor expert.

“New money is the bastard’s driver now?”

The boys turn around to see Jungkook striding up to them with a cocked eyebrow. He was finally free from his father’s clutches and took the chance to slip away. The bar was surrounded by his friends, though he’d prefer it Yoongi was there.

“Why do you call me that? I have a name you know. And so does Tae,” Jimin bristled and scowl. That kid never showed respect to Jimin despite him being younger.

“Don’t be flattered, you’re not that special Mini. I have a name for everyone in the group, it’s practically a form of acceptance,” Jungkook said smugly. “Namjoon’s the brainiac, Hoseok’s the linguist, Yoongi’s the hustler and Jin’s the princess.”

He orders a shot of Vodka and looks Jimin in the eye, challenging him to retort back. The shorter friend always gave such great reactions that it made teasing him easy, a hobby almost.

Jimin crosses his arms. “How is it that everyone’s nickname emphasises on their qualities and I’m left with new money?”

“Hey, he called me princess,” Jin pointed out then muttered to Namjoon, “And I’m weirdly okay with that.” The two quietly chuckled, ignoring Jimin’s piercing glare.

“Ah lighten up will you?” Jungkook coos and pinches his chubby cheeks. Jimin swats it away and grumbled away to Hoseok who was busy with his phone. He downs the shot of vodka and asks for another.

“I want a smoke. Anyone?”

Though his question was offered to the group, he somehow found himself staring at Taehyung, urging him to say yes. He knew the boy didn’t smoke too often but of all the things Jungkook loved, goating his friends into doing something they weren’t too fond of was his favourite. Taehyung nurses his bourbon, swirling it around in the glass as he considers the offer; the fourth glass was going down slower than his previous ones. The bartender slides over Jungkook’s shot, immediately taken by Taehyung.

“Drink it with me outside,” he says, his deep voice dripping with sensuality and leaves for one of the many balconies.

That left his friends’ eyebrows shooting upwards, surprised by the sudden change in atmosphere. They watch Jungkook shuffle with intrigue after Taehyung without a word.

“I told you! He turns into a suave James Dean when he’s drunk.”

“By why is it that he’s only gunning for Jungkook? He literally called me a sexy virgin pirate and slapped my ass at the store the other day.”

“Aw Jin, do you smell burning jealousy?” Namjoon teases Jimin. “Don’t worry young chap, you’re his sober baby boy remember?”

The two older boys snorted at the blushing Jimin as he rambles on about how Taehyung’s pet name for him was solely platonic. Their bickering dulls away as Hoseok receives a text from Yoongi. He moves away from the noise, resting at the corner of the bar with his margarita.

-From: Min Grampy Having fun?

-To: Min Grampy Well Tae’s drunk, Kook’s being an ass and the two Kims are ganging up on Mini. As normal as always. How’s the beach?

Silently, he wished he could ditch the Gala and run straight to the beach. It’s always so beautiful at night - because it was secluded, covered by tall thick trees, it looked like an observatory with a magnifying lens to watch the twinkling stars.

-From: Min Grampy I see constellations but I can’t name them. If you were here, I’d ask you. You’re always good with them.

-To: Min Grampy Is that your subtle way of asking me to come over? My gosh... is that a compliment I hear? :P

-From: Min Grampy My compliments are reserved for people special to me. And I told you before, my invitation is still open. Come over anytime you want...I’m waiting for you.

The sip of margarita he had, went down the wrong pipe after his eyes scanned Yoongi’s reply. As Hoseok coughs up the bitter drink, the blush that crept up his neck, blooming on his cheeks and staining the tip of his ears practically made him look like a stop sign. Thankfully the rest of his friends were too busy to notice his fumbling ass.

Fucking Min Yoongi is going to be the death of him.

---

The frigid September winds bit at their cheeks the second they slid the balcony door open. Taehyung leads the younger boy to the corner, away from the transparent door. If he wanted to play with his toy, he needed a little privacy - as the groups’ designated tabloid, he of all people knew how fast gossips spread through town and especially in school. He settles Jungkook’s Vodka shot on the wide stone bannister, inviting him over.

Silence hung thick over the two friends as they leant on their elbow while taking in the expanse backyard Jin’s family had. It spread as far as a football field before dipping down a cliff to the crashing waves of the open sea. Jungkook handed Taehyung his open pack of cigarettes, seeing if he would do it. A smirk plays on his lips as his friend slips out a slim stick and placing it between his lips.

He shoves away Taehyung’s open palm and murmurs, “Let me do it for you.”

Jungkook leans closer, his thumb flicking to ignite the lighter. Their eyes pierced each other with intensity as the flickering amber flame glows between them. The tension between them heightened - aided by the fourth glass of Bourbon, the two shots of Vodka, the acrid smell of burning tobacco and their estranged relationship.

They’ve never been this close before, always sticking to the different companies in their group. So to find themselves alone in the dark was threatening to tear at the tension. Jungkook lights one for himself and they snap out of their gaze, going back to mockingly admire the backyard quietly.

Sucking in the smoke of the cigarette sent bursts of nicotine up to his brain, creating quite a cocktail when mixed with his four glasses of Bourbon. Taehyung draws it in deep into his lungs, letting it swirl around his tongue before blowing it out with a satisfied sigh.

“Fuck, I miss getting high,” Taehyung admitted. “I haven’t had a joint in months. You’ve got one on you?”

Jungkook scoffs, “Dimwit, what would I bring illegal weed to a public event. If my dad smells that shit on me, he’d have my grave plotted and dug.”

He takes a big puff from his stick and flicks the ashes away from the bannister. They watch the dull grey flakes float in the wind as it drifts further into the darkness. Then, the silence came again. It was unbearable for Taehyung, especially as someone who lives and breathes for commotions.

“Shit, I just remembered, that Mrs Kim’s Crystal Lilies are planted right below this balcony,” Taehyung said, leaning over as he tries to search in the dark.

Jungkook takes a disinterested peek. “Really?” He couldn’t care less if Taehyung decides to take a dump on Mrs Kim’s damn flowers.

“No. I was just joking,” he giggles.

He clears his throat when his joke was met with Jungkook’s deadpan face, not even showing a glint of amusement - or even any kind of emotions. Tough crowd, Taehyung thought as he huffs to himself. It usually works with Hoseok and Jimin - guess they’ve got better taste in humour.

“Jesus man, if you’re going to be throwing lame jokes the whole night, I need to get drunk,” uttered Jungkook as he throws back his shot, letting the liquid burn a trail down his throat.

A drop of Vodka escapes his lips, spilling down his chin and resting on his Adam's apple. It makes Taehyung gulp at the thought of sucking the liquor off of Jungkook’s neck - and he wouldn’t mind sneaking a little bruise on his skin either. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips.

“God, you’re sexy.”

Jungkook coughs up the Vodka, burning his throat even more. He was baffled by his friend’s brazen words. How drunk was he really? The younger boy cautiously watches Taehyung as down the last drop of his Bourbon. He was suddenly aware of how close they had been and takes a step to his left.

“I’m being honest here. I’ve watched you practice one of the sports thingies where you smack around a ball. Turns me on.”

Taehyung smirked when he sees Jungkook getting flushed. He was fidgeting with his now-too-tight collar, unbuttoning them as he clears his throat. It made Taehyung even more excited when he flinches under his touch. He had closed the distance between them and was rubbing his thumb over Jungkook’s lower lip.

“Your bad boy demeanour is a plus point too.”

His whisper sent shivers down Jungkook’s arms as he stands rooted to the ground under his touch. The sound of his heart racing pounds in his ears while his eyes are sucked into Taehyung’s warm brown ones. He stiffens when he feels him leaning closer, his soft lips touching the side of his neck.

Taehyung relishes in tasting his skin, sucking and licking all the way to his Adam's apple where the trail of Vodka was waiting for him.

“Ah, T-Tae what are you doing?” Jungkook gasps.

He could feel the wetness of Taehyung’s lips and tongue moving on his skin, melting his entire body. Jungkook lets out a strangled moan when he gently bites just below his jaws. Taehyung’s sinful kisses made Jungkook weak in the knees as he grabs onto his shoulders; biting his lips in anticipation of feeling his nerves spark down to his tight pants.

“The things I’d do to hear you moan like that for me,” Taehyung whispers in his ears as he grabs him by the waist.

He pulls them closer, groaning when he feels Jungkook’s thighs rubbing on his hardening member. It was bliss for him to feel his toy under his control, it made him powerful against the feared Jeon Jungkook. Taehyung knew that after tasting him, he’d be pining for his younger friend endlessly and painfully. But at the moment, it didn’t matter. He’d have him right there and then if he could.

“Dinner is ready! Everyone head down to the dining hall, and don’t forget about your arranged seats!”

Jin’s mother and her shrill voice startled the two boys out of their fantasy land. Jungkook immediately pushes Taehyung away, taking a huge step backwards as he wipes his neck with the back of his hand.

“I’m not gay,” he choked out. He said it like he was trying to convince himself instead of Taehyung.

“No one is gay until they try it.”

Taehyung chuckles as he walks away with his empty glass, acting like nothing erotic had happened between them. He grabs onto the bannister as he feels his knees buckling, feeling dazed from Taehyung’s kisses. Fuck, he thought. If he wasn’t gay then why did it feel so good to have him suck away at his neck? And why did it leave him turned on?

BTS AU Masterlist

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