#(anyways trying to find a nice page for muses so I have a quick set up page-)

[izvmimi]

cw: spoilers. after timeskip. selfship-coded. reader has a defined quirk. hurt/comfort.

As strong as the bond between any high school class can be (even yours, arguably more a small superpowered militia than a group of hopeful freshmen in far over their heads and strong enough to make it through the other end anyway), paths diverge as people follow their dreams, even if they will all forever call UA their home. 

It’s fitting that Izuku Midoriya, indisputably the most affected by the trauma of the meta war has kept UA as home base, and settling into his new career as teacher has remained both expected and fulfilling, even if poorly introspective onlookers would think otherwise. He is the heart of what it means to be a hero and that is to inspire the present and the future, and carry on the lessons of the past.

He is also your heart, you muse, as you find him sitting at your kitchen table, poring over graded essays, the red ink from his excessively lengthy corrections and comments practically jumping off the paper it’s scribbled on. You set down your work bag and attempt to sneak up behind him, but even if he’s focused and still, he’s always sharp, setting his pen down to turn around and greet you with a kiss.

“Hey, you’re later than usual, so I just let myself in, is that okay?” he asks. You nod, moving over to wash your hands in the sink quickly, then coming back around to pull a chair next to him. 

You’ve wanted to ask him to just move in together for months now, especially since now you spend more time at each other’s places than you do your own separate ones, but something about the proposition has felt wrong, rushed maybe. It’s been just a little over a year since you moved back to Japan after your fellowship overseas, and while you’ve remained in a varying level of contact the whole time since graduation, the flux of things has changed significantly instead of settling normally. For one, confessing an unrelenting affection that was kept mostly secret since high school had changed the trajectory of your lives, finding ways to incorporate seeing each other without fanfare between your busy post-grad education and his UA courses, then finally a year of long distance had made it difficult to ever feel like things had been truly steady.

“I wouldn’t have given you a code or key if not, silly,” you remind him. He smiles, and you glance over at the last assignment he’s corrected, and grimace. 

“You know if Aizawa had given me this many comments on an essay, I wouldn’t have shown up the next day, Izuku,” you remind him. He laughs, as you take the paper and read his feedback, mind spinning.

“I mean, no kid’s ever cried yet. I try to be nice.”

He is nice, you think, realizing that not a single word in the practical novel he’s scribbled in the margins of the brief constructed response can be misconstrued as disappointed or demanding. 

In fact, you would have cried tears of joy reading this. 

“How was the clinic?” he asks over the turn of another page.

“The most darling kid who didn’t have a Quirk manifest yet at age 5 showed up with worried parents with too much money on their hands.” You twist your mouth to the side. 

Izuku doesn’t look up as he says, “Oh, that’s too bad.”

There’s a pang of discomfort in your chest for a split second, but he doesn’t say anything else, scribbling a series of checkmarks and x’s, the quick scritch of his pen a little louder and resounding.

Izuku was meant to be Quirkless and is happy being Quirkless yet again, his mission fulfilled and the world better for it - even if sometimes only marginally so - but you know he yearns for the ability to be back on the field, with the same restlessness All Might once recounted feeling once he’d retired to teach as well. It’s evident in the way Izuku stays up a little too late reading/watching the news at every level, and how much of his free time he coordinates to a similarly intense training program at the crack of dawn, and the fact that even now he bristles at the implication of Quirklessness as a disability.

Everyone can be a hero. He was the greatest of them all - is, in fact, and not just your personal one, but his own personal world has shrunk. Documentaries, videos, people’s memories will not change that the fact that he’s far bigger than the quiet life he lives.

Now he’s relegated to cheering his friends on, day in and day out, and preparing a path for the youth to surpass him, something he is willing to do, but you know perhaps the timing is a bit too early for someone who shines as brightly as him. 

You rest your head on his shoulder. I love you, you could say out loud, I love you, and the world loves you, for you even more than what you did and what you represent, but it doesn’t help and Izuku cannot help sometimes interpreting your love as pity.

“What do you want for dinner?” you ask instead, keeping your voice as gentle as possible.

He turns to kiss your forehead. “I’m good with anything.”

You hate that no matter what you ask, big or small, he’ll always say this, and decide you’ll order his favorite food instead.

—

Years ago, when Mei contacted you out of the blue while you were ass deep in your medical school finals, asking you if you remembered the last time you’d used your Quirk on Izuku Midoriya, you had immediately assumed she had officially gone insane. It had been greater than five years since you’d last had a normal conversation with her at all, if even that could be considered normal, and you hadn’t had a need to use your Quirk on Izuku since the meta war.

“I know it’s a long shot but I need to know if you still remember-”

“I do,” you answered quickly, then immediately your face warmed at the admission. You can’t help that your Quirk gives you near perfect memory of people by their neuronal diagram, but something about it feels stalkerish when you still think of him affectionately, and not just as someone you’ve once healed. It also doesn’t help what the circumstances were when you’d healed him… but that would be a concern and memory for later.

“How can I help?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes visibly at you when you showed up to Hatsume’s lab the very next day but the animosity between you two has been a running schtick for years and you responded in jest. Using Hatsume’s program to redraw each neuronal connection from memory and adjusting for differences related to age was your greatest contribution to Izuku’s suit, small sums of money to contribute to the class pot whenever you could spare them the other.

There was always a little pang of jealousy that Katsuki could always offer up more money than you could, which once you’d confided to him by late night phone call days before All Might came back to Japan, he’d remind you,

“I’m just trying to beat your boyfriend in a fair fight, don’t make this about you.”

Katsuki’s rash way of speaking has always intuitively comforted you in just this way. It brings a smile to your face, and you offer him a word of thanks, anyway.

“He doesn’t know, does he? I know you like to run your mouth.” 

Katsuki can’t see you roll your eyes. “He’s none the wiser, don’t worry.”

“Good.” 

—

Izuku sends you a daily good morning message, and you’ve rarely beaten him to the punch, but this morning, you offer him a phone call as you make your way to the center of the city to work. All Might is coming back today and will present his suit to him then, the fruit of all your joint labors, and you were practically unable to sleep due to the excitement. Part of you agonized over whether or not you should try to be with him in the moment, but this is a moment to be kept between them, mentor and mentee.

“How are you feeling this morning, Izuku?” you ask, hoping the pants of your speedwalk (late to work as usual), don’t concern him through the phone.

“Weirdly enough, excited. There’s a feeling I can’t quite place, a good one,” he starts, and your grin is ear to ear.

Hours later, you get an excited text and one of the happiest phone calls you’ve ever received, and your heart is full to bursting.

—

“It’s fine, you don’t have to fuss over me,” Izuku insists, and you pout. There’s one stubborn emerald curl that won’t right itself in your opinion, and he’ll be on set for an interview in just a few minutes - the first since returning to active hero work - but he holds your fingers in his hand and pulls them to his lips instead.

“It’s okay. Don’t be nervous on my behalf,” he reminds you as he kisses them. His eyes are kind and relaxing, and you let out a deep breath, biting your lower lip. “I’ve got this, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“I love you,” he reminds you. “Thank you for always being by my side.”

You nod, as his assistant whisks him away, and he steps back into the spotlight, where he’s always belonged.

[ourthrxne]

( Oh my god there’s a coded verses page- )

[cultgambles]

Nearly a Blip in Time

I love historical sukuna so here i am. Also i am lowkey so confused at his story. Like i know he was a sorcerer at one point in history but like when did he get all his arms?? BC according to the wiki he was killed and then became a cursed spirit and then his fingers were waxy (lol weird choice of word) ?? anyway, in this, hes not a people hes a monster.

He’s also OOC. first time writing for JJK, but i wanted something soft hehe. Reader bites the dust

Wc: 3033

Masterlist | Requests? open

“[Y/N], you can’t be serious. No way a person of your . . . stature . . . could research in depth about something as big as Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, I’d wager that you wouldn’t even get within 5 feet of his temple,” the local teacher scoffs, disbelief plain as day on his face.

“You wager? What if I do get within 5 feet, then? Will you take me in as your student?” You cross your arms, staring him down. “Do you accept the challenge? I mean, you said it to begin with.”

The scholar throws up a hand, blowing you off. “Fine, whatever. You have half a year to write an in-depth dissection of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, and you will report your findings back to me at this very hour once your time is up. I expect perfection.”

“And if I win?” You ask, writing down every word he has said.

“You won’t die.”

“And?” You shoot him an unamused glare.

“And I will take you in as a student. God curse your father for teaching you to read and write.”

“He knew it would be beneficial for me. Now, sign here so you don’t try to cheat your way out of this,” you thrust the wood block and paper attached towards him. The scholar grumbles, almost breaking the ink brush in the process of writing his signature.

You carefully tuck the contract under your arm and scurry off, not before telling him you’d be back.

His laughter echoes around you.

At home, your father was amazed and horrified to learn of this deal, but he knew nothing could stop you. You gave him one last hug for the time being and gathered what little belongings you had in a knapsack.

“Don’t worry, father, I’ll be back before you know it.” His warmth lingers on your person, seeping into your bones. You’ll miss this.

Sukuna’s temple isn’t far from your village, in fact, he was revered as a protector of some sorts. Perhaps one quick to anger and that changed on the dime. It was a couple miles up the mountain where the snow thinned in winter and where the flowers bloomed in the spring. You’ve been to it only a handful of times before, once with your father, and several with the other village ladies. A yearly tradition, you suppose.

The temple is always well kept, the torii gates painted a pristine red, the surrounding area swept and neat, no dust to be seen near the wells or on the floor. Some, like the scholar you had made a wager with, merely believed he was a spirit, a demon of imagination. Others, like you and your mother, really believed in his existence. Before it becomes too late, you decide to scope out the area and set up camp a ways away from the temple so as to not disturb him. You briefly wonder if he was here or away at some other village. Would he be wreaking havoc? or be somewhat kind and spare the folks living there? You decide to set up your small camp under the camouflage and protection of the trees, maybe fifty feet from the river. You’d be much happier to stay at home, but the paths could become treacherous for a young thing like you at night. Maybe a little bit of the great outdoors is what you needed, anyway.

Almost a week passes before you ever have the hint of seeing the demon in the flesh. It’s on one of the days where you bring a small offering. Not much since you can’t exactly go home and cook a nice meal every time, but usually a flower crown or other type of decor.

When you do see him, however, time slows to a crawl. You swear your legs feel like jelly as he glances down at you. Sharp-featured and arrogant, beautiful, all man. He stands tall, towering above you. He has to stoop to reach the depths of the temple from the doorway.

“Well, well,” he croons, “what do we have here?” His four eyes are the color of what flows through each being and his canines sharp as knives. Truly, he’s beautiful, sculpted muscles rippling under inky black tattoos, blazing red eyes.

You bow deeply and straighten your shoulders, gaze still downcast to be respectful. “I just wanted to make this offering to you. I know it’s not much, but I hope you will find it useful.” You raise the small gift above your head, feeling his gaze roll over your body, sharp nails lightly scraping against your skin, grasping the wreath.

“Peculiar,” he says. His thumb and forefinger tilt your head up and you struggle to avert your eyes. “What’s your purpose here, little human?”

“I made a bet with the town scholar. I’ve to write about you and return with my findings so I can become a real student there.”

“A student, eh?”

“Please! I’m fascinated by you,” you plead, feeling his grip on your chin tighten.

“I’m intrigued, if only slightly,” he muses, releasing you harshly enough you’re forced to regain your balance.

You soon learn his ego is massive, that’s probably the only reason he spared you. He’d just love something written about him, wouldn’t he? Ever the gracious god, he lets you stay in one of the temple rooms. You had offered to take one the furthest from his own so he could have plenty of space, but he put you up right across from his instead.

Something about you being near to always capture his persona. Whatever.

Life at the temple is never truly boring. there’s always something going on; whether someone bringing gifts, like an unlucky human sacrifice, or some warriors barging in thinking they could actually harm the demon.

Sukuna likes you watching him tear apart these people limb from limb the best. The first couple times you couldn’t stand it, but it soon became a natural occurrence. Sure, you felt bad for those folks, but they never came truly prepared.

“What’re you writing now, pet?” he asks you one day. You glance up at him. He’s wringing the blood out of one of his sleeves, the blood drip drip dripping to the floor in red rain.

“I’ve noticed you like toying with your prey. If you’re in a good mood, you’ll let them think you have the upper hand,” you tell him.

“And if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Slice them in half!” He nods. His black nails gleam in the sunlight and you watch a pair of arms reach up behind his head as a cushion as the other balances to sit next to you.

“I really like how the trees change color in the autumn,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because they’re the color of blood?” you offer. You draw a small leaf on your paper’s corner.

“Maybe. Their lives are so short, unlike mine. Not that I’ve been a curse for too terribly long.”

You bite your tongue. Is it lonely? bounces around in your head.

“What will I do when my little scholar leaves too?” You flush and stammer that you still have a couple months. Sukuna pauses in thought, then, a sinister smirk gracing his lips.

The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s much more bored with life. Killing random people stated his boredom and gave him something to do, it wasn’t until later that he learned to revel in it. The more you got to know him, the more you didn’t want to leave.

He taught you, too. Weird things, usually, but still, useful things. He wasn’t all that good a teacher, but he was patient and expected you to figure shit out on your own. Sometimes he took you down to the market and showed you how to best barter.

And to steal.

Other times, he would sit and watch you cook silently. He always says your cooking wasn’t crap, so you just take it as a compliment.

Six months have passed since you first climbed the mountain. Sukuna finds you in your room packing what little belongings you have.

“That time already?” he muses, leaning against the door. You hum in acknowledgement. “What if they don’t even accept me?”

“Then you’ll return, of course.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

Of course, little did you know, but to Sukuna, that was a command.

He didn’t just watch your figure walk away, no, he followed silently behind, taking in the way you’d stop to study a particularly interesting tree or follow the clouds.

Your village is still the same. Same rickety well, same sunken houses, same sort of dreariness when you left.

You make your way towards the school house, it’s kind of near the back of the village, backed up to the lush forest. “I’ve done it!” you call, standing tall. “Not only have I been within 5 feet of his temple, I’ve been inside. I’ve had actual conversations with the demon Ryomen Sukuna.” You fish out your copious amount of notes and dissertation, shoving it in front of you.

“I’m surprised,” is all the teacher says, “give it here.” You hand him the documents, and he flips through the pages.

“So?”

“So what? For all I know, this could all be made up.”

“What? It’s not! How would I make up his favorite fruit or the way he likes his meat cooked? Papaya and rare, by the way,” you cross your arms.

“Then you should have brought him down with you.”

“You called?” his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the silence.

“S-Sukuna? What are you doing here?”

“I told you, pet, you’d return to me.”

“Sukuna-sama!” the scholar bows. “This is all a misunderstanding, their findings were great! Very convincing!”

“Give them to me.”

“Yes, sir!” he wails, pressing the papers to the other’s chest.

“You didn’t think he would actually keep that bet, did you?” Sukuna asks you.

“Well, I was hopeful!”

“Aw sweet,” he mocks you lightly. “You don’t need to be surrounded by such inferiors. Come now.” It seemed just a snap and somehow the scholar’s head was lobbed off.

You nod dumbly, barely processing what exactly just transpired. Did he kill him? For you? Surely there must be something in it for him.

But the way he holds out one of his four hands for you to grasp sets a fire in your heart. It’s small, no grassland bonfire, but a smolder that you know will become a steady heat.

His hand is rough and calloused while yours only has a few bumps from holding your ink brush so tightly and for so long. Sukuna leads you back to the temple, guiding you back into the room you stayed before.

“Why,” you ask him softly.

He shrugs. “You’re amusing to me. I like the silly words you use.”

“So you like my company?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he chuckles, running a hand over your head.

“Hey! You’re gonna mess up my hair!” you giggle.

“Don’t worry, next time it will be because your head will be atop my bed.” Shameless. Truly shameless. “Just keep writing about me.”

Somewhere in between you returning to the temple and now is when you find yourself tangled in his sheets. Two of his arms wrap securely around your waist and hip, another caressing your cheek. If you’re being completely honest, it seemed as if he adored you. He never coddles you per say, but anything you’d mention off hand, he would remember. An object you wanted, or even that you wanted to take a bath later that day. Sometimes he would even brush out your tangles for you.

You’re surprised by the normality of it all, how he’s gentle with you, unlike others who dare to cross his path.

Waking up together is a part of your daily routine. (Every morning, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.) (You trace the patterns of his tattoos lazily.) You’d ask him about you and him sometimes, and he always responds that he’ll always keep his little one happy, that you belong to him. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s actually being truthful or he’s just passing the time. Maybe the truth is a little bit of both, but you’re happy anyway.

He likes holding you, the two of you sitting by the river in the flowerbeds, watching nature for hours at a time.

Other times, he lets down his walls in the four corners of the temple. Every time he comes home smelling of blood and decay, you drag him to the bathroom and run a hot bath. Your nimble fingers glide through his hair, stopping to pull out leaves and scrub away dirt from his skin. More often than not, he would pull you in with him, your laugh ringing in his ears like bells.

But happiness must come to an end.

Apparently.

It’s a weekday when it happens.

Sorcerers.

They come in doves, feet stomping like drums.

“I guess they’re tired of me wreaking havoc, hmm?” he muses.

“There’s a lot more than usual, are you sure you’ll be alright?” you whisper softly, cupping his cheek.

He holds your hand there, leaning in and closing his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be fine. You will be too.”

“Okay,” you watch him leave, a familiar aura of danger seeping in like a thick fog.

But it’s not okay.

Someone finds you and they drag you out of the temple by the hair. You’re thrown to the ground harshly.

“What, a little harlot? That demon won’t bother saving you, don’t even look at him. You’re nothing to him,” the sorcerer tells you, pressing a steel toed boot to your throat. You’re gasping for a breath, any.

“Obviously you think I’m worth something since you’re dealing with me,” you struggle to voice.

His nostrils flare, eyes wide. “See you in hell,” he snarls. You’re feeling everything and nothing at once. Surely the wound in your chest as you bleed, but you can’t seem to think of anything good or bad. You’re clutching your wound, sputtering. As if sensing you, miraculously, Sukuna turns in your direction as his fist rips through someone’s chest. Faintly, you hear a roar of anger, and then the screams around you are deafening.

The dozens of sorcerers that tried to defeat Ryomen Sukuna lay at bizzare angles, each in their own pool of blood.

It’s this horrible humorless laugh, his open mouth desperate and hungry like he wants to devour the world in punishment for taking the one true thing he held dear to him. The last piece holding his humanity together. He doesn’t know how you even got out of the temple, that’s definitely not where he left you. You’re staring blankly ahead, but he notices your hand gripping the pendant he gifted you.

Sukuna sighs, kneeling next to you, holding you close to his chest. He doesn’t know what you would have preferred: whether to be buried or cremated, and there’s no point now. Ultimately, Sukuna places you in a bed of flowers. He makes his way back to the temple, stepping around the bodies that litter the floor. Maybe he can threaten some laymen to come clean up the mess.

When he returns to the main room, the first thing he notices is the shelf with all the books you loved. Papers strewn everywhere, pages bent.

Your findings about him on the top shelf are gone.

That’s not something he realizes until much, much, much later when he’s ambushed after terrorizing another village. It’s been years without you, and yet he still feels anger of how you were taken from him. He promised he would protect you, at least, in the sanctum of his own mind, never voicing it to you. And yet, he’s failed.

Your coping mechanisms suck, you’d probably say if you saw him now. But I’ll write it down anyway, and we can cross it out later, if you want.

Like your death, he’s not even sure how the sorcerers managed to defeat him.

His twenty fingers cut up, separated through time and distance. Dormant, for now.

—PRESENT TIME—

“Oi, brat, ask that blindfold asshole what those are.”

“Ask what are what?” his host, Yuuji Itadori quips.

“Over there, on display. The books.”

Yuuji hates to admit it, but he’s curious too. How important are they to be kept here, and in a glass case, no less? Anyway, he hardly ever gets to see cursed objects in the flesh.

“Gojo-sensei! What are those!?” he shouts.

“They’re books, don’t you know what a book is?”

“Okay, yeah, but what’s their use? Like, why are they here?” Yuuji pulls at his hair.

“Hmm, they’re written by a [Y/N]. Long ago, not much information about the author, but the writing is phenomenal. And all about that little curse inside of you,” Gojo smirks, running a finger down Yuuji’s forehead and bopping him on the nose.

“About Sukuna?”

“Pretty mundane stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been told the sorcerers that defeated Sukuna used those texts. Not sure how ‘he hates when food offerings have tomatoes’ was useful, but apparently it was,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Ah, would you look at the time, I’ve gotta go! Pressing matters with a special-grade. And the candy shop I want to go to closes in 30!”

“Later, sensei,” Yuuji waves. “You don’t like tomatoes?”--silence-- “What, no response? You’re suddenly shy now?”

Sukuna hears him, and ignores him as per usual.

So, my little scholar’s books were stolen, huh? Here, all this time?

[hime-memes]

Hi, it's the anon requesting a PSA for non accessible rules pages, because I don't own a laptop. When I send it in, I was in a bad mindset after a couple of incidents in the rpc stressing me out. I was highly frustrated. I understand that using your inbox for venting wasn't right and I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable with my aggressive tone. What I won't do, is acknowledge that I felt entitled. Which I don't. I literally said I'm poor, I can't afford a laptop, I can't afford a smartphone, I live off little. I'm not privileged. When my mistake was to not say please and thank you, I get that. I'm usually very polite. I've been raised to be polite and kind to everyone, and honestly I'm surprised I didn't include this in my ask. And this is what I apologize for.

Thank you anyway for posting a very coherent, kind and relatable PSA. Have a nice day and don't worry, I won't reach out again.

Anon, everyone has bad days - no harm no foul, my own nerves were rattled by a lot of different askbox bullies and abuse a few days ago from multiple sides, so I imagine that heightened my own sensitivity to the the implied tone of the request and I apologize for that. You aren’t the first person to need to vent, I highly doubt you’ll be the last. I don’t think you’re a bad person for coming at it the way you did. We all lash out in frustration. The anon function stays open for a reason, we all have less than stellar moments and this way, no one has to be the wiser who that is - just know that’s a double edged sword on my part. Not everyone has good intentions behind the frustration and they really mean to hurt feelings when they ask for things. I can typically parse through those quick - but tone gets muddled in an ask. I don’t have to tell you, I know, that people hide behind it with the goal of trying to be truly mean and nasty. There’s just a lot to consider when sending an anon ask that everyone should be aware of.

I whole heartedly sympathize and empathize with your current situation. I was in very similar circumstances for about five years - and I sincerely wish you well and hope things get better for you! I’m terribly sorry you took my entitlement statement to mean your circumstances - that wasn’t what I meant at all. It was the the wording and the way it seemed to demand everyone understand HOW to be accessible on this shapeshifting hellsite. As it stands, that’s a hard thing to do - I’ve been kicking around on tumblr in some form or fashion for around a decade. Trying to figure out how to STAY accessible for everyone is tricky when tumblr wants to roll out new features every few months and throw everyone into a tailspin. I know, it’s difficult to thrive in a community where aesthetics and looks are the driving force of interaction ( typically ) and everything else comes second. It’s hard to ask for accommodations, and harder still to find people willing to do the accommodating - but, if you sent them an IM or inbox message asking for that plain text set of rules/mun information/muse information I think they’d understand and be willing to do so. If not ? Keep looking, you’ll find the right RP squad for you that can meet your needs !

I would hate for you to feel discouraged from asking for memes and such in the future over a misunderstanding, but I completely understand. My own words were hurtful and out of line - I will correct this going forward. Thank you for reaching out anyway to clear the air, I appreciate that. If I’ve misinterpreted anything you said in this ask, please IM me and let me know. It would tear me to pieces of you came away from this thinking things had an unsatisfactory resolution.

[a-simple-imagine]

Study Date

Requested by anonymous: “Hermione Granger x reader where reader is best friends with Luna and has a crush on Hermione. She never acts on those feelings because Hermione called Luna Looney and seems to dislike her and in the end maybe Luna sets them up. “

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 2.3k+

A/N - Today i offer you yet another story about hermione granger. Tomorrow? Who knows. 

Thank you to @kileyrose-2003​ for checking it over.

Hermione Granger was a complete enigma but that was probably due to the fact there was only so much you could learn through limited interactions. If there was one thing you knew about her, it was that she was a spectacular witch with a thirst for knowledge. She had been placed in Gryffindor all those years ago but she truly could have excelled as a Ravenclaw; if that had been the case perhaps the two of you would be closer. Things would have been entirely different but alas you were left to admire from afar since that very first year when you noticed her across the Great Hall. You didn't even have any classes together until you started taking electives. However, as hard as you tried Hermione Granger seemed to avoid you at all costs. You had invited her to hang out many times but she always declined. Maybe Ron and Harry were the limits of her social perimeters?

A hand sways before your eyes drawing you back to reality. "So easily distracted."

Luna Lovegood had such a melodic, soft voice that it was weirdly hard to ignore. Then again everything about the girl could be considered peculiar which was something you greatly admired. She didn't care what anyone thought of her and yet you cared so desperately what they thought of you. "Sorry," You hum, folding the paper in your hands. "I just... do you think there is something wrong with me?"

"No more than anyone else,"

"Maybe that's why she doesn't like me," You let out a defeated sigh before placing the origami tiger you had been working on down on the table.

"Who?"

From the corner of your eyes, you spot a familiar brunette wander into the Great Hall. A few books wedged under her arm. "Can you just give me a sec-"

Without giving Luna a chance to respond, you leap to your feet and scramble along the length of the entire table and then around to catch Hermione.

"Wait," You place your hand against her shoulder, startling her just a little. "Hermione,"

She spins on her heel; her frown morphing into that of a welcoming smile. At least she seemed happy to see you. "Yes?"

"I..." you trail off as a wave of heat washes over you. The Gryffindor always managed to make you feel anxious. It wasn't a bad thing; you knew it was because you liked her but with her already taking every opportunity to ignore you it didn't exactly help the situation. "I was wondering if you uh, wanted to play with us? Me and Luna, I mean."

It sounded rather childish slipping from your lips but Hermione's brow quirked up. "What are you playing?"

"We're having a race," Your expression brightens at her interest, signalling back to the Ravenclaw table where Luna now sat alone. "We both made something out of paper and we’re gonna enchant them so they run the racecourse we made." To the left of Luna was a makeshift racetrack made of books, cups and even your spare inks and quills. It was only small so it'd be a quick race before lunch began. "If I win Luna promised to make my bed every day for a week. If she wins she gets my last bag of Fizzing Whizzbees."

"Shouldn't you be studying during study hall?" Seems Miss Granger was all work and no play. You simply shrug, standing a little taller.

"I'm smart enough already," You declare proudly, a cocky smirk on full display. "And besides it’s nearly lunchtime so we were long overdue a break."

You watch her eyes drift from yours over to where Luna was sat and back. "You two are quite the pair."

"Me and Luna?" As if she could sense you talking about her, Luna waves at the two of you. "She's like my best friend."

"You don't find her a little... strange to be around?" Hermione muses. "A little... loony perhaps? Half the school thinks she's lost her mind."

She was right in saying that a lot of your fellow students judged Luna harshly for being a little more outside the box but you never expected Hermione to be one of them. "I think... she's awesome and I'm glad she's my friend. You shouldn't judge her so harshly when you don't even know her."

You may have invited her to join you but that offer was no longer on the table as you marched back to the Ravenclaw table without another word. Slumping down in your seat exasperated sigh. "Are you okay?"

Plastering on a smile, you give her a firm nod. "Shall we start?"

"What happened over there? You seemed rather excited before."

"Nothing," Focusing on the origami, you pick up your wand.

"You shouldn't bottle things up," Luna expresses softly, picking up her wand too. "Might make your head explode."

"Does it ever bother you that people call you crazy?" You wonder.

"Not really," her head shakes. "It's all in good fun."

You never understood if Luna's belief in people was misguided or just for show. If the roles were reversed you'd certainly not enjoy having people make fun of you. "But what if it's not?"

"Then it's out of my control," Luna flashes a smile. "Shall we start."

With a nod of your head and wands at the ready, Luna starts the countdown. "3... 2..." your grip tightens around your wand. "1.... Go"

With a flick of your wrist, the paper tiger springs to life but it takes a few nudges from the end of your wand to get it moving. When you saw Luna's monstrosity trailing behind, you knew you had this race in the bag.

"I don't think Hermione likes you very much," you don't know why you decided to tell her that, it seemed only cruel in the moment. "I don't think she likes me much either as hard as I try,"

"Maybe you should stop trying," Luna's focus was exclusively on the race as you watch her. Maybe you should stop trying... that was easier for her to say because she didn't find herself with butterflies every time she saw the girl. Searching the Gryffindor table, you find Hermione sitting alone; scribbling away on a piece of parchment. "Staring can be considered quite rude, y'know?" 

Glancing back at the race, you find both racers have crossed the finish line and were now laying completely still against the table. Students were beginning to pile into the hall for lunch so it was time to clean up a little. "Sometimes it's hard not to," Reaching over the table you grab your quill. "She's just interesting- who won by the way?"

"It was you," Did you win or was she just being nice? It didn't matter now anyway so you may as well take the win.

You haven't spoken to Hermione since that day she had the audacity to question your friendship with Luna. You didn't necessarily think she had meant what she said in a bad way but it just hadn't sat right with you. It also helped that the only class you shared was Defence Against the Dark Arts so she wasn't all that hard to avoid. The page of your textbook flips over with a gust of wind as you lounge against the stone archways in the quiet courtyard. When you spot Harry, Ron and Hermione, you bury your face behind your book in hopes of not drawing any attention. If you didn't acknowledge she was there maybe you wouldn't long to run over.

"Hey," Slowly lowering the book, you spy the girl in herself looking perkier than usual. Seemingly having abandoned her friends just to come and speak to you.

"Hello," you reply quietly, keeping your eyes on the page. It was explaining how to create the Forgetfulness Potion; a beginner level potion and not at all hard to make.

"Luna said you'd be out here," You glance up at the mention of your friend's name. Why had she been talking to Luna? "And that you may require a study partner,"

Strange. She had never wanted to study with you before. "You don't have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

Hermione shakes her head. "Luna can be quite convincing but if you'd rather study alone, I can go."

"No," the reply comes a little too quickly. "I mean, uh... you can stay. I'd really like the company."

"Great, Ron and Harry are rather distracting when it comes to studying," She plops herself down at the other end of the archway by the end of your feet. Your knees were now pulled a little closer to your chest, propping up your potions book. "I can quiz you if you want?"

"Can I ask you something?" You pose the question as you sit up a little straighter trying to give her more room; handing over the book in the process.

"Of course," Taking the boom, Hermione's hand brushes over the cover but she opens it and begins flickering through the pages. She had the same textbook so you're not exactly sure what she expects to find.

"Why are you here?" The rustling of pages comes to an abrupt stop as her eyes settle on yours but only for a moment.

"To study?"

"You've never been interested in me before," you reply bluntly. "I don't see what's changed now? What exactly did Luna say?"

"Just that you like me," Wide eyes of surprise, your stomach sinks. She was joking right? She had to be. "And that you think I don't like you which is perplexing. So she told me where you usually go to study and that you'd very much appreciate my company."

"I'm gonna kill her," you growl under your breath, sinking down against the stone. How you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now.

"I also thought it was only right that I apologise for the other day," you can't even bring yourself to reply; too scared you'll somehow embarrass yourself further. "I shouldn't have spoken about Luna that way- I also apologised to her. Are you ready?"

Anything to help forget about what Luna had purposely done, you nod your head a little. Setting this whole thing up was a sweet enough idea but she didn't have to straight-up tell Hermione that you liked her. Hopefully, you could just play it off as friends. A silence settled between the two of you as Hermione searches through your book. "I'm gonna say a potion and you just have to list the ingredients, simple enough?" You can feel her eyes on you but can't bring yourself to look back. "You alright?"

"Mhmm,"

"Are you sure?" She questions. "I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything. I'm sure Luna had the best of intentions."

"Just say a potion," It's even more awkward when she brings it up the fact Luna told her. "Please,"

"Okay, how about... Draught of Living Death?"

"Uh..." for a second your mind seems completely blank. Taking a deep breath you settle your nerves a little. "Standard potioning water, Powdered Root of Asphodel..." your brow furrows in concentration. "Infusion of... Wormwood? Valerian root, A Sopophorous bean and-"

"Sloth brain," Hermione finishes. "Good job. Okay, let's try..." The pages flutter between her fingers for a moment. "Exstimulo Potion."

Exstimulo potion. You rake your brain for any memory of it; If you remember correctly it was a potion used to boost magical energy. It was a beginning level potion so it won't be too complicated to make. "Re'em blood... Granian hair, Snowdrop maybe, and like... uh... Bitter root?"

"For an extra point, what colour should it be?"

That you knew almost instantly. "sky blue."

With each passing question, your confidence grew around the same speed as Hermione's smile did. You liked to think that your extensive knowledge of potions was impressive but in all honesty, some wouldn't see it that way. "You are really good at this,"

"I enjoy potions. They value knowledge over skill more than some of the other classes- that's not to say potion-making doesn't require skill and vice-versa. " You explain, moving so your legs now dangle over the edge similar to how Hermione was sitting. "It's probably my best class but I like the study of ancient runes too. What about you? I imagine you're brilliant no matter the class."

"I wouldn't go that far," Her gentle laugh fills your ears, filling you with such an innocent sense of glee. "I like most of my classes though, I would take more if I could."

"Of course you would," You giggle to yourself. "I heard in the past you used a time-turner just to attend more classes."

"Guilty," She offers you a smile. You'd done research on time turners, they were interesting little devices but it took a lot of guts to use one. "It was worth it."

"It's a pretty smart way to use one," No surprise considering who you're talking to.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Anything." Hermione fiddles with the corner of the page she has settled on.

"When Luna said you like me, I'm guessing she meant..."

The fire in your cheeks spread hot and fast which had the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. She really had to bring it up again? She couldn't have just ignored it and moved on? "...yeah." You admit quietly. Handing your textbook back, Hermione slips down onto her feet

"So this was her way of setting us up... hmm," Spinning on her heel, she looks to the sky. The sun was beginning to set so it was illuminated by an orange glow. "For a girl so imaginative I would have expected something a little more than a study date."

"I like studying," She sharply turns back to you.

"As do I," She offers a gentle smile. "But I think we should do something a little more traditional for a first date, don't you?"

"First date?"

"Only if you want to,"

"I... yeah. I'd love to."

[shimmersing]

Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

“Ah, Lieutenant!” Erithon swallowed hard against the wave of apprehension that was gathering in his throat as Duke Organa flagged him down. “A most splendid representative of our allies in the Republic. Come!”

He managed not to squirm like a cadet when the Duke clapped him on the shoulder, turning him toward the ballroom’s grand stairway. It wasn’t that he didn’t like parties. This was just a few steps away from the usual military shindig: salute a few times, don’t spill anything on the dress uniform. Nobility wasn’t that far removed from the brass, right? Same kind of handshake deals that meant something a little different to each party, and something else altogether for the people under them. He shrugged inside the stiff sleeves of his jacket, not exactly uncomfortable, just… unfamiliar. It fit fine. But it didn’t feel quite right. Like this whole scene.

“Ah, excellent,” Organa drawled, slowing as a commotion drew everyone’s attention. Flashes sparkled as various holocams swarmed like killiks around the newest arrival. The duke glanced sidelong at Erithon while the soldier craned his neck to get a better view, squinting past the glare.

He knew – obviously; he wasn’t a complete nerf herder – that it would be his Jedi, the same way he knew when a blaster was about to overheat. He just knew. Was that how the Force worked? He didn’t think so, and a question like that seemed so utterly childish he almost laughed aloud. Would she, if he asked? Nah, she wouldn’t. She’d smile and offer him a gentle analogy like that morning, when he’d gathered enough nerve to ask her how he came to be sitting next to her on the transport and not in a body bag.

“Force healing is…” Aitahea had replied, their shoulders nudging companionably as the transport rumbled back toward the palace, “…hard to explain.” Her cheeks had flushed a little, the darting glance from below her lowered lashes full of shy apology. “But I’ll try.” She’d explained her method, which to him didn’t sound all that different from any other medical scanner he’d been in, only a lot more pleasant if his experience was any example.

“My sister on Brentaal is a nurse. Thought it was a little funny when we were younger. We always had medical droids to take care of everything, right?” The Jedi had bobbed her head, eager to hear his next thought. “But after I woke up in a kolto tank the first time alone, I mean, no personnel…” He’d flailed for some explanation of the isolation he’d felt, but it had been hard to recall while her shoulder had been jostling against his. He’d shrugged, grinned, and continued, “Now I think I prefer seeing someone friendly on waking.”

She’d gazed at him with a solemn wonder that had quickened his breath, had him doing everything he could to memorize the ever-so-slight parting of her lips before they curled into a smile.

Just like they did now.

Erithon was so preoccupied with following her gaze that the sudden smile blooming in his direction took his breath away. Again. Aitahea was resplendent. Gossamer enshrouded, bound hair freed from utilitarian plaits and tumbling over her bare shoulders – he throttled back a ridiculous urge to elbow Duke Organa and point out that she had shoulders, and weren’t they nice, too?

Organa smoothed his hands over his lapels, looking pleased with himself, while Erithon struggled to recall his higher vocabulary. “I expect the press will want a holo of our heroes.”

“A holo of-” he began, but she floated over to them right then, luminous and exquisite. It became quite clear who the press would want a holo of. The Jedi offered the duke a generous curtesy, and Erithon found his looming panic - particularly at the words “press” and “holo” - replaced by fascination with the way her earrings brushed against her jawline. Duke Organa caught her hands as she rose and enfolded her in a paternal embrace.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful,” Erithon heard Aitahea whisper to the duke.

“Superb timing, my dear.” The duke’s eyes crinkled merrily around an affectionate smile. He turned to nod at Erithon, adroitly pressing one of Aitahea’s hands into his, then stepped expertly into the background with a final, grand pronouncement: “Our Paladins!”

A cascade of flashes set Erithon’s vision shimmering, but training swiftly rose to meet unfamiliarity, and he managed to remain stoic even as his heart clanged wildly against his ribs. Clever fellow, that Organa, he mused, and with a smirk as bold as he could muster, he deftly hooked his arm under the Jedi’s hand and guided her away from the press. The Duke’s laughter echoed through the hall behind them, but Erithon couldn’t hear it and wouldn’t have cared anyway; he was busy memorizing the sound of her restrained giggle at his shoulder.

“That was a bold move, diplomatically speaking, Lieutenant,” she said playfully, drawing them to a stop to hold him at arm’s length. Flashes sparkled again, unnoticed by either. Her scrutiny didn’t bother him, and it did give him an opportunity to reciprocate.

“You’re… you look amazing,” he breathed, unable to push his awe aside. She could have been a daughter of any of the noble houses on Alderaan, only she couldn’t because none of them were as radiant, as otherworldly. She couldn’t, because even without her lightsaber (that he could tell, anyway), she remained a veritable force of nature. Unexplainable and irreplaceable, flushed cheeks and wide eyes and little white flowers caught up in her hair. Because when he’d said something as trite as ‘you look amazing’ her eyes lit up like she’d never heard anyone say it before this.

“Pardon me, Master Jedi? Lieutenant?” A fidgeting Haley Organa interrupted as politely as possible, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’re ready for you.”

Erithon blinked, overwhelmed with the sudden lurching feeling that he hadn’t studied for a test. Hadn’t he just deftly navigated them out of this nonsense? “For…us?”

Before the young page’s nervousness could escalate to panic, Aitahea intervened: “An introduction. The formal presentation. It’s mostly for the holonet, so they can put a name with your holo, and hopefully spell it correctly.” Her brows lowered, and he caught a glimpse of solemn concern behind her light tone. “It shouldn’t be unlike one of your military events.”

He inclined his head, discomfort ebbing away. He didn’t think it was a Jedi thing, not this time. “Smile, but not too much.”

“Just so,” she replied softly, reaching up to brush away some unseen particle from his collar. He straightened, willing his face back into a mask of quiet confidence. Her own features settled into practiced serenity, but her eyes, fixed on his, danced.

Just another kind of battlefield.

[BREAK HERE]

“Republic Lieutenant Erithon Zale of Havoc Squad and Master Aitahea Daviin of the Jedi Order.”

The cluster of press at the foot of the grand stair disappeared momentarily behind the coruscation of flashes. Beyond them Aitahea briefly glimpsed, through the sea of elaborate costume and outlandish headwear, the dancers at the center of the hall. Over the buzz of voices, she could hear the notes of a familiar waltz. Haley Organa gave her a relieved smile as he slipped away to his next charges, leaving the Jedi and the soldier to descend the gauntlet together. Beneath her hand, Erithon’s arm was reassuringly steady.

Uncertainty flickered in his eyes only once they reached the last stair and the press drew close again. Erithon looked down, one brow raised in a wordless plea: What now? Aitahea laughed and nudged him toward a knot of familiar faces.

“Guess we made an entrance,” he admitted, sparing a last glance toward the lingering press, and turned toward Elara Dorne and Arik Jorgan, both in military dress like their commander, and a beaming Brant Sonn. “Hey, we know them.”

They exchanged greetings; the more formal commentary was punctuated with the chatter of battlefield allies good-naturedly enjoying each other’s company. Aitahea listened to the companions, struggling to keep her eyes on the others and not so frequently on Erithon. Grasping rather tenaciously to his arm was helping but had to be forsaken well too soon for her preference when Tharan and Holliday approached, asking that the Jedi make introductions for them, it wouldn’t take but a moment.

“Of course,” Aitahea agreed, all politeness, turning back to Erithon to excuse herself. He winked at her and caught her free hand in a quick squeeze when she began to pull away. Aitahea found herself suddenly and agreeably conscious that neither of their finery required gloves. His hands were warm.

“Hurry back,” he said, eyes crinkling with mirth, and Aitahea nearly forgot to let go before being ushered away by a harassed-looking Tharan.

‘Hurry’ became three different conversations with seven different nobles from at least two houses and a science corporation headquartered on Organa lands. At last, Aitahea was finally able to withdraw from the conversation, wandering over to where dancers traded partners and minced steps rather than words or plans. It was one of her favorite court dances, learned and practiced enough in her youth that even now she felt muscles tensing for steps she hadn’t taken in years. Orderly and precise, patterns were traced and rewritten, dancers finding each other again, over and over.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Aitahea was so entranced that she startled when Erithon spoke at her shoulder and laughed a little breathlessly. “Forgive me, I was so preoccupied with the dancers.” He offered her his arm and another charming grin, and she accepted, grateful that only she knew how an adolescent glee had settled so comfortably under her superficial calm. “I haven’t heard this since I was a girl – an initiate, in the enclave, that is.” She winced at her rambling explanation.

“Pretty.” He hadn’t seemed to notice her discomfort, occupied with carefully watching as the dancers divided, exchanged partners for a cursory bow, then returned to join hands. “Do you know the dance, too?”

She nodded. Well, if you’re going to be preposterously transparent may as well carry on, she thought vehemently, but her voice and expression remained blithe. “It’s traditional on Alderaan. Are you familiar with it?”

He grimaced at the dancers, chagrin drawing his brows low. “Um, no. But,” he offered cautiously, “I’m reasonably good at following orders. And you’ve kept me from embarrassing myself so far.”

“I’ve never… I haven’t in years, I don’t know if I can recall all…” Aitahea focused determinedly on his eyes while she tried to hold fast the wild fluttering in her chest, something delicate and precious that had lingered, and after a moment she found she liked it there simply fine. She inhaled slowly, then asked, “You’re certain?”

“I trust you.”

~

Erithon had made his mind up to ask if she wanted to dance before he’d even spotted her. He might not have any empathic sensibilities, but he’d watched her seek out the dancers even while they were walking down the grand stairs. Even he could tell she’d wanted to be out there, and if he could just manage to stay on his feet long enough to give her the chance, he’d handle any ribbing from his crew later. She deserved it.

“Listen,” she murmured over her shoulder as they waited, poised at the edge of the dance floor. “Can you hear the rhythm? One, two, three?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded, swallowing hard when she stepped back against him. “Got it.” He shifted, hovering at her side, and hoping his heart wasn’t thumping in her ear like it felt like it had to be. “I think.”

Humming her amusement, she turned herself expertly into his arms and placed her left hand in his while she raised their right hands to her shoulder, fingers entwined. “Just start walking in time with the music.” She tapped a finger into his left palm. “Begin with your left.”

He took a breath and nodded. The dance was stately but leisurely, giving Erithon plenty of time to hear the next step whispered over Aitahea’s shoulder. She made it effortless, her body easy to follow, featherlight touches guiding his motions.

Good thing that was all he had time to focus on.

After a few minutes of mostly successful instruction, Aitahea uttered a warning about the impending partner change. Erithon swallowed hard, nodded, and next thing he knew, he was tripping over the shoes of an unfortunate noblewoman with what looked like an entire miniature thranta nest perched precariously on a tower of powdered curls. Thankfully, the exchange ended quickly and Erithon was relieved to have Aitahea guiding him once again.

“I didn’t think anyone in the whole Core was still powdering their hair,” the Jedi bubbled unexpectedly into his ear. He laughed a little too loud and swept her gratefully – though perhaps a little too enthusiastically – back into the progression. He liked this part best, he’d quickly discovered. The leader – his role apparent, though he might have disagreed technically – picked up their partner for a little lift and turn. Aitahea had warned him verbally the first time, but the second time he’d wrapped his hands around her waist he’d been too busy looking into her eyes and had missed the lift.

Erithon was determined. This round he got everything perfect: an effortless lift gave him a few moments to enjoy when her eyes widened and smile bloomed. If he put her down a second or two late, she didn’t seem to mind.

The song wasn’t quite through when Aitahea’s steps slowed, drifting out of the pattern. Erithon tensed, an arm already around her waist, and opened his mouth to ask if she was all right when she stumbled. He caught her easily; she was breathing much harder than one should be for a Jedi in fighting form – and the shadows beneath her eyes seemed suddenly more pronounced.

Alarm buzzed through him. “Are you okay?” She still had her feet under her, so he kept hold of one of her hands and curled the other arm securely around her waist. Just in case.

“Yes!” she exhaled quickly, leaning into him, and added a breathy laugh. “Perhaps we should get some air?”

“Here, come on.” Guiding her past guards in Organa livery, the terrace appeared mercifully empty while the festivities continued inside. Erithon led Aitahea to one of the benches by an elbow, easing her down first before sitting beside her, keenly aware of his now-empty arms. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” she replied, swiping at her hairline with the back of one hand before she lifted her face to smile at him. “That was lovely. I’m so sorry it had to end that way, and so soon.”

“Me too.” He smiled, unexpectedly pleased with her response. “You learned that here, as a kid?”

She shifted, easing back against the stone. “Yes.” She glanced sidelong at him, a droll smile playing across her lips. “No doubt the Duke has already regaled with you with mortifying stories from my youth.”

“He didn’t get to that,” Erithon said with a roguish wink. “Not that I’d believe a word of it, of course.” Erithon frowned back at her, worry wrinkling his brow. “You look tired.”

She sighed noncommittally and closed her eyes, leaning back against the cool stone behind them. Underneath the surface flush, she was still pale, almost sallow. When she opened her eyes again, the glitter in them was past the dazzle of a party and looking almost feverish.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Erithon shifted uneasily as the silence stretched out, trying not to guess at her silence and just leave her some space to breathe.

“I am�� carrying a burden.” She paused, twisting her fingers while she seemed to search for words. “I’m shielding several masters who were infected with a Force plague, standing between them and madness, perhaps worse. Even my own master…” She trailed off, staring into her hands, dropping them to rest open in her lap.

“Anything I can do?” He meant anything. He’d face down more Sith, however many it took to disengage her from this burden and give her some peace. Anything.

Aitahea looked at him with eyes suddenly glittering with tears; her expression nearly stopped his heart. Her voice was a whisper, her eyes dancing again. “Erithon…” Her focus shifted, gaze flickering past him just as Erithon himself caught the sound of approaching footfalls. He ground his teeth to keep from muttering the curse he caught grumbling in his throat, instead giving Aitahea a bemused grimace as he rose and offered her a hand.

The Jedi was a portrait of ethereal serenity again, eyes that only moments before had shone with desperate anguish had shuttered, hiding the woman who’d whispered his name like a plea, leaving only the Jedi, glorious as she was, incandescent but incomplete.

“Ah, Master Jedi, I’ve been hoping to track you down all evening. I’m Hallam Organa, head of House Organa’s diplomatic corps.” The broad fellow made a brief bow, then indicated his companion. “This is my younger, more handsome brother, Lew.”

Lew Organa gave his brother an indulgent look. “Please, Hallam. You do yourself an injustice.” His lips twitched. “Your age gives you a stately difference.”

“My lords, it’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” she replied, eyes crinkling with amusement, then turned to Erithon. “Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Erithon Zale of the Republic, commander of Havoc Squad.”

“Ah, the liberator of the Spears! What an opportunity, having our newest Paladins side by side, such fine company!” Hallam exclaimed, offering Erithon a deep bow that Lew also made. Erithon glanced at Aitahea, uncertain how to respond, and she inclined her head, giving him an encouraging smile. He copied the motion, appreciative but still a bit mystified by all the pomp and circumstance.

Rising, Hallam returned his attention pointedly to Aitahea. “Master Jedi, I’ve been told you’re seeking Master Sidonie Garen.”

She hovered close to Erithon’s side, her hand curled around his arm. “It’s urgent that I speak with Master Sidonie as soon as possible.”

“You just missed her, I’m afraid. She’s already left for the peace summit,” Hallam explained. “A peace summit on Alderaan! Imagine that!” He slapped his thigh, shaking his head incredulously at Lew, who nodded thoughtfully in response.

Erithon watched Aitahea’s lips thin almost imperceptibly, but the next moment she was tilting her head, tranquil and erudite. “Indeed. Can you put me in contact with her?” Erithon could feel her tensing, fingers tightening on his sleeve. Master Sidonie must be one of the infected Jedi masters she’d mentioned a few moments ago.

“I can call her, certainly.” Hallam flicked another glance at Erithon, considering. “The location of the summit is a secret for obvious reasons, but I’m sure she’d welcome your assistance. Meet us first thing tomorrow morning, diplomacy wing?”

He felt her shudder, but she nodded affirmation. “Thank you, my lord, the Council will be eager to hear any updates.”

~

Their shoulders brushed again and again as they walked, sending her heart skipping every time. He hadn’t let her go further than arm’s reach since she’d stumbled out of the dance progression, nor as they wandered back to their suites after finishing the stilted conversation with Hallam and Lew Organa.

She slowed, eyes flickering to the nearby door of his suite, then back across the hall to her own door before she turned to face him. “We’re here.”

“Right.” He caught up the hand she’d left lingering on his sleeve and offered one of those extraordinary lopsided smiles. “I’m glad we found each other again.”

She returned the expression with delight. “As am I. Thank you for…” She began the elaborate thank-you she’d begun contriving as they’d walked back to the guest wing, but when he reached up with his free hand, twining one of her loose curls around a finger, every word fled her all at once. The silence between her heartbeats was impossibly sustained, well more than enough time for him to notice her gaze lingering on his mouth. When he drew closer still and smoothed his thumb over the curve of her cheek, she lost track of them entirely.

“Do you think we’ll ever dream of each other again, like Taris?” he asked, low and earnest.

Some resolve she’d fashioned in the wake of their dearly-won victory, Yuon’s coy encouragement, and the bravado of familiar surroundings fractured at his innocent question. The connection that often lingered after healing blazed with unfamiliar sensations that she hadn’t the strength to unravel now. Even without the physical contact, even with all her practiced resolve and Jedi training, his emotions wound around and through her, as impossible for her to ignore or deny as a starship could the pull of a gravity well. Waiting for her answer had allowed him plenty of time to sweetly tilt her face up to his.

With an austere resolve she was distantly surprised to find intact, she pressed a hand to his chest, where not long ago she’d smoothed her palm over his bare skin in the wake of the most desperate healing she’d ever undertaken. Aitahea answered, her whisper breaking on a last fragment of jagged verity: “I never stopped.”

She closed her eyes against the onslaught of overwhelming, unshielded, achingly reciprocated need, and pushed him away. She bit down hard on the soft sound of loss that threatened to escape her throat when he jolted back, the sudden distress and regret that tolled through her – no, him – no. Through them both. She struggled to inhale a tremulous breath.

When she could bear to open her eyes again, Erithon looked physically pained, his confusion and concern shearing through her own exhausted disappointment. He’d stepped back, hands open and empty, doubt beginning to tarnish the bright threads that had encircled them. “That was out of line, I’m sorry.”

“No, I was… You – I’m not –” Aitahea pressed her lips together hard to keep them from trembling, but it couldn’t stop the stinging in her eyes, the ache in her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No.” He shook his head, vehement. “Don’t be. Please.” Erithon hesitated, trying to work up a friendly grin in contrast to his stiff posture, but only managed a wan quirk of his lips. “I told you on Taris that we’d do something better.”

She exhaled in a rush and allowed a smile to flutter across her face. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, you did. Thank you.” Better! It was wonderful. Too wonderful. I never wanted to stop. We should have finished the song. “I should… retire for the night… if I’m to pick up Master Sidonie’s trail tomorrow.” She glanced toward her door, promising the solace of isolation and hopefully sleep. She was exhausted, utterly, but couldn’t resist one last watery smile. “Thank you, Erithon.”

His usual ebullient charm at least marginally recovered, he offered her a bow as crisp and practiced as any noble in the castle. “Goodnight, Aitahea.”

~

Aitahea waited for the door lock to engage before she sank back against it, hands over her face, about to release the pent-up sob clawing at the back of her throat.

On the suite’s balcony, Qyzen Fess shifted carefully but deliberately, his armor creaking in the silence. The door rattled noisily as she flattened against it in disbelief, reaching for a lightsaber that was not there. Of course not.

“Apologize if I startle you, Herald.”

Disquieted by her own panic, Aitahea bit back an uncharacteristically sharp retort, closing her eyes to draw a calming breath in its place. After releasing it, Aitahea raised a carefully neutral face to her friend. “I’m sorry, Qyzen, I wasn’t expecting you. Well done, you successfully snuck up on a Jedi.”

“Was not aware of such challenge.”

She sighed. “An attempt at a joke, Qyzen. A failed attempt, apparently. To add to the rest I’ve made this mission.” Aitahea sank gratefully into an overstuffed chair, letting the beautiful but unfamiliar shoes slip off her suddenly aching feet. “What changed your mind about the castle?”

“Mind not changed. Will return to ship after speaking.” Qyzen hovered near the balcony doors, clearly uncomfortable and anxious to depart. “Must see how Scorekeeper’s Herald fares.”

Aitahea tenaciously schooled her expression to serene but was unable to shake the tendrils of failure and regret that clung like shadows. “Tired, Qyzen. Thank you for checking.”

“Herald will rest.” Aitahea couldn’t decide if that was a question or suggestion, but either way, she agreed.

“Yes.”

AN: It's been such a journey to get here, to this chapter in particular that I’ve been imagining for such a long time. I’ve been stuck here since 2020; I’m so glad you’re still here with me. With us, I suppose. Enjoy. May the Force be with us all. Thank you.

Thank you to the ever-present, dependable, and brilliant Taraum for beta-reading.

Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

[amintyworld]

Secrets - Dream SMP Drabble

WATERFALL (Part one)    SUNSET (Part two)

A/N: Part 3 is finally here! So, bit of a update - this is indeed NOT the final part as I had planned, since there’s so much I want to cover about my own little backstory about two these two lovebirds, including how they get to the SMP. So, more parts to come, be on the lookout! Also, if you haven’t already, links to the two other parts should be above, please check them out if you’d like! Anyway, as always, enjoy!

TW: Arguing, secrets, surprise pregnancy, miscommunication, vomiting, cursing, roughhousing, injury (Not vv bloody tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

---------------------------

“Alright boys, get down here, breakfast is ready!” Philza heard scampering and thudding footsteps on the stairs as both Tommy and Tubbo raced to the table, smiling and laughing all the way. Wilbur walked down next, the only one out of their pajamas as he sat with his notebook in front of him, scribbling ideas, notes, and lyrics. Technoblade was last, not exactly the morning person of the group, as he passed by his two younger siblings and ruffed their hair lovingly before sitting down with a yawn. Phil quickly set eggs in front of each of them, a warm loaf of bread at the center the baker delivered early in the morning. Techno murmured a sleepy ‘thanks’ as Philza set down a cup of coffee with his plate, and Wilbur got up to grab some orange juice for him and Tubbo, leaving it out so Tommy could pour his own as he insisted.

It was a nice feeling in the mornings with his boys, sitting and eating a nice breakfast as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Philza mused over just how much changed over the last few years - they adopted Tubbo, Technoblade and Wilbur were becoming adults - but yet, things still felt the same. The little family was silent as they ate, enjoying each other’s company as the world began to wake up just outside their windows.

Tubbo, to Philza’s relief, was not as chaotic as the rest of his siblings and was all around a responsible and kind soul - at least when he was alone. When Philza walked inside to Tommy and Tubbo covered head to toe in bee stings due to ‘showing dominance over the bees so they’ll be our pets’, he learned quickly that the two younger brothers together would spur on all kinds of trouble. Luckily, he was used to it from the elder two when they were around Tommy and Tubbo’s age. Philza chuckled remembering when Techno and Wilbur tried to corner that parrot to only run home with nothing but a bunch of scratches, bruises, and covered in feathers - he’d snapped a picture before they both cleaned up, both pink from embarrassment.

“So, I’ll be off today checking in and fixing up the garden, going into town for a while, and then going fishing if I have the time. I should be home by around sunset, though.” Philza declared, taking a swig of his morning coffee.

“Me and Tubbo are gonna go find Mothman and catch a couple of pet bees,” Tommy said. As Philza opened his mouth to respond, Tubbo interrupted. 

“We’ll take our swords and be back by sunset.” Tubbo finished. “And we’ll make sure to follow the path and not get lost.” 

Philza chuckled. “Good.” He smiled. 

“Techno and I were gonna train for a bit - I think I’m getting close to beating him.” Wilbur said, and a loud ‘HA’ erupted from his older brother.

“You wish,” Techno smirked. “The day you beat me one on one is the day I give up eating potatoes.” The pig hybrid did love himself a baked potato, and Philza knew that all too well. Chatter spurred on amongst the family, and Philza just smiled, taking in the moment. 

-----------------------------------

“Jeez, is Techno some kind of mega pig demon?” Sally said, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her treehouse, across from Wilbur who looked a little worse for wear. “He went way too rough with you.”

“He didn’t mean to, he just got carried away.” Wilbur defended. “He felt really bad after, I kept telling him it was fine.” Wilbur let out a soft curse as the disinfectant soaked cloth ran over a particularly deep cut on his forehead, and Sally rubbed circles on the top of his hand in a loving gesture. 

“Wil, it’s not fine, you got really hurt.” Sally’s tone turned serious, and Wilbur intertwined their fingers together.

“You’re scared.”

“No shit I am!” Sally yelled angrily before she took a deep breath to calm herself, continuing.. “Wilbur, sure you’re fine now but what if you got worse, and he didn’t stop? What if you got really hurt?”

“I know, I didn’t mean to worry you.” Wilbur gently squeezed her hand. “I promise we’ll be more careful.” 

Sally placed a bandage on the cut on his forehead and planted a soft kiss on it. “Thank you.” Wilbur cracked a smirk as she faced him fully again. 

“How bad’s the damage?”

Sally smiled back. “Just some bruises and cuts, a few days of healing and you’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you still look handsome.”

“Good thing, too,” Wilbur said jokingly. “My face and my guitar’s all I got going for me.”

“Oh please, Beanie Boy.” Sally smiled as she moved to cuddle closer to him, and his arms wrapped around her until they were both comfortable against the wall, Sally’s head leaned against Wilbur’s chest, the girl all too careful in her movements to make sure she didn’t hurt her boyfriend’s many bruises. “Did you win, at least?”

“He called a draw,” Wilbur said. “But, I did manage to use that weapon snatching tactic you taught me.” He laughed a bit. “He totally freaked.”

“Good,” Sally chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep that pig on his toes.” Sally felt Wilbur shift a bit as he tensed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore,” Wilbur said. “Why do I have a feeling I’m gonna regret most of the fight in the morning?” They both chuckled at the comment.

“I’m sorry, Do you want me to kiss it better?” Sally asked, looking up to her boyfriend in time to see a slight telltale pink on his cheeks. He nodded as Sally shifted to sit up more and began leaving some kisses along his arms wherever she saw a bruise, before leaning in to give him a soft peck on the lips where a small bruise was beginning to form.

“It’s almost sunset, I gotta get home or Phil will kill me,” Wilbur said, before tucking a long piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

“Good, someone’s gotta help me refill my stash of supplies,” Sally said, smirking. “I’m all out of beetroot for bruise cream, if you haven’t heard.”

“Will do, my salmon,” Wilbur said, getting up, grabbing his sword, bag, and beanie before heading to the entrance.

“Be careful heading back, you’re still healing.”

“Gosh, you sound like Phil.” Wilbur chided sarcastically before Sally gave him a look. “I’ll be careful, I swear.” Wilbur pulled Sally in for a close embrace, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my salmon.”

“Love you, Wilby.” At the rarely used nickname, Wilbur’s heart melted as he muttered a simple ‘bye’ and climbed down the ladder.

------------------------------------------------

Sally didn’t understand what was going on, and she was mostly kind of scared. Standing over a bucket and puking as the sun rose up was not exactly a great sign. Neither was the weird soreness. Maybe she had some kind of flu or something? Either way, one thing was for sure - she didn’t like this, at all. Being a survivor and runner for years on end, she prided herself for being pretty healthy and knowing a lot of good healing tips and tricks to not slow herself down. Now, she felt ashamed. Weak.

She hoped it was just the flu. Grimacing, she swallowed the medicine and took some water and a snack on her way out - She didn’t want to be late for work. Her hair was a bit of a mess and she chewed a bit of mint to disguise the bad breath she gained from this morning. She felt awful but pushed the feeling aside. It must just be a bug or something, had to be.

When she was old enough, she started looking for a job in town to get some money and not have to worry about hunting every night. Sure, Phil always had a spot for her at the table, but even Sally knew how much he was stretched to the limit feeding five. Luckily, she found a pretty cushiony job at the trade center - where she and a handful of others settled disputes over what was a fair trade and what wasn’t. 

As she worked she headed to steady herself every now and then when she felt sick or lightheaded. It just got worse as the days went on, and it got too much for her to ignore. She left early on sick leave and made a quick stop at the library before heading home, determined to figure out what was going on with her and fix it in whatever way possible. She settled in bed with some hot tea and opened the book: ‘Easy to Spot Ailments Hidden in Plain Sight’. At this point, she was fed up feeling horrible and just wanted it to end. Her head ached, her stomach churned with any bit of food she tried to get down. Her shaking hands flipped through the pages as she looked for what matched her list of symptoms in her head - Nausea, light-headedness, fatigue…

‘Pregnancy, in the early stages, is common to have morning sickness, fatigue, tender or sore muscles…’

Her eyes widened at the thought… pregnant…? She scanned the page intently and as it were - most of her symptoms she’d been suffering the past few weeks were right there. Her mind whirred with the thought of the possibility. Wilbur was still trying to find a job in town, and they haven’t even gotten their own space yet - they definitely were not ready. The shapeshifter’s thoughts turned to Wil - if it was really the case, how would he react? Maybe he’ll be done with her for good because of it, they took precautions but not enough, she didn’t do enough to stop herself from getting into this position. Wilbur wouldn’t be ready yet, she isn’t either - maybe he’ll ditch her for his own survival. 

She wouldn’t blame him. 

It took her a few moments to realize she was crying. Her head was clouded with so many doubts, fears and what ifs she didn’t even notice. She wiped her tears away. She needed to keep a clear head, she needed to stay calm. Maybe she wasn’t even pregnant, she had to check with the town healer to make sure. There was probably nothing to worry about anyway, and she’d have gotten so worked up over nothing!

Now, looking over the positive pregnancy test in the healer’s hut, all she could think was: ‘Shit.’

------------------------------------------

Wilbur strummed a bit on his guitar as he sat cross-legged in his bed, Sally snuggled up in blankets next to him, humming constantly. “Have you been writing, Wil?”

“A bit.” Wilbur smiled. “Nothing concrete yet, I’m afraid.” Sally pouted slightly, her lower lip out just so, dramatic enough to make both of them laugh. “Sorry to disappoint, my number one fan. Maybe I could make it up by playing a song request…?”

“Love your songs, Wilby.” Sally said as she nuzzled to his side and he smiled.

“I know, my salmon.” Wilbur crooned as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Now, what song do you wanna hear?”

“Hm… what about the pretty soft one?”

“You never remember the names, do you?” Wilbur joked as he checked and tuned up the instrument. Sally laughed.

“Never.” Sally said. “Luckily I don’t have to.” Wilbur began to strum a soft tune as he sang softly with the music, and Sally drank it all in with a smile, her heart feeling full.

“You and I

We’re different but somehow we fit.

And I promise you

No matter what, I’ll never quit.

Because you are the good days,

The tough days,

When I feel like I can’t breathe,

I love you, I hope you like me.”

Sally began to sing along as well, and when the song was done, Wilbur put his guitar down and cuddled Sally close. He wrapped his arms around her until she was completely comfortable and they both laid there, just content in each other’s arms. Though Wilbur could tell she was happy, he also could tell something else was up - she fidgeted every now and then, seemingly never comfortable. He knew her well enough to know when something was bothering her - the way her eyes focused too much on the blanket, lost in thought and her eyebrows furrowed were her telltale signs. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing’s on my mind, I’m just tired.”

“You’re fidgeting, you’re staring into space - did something happen at work?” Wilbur asked, concerned. “If anyone’s bothering you-”

“No, no. Nothing’s going on at work.” Sally said. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Wilbur asked, and he couldn’t help but notice her hesitation.

“Yes…” She said before she looked around the room a bit, her body fidgeting more violently. “Where’s the bathroom again…?”

“Just down the hall.” Wilbur grew concerned as he noticed her shaking body rush out of the room. Did… did he do something wrong…? He heard the door quickly slam, and he couldn’t help but replay the events in his head over and over. Did he make her uncomfortable? Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to cuddle her, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“You okay?” Wilbur looked up to see Philza standing in the doorway casually, looking a bit concerned. That’s when WIlbur noticed how hard he was gripping the blanket on the bed, staring off into space.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I dunno if she is, though.” Wilbur said.

“I heard the slam.” Philza stated. 

“Phil, how do you know if someone’s uncomfortable around you?” Wilbur asked, and Phil’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I guess it depends on the person, sometimes you can tell by their body language... Why?”

“Sally’s been off, she’s not acting like herself. I’m worried about her, I know something’s causing her to be like this, and I dunno if it’s me.” Wilbur said honestly, and Philza’s face turned to a warm comforting smile.

“It’s not you, Wil. I know she loves you just as much as you love her.” Philza said, certain.

“If it’s not me…” WIlbur started. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, if I’m honest. But i wouldn’t worry too much over it, okay? I’m sure she’ll tell you what’s going on when she’s ready to.” Phil reassured him. As he told his son, he too tried to keep his worries at bay. He didn’t want to get in the middle of his son’s love life, but if something really bad was happening to the shapeshifter, Phil wanted to help.

-------------------------------------

Philza tried to stay calm as the girl broke down into tears over the two words that spilled over her lips. Part of him wanted to scream, to scold… they were both in their early twenties, but Phil still saw them as kids, kids who didn’t know what to do and were too young to be parents yet. He was mad at them for not being careful, he was upset that Sally felt the need to hide it, and most of all he felt scared for both of them. For the first time in his life, Phil couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t just pull out his sword and fight it all and make all the monsters and scary things go away, and it scared him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to process, before handing the crying girl a tissue, doing his best to calm her.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I… I felt so ashamed that I let this happen, I-” Sally’s voice shook. “If Wilbur knew, he’d probably leave, I-”

“Hey.” Phil’s voice was stern but soft. “You couldn’t have done anything to prevent this, it isn’t your fault, okay?” Sally looked to the floor. Phil rubbed her trembling shoulders as a few moments of silence passed between the two. Phil looked firm. “You’ve gotta tell him.”

“No… no I can’t…” Sally said, images flashing through her head of his disgusted face, glaring at her coldy, telling her that if she really cared and respected him, loved him, she would have been more careful, telling her that he wasn’t willing to get dragged down into her mess, so she’ll just have to deal with it.

“Sally, he’s gonna figure it out eventually. Would it be better if you told him, or if he figured out you kept it from him too late?” Philza said.

“He’s done so much for me, I don’t want to burden him with this. He doesn’t deserve to pay for my mistake.” Sally said softly.

“But it’s not your mistake, it’s not ‘your’ anything, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Then who can I blame, Phil? Why did this happen, then?!” Sally snapped. “What am I supposed to do now… what can I do now?!” Silence once again engulfed the room as Phil sat and slowly took the shapeshifter’s hands in his.

“You know, when I figured out I was going to be a Dad, I was so scared. I was 22 with no stable job, moving from place to place, living off the land, that’s no way to raise a family.” Philza said, staring into space as he spoke, recalling the memory. “I learned a lot, then - like some things happen without a reason… bad things, but also really good things. Amazing things. And, I know that even now, I’m still scared about it all, but I know you’ll both get through it together just fine. You care too much about each other to let anything get in the way of that.” His gentle expression met hers. “What you’re gonna do now, is you’re going to breathe, finish your cup of tea, and relax. Then when Wilbur comes back from getting the honey with Tommy and Tubbo, you’re gonna look him in the eyes and tell him, even if you’re scared. Because as much as you’re afraid of losing him, he’s afraid of losing you, too.”

Sally swallowed thickly, nodding. “Then what?”

“Then, we’ll figure everything out together, okay?” Phil took his own tea cup in his hands and sipped, looking out the window as the sun began to set. Sally, with shaking breaths, sipped her tea as well as the two sat in a comfortable silence. When the door opened and shouts erupted from the hallway, Phil gave Sally’s hand one final squeeze before getting up and taking their empty tea cups to the kitchen. 

--------------------------------------------

“Go. Take your mind off everything for a bit.” Philza had told him as he practically pushed him out the front door. “You can’t just be anxious, worried and cooped up in your room over a girl. Take a break.” When he tried to protest, Philza put his hand up, silencing him. “Besides, Techno’s too busy today to go with them, and someone’s gotta make sure they get home in one piece. Enjoy yourself and have fun, okay?”

Now, sitting under the cover of a bush, all three of them - Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo - looked over toward the bee’s nest. “Okay, what’s the plan here?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy smiled, a plan already forming in his mind.

“Okay, so you lure all the bees out with some flowers, while Wilbur and I get the honey. If it backfires..” Tommy hit his fist against his hand. “We’ll hit ‘em with Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B..?” WIlbur asked curiously.

“Well, it's a highly complicated-” Tubbo began.

“-and a simplistic plan that has always gotten us out of trouble so far.” Tommy said, which did not do much to help Wilbur’s new worries over Plan B.

Tubbo picked a huge pile of lilies and daisies and nervously walked closer while Tommy gave him a thumbs up from behind the bush. “You got this, Bee Whisperer!” He hashly said softly, while Wilbur looked over to him. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” WIlbur said, looking over at Tubbo, ready to tackle him to the ground if things went south. “I know bees like flowers, but I’m pretty sure they can tell the difference-”

“Oh yeah, Tubbo’s got this.” Tommy reassured him. “He’s the Bee Whisperer, after all.” A large glass jar landed with a ‘thunk’ on the soft grass. “You’ll hold the jar while I get the honey.”

“Do you even know how to get honey from the nest?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy looked confused.

“Yeah, you just stick your hand in, and-”

“No, nope, we’re not doing that.” WIlbur said. “You’re holding the jar, I’m getting the honey.” He looked over the bush, and to his surprise, the bees flew around Tubbo peacefully, landing on the flowers he held as Tubbo let out a weird buzzing noise from his mouth. Huh - the Bee Whisperer… cool. 

Tommy muttered angrily in protest as he hauled the jar over at his signal, and Wilbur picked up a stick and slowly began to put globs of honey in the jar.

“Is the reason I’m not doing it because of your women problems?”

“Shut up, Tommy-” Wilbur harshly said under his breath, trying to focus. “You’ll alert the bees.”

“Well excuse me for trying to distract myself, this thing’s heavy-”

“Shut up.” Wilbur muttered angrily. Sure, it was kind of harsh, but he was the one who was complaining. They were about halfway done filling the jar when  a few bees began to fly back to the nest, and Tubbo tried to call them back to no avail.

“I think it’s time for Plan B, Wil-”

“No, it’s just a few bees, Tommy…”

One bee in particular decided to land on Tommy’s nose, and that was it. “PLAN B!” He shouted as he capped the honey jar and gave it to Wilbur as he noticed all the bees begin to run back to the nest, sensing danger. Wilbur pushed him away from the nest. “Run!”

Well, Wilbur did not need to be told twice. He rushed away as Tubbo ran after him toward their hiding place in the bush. Tommy followed soon after, covered in honey and bee stings, his hands particularly sticky. Wilbur looked over to see the nest destroyed. He flicked Tommy’s forehead. “That was a terrible plan, you idiot!”

“Ow!” Tommy rubbed the spot a bit as it burned in pain. “Hey, it worked didn’t it? We’re all safe.”

“You can’t just punch away all your problems!” Wilbur shouted. “You could have gotten really hurt!”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said quietly, looking bothered by his older brother’s tone. Wilbur sighed, his arms crossed. Though it was good to let his frustrations out, he shouldn’t have snapped at him - Tommy was far from the one who’d been aggravating him recently. Tubbo looked at the two, then to the jar.

“Well hey,” He said, smiling, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Look at how much honey we’ve got.” He moved the almost full jar in front to show off. “This has gotta be enough honey for the bee farm, Phil’s gonna be impressed - we make a pretty good team.” Tommy brightened a bit at his friend’s words, though still kind of hurt, and moved to take the jar from Tubbo.

“We should be heading back, the sun's almost down.” Tommy said as he stood, picked up the jar and walked off, Tubbo close behind, and then Wilbur at the back. 

Wilbur would be lying if he said the past few weeks had been easy - he tried his best to just stay calm, but every time without fail Sally would always rush away, or snap at him. If she was upset with him, he wished she’d just tell him instead of playing this stupid guessing game. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around her, and he hated it. He didn’t like all this secrecy, he didn’t like not being able to just talk with her the way they used to. He was upset and angry with Sally, he just wanted to know what’s going on, is that such a hard thing to ask?

He scoffed to himself - he was supposed to be keeping his mind off it, but he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t even relax when things were so tense with her, how pathetic is that…?

“Wilbur?”

“...What?” He asked, snapped out of his thoughts by Tubbo, who pointed ahead.

“This is the right direction, right?”

“I’m not Techno, but… I think…” He looked around, scrambling for some familiar landmark. Tommy was in front, uncharacteristically quiet. Then, he spotted a rotten tree log, and it clicked in his mind where they were. “Yes, just a bit that way.” He moved toward the front, and Tommy kept his eyes forward. Feeling awkward, Wilbur touched the sft fabric of his beanie, taking in his hands and running his fingers over it, taking a breath before finally breaking the silence.

“Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tommy’s eyes were fixated on the jar for now. “You’ve been so off lately, and I just thought maybe if we dragged you on some crazy adventure, I’d get you back. But it still followed us, I don’t understand… is it me?”

“No, I… it isn’t, Tommy.” Wilbur said, focusing on the knitted stitches as he formed the words to say. “I’ve just been- Things with me and Sally have been... complicated, recently. Still, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

���So, you really are having women problems.” Tommy’s tone was serious, an oddity for the usually joking teen. “You really care about her a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I do.” Wilbur breathed.

“No wonder. I haven’t seen you this torn up about anyone in… in well, forever.” Tommy smiled, not joking or smirking, but just smiled. “We’re here for you, you know.”

“I know.” Wilbur smiled as the two made eye contact. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at each other anymore?” Tubbo asked from behind them, and the two brothers smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah I think we’re done.” Tommy said as Tubbo wrapped his arms around both of his brothers shoulders with a relieved smile. 

“Good, because I did not want to be walking home in that awkward silence for another hour.” With that, laughter erupted from all three. 

-------------------------------------------

Philza smiled, eyebrows raised in a bit of surprise as he took the jar of honey from Tommy, looking at his condition. “Should I even ask?”

“We used Plan B.” Tubbo said with a smile, making Tommy smirk.

“I punched a thing.” Tommy said confidently, and Philza laughed. 

“Go get cleaned up, both of you - and don’t forget to apply that sting cream.” The two boys marched to the bathroom as Philza set their prized jar on the counter. Back in the living room, Wilbur’s gut ached uncomfortably as Sally walked toward him, giving him a sad smile. 

“Hey.” Her hands found their way into his and their fingers interlocked. It felt… nice.

“Hey.”

“Do you, uh… can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah. Okay.”

Sally’s hands never left his as they sat down on his bed in his room, the door closed behind them. Though for the past few weeks Wilbur had so much he wanted to say to his girlfriend, now he couldn’t seem to find any words as they just sat in silence for a few moments. The fur on Sally’s ears and tail stood on end, and she took a deep breath, looking at their hands as she finally spoke.

“Okay, Wil… there’s something I’ve gotta tell you.”

Wilbur’s heart felt uneasy by your nervousness, worries filling his mind of finally figuring out the truth… and if he didn’t like what it was. If Sally decided to break up with him - all the uncomfortableness would make so much sense, why would she drag it out for this long… he really hoped it wasn’t that, but… it seemed more and more probable. 

“You’ve probably noticed I’ve been acting weird, right?” She asked as he nodded. “Well, remember when I told you that I used to not be attached to anything, because I knew it could only lead to disaster?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well… I’m attached to you, a lot. I’ve realized it lately, and I’ve realized I don’t… I don’t want to lose you. I was so scared that if I told you, I would, and I… I love you too much to lose you, Wil.”

Is this what she’d been upset about?

“You’re never going to lose me, Sally. I promise…” He said, relaxing a bit as his mind whirred about the entire situation. He kissed her forehead softly as he pulled her in for a comforting embrace. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Sally smiled, beginning to relax a bit more, but still a bit nervous. “That’s why it’s been so hard to tell you, Wil.”

“Tell me what?”

Sally took another deep breath. “Wilbur, I’m pregnant.”

Wilbur blinked a few times, trying to process what his girlfriend had just said. Pregnant. She… she was pregnant. That was not what he was expecting her to tell him in the slightest. But, it did explain some things - her frequent bathroom trips, for one. His mind slowly began to put the pieces together, how it made so much sense…

“You serious…?” He asked her, and she smiled, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“One hundred percent, Wilby.” Her voice shook with nervousness as she mustered a smile, not knowing what he’d do or say next. Wilbur broke out into a huge smile as he took Sally into his arms and spun her around as the two laughed, smiling. Wilbur was so relieved that it wasn’t what he thought, that it was the farthest thing from his worries. All the anxiety, the fear… it all went away. They both fell into the bed, smiling and laughing. Wilbur planted a soft kiss on Sally’s cheek as he moved to cuddle her tightly in his arms. “So… you’re not upset with me?”

“No, why would I?” Wilbur said. “Of course, I mean, it’s unexpected… but, we’ll get through it together.” His attention quickly turned to her, his relief turning quickly into concern. “Are… are you okay? I can’t imagine what you’re going through, if you even want the baby-”

“I’ve had lots of time to think about it.” Sally laughed. “And, I’ll admit I had mixed feelings at first - partly because of what you’d think, but partly because I’ve never even thought about kids, you know? It always seemed so far off.”

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable about it, we can always talk about other options, or…” Wilbur said, trying to reassure her.

“No. No… I…” Her eyebrows furrowed, and her ears flicked back and forth. “I think I wanna keep it.” She looked over to Wilbur as her hands found their way back into his. “I was so scared of losing everything that I kept this from you for so long… I don’t want to be scared anymore.” She laid her head against his chest, finding the words as her eyes were glued on their hands. “I want… I want you, Wilbur. I want this.”

“Are you sure, we don’t have to decide anything right now, I don’t want to pressure you-”

“Wilbur.” Sally reached up to cup his cheek with a comforting smile, feeling happy, relieved, and content. Of course, part of her was scared of the unknown, but Sally knew that what Phil had told her, what Wilbur told her was the absolute truth - she and Wilbur would get through it together. Her hand moved his over her stomach, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

You wouldn’t see it at first glance, but they were both absolutely terrified at the new adventure waiting for them. Yet, somehow, in each other’s arms, they felt safe, secure. Like they could do anything. I guess, looking to what would come next, that was more true than either of them would think.

[delos-mio]

You’re So Last Summer - PROLOGUE

Logan Delos was a pain in your ass.

His father Jim and your father, Daryl, had been friends since their Scroll & Key days at Yale. They became close in the secret society and continued their close brotherhood as Jim went on to start up Delos and your father became a grossly successful hedge fund manager. From there, Daryl married your mother Bernie, an OBGYN whom he met at a fundraiser for housing for teens in transition. The two fell in love and united their empires, having you shortly after.

Growing up, this meant you wanted for nothing. You took horseback riding lessons with your own horse, had access to the best education private school could provide, and membership to a highly exclusive country club, where your family spent most weekends. It was a comfortable, predictable life, and one you rather enjoyed. There was only one problem.

Logan Delos.

You were objectively privileged- you knew you were, no sense in denying it. But Logan was capital ‘S’ Spoiled. Ungrateful. Entitled. Uppity. He was the poster child of country club elitist. This was only compounded by the fact that Logan was extremely attractive and he damn well knew it. Logan was quick to flash his perfect, bright smile, bat his dark brown eyes, run his long fingers through his black hair if he knew it would get him what he wanted. All the girls, and a lot of the boys, in your social circle simply fawned over him, thought he was just so charming. And sure, perhaps on the surface, Logan was all of those things. Everything Logan did was so spectacular and so impressive and he was just so funny. That’s what he’d have everyone believe, anyways. You didn’t see what the big deal was. He was a good-looking boy who could pull an A in Biology. Revolutionary. But you liked to think you could see right through him and understood he was all surface and no depth.

Much to your dismay, you constantly found yourself in his presence. Jim and your father spent a lot of their free time golfing together, drinking together, hosting dinners together. Even marriage and fatherhood hadn’t managed to drive a wedge between the two. Unfortunately, that meant having Logan as some kind of weird, unwanted, unwelcome brother. Your only real reprieve was school, since he went to an all-boys prep school. Small blessings.

Even worse than that, Logan made his attraction to you plain as day. It started when you were both maybe 13, right when his hormones came in like a fucking tornado. He looked at you with hearts in his eyes, chased you all around Liberty National Country Club, and asked you out at least once a month for the last four years, each time met with a resounding “no” from you. This never seemed to deter him, though, even if he did find himself a flavor of the week to occupy his time between asking you out. Not only were boys and dating the furthest thing from your mind- school came first, of course- if you were at all interesting in dating, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Logan fucking Delos.

It was another afternoon spent at Liberty National, Jim and Daryl getting in 18 holes on one of the last nice autumn afternoons. You were posted up in the clubhouse, looking east out of the massive glass windows, taking in the boats on the Upper Bay. No matter how many times you’d seen it over the last 17 years, the Statue of Liberty and the Manhattan skyline still captured a corner of your imagination. You opened up the little notebook you always carried with you and got swept up in journaling. Sometimes, you wrote poems, sometimes musings. And sometimes, you simply wrote rants you wished you could scream from the top of your lungs, but held them in because doing so would be “un-ladylike”.

“Whatcha got there, hm?” Logan asked from over your shoulder, trying to peer at what you had written on the pages.

“None of your business,” you spat, slamming the notebook closed and slipping it back into your backpack.

“C’mon, you’ve gotta show me your writing one of these days.” Logan perched himself on the edge of the table, looking down at you with that annoying smirk that drove you up a fucking tree.

“I certainly do not,” you huffed, getting up and throwing your backpack on your shoulder. “Why do you care so much anyways?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ve got the next Catcher In The Rye in there. What if I was the first one to read it and publish it and make millions?” he smiled as he followed alongside you, clearly not taking the hint that you didn’t want his company. You simply deadpanned and rolled your eyes, not breaking your stride. Logan was still hot on your heel when you finally whipped around abruptly, stopping him in his tracks.

“Why the fuck are you still following me?” you growled.

“You know I love your company. Besides, we only have next summer together before we leave for school. I think we should squeeze in all the quality time that we can,” Logan smiled. You knew he was only doing this to annoy you but goddamn, it was working. “Where are you going to college again?”

“I have told you eight hundred million times, I am going to Yale. Let me say that again- Yale! So don’t ask me again!” you huffed, taking off again for the car.

“Aw, man. You mean you won’t be with me at Columbia? Here I was hoping I’d pledge Sigma Alpha Epsilon, you’d pledge Sigma Delta, and we’d be the unstoppable king and queen of campus,” he sighed, a little bit longing. “Just picture it.” Logan’s arm was now draped over your shoulder as he gestured in front of you, setting the scene for this imaginary future. “You and me going on dates in Central Park, me sneaking into your room late at night, getting drunk and making out in the middle of a party so no other guys there get any ideas.” You shook off his arm then and quickly stepped away.

“No thank you. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you said with a fake smile and exaggerated shrug.

“Oh well. New Haven is only, what? An hour and a half away? We can make long distance work.”

“If you visit me even one time while I’m at school, I will personally make sure you are physically unable to reproduce,” you hiss as you open the back door and toss your backpack inside.

“That a promise?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck off.” You take your seat in the back, hand on the door handle. “You’re so disgusting.” Logan only laughed, clearly pleased with your discomfort.

“You have no idea,” he chuckled darkly. “So, I’ll see you Wednesday?”

You opened your mouth to cuss him out again, turn down his date again. But then you closed your mouth. Fuck. You’d forgotten all about Juliet’s, Logan’s younger sister, birthday dinner. “Yeah. Wednesday,” you grumbled without looking at Logan, slamming the door shut before he could get another word in.

So, yeah. Logan Delos was a pain in your ass.

[thegalleonsnest]

Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting! 

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic. 

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.” 

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…” 

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.”  “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 32: The Mysterious Swordsman

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 32: The Mysterious Swordsmanby C_R_Scott Chapters: 32/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary:

The sound of someone in pain draws Tim to an abandoned prison like a moth to a flame. What will he find within its depths?

"What?!"

Tim's head jerked up from the page he was writing in his journal. Though it was from a distance and muffled, Tim knew immediately that it was the sound of someone screaming in pain. Quickly, he rose to his feet and moved a few yards away from the tent in the direction of the sound. Then, he just stood and listened. 

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the river to his left and the forest at night everywhere else. Tim closed his eyes and focused all his attention on his hearing. This had to have been the sound that woke him up earlier.

Then there was another scream, and Tim's eyes snapped open. He peered into the darkness and zeroed in on the sight of what looked like some stone ruins cut into the mountainside next to the river on the opposite shore from where he stood. Perhaps once upon a time it had been part of a large structure that had been eroded away by the river. 

Tim quickly moved back to camp and picked up his nearly forgotten quill. He dipped it into the bottle of ink and began to write:

Lucien,

Heard something suspicious coming from the tower just downstream. Sounds like someone being hurt.

Didn't want to wake you, so went to investigate on my own. I'll be back by morning.

Tim

He tore out the page and laid it on his bedroll in the tent after a quick rueful glance at Lucien's peacefully sleeping form. Tim sighed. "Lucien is gonna chew my ass out in the morning," he thought to himself before he snagged his gear and his staff. "Well you know what they say, Tim. Better to ask forgiveness than permission."

---

As Tim made his way down the hill following the river's edge, he felt a familiar rush of adrenaline that had his blood singing as he was clearly hunting for trouble. The only thing that would have made it better would be if he had his grappling gun and could swing between the trees and the cliffs. 

This wasn't the urban jungle of Gotham City, but Tim mused it sure would've been nice to fly even a little bit out here.

Once he got to a spot where the river turned into a waterfall, Tim easily leapt from rock to rock to get to the other side. He paused midway on one of the slick wet boulders as he heard another muffled scream coming from the ruins, though it was definitely louder now.

Carefully and quietly, Tim walked down towards a wooden door he spotted jutting out of the stone walls and slipped inside.

---

The first thing that Tim noticed when he entered the structure was the smell. Much of the stonework in the rotunda he found himself in was covered in thick damp moss. It filled the room with a moist, earthy odor that reminded him of whenever he was forced to investigate one of Poison Ivy's strongholds back home whenever she was out of Arkham. The smell was always so distinct to Tim because nothing as lush and green as Ivy's toxic jungle ever grew in Gotham City naturally. However, just like in Gotham when Ivy was on the prowl, cutting through and spoiling the plants' naturally pleasant aroma was faint, but distinct, metallic tang of freshly spilled blood.

It set Tim's teeth on edge. "Just like home," the thought flickered through his mind before he crept silently around the stairs of the rotunda to make it to the lower floor where light from an open door was pouring through. As he maneuvered through the room, trying to stay close to the darkest parts of the shadows he could find, he paused every now and again. Since entering the building he hadn't heard any more screams. Oddly, he didn't see any signs of any other people either.

"What if it's ghosts? Are ghosts even a thing out here?" he thought suddenly. "Or what about those draugr zombies?" Tim swallowed hard. He had both his bow and his staff with him, but as he approached the open door, he wasn't sure which weapon he should arm himself it. As he heard distinct footsteps and the sound of someone yawning coming from the open door, he quietly pulled the metal quarterstaff from his back.

Once Tim was in the stairwell, he silently maneuvered past the well lit upper portion down to a landing where there were no wall sconces lit with candles. Though he relaxed marginally once he was bathed in shadows again, as Tim watched a living humanoid figure step into view at the far end of the room this stairwell fed into, every fiber of his being tensed.

"Are you shitting me?!" Tim cursed silently in his head as his eyes caught the light from the room below clearly illuminating the shine of gold colored armor. "Of all the god-damned, mother-fucking, rotten-assed luck!" 

Tim grimaced as Lucien's voice from earlier that night echoed in his head. "...promise me that you won't throw yourself into any conflicts with the Thalmor... you have no defense against magic. If you fight them... they will kill you or worse."

"Fuck my life," Tim thought wearily. His staff held at the ready, 

Tim stayed still and silent in the shadows as he watched the armored Thalmor guard sit at the table. It appeared he was eating a meal, though occasionally the activity was interrupted by a distinct yawn. Eventually, Tim's patience was rewarded as the elf finally moved to a different chair that was in a slightly more shadowy side of the table, so he could kick his feet up and appeared to settle in to catch a quick nap.

 As quiet as a whisper, Tim crept down the rest of the stairs and into the room. He was mindful with every step he took closer and closer to the Thalmor guard, until he was right behind his unsuspecting target. The poor elf didn't even realize he was in danger when Tim took his metal quarterstaff and swung it expertly at his head, knocking him clean out of the chair and completely unconscious.

Tim had winced as the guard's metal armor and weapons scraped and clattered against the stone floor and immediately turned his attention to the only other entrance into the room, waiting for the sound to draw reinforcements. After a minute of his heart pounding in his ears, he realized no one was coming and relaxed marginally. "Is there really only one guard here?" Tim thought to himself in confusion. "What's going on?"

Cautiously, Tim glanced around and noticed a small barred sideroom with an open door. Checking it only revealed some old Imperial armor and weapons along with a desk that had a note revealing that this place used to be a prison for the Imperial Legion. Tim crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it back on the table. Then, with his staff in hand, he made his way down to where the prison cells actually were.

---

After descending a few sets of stairs, Tim paused at the entrance to the prison cell area. The smell of freshly spilled blood hung in the air, and he could hear the sound of someone breathing harshly a little further down. There were no signs of any guards that he could see or hear, but the area was fairly well lit, which made him wary. Cautiously, he crept from cover to cover, glancing over each otherwise empty cell until two cells in particular caught his eye and he froze. 

Shackled to a wall on the last prison cell to Tim's left was a human man. He was hanging limply by his wrists, head bowed, and even from a distance, Tim could see deep bloody gashes on his arms and chest as well as the dark bloodstains on both the wall behind him and on the stone floor beneath him. Tim felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew the sight of someone who'd been tortured recently. 

As quickly and quietly as he could, he pulled out his lockpicks and made short work of the cell door. Once inside, he made a beeline straight for the wounded prisoner. "Hey," he whispered once he was close enough. "Can you hear me?" For a moment, Tim thought perhaps he was unconscious from his injuries. But then, the dark haired man with what appeared to be Asian features slowly lifted his head, though his eyes were still closed, grimacing with pain from the motion.

"When I get out of here, I'll kill you all myself..." the prisoner growled venomously. Tim blinked at him owlishly. Though the man appeared Asian, his accent was clearly Nordic. 

"Easy now," Tim whispered reassuringly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help." He reached into his pouch for another lockpick and immediately started working on the first shackle digging into the wrist of the prisoner.

Seemingly startled by Tim's voice and sudden close proximity, the prisoner finally opened his eyes to look at his rescuer. "What? Who are you?" he asked, the hostility bleeding away in favor of confusion.

Tim's fingers paused in their work as his gaze was captured by the prisoner's. "I'm a friend," he assured him before turning his own blue eyes back to the lock he was picking. "The name's Tim."

"You're not with the Thalmor, are you?" The prisoner's tone quickly became more urgent. "Quick! Get me free from here before more come!"

"Working on it," Tim said as he furrowed his brows at the shackle, biting back a curse as one of his picks snapped. Some of the pins in the lock felt like they were stuck, probably due to rust with how damp this place was. "Who are you anyways?" he asked as he rummaged in his pocket for another pick and started the process over.

"Kaidan," the prisoner said wearily. "My name is Kaidan."

Tim swore aloud this time as his second pick snapped. It was a good thing he restocked on picks back in Whiterun. He considered just giving up on lock picking and just bashing the heck out of the thing with his staff, but if there were other Thalmor soldiers around, he didn't want to draw their attention. With an inarticulate grumble, flicked the broken pick off to the side and he fished out another. "So... Kaidan... what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" 

"The Thalmor invited me to high tea, what do you think?" Kaidan snapped irritably before even that bled away to what appeared to be a bone-deep weariness in his tone. "I dunno. Some Justicars ambushed me outside of Falkreath."

Thankfully, he felt the rusted pin that had been chewing up his picks finally give way. "I'll have you free in just a moment. I've almost got this."

"You're a life saver," Kaidan whispered, his tone radiating relief and gratitude. 

As soon as the lock was cracked, the shackles popped open, dumping their prisoner abruptly. Tim suddenly found himself catching Kaidan before he could hit the unforgiving cell floor. He heard Kaidan gasp in pain, and a quick glance at Kaidan's back had Tim sucking in a quick breath of his own through his teeth. 

The poor man's back had been clearly lashed to pieces. The painful looking gashes crisscrossed Kaidan's back, and while some were scabbed over, the movement from the fall had re-opened others and were oozing blood again. Even in the dim light, he could see a faint dusting of a white granular substance on his skin. Tim lightly brushed his fingertips from one hand through the grainy powder. Against the dark brown leather of his glove, Tim could tell the substance was likely salt. Tim felt a sympathy ache from his own scarred back beneath his leather armor. But at least, from what he could tell, the wounds were fresh and not yet infected.

Tim wished he could just use magic to heal Kaidan, but he just didn't have enough Magicka yet to be able to cast a healing spell on another person. He fished around in his bag and located the largest, strongest healing potion he could find. "Here. Take this. If it doesn't work all the way, I've got a some weaker healing potions too."

As Kaidan knelt there and drank the potion, Tim watched with a fair bit of wonder as the magic in the healing liquid immediately began mending the damage to Kaidan's back, leaving behind nothing but scars. 

"Thank you. I feel much better now." Kaidan said as he gave an experimental stretch. Tim sighed with relief as it became immediately clear that the man didn't seem to be in pain anymore

"Good to hear. Now let's get you out of here." He offered his hand to Kaidan to help him stand.

 Kaidan took the hand and rose to his full height. Tim's eyes widened now that he had had to angle his head slightly upward to meet his gaze. The man seemed to stand at least six feet tall, maybe a bit more, which was about as tall as Tim's adopted father Bruce Wayne. Once up on his feet, Kaidan's intense gaze turned toward a hole in the cell wall that seemed to lead into another part of the prison. Now that he was on his feet, Tim noticed with surprise that Kaidan's eyes were not brown or any other natural color he was used to seeing on normal human people. His irises were red, and they appeared to glow faintly in the darkness. "Wait, there's one more thing. One of the Thalmor got his hands on my sword. I know I've got no right to ask, but I could use your help getting it back."

"Your sword? I guess it's important?"

"This isn't me being sentimental," Kaidan clarified, red eyes seeming to flash with his rising emotion. "They kept asking about it. If it's important to the Thalmor, they shouldn't have it!"

Tim got the feeling that even if he didn't help, Kaidan was going to get that sword back one way or another. He sighed. "Ok. I'll help, but don't do anything rash. Let me see what I can find. Just wait here."

Cautiously, Tim stepped through the hole in the wall and crept deeper into the prison. After making sure the cells on this side of the wall were cleared and there were no guards in sight, Tim moved onward, though he paused at the sight of the stairs. He swallowed hard. The stairwell was narrow and wouldn't allow much room for movement to swing his staff or dodge any attacks if he got cornered there. Silently, he made his way up, and peered around the corner.

Tim almost wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. There was only one black robed Thalmor elf in sight and he appeared to be fast asleep on the bed in that room. Additionally, what looked like an extremely long katana with ornate letters etched onto the blade sat on the desk near the wall he was peering around. It was just within reach, but sat next to a lantern that illuminated everything on the table and chased away the shadows Tim was trying to meld into.

Silent as the grave, Tim slipped around the corner and tried to keep as much of the desk between him and the sleeping Thalmor. Once he was at the desk, he reached over and carefully wrapped his fingers around the sword's grip. 

"Shit!" he silently swore in his head. This sword was heavier than he expected, certainly heavier than any normal katana he's ever held, probably a good four or five pounds minimum. Also, now that Tim had his hand on it, the thing was far longer than he'd originally thought. If he was estimating correctly now, this sword was as long, if not a bit longer, than he was tall. With a grimace and a cold sweat breaking on his brow, Tim realized he wasn't going to be able to move the blade with any silence from a crouched position. He needed leverage and both hands to lift it with any stealth, and for that he needed to stand up and expose himself to more light.

Tim took a breath to steady his nerves. Slowly, his eyes never leaving the sleeping Thalmor, he rose to his full height. He stood there, every muscle tense, for a solid thirty seconds, before he finally made a move to the sword.

He moved slowly, eyes darting between the sword and the Thalmor, as he lowered his hands. His right hand settled on the grip of the sword, and his left hand slid under the blade itself a little further down the length. After licking his lips nervously, Tim turned his entire focus to the sword as he started lifting it upward off the desk. 

Suddenly, there was a motion out of the corner of his eyes from the bed as the Thalmor shifted in his sleep, and Tim froze.

Or at least, he tried to freeze.

The sword was too long and cumbersome for him. The moment he stopped lifting, the heavier end of the blade wanted to dip down naturally due to its weight, threatening to land back onto the wooden table. Tim tried valiantly to compensate the balance with more force on the grip, but he ended up altering the angle of the blade at the same time. To his horror, the tip of the blade caught the hem of a small bag of Septims that had been resting on the opposite end of the table and shifted it to the very edge. With both hands on the sword, he could watch helplessly as the bag slid slowly off the desk and fell to the floor with a solid, coin-filled thud.

The golden eyes of the Thalmor agent on the bed snapped open and captured Tim's startled gaze. Then they narrowed as the air began to crackle around the elf's hands, a smell of ozone rising in the air. 

"Stop right there!" the Thalmor growled as he raised a hand that was crawling with electricity.

Of course Tim moved!

All pretenses of stealth were dropped as he tightened his grip on the sword, hefted it around the corner, and flung it down the stairs where it landed with a clatter before skidding to a stop, crashing against the bars of the prison cell leading to where Kaidan had been held prisoner. Both hands free, Tim leapt down to the prison floor, not bothering with the stairs, and rolled to a crouch. His hand went straight for his quarterstaff, but froze when he saw the massive lightning spell scorching the top of the stairwell where he had been just a moment before. Tendrils of blue-white lightning crawled along the stonework before dissipating. 

It suddenly occurred to Tim that his steel quarterstaff, while useful against most physical combatants, turned him into a walking lightning rod in the face of someone like this Thalmor wizard.

Immediately, he pulled his staff off his back and as soon as the black robed elf came into sight at the top of the stairs, both hands still crackling and eyes lit up with rage, Tim launched it at the elf like a javelin. Not expecting the projectile and with nowhere to dodge in the narrow stairwell, the Thalmor just barely released the lightning spell at Tim before the quarterstaff caught him squarely in the stomach, making him stumble on the stairs.

Tim tried to dodge the spell, but wasn't fast enough to escape the lightning completely. The spell went over his head, but connected with the iron bars of the prison cells behind him. The ball of lightning immediately exploded outward and blue white fingers of electricity arced quickly between the bars and other nearby conductive items within the area, including Tim. Though it was a smaller tendril of electricity that tagged him, it was more than enough to drop him with a sharp cry of pain. 

Every instinct screamed at Tim to move, but he just couldn't. His muscles were seizing and twitching due to the electricity and wouldn't respond to him except to let him know he was in pain. He could see the Thalmor trying to get to his feet, and for a stark moment Tim knew he was done for.

"Lucien was right," he thought to himself with a grimace as he felt his consciousness fading. "I have no defense against a threat like this." As his eyes slid closed, a final thought ran through his mind. "I hope Kaidan got away safely." 

Before he completely lost consciousness, Tim almost swore he heard the sound of a war cry and caught sight of a large shadow rushing in front of him toward the Thalmor, light gleaming off a long silver blade swinging in a wide deadly arc.

---

Tim woke to the taste of a healing potion pooling on his tongue before sliding down his throat. He coughed as the liquid first down the wrong way, choking him slightly. 

"Easy now. Drink slow," a vaguely familiar deep voice said. 

A little more aware now, Tim realized as he was coming to that he was sitting propped against a wall of the prison while Kaidan had a half empty vial of healing potion in one hand. It took a moment as Tim's blurry vision cleared, but he suddenly realized that the man looked very different. Instead of being bare chested, he was now wearing a full suit of ornately crafted steel armor. His reclaimed sword was also resting on his back, as if it always belonged there.

Tim also noticed that there was a heavy smell of blood hanging in the air. 

"What happened?" he asked weakly, even though he had a pretty good idea forming in his head.

Kaidan's expression grew dark. "Son of a bitch had it coming," was all the newly armored man said. Then the angry look in his red eyes softened. He offered Tim the potion vial.

Tim tried not to think about what happened to the Thalmor as he took the vial and drained it slowly, tried not to imagine in vivid detail what Kaidan's ridiculously long sword could do to a man's body in a fit of rage and bloodlust. 

Kaidan was alive.

He was alive.

...At least until he saw Lucien again and he found out what happened.

Lucien might kill him... might lecture him to death when he got back to camp.

All things considered, that wouldn't be a bad way to go, comparatively speaking.

Tim tried to focus on that.

"Thanks for the save," Tim said as he savored the feeling of the potion mending the electrical burns he could feel but not see.

"It's me who ought to thank you. I know you didn't have to help me, and still you put your life at risk facing down that Thalmor as you did."

Kaidan bowed his head and sighed before he continued. "Listen, I owe you my life, and--."

Tim frowned. "Hey now. You don't owe me anythi--"

Kaidan lifted his gaze and caught Tim's firmly. "I'm not a man who's comfortable being in debt." he said with conviction. "And if it weren't for you I'd still be hanging off that wall waiting for the end. If you ever have need of me, I'd be glad to fight alongside you until that debt is repaid."

Tim sat there in silence as he absorbed Kaidan's words. As much as he believed the swordsman owed him nothing, clearly nothing he said would dissuade Kaidan from his own beliefs regarding this "life debt" he now owed him. There was also the fact that, practically speaking, with all the threats out there in the wilds of Skyrim, it probably wasn't a bad thing to have a very well armed and armored tank of a warrior on their side as he and Lucien travelled to High Hrothgar. Finally, he nodded.

"I'd be glad to have you travel with me," Tim said as he offered Kaidan his hand. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

NOTE: And so we introduce the mysterious swordsman Kaidan into the story as Tim's newest travelling companion. He's a modded follower that can be found here at the Nexus (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/19075). I'm also using a replacer mod to adjust his appearance slightly (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/23738).

It took longer than I usually do to post this chapter, but mostly because I was hellbent on not splitting this up into two or three smaller entries this time.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#kaidan skyrim#afewnovelideas

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [10]

Masterlist

~^*^~

The doors to the room swung opened and Zoe paced in holding a metal briefcase. Her face was stoic and hard as she made her way towards you and Jack. You were both sitting together, sorting through accounts of Count Dracula trying to find something, anything. She made her way to the pair of you and set the case down.

“What’s that?” Jack piped up.

“This,” Zoe began, “is a sample of Dracula’s blood. I managed to get a little sent off for testing.”

“A little? Zoe you had a whole vile-“ you began, however she cut you off.

“Yes that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have our lab results back. And I’m sure that you are both as curious as myself to see what’s inside the box.” She smiled, a little enthusiastic about getting the results back.

You weren’t entirely sure on how Dracula’s blood would differ from any other mammals on earth, but you supposed you could always just find out. It may be important, after all. With eager eyes, both you and Jack watched as Zoe flipped open the case. Inside, a brown paper envelope with ‘classified’ stamped over the front and underneath, secured in black foam, the vile with a few drops of Dracula’s blood left. Zoe tore open the paper and began to read.

“How utterly curious...” she mumbled as she continued to read.

“What is it?” Jack inquired.

“Dracula’s blood... it has no red blood cells whatsoever. I mean, it makes sense considering he doesn’t breathe but... you would think his bone marrow would still produce the cells anyway...”

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes... they sampled some white blood cells, for the DNA, you see... it’s... it’s completely mutated. Dracula’s DNA is so completely scrambled. It’s a mesh of DNA from all of his victims, this must be how his body accumulates the desirable attributes of his victims.”

You took the paper out of Zoe’s hands, reading the same words (more or less) in the pages. It explained a lot. How Dracula’s own biology worked.

“Whatever you do, Zoe, don’t let him get his hands on this.” You warned quietly, “I don’t doubt that he’d use it for his own gain.”

“Yes. We must keep this safe.” She took the papers back from you, placed them back and snapped the case shut, “I wish I could stay, kids, but I have somewhere to be. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

When Zoe departed, you and Jack simply went back to reading account after account, scribbling down any notes that would be beneficial to the research. Jack had wanted to say something to you about that night, but he felt a lump grow in the back of his throat every time he thought about saying a word. Maybe it was best to keep quiet for now. Besides, he knew you well enough, if you wanted to talk about it, you would.

A few hours passed, but Zoe did not return. Instead of burning your brains anymore on reading passage after passage, you decided it was time to get out for a while and take a quick stroll. Side by side, you wandered aimlessly back down the 199 steps, and took a sharp right turn down the cobbled alley that lead to the slipway and onto the other pier where the lighthouse stood proud. Instead of walking to the very end, you sat down on an empty bench, looking inwards to the harbour, at the swing bridge and the bustle of the town.

The noise was a little diluted from where you were sitting. But you could still make out the rumble of car engines, the disorder and merged chatter of tourists and citizens alike, the cry of seagulls and the occasional crescendo in the music coming from the amusements. It was peaceful. It was intimate being so far away from the rest of the town.

It was nice to be in Jack’s company.

He turned to you.

“[First],”

“Yeah?”

“What really happened with Dracula?” You turned your head to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. It really does.”

“Alright.” You sighed, “you want to know?” He merely nodded at your strong tone, “he killed the owner of a small cottage, regained his strength and we spent the night there. All we did was talk until I fell asleep and he had to find somewhere dark to stay for the entirety of the day. The next night, we sat up and again just talked until the first train back to Whitby at 6am when he dropped me off at the train station and went back into hiding. I’m telling you, nothing happened.” You explained firmly.

Jack looked at you, a little taken aback by your confession. He didn’t know why he and Zoe had decided to distrust you. You had never proven yourself to be silly. You’d never give yourself up to a vampire willingly. They should have known to be more trusting of you. You could handle it.

“I’m... I’m sorry.” He lowered his head.

“Don’t be. We both know how Dracula can enchant his victims. Not me, though, Jack. I promise I won’t let him enchant me.”

Jack looked up. You were smiling at him. The way the sun glowed gold on your skin, illuminated your hair with a halo of warm light, glistened in your eyes. His heart stopped for a moment. When had you become so pretty?

~^*^~

[DraccyBoi: 8pm. Be ready.]

[You: you can’t tell me what to do, toothy.]

[DraccyBoi: I won’t tell you again. I’ve given you enough warning.]

Texting a vampire was always going to be an odd affair, you thought. You rolled your eyes at his last message. How he could be so charming in person and yet kind of an asshole over text was beyond you. You didn’t really have a lot of time to ponder over it, considering you had just over three hours to ready yourself.

The weekend had come and you knew exactly what Dracula was telling you to ready yourself for. Sighing, you pushed yourself up and made your way towards the bathroom. You knew it would take time to get ready, and you wanted to. Not that you needed to do anything for Count Dracula; sometimes it was just nice to put in the effort.

Halfway through your shower, the music you had been singing along to cut off and your phone began to ring. You groaned, turning off the water and sliding the button to answer and quickly putting it on speakerphone.

“Hello?” You gasped, the hot air in the bathroom making it a little difficult to breathe.

“I was beginning to worry. You didn’t text me back.” His smug voice rang through your bathroom.

“Clingy much?”

“No, just making sure you’re following orders. Are you?”

“Considering you just interrupted my shower, I’d say yes.”

“Your shower?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice, “remind me again, what does that entail? Correct me if I’m wrong but that would mean that you are currently very n-“

“Bye Dracula.”

You hung up, wishing to never have a conversation like that again. Quickly, you resumed your shower and within the next two hours, you were all ready, except for being in your dress. There wasn’t much point in getting into it an hour before you needed to leave.

Instead, you flipped through the channels until about ten-to-eight, when you clambered back up your stairs.

The dress was where you had left it, hanging up in your spare bedroom. Getting it on was a struggle, considering that the hem of the skirt came out by two feet in a circumference around your waist in the centre. It was matte, with a few rhinestones sewn on here and there to make it sparkle just a little. The neckline was a plunging sweetheart, and thick straps settled on your mid arm, between your shoulder and your elbow. You thanked your recently past self for opting to put your shoes on before the dress, and you heard the door open just as you tried to tug up the zip at the back.

“Hello?” His voice called out.

“Up here!” You called back.

You heard the rythmic thud of his shoes slowly gain volume as he made his way up the stairs.

“You’re not in a similar state as the one when we talked on the phone are you?” He playfully called out.

“No!” He chuckled at the hint of embarrassment and the clear irritation in your voice. There was a pause, “...can you come in here?”

“...why?”

“Because... I need you to zip me up.”

Now this was a turn of events. Dracula could not help the smug smirk that overcame his face. With a slow stride, he made his way into your room. The curtains were drawn, your bedside lamp illuminating the room a little. You were standing facing away from him, the back of your dress zipped down, just enough to give a tease of the dimples in your back.

The dress, as he had anticipated, fit you perfectly. With the height of your heels, the hem was merely a centimetre away from the floor. It was perfect.

“Needing a little help?” His soft voice teased.

“Just... quickly, please.” You spoke, not moving.

“Alright.”

You heard him come closer. When his fingers made contact with your hot skin, you shivered and your heart picked up the pace. He hummed. With no shaky hand like the previous men in your life, with confidence, with an oddly tender touch, he zipped the dress up. When done, he positioned the ends of your hair a little, just making them perfect.

“All done.” He mused, “look at me, [First].”

You turned on the ball of your foot. You were quite a few inches higher now and thus a lot closer to his own height. He liked how you hadn’t gone overboard with the colours on your face, opting to simply enhance your features, bar the red lipstick that stuck out and seamlessly pulled your entire look for the evening together.

His eyes glossed over you, taking in the way the dress fit you perfectly. He had never seen you so dressed up. He had never seen you looking so formal.

“Beautiful.” He breathed, “absolutely stunning.”

He grasped your hand. You enjoyed the familiar coolness that spread through your fingertips and up your arm. Locking eyes with you, and keeping them locked, he lowered his head and pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles.

“Shall we go?” He spoke lowly against your hand. You nodded.

~^*^~

In all honesty, you didn’t know how Dracula was coping. The room was full of beautiful ladies in gothic dresses, laughing, many of them being whisked around by men, similarly dressed. The room was hot and buzzing with life. You could only imagine how stir crazy the vampire was going inside of his head. However, he kept his grip on you, your arms linked as you moved through the crowd of people. He was leading you towards the dance floor...

“Drac...” your voice came out meek and you tried to pull away from him but with no avail. He simply turned to look at you.

“What is it?” He inquired gently.

“I can’t...”

“Now, [First], a lady as beautiful as yourself should have the luxury of being engaged in a dance at a ball. It’s basic social etiquette.” He spoke fluidly, as if it were simple law everyone ought to know.

“Yes, but, I can’t... I don’t know how...” your eyes were pleaading up at him, you were begging him silently to listen to your pleas. You didn’t know how to dance and you sure as hell didn’t intend on making a fool of yourself. You managed to tug your arm out of his.

“Then let me teach you.” He commanded lowly, “dance with me, [First].”

“I don’t know, Drac... there’s so many people here and-“

“And none of them are going to judge. It is my understanding that your society doesn’t know the first thing about real etiquette or balls or the such. You’ll be fine.”

He was too convincing. His voice too smooth, his eyes too genuine, his smile too kind for you to refuse. You took his hand. That boyish grin took over his face and he strode a little forwards, tugging you further into the mass of people. When you broke through the barrier, before you, many couples were swirling around. It was dizzying watching them waltz around without a care in the world. Laughter erupted from every corner of the room amongst the chatter. Dracula turned to face you.

Your heart caught in your throat as one of his arms snakes around your waist, bringing you forwards. He positioned your arms for you, and pressed his lips to the cartilage of your ear.

“Just follow my lead and you’ll be ok.” He reassured quietly. His voice melted into your brain. He was too close.

And then, he was gliding you across the room. He was smiling down at you, eyes warm unlike their usual inhumane coolness. He whisked you along, your body reacting just as it should and as he swept you up into his grasp and around the ballroom, everything faded away. It became white noise, it became irrelevant. You were swallowed by him, his arms around you, his mouth right next to your ear.

It was as if you were intoxicated.

You let him lead you around the floor, some people stopped to watch the way the handsome Count Dracula swept the most elegant young woman up at. You were quite the sight. The way your eyes were locked on him, the way he carried you with such ease. Every movement of your dress accentuated the way your body twisted and turned.

Turning on one spot, Dracula slowed. Keeping his hand firmly on your waist, he guided you down, holding you as if you were a porcelain doll. You were precious. He grinned down at you. And he bowed his head down. Your heart began to race. You sucked in a breath and his lips gently caressed the soft skin of your neck. It ignighted a fire beneath your flesh, warming up your heart and your cheeks in an instant. Your stomach flipped. He lingered for a moment. He was listening to your pulse. It had suddenly become erratic. He smirked against your skin.

When he dipped you back up, you clung on to his arms. You were breathless and your head was spinning. You looked up at him, mouth slightly ajar and eyes locked.

“I knew you could do it.” There was a hint of smugness as his lips rugged up at the edges, “dearie me, your heartbeat really is lively this evening.” He teased.

You couldn’t find any words to reply to him. You simply held onto his arms as if you were dependent on him. You continued to look into his eyes, until he moved forwards once more to press a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Bear with me a moment, darling.” He whispered.

And like that, he had disappeared. You stood alone in the middle of the dance floor. Once you had regained some sense, you rushed away to the sides. You waited for a good 20 minutes, and Dracula did not return. You decided to leave.

You couldn’t help but feel a little rejected as you pushed open the doors, fleeing past the latecomers. Your heels clicked against the pavement. You felt stupid. Dracula did not care about you at all. He was toying with you. It was a sick game and no matter what, you would lose.

It was dark. And being alone in the dark made you feel vulnerable. You turned the corner, looking over at the whale bones that stood proud, between them the sight of the Abbey on the other side of the harbour. You looked left and right before crossing the road. When you turned your head back to look at where you had come from, you saw the familiar figure of the vampire pacing up and down on the other side of the road to the Bay Royal Hotel. You didn’t realise at first, but he was on the phone and you could just about make out what he was saying.

“No... I can’t... I’m busy... well yes, I miss you too...” who was he talking to, you wondered, “...maybe tomorrow or the night after... not today, I can’t... no... no, Lucy.”

Your heart stopped. Lucy...? She was still alive? And Dracula had left you alone to... is that why he had spent so long in London? Dread filled your gut as it sank hard and fast.

It had happened all over again.

The tears that began to spill from your eyes were unavoidable and you plucked up your dress, feeling like a cliche and rushed down the steps, away from the whale bones and as far away as you could (and as quickly) from Count Dracula.

When you reached the bottom of the steps, you were heaving tears. You plucked your phone out from your bag and dialled a number.

“Can you come pick me up...?”

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @voidxngel @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026 @greeniemoon @blueinkblot @tefymorgan @misfitgirlwrites

[ctrlkctty]

          *turns the bass to max and blasts monsta x’s rodeo* howdy crazy kids, i’m opal and i reside in the good ol gmt timezone ( which seems to always make me like the odd one out in rp where did all u brits go sjdjd ). i use she/they so honestly either is fine !! i’m v excited to be here, it’s been a while since i’ve seen an rp around that has a supernatural element without it being like intense and dramatic plot wise. it’s nice to see a slice of life incorporate it for once !! anyway kit has a pinterest board you can check out here to get a sense of his general persona and his stats page is here ( he does not have a bio yet but his stats do kinda delve into that area briefly enough for now ) and below the cut i will give u the run down of him !! just heart this bad boy up and i’ll come to u for plotting i don’t like to lay things out in a like set super elaborate way so i’ll pop some general ideas down at the end of this intro but rlly we can just form connections off what our muses have in common and how their personalities would gel !! : 

so kit is a music production major student and his love for his craft is immense. music is without a doubt the passion in and love of his life. he’s never felt like he really connected to much else in the world like he has done to and with music. it’s almost like a living entity to him because he has this chemistry and harmony with it which seems to always mean that he excels at whatever he tries out in the musical field. 

he’s also a professional level violinist. he plays in competitions as well as concerts, pretty much always places first. i imagine it’s immensely annoying for anyone whose up against him. but kit doesn’t have bad sportsmanship, nor is he greedy. there’s just nothing he pours his soul into quite like his music. 

has recently formed a band. he plays guitar in it. it’s more of a hobby and a for fun thing then it is anything serious but they all enjoy it and have a good time just making melodies and stories with the instruments. they’re crazy good though. sometimes they will do some competitions or gigs. there is nothing that compares to the adrenaline rush of being on stage for kit in this whole world. ( by the way this is totally open for connections i think it would be super fun to have his band members be other muses ! ) 

think like the anime given and like day6, the rose etc in terms of kit’s vibes and inspiration. he mostly is inspired by the character of ugetsu murata if anyone has seen given. 

his mom passed away during childbirth but obviously kit is too young to remember all of this so he’s not traumatized by it or anything, he has an amazing and lovely adoptive family who he’s always seen as good as being biological. he does have that slight feeling of being unwanted though, since his biological father never wanted anything to do with him and he didn’t have the out of death interfering so he’s a little bitter about that. 

he was raised in busan and he has a younger sister and an older brother. he actually does have a really close relationship with his whole family but it isn’t in the conventional way where they’re super open and warm. not a lot of them are good with emotions, mostly that is down to his parents and sister. but it works out since they also make kit more in touch with his sentimental and loving side. 

he’s not like... a fuckboy per se but he’s a bit of a charmer and a minx. he does sleep around like a lot and spends half his life flirting up a storm, very into his casual intimacy. you can often locate him hooking up in really unconventional places on campus and he’s like hardly ever in his own dorm room. 

remembers strange facts about music like all the time, kind of just one of the perks of being a music major but he will randomly blurt them out and think that like this works as a form of comfort like if you’re worried about putting off something for your studies, he’ll tell you some weird fact about how much mozart or whatever used to procrastinate to make you feel better cause he’s terrible at being emotionally responsive :-))))

he’s really into like his fashion, bit of an 80′s fanatic so he loves like the whole aesthetic of that era in terms of fashion and music. i mean you can just go to his pin section on style but you’ll see it’s very much 80′s and 90′s inspired. 

has a sweet tooth so if you want a quick way for him to like you then i recommend just giving him baked goods or biscuits of any variety because he is a fiend for that. and it’s hard to impress kit on a regular day so you may want an easy way into getting him to actually notice you. 

he’s not mean, he’s just really unobservant. like he’s so focused on his music and study that he literally almost is obsessive so he finds most things boring that don’t relate to music somehow since it’s the one thing he feels he truly connects with but he’s trying i swear. he’ll improve. you just gotta prod him a bit and he will interact meaningfully. 

he’s playful, mischievous, fun loving despite sometimes seeming intimidating because he can regularly be found brooding over his desktop trying to sort out a backing track or something, just powering his way through a pack of cigarettes and drinking far too much caffeine. he loves to gossip and he’s pretty funny with the irony and dry-wit and smart ass vibes despite being so in his own world all the time. 

he’s lonely deep down underneath like all of his bravado. like ugetsu he is kind of one of those characters who has that hidden emotional complexity, on the surface he may just seem like a self-absorbed asshole but in reality he’s just a little bit lost and lonely and he actually does want to find a whole army of soulmates in friends and a ‘special’ someone that he can connect with. he’s kind of just trying to figure out who he is outside of his music without losing his drive for it. 

PLOT BUNNIES: 

BEST FRIENDS 

CONFIDANT

EX’S ( GOOD AND BAD TERMS )

FRIENDLY RIVALRY

BAND MEMBERS 

MUSIC ENTHUSIASTS

SHOPPING BUDDIES

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS

FRENEMIES

JUST PLAIN STRAIGHT DO NOT VIBE WITH EACH OTHER ( MAYBE IT’S MISINFORMED PRE JUDGEMENT OR WHATEVER RLLY) 

FRIENDS WHO ARE LIKE FAMILY

DRINKING BUDDIES

PARTY PALS

FLINGS AND HOOK UPS 

ONE NIGHT STANDS

GHOST HUNTING BUDS

GOSSIP PALS

these are all just super loose general ideas, we do not have to do any of these and we can totally just brainstorm what comes naturally from our muses shared interests, backgrounds, persona’s etc. honestly i’m pretty much open to anything !!

[saudadeonly]

burn my heart out: once you’d gone (Chapter 2)

Read on ao3. Part 8, consisting of 3 or 4 chapters.

Death Eater!Sirius Black AU

Lord Voldemort wages war on Hogwarts but he is unaware of the years-worth of battle fought against him.

(or, several instalments following the Battle of Hogwarts with Sirius Black standing on the wrong side)

The Horcrux isn't the only thing Regulus has to face.

Word count: 4530

___

The top of the staircase on the third floor of Hogwarts comes too soon; Regulus and Sirius stop and look at each other. This is where they have to go their separate ways – Regulus up to the seventh floor and Sirius through the passage on this one.

Regulus checks his watch, the one given to him by his parents for his seventeenth birthday. They only have a couple of hours left. Their goodbyes and last-minute preparations before they left the Tonks family behind – despite the vehement protests of entire said family – and all subsequent tasks here at Hogwarts took up a lot of their time.

Sirius’s mind seems to have come to the same conclusion. “Be as quick as you can,” he says, holding out the silver dagger to Regulus. His hand is as steady as his voice. “And take down Nagini.”

Regulus takes the dagger, mindful of the venom absorbed in it, and as soon as he safely stores it away, Sirius uses his free hand to pull on Regulus’s and catch him in a rough hug, his other hand cupping the back of Regulus’s neck. He’s still taller and by now Regulus has given up any hope he might outgrow his brother, this way or another, but his body lacks the strength Regulus once believed him to have. His invincible big brother, fiercer than fire, stronger than death, now as desperately lost as Regulus once was. Human, as he has always been.

“Do your worst,” Regulus murmurs into his shoulder as he fists his hands in the back of his robes, knowing that this might be the last time they see each other standing.

Sirius pulls back and curves his mouth into an almost-smile. “You too,” he says. Before Regulus can turn to go, Sirius catches his forearm, his grip firm. His eyes root Regulus to the spot, maybe because they are softer than his voice, a sliver of that kind, tired man beneath. “Whatever happens, Reggie, this ends today.”

Regulus swallows and nods. However it may end, Sirius will not be the one to fall to his knees first, not if Regulus has anything to say about it.

Sirius steps back and nods, his face smoothed over now, the careful set of his mouth reminding Regulus strangely of Orion. Sirius turns and goes but the image of his face, splashed through a kaleidoscope over their father’s, stays. It is redundant to say that their relationship ended on a bad note because that’s the foundation it was built on from the very beginning but Sirius did not forgive Orion’s misgivings, not even on his deathbed, and he carried that resentment forward – after Regulus’s death, Sirius condemned Walburga. The weight of their demands had bruised his heart so much it could not heal around the mercy asked of him, especially not in the name of their family.

The thing about their family, the great House of Black – they name their children after stars, after these unimaginable, steel-soft pieces forged into fire, and try to bind them, keep them contained to the reaches of their eyes and don’t consider the possibility of going blind with it until their eye-sockets are filled with nothing but stardust, burning, burning. Sirius, they named their heir, the brightest star in the sky, scorching, glowing, and never expected that he would burn bright enough to fill their lungs with smoke, to leave marks shaped like his pain over their skin. Andromeda, named after a constellation, the breaker of chains, a goddamn galaxy because they were more likely to reach its ends before they ever told their children, I love you, I’m proud of you; and they had the gall to fault her when she left them strangling in her discarded chains.

Despite it or maybe because of all of it, Sirius and Andromeda have always been the best of them in all the ways that matter. However much they try to fight against it, the two of them have always been Blacks in more than blood; Sirius and Andromeda with their impeccable postures and vicious hearts, savoir-faire, Lucretia used to say, unmatched, always one step ahead, are Blacks in everything they try to deny, in everything they wish to soften about themselves, down to their teeth, dripping with venom.

Regulus will do whatever it takes to ensure that they get to live up to all that potential, that they get to lace the very foundations of their society with their venom.

With a shake of his head, he pulls himself out of his thoughts and continues up the stairs, casting a notice-me-not charm over himself. It was easy to get lost in his musings with the entirety of his glorious, painful youth surrounding him but he knows better than to let it sweep him away.

By the time he makes it up to the seventh floor, having succeeded in doing so only due to muscle-memory of skipping the tricky steps, the castle is in motion. Students are shuffling down the corridors of all floors, their voices a mix of soft, worried inquiries and confused protests. Regulus doesn’t envy their near future but he knows McGonagall will do everything to keep it intact. He slips past them, as unnoticed as the ghosts drifting beside them; it is, he thinks distantly, a very fitting sort of image.

The wall across from the Troll Tapestry is as unassuming as Andromeda begrudgingly told them it would be. It is hard to imagine the old, mysterious castle conceals one of Voldemort’s greatest secrets so well. Regulus’s heart hammers up to his throat when he walks past the wall, then turns on his heel and repeats it two more times.

I need the place where everything is hidden, he thinks, eyes pressed shut. I need the place where everything is hidden. I need the place where it is hidden.

When he opens his eyes, the wall is built around a door. If he hadn’t been expecting it, he might have thought he's lost it. A moment of hesitation and then Regulus steps forward, pressing his hand over the doorknob, and pushes the door open.

The vast room he steps into has a high ceiling and distant walls but the piles formed around the room, the narrow passages in between make Regulus’s chest constrict uncomfortably despite it. He has not, in over three years, got used to being in tight, enclosed spaces again.

Ignoring the feeling building up, Regulus holds out his wand. “Accio, Ravenclaw Diadem!”

The room remains still. He wasn’t expecting it to work really but it would have been nice to catch a break for once. He stows away his wand and hurries down the first one of the passages. Andromeda wasn’t able to tell him the Diadem’s exact location but she did say she remembered an ugly bust somewhere around it. With a sigh, Regulus sets out to find it.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally catches sight of a chipped bust, resting atop a rickety-looking rack. And directly across from it, a tiara, skewed atop a column of old books. It’s old and unassuming, covered in a layer of dust so thick Regulus wouldn’t have spared a glance otherwise. When he reaches out and wipes the dust away with the tip of his sleeve the words become visible again. Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.

Out of all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, this one has to be the cruellest; the cleverness, the knowledge he robbed out of generations of wizards and witches. He reaches for the dagger and braces it above the Diadem. He murmurs a swift apology to Rowena Ravenclaw, followed by one to the Grey Lady, the sweet, distant ghost who sometimes kept him company in the dead hours of the night when he didn’t want to go back to his common room; he had always felt accepted by her, a sort of kinship that came with not belonging anywhere, drifting from one place to the next.

“Expelliarmus!”

The dagger flies out of his hand and lands on the floor several feet away, skittering over the stone. Regulus grabs his wand, halfway turned already, and fires off the first spell that comes to mind. “Stupefy!”

Bartemius Crouch Junior, his fair hair and pale face a stark contrast to his robes, deflects the spell easily and it hits a pile of books to the side, sending up a flurry of singed pages. Regulus cringes at the years of work and knowledge that has just been lost.

“Barty,” he breathes, the air stolen from his lungs, the tightness in his chest coming for an entirely different, still painfully familiar reason now.

Barty has always been more skin and bone than anything else but he is viciously thin now, enough so Regulus thinks he might be able to make him crumple with the ghost of a breath. “I should have known,” he says, his face drawn, his voice a low gravely tone; distantly, Regulus wonders if he’s taken up smoking. “Black never did act accordingly.”

A laugh builds up in Regulus’s throat, an odd, too-sharp sort of sound, but he pushes it down. If Sirius’s reaction to Regulus’s death was all Barty found suspicious about his behaviour over the years, that’s the least of their problems. It’s over now, anyway. “Sirius had no idea,” he says, just in case this goes terribly, terribly wrong and Barty gets to Sirius first. It’s hight time he protected Sirius, for once.

“I don’t believe that.”

Regulus shrugs. “You know we never did like each other a whole lot,” he says, which is true; he doesn't really like Sirius, not most of the time anyway, but he loves him with a ferocity that gods could not oppose. He keeps his wand steady on Barty but he knows he won’t be the first one to fire. He owes Barty that much, at least, that small courtesy of letting him decide what he wants to do. “What are you doing here, Barty?” he asks, his voice soft around the name he hasn’t been able to forget, though not for lack of trying - on the worst nights, he used to tell himself that neither Evan nor Barty would have come with him even if he had asked. But it’s even harder to forget now, when there are no strategies to be relayed, when the embodiment of Regulus’s guilt points his wand at him, that Evan fought. There is no saying that Barty wouldn’t have either, provided he was offered, given that little push of encouragement he always needed to come along.

“The Dark Lord sent me to check on an artefact of utmost importance to him,” Barty explains, frowning. “An artefact that looks curiously like the one you’re holding right now.”

Regulus snorts. “This old thing?” he asks, waving the Diadem around, then tucking it behind his back. “It’s worthless.” He cocks his head, lowers his voice. Somewhere between the study of political language and being Sirius’s brother, he’s learned how to get under people’s skin – and Barty never has been particularly thick-skinned. “Glad to see you climbed the ranks, though.” He lets his mouth quirk up, just the little bit. “Must be nice to be valued so highly by Voldemort.”

Barty flinches and a twinge passes through Regulus; it took him years to be able to say the name himself, to fit his voice around the vowels and not have fear surround them. Regulus uses the blink of a distraction to take the fraction of a step towards the dagger.

“Don’t say his name,” Barty snaps, anger finally rising to his hollow cheeks, painting him fiercer a man than he was. “You taint him, you traitor, how dare you –”

“You sound like Bellatrix.”

Barty’s face drains of colour, as quickly as it rose up. His knuckles, hand gripped around the handle of his wand, have gone white too. “Don’t talk about her,” he says, voice hoarse. His freckles stand out, peppered across his nose and cheeks.

“How is dear Bella? Still so devoted to bloodlust she doesn’t spare you a glance?” It isn’t fair, he knows. Barty has been fascinated by Bella for years and she took him under and used it to the advantage of anything she remotely cared about; if there is one person more at fault for whatever Barty has become than Voldemort and Regulus, it’s Bellatrix. But Regulus knows there is no point in trying to convince Barty to do anything and he has one objective, the only one he has had for years: destroy the Horcruxes. He’s so close now and he won’t slip, won’t let his conscience get in the way.

“Shut up,” Barty growls, taking one slow step closer. “Where did you go, anyway?”

The question gives Regulus pause but he shuffles on his feet as an excuse and gets a bit closer to the dagger. “Away. I could not serve anymore so I left.”

Barty narrows his eyes. “You left,” he says, a painful sort of bemusement crossing his face, “everything. You betrayed everyone. You had no right.”

Regulus’s chest aches. When he speaks, his voice is rawer than he wants it to be; maybe the Inferi clawed it out of him. “What I discovered, Barty, what I had to do – I could not do it anymore.”

“You were the reason I joined.”

Regulus lets his eyes flit closed for a second. When he looks back at Barty, his face is too thin, too lost to ever come close to the boy he was all those years ago; and that’s on Regulus. Barty wasn’t like him or Evan. He was clever and loyal and too stupid to see but he never carried the weight of expectation like they had their whole lives – Regulus, the spare, and Evan, the sole heir. He reminded Regulus of Sirius sometimes, the Sirius of before: desperate to get out from his father’s thumb, to escape his mother’s coddling, but overbearing and messy and misguided as it was, it was still love, still a saving grace that Barty didn’t recognise as privilege. Regulus and Evan took that desperation and painted it in streaks of glory across the inside of Barty’s lids, blinding him enough to lead him astray, twisted its shape until it could almost be called a choice, a sense of belonging.

Then Regulus left and Evan died and it was Barty who stayed. Barty, whose backbone might as well have been made out of clay, free for moulding into any shape the rest wanted him to be.

“I know,” he murmurs.

“Then why did you leave me behind?” Barty shouts and it echoes and echoes so long Regulus is sure this is the only sound that will be heard at his funeral. Maybe it was.

But there it is, the name of Regulus’s nightmares, the title of his fucking biography, why you, why, why, why. Why do you get to go away? Why do you get a happy ending or a happy middle or happy anything? Why do you get to heal?

Because you are good, Valentina, tucked firmly, unapologetically against his side, would whisper into the curls behind his ear, as many times as he asked her to, because you are kind and you deserve it.

You are loved, Andromeda told him sometime before they left, catching the off expression on his face, the desire not to leave the life he had built, you are so loved and you get to have that.

Sirius, altruistic, hypocritical arsehole that he is, would probably tell him not to spout gibberish, that he couldn’t have done anything else unless he wanted to have his insides scraped off of walls afterwards and that he was right to get every little scrap of happiness that he could. Regulus never asked to know for sure.

Because I am selfish, Regulus thinks, knows in his bones to be true, but what he says is, “I’m sorry.”

Barty scoffs, unrepentant, unforgiving. Regulus feels before he sees him strike – he sucks his teeth, a tell-tale sign he’s about to cast a silent spell – but Regulus’s reflexes have dulled, out of use with the years of a quiet life, full of literature and research and Valentina’s smile over a cup of coffee, her softness dulling whatever edges Regulus had retained, and he’s knocked to the side, over a pile of cutlery and broken plates that catch on his robes. He lands on the floor, several feet down the aisle, body pulsing with pain all over. The Diadem is still clutched in his hand, its presence an added weight to his emptying chest, but his wand was thrown out of his reach.

His vision is wobbly, a blurry echo passing after everything he looks at, and he uses his free hand to grapple for purchase on the cold stone. His fingers catch on the cross-guard of the silver dagger and he moves them down to grip onto the handle, its weight a sure, familiar reminder of the only thing he still has left to do.

Barty shouts but his line of fire is obscured by the junk around them and Regulus uses the time it takes for Barty to get around it to stab the dagger directly into the Diadem.

The shriek of the Horcrux’s death is the last thing he hears before the white-hot pain blinds him. Regulus curls up on the floor and sinks into it.

In the cave in the middle of nowhere, permitted by pain and guarded by death, Regulus died slowly. The Inferi were quick to drag him into the water, quick to bleed their fingers into him but their cruelty became patient when they had him, the son of kings, a never-crowned prince, in their kingdom; they took his chin and breathed air into him when he had none left in his lungs, dragged him down slowly, a renaissance sort of image, and Regulus had the half-hysterical thought that he would have still prefered this death to the one his mother would have dealt him if she had found out he had just used the word renaissance. He wondered if he would not die at all but just become one of them, the Dark Lord’s servant even after he died to defy him, if the water would crush his lungs to dust and carry away the remnants of his humanity before their fingers tore him apart. Then it was easier to get lost in his memories than to acknowledge the imminence of his end, his slow dissolution into the embrace of cold, dead hands; so, he remembered.

He remembered Sirius’s hands pressed to his eyes, stooped over on his knees, his back a masterpiece of crisscrossing red lines. He remembered fingers wrapped around his wrist, Narcissa’s words, don’t do this out of duty, and he remembered his answer, shaking off the burn of her hand, perhaps I should do it out of love, like you. He remembered Evan and Barty’s screams of pain as they provided entertainment for the night, the new ones, the fresh blood that should be spilt before the Dark Lord’s feet before it ever blessed their enemies’ sight.

Regulus would have remembered unto death if Sirius hadn’t lit the cave in flames, hadn’t summoned the fury of gods into the tip of his wand; Sirius wouldn’t have managed to come on time at all if it hadn’t been for Kreacher’s magic and devotion –

Through the haze of pain, Regulus remembers now: Kreacher. House-elf magic; always, always cleverer than a wizard’s, only because it was never acknowledged as equally important, and Regulus's saviour since his childhood.

“Kreacher,” he says, gasping through the breath between his screams and there is a pause in the air around him, bated with his heartbeat. Then Kreacher materialises at Regulus’s head, looking down the nose all around him, and not even Barty Crouch Jr is a match for the single-minded fury that is Kreacher at his most vicious.

Barty flies back, flailing through the air, and hits the wall with a hard thud. He slumps down against it, his head lolling to the side.

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher says, his big, wobbly eyes glistening, as his skinny fingers touch Regulus’s shoulder blade. “How can Kreacher help?”

The pain has gone now but its remnants flare up as Regulus struggles to push himself up and brace his weight on his hands. He glances at Barty again, just to make sure he’s still there, then sits back, leaning against an old, crooked wardrobe. “It would appear you have already helped me immensely, old friend,” he says, giving Kreacher a small smile, which takes some effort. Kreacher deserves it, every ounce of effort Regulus has to put in. “Thank you.”

Kreacher glows. It hasn’t been often that they’ve seen each other since Regulus’s debacle at the cave – Kreacher is hardly ever allowed to leave the house – and Regulus has missed his once-closest friend. “Kreacher lives to serve Master Regulus,” he says, ducking into a bow. He procures a goblet of water and hands it to Regulus, who uses it to wash the taste of blood off his teeth.

“Kreacher, do you know of a house-elf called Linsy?”

Kreacher’s face shifts into a sneer. “Linsy didn’t take good care of Master Regulus when he was with her,” he grumbles. “The blood traitor did one thing right, giving her the shirt.”

“I rather think she took excellent care of me. I recovered, didn’t I?” Regulus intones gently. Kreacher’s opinion was formed solely on the basis of one Walburga Black’s and Regulus cannot blame him for being stuck in his ways. It took him a damn long time to fall away and now is not the time to take up a fight against his mother, of all people, too. Kreacher gives a reluctant nod. “I think she works here, at Hogwarts, now.” He hands the goblet back to Kreacher, who Vanishes it, and makes to stand up. It takes him two tries but he’s steady on his feet once he manages; the effects of the Cruciatus, which Regulus was lucky enough not to have experienced for some time now, wear off quickly. “Would you please be so kind as to give her a message for me?”

Kreacher’s face is still sour but he nods and says, “Anything, Master Regulus.”

House-elves are loyal to a fault. They will not, even after having been presented with an article of clothing, stop being devoted to the family they served. Regulus’s memories of Linsy are scarce, made in the shape of blurry, intermittent blinks from nightmares to see her by his side, but she was kind to him and it was obvious she adored the Potters as much as they adored her. Even Sirius, whose track record with house-elves was less than stellar, loved her. Regulus has no doubt she will take on Voldemort himself to get them to safety.

“Tell her the Potter family is in danger. She has to find them and get them away from Hogwarts.” He berates himself for not having considered it sooner. Sirius and Minerva have their work cut out for them as it is but he certainly could have remembered that house-elves exist, in all their manic devotion. “And tell the other house-elves that Hogwarts is being attacked. They should fight for their home or leave before it gets bad.”

Kreacher nods.

“And,” Regulus adds before Kreacher disapparates, “not a word of this to my mother.”

“Yes, Master Regulus,” Kreacher says with a deep bow and disappears.

Left alone in the room once again, Regulus looks around. He doesn’t know how much time he’s lost here and he doesn’t dare check. It doesn’t seem long but time runs differently here and doubly so in times of battle.

He walks a few steps down the row to collect his wand and then back. He stomps down on the remains of the Diadem, grimacing at the dark liquid sticking to his shoes and Vanishing it, and levitates them into the pouch of ruined Horcruxes he’s brought along. He wonders idly how he will fit Nagini’s head into it. They’re so close it makes his head spin.

He picks up the dagger, wiping it clean on an old blanket nearby, and safely tucks it away.

He makes his way around and over the piles of trinkets to get to Barty and takes a moment to just take in the familiar lines of his face. They were friends once. He and Evan might have done an injustice to Barty but it wasn’t ill-intentioned, at least not at the time. They were stupid kids and paid for it in blood.

Regulus crouches down and snatches Barty’s wand out of his limp hand, stashing it into the pocket of his robes, then rummages around Barty's pockets until he finds his mask and puts it away too. “Sorry, Barty,” he murmurs, tapping his own wand to the mop of bright hair to send him into a long, deep sleep. He conjures up thick ropes next and binds Barty’s wrists and ankles with it. Then he pulls out a couple strands of Barty’s hair, uncorks the vial of Polyjuice potion Sirius made him brew for going down to the village and pushes the hair into it. It might be his only shot at getting close to Nagini later on. “You know how it is.”

He considers, briefly, the dangers of leaving him here defenceless but this room is far removed from the main part and not everyone even knows about it. This is possibly the safest place in the entire castle right now. Provided, of course, he reminds himself, that he lives to come back and get Barty back out. Maybe he should write a note.

It takes some effort to get himself up and walk to the door; leaving Barty behind is somehow worse the second time around.

Regulus grabs onto the door handle and opens the door back into Hogwarts. He steps onto the floor of the seventh corridor in his cat form and just barely manages to dodge a large chunk of stone that ends up smashing against the wall next to the door.

A brown-haired boy, green-and-silver tie dark with blood where he has it wrapped around his forearm, sends a jet of red light towards a masked Death Eater that ducks to the side and runs to turn the corner. “Sorry, Uncle Todd!” the boy yells after him, wiping a hand down his dust-streaked face. His voice is cheerful but there is a certain scratch to it, a desperate fall to his eyes that tear Regulus’s heart apart. He knows with sudden clarity that Evan did better by the students than the two of them did by Barty. “I’ll see you for Easter hols, yeah?”

A spell shoots down the corridor and Regulus jumps out to bite at the legs of the first Death Eater that comes out of hiding. He has lost many battles in his life, forfeited them right from the start, but there is no way he will not bleed himself dry to win this one.

[minijenn]

Universe Falls, Chapter 80, Part 3

Alsdkajsldkajdlasd I’m dying, Dimensions is done, I’m dead, I’m Dead MiniJen, my opus is complete and I’m Suffering from feels, enjoy this massive fucking painfest that you are NOT ready for enjoy (read it on ao3 or ff.net pls for formatting purposes) 

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/623372505375277056/universe-falls-chapter-80-part-2

***

Chapter 80, Part 3: Dimensions

EW YLLVLT XUUR, VG OACC IWEOVU SD QGKU WZCT'H PQNG WG VRJPK CAIMTL PPX BUDL'U LTJF QF WG YAXX RWE PGTE CSI BUDL CRR 9 LMA BSWPES XTM QRGT 

The very moment they fell into the Nightmare Realm, Stepper knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d been here before. His brief, yet awful time there had been, like most of his memories it seemed, completely locked away from the forefront of his mind. But now, upon getting so much as a single glimpse of the endlessly shifting spacescape that echoed with an unintelligible void of constant noise, it was as though a handful of sparse, somewhat distant recollections filled him as to what happened to him here. Here… in the place where Bill Cipher had cracked his gem, stolen his shield journal, and stripped him of any sense of who he was truly supposed to be. 

As for his gem, it was still pounding substantial pain through his body with every passing moment. He couldn’t suppress an agonized cry as he was tossed forward by the force of the portal closing up behind him, Mabel clinging tightly to one of his lower hands as they were essentially thrown through the weightless expanse around them. Neither of them had any time to gather their bearings, however, as they were both stopped almost immediately upon abruptly crashing into the group that had entered the portal just before them. 

Ford, Stan, and the Gems all reacted in apt alarm, spinning around with their weapons drawn to confront who they initially believed was Bill himself. Only to find the very pair they had been dead set on keeping out of this horrid place to begin with. 

“Stepper!? Mabel!?” Pearl gasped in obvious shock. “W-what are you kids doing here?! We told you to stay home!”

“W-we couldn’t…” Stepper huffed as he moved one of his shaking lower arms to cover up his damaged gem, even though that did little to stem the searing pain originating from it. “We… I-I had to come… I-I have to get my journal back…”

“Yeah, and I’m with Stepper,” Mabel brazenly agreed, tightening her steadying grip on his hand. “No matter what.”

Despite the resounding ache still reverberating throughout his body, Stepper managed to glance down at Mabel to offer her a genuine smile of gratitude, one that she readily returned. An affirmation of their shared resolve to get back what the fusion had lost, even despite the danger they both knew they might face in doing so. 

“N-no, you shouldn’t be here,” Lapis countered anxiously. “We need to get both of you back now.”

“We can’t,” Ford noted with an exasperated sigh. “The machine is set on a timer back in our dimension; it won’t reopen another wormhole home until about 24 hours in our time.”

“24 hours?” Stan asked incredulously. “You mean we’re stuck in this oversaturated wacko world for a whole day?”

“A day in our time, Stanley,” Ford corrected, annoyed. “Time moves differently here, remember?”

“Uh, so are we able to send these two home or nah?” Amethyst asked, pointing a thumb over at Stepper and Mabel. 

“At this point, it doesn’t seem as though we really can…” Pearl mused with a worried frown. 

“G-good, because we wouldn’t go back anyway!” Mabel proclaimed with an air of defiance in her tone. “Right, Stepper?”

Stepper could only nod weakly, his vision blurring as his gemstone unleashed yet another wave of unbearable anguish upon him. The stone flashed brightly, a strangled cry escaping him as he failed to keep himself upright, ultimately prompting Garnet to rush forward to catch him before he could fall into the empty space ahead of him. 

“There’s no time for arguing,” the Gem leader said staunchly as she kept a close, protective hold on Stepper’s trembling body. “They’re here now, which means we have to do our best to protect them. And to get his journal back as quickly as possible.”

A beat of fretful silence passed at this as everyone spared a concerned glance Stepper’s way, his condition seeming to worsen more with each passing second. The color of his gem was a dull, almost gray kind of pink, even as it flashed with a bright, warning white light almost constantly.  His skin was pale between the pink cracks torn across it, his eyes tightly shut against the chilling pain pounding through his veins. Pain that the others knew there was only one way to stop, or at least, a way they hoped would stop it. 

“Did I hear someone was looking for a journal?” An all-too-familiar voice suddenly boomed across the Nightmare Realm, catching the entire group starkly off guard from the very first word. Several of them gripped their weapons tightly, tensely glancing around the surrounding void for any sign of the dream demon they’d come here to confront. Only to find that Bill himself was hovering high above them, far out of anyone’s immediate reach. “Well, it’s your lucky day,” he remarked casually as he reclined coolly in the air. “I recently got my hands on a real page-turner that I might be willing to lend out… for the right price.”

The reaction to Bill’s unexpected, yet largely informal arrival was sharp and immediate on all sides. The Gems lashed out first, Pearl and Amethyst pushing themselves through the gravity-free air with their respective weapons drawn to land a starting attack against the dream demon. Before either of them could even get close, however, Bill swiftly disappeared, only to rematerialize seconds later not too far away from the group still positioned down below. 

“Hey, now! How about we-” Bill protested, only for Ford and Lapis to lash out simultaneously, the former with one of the several blasters he’d brought along and the latter with a series of successive waves of water. Even though Bill evaded these attacks just as easily, Garnet, who had just handed off Stepper’s safekeeping to Stan and Mabel, was next, rushing at him furiously with both of her gauntlets ready to land a devastating strike. Yet even so, Bill easily rebuffed her, sending her flying back toward the other Gems with a mere wave of his hand before he came to calmly hover above the disgruntled group of visitors to his realm. 

“Yeesh, have any of you ever heard of manners before?” he asked with a harsh scoff, his hands on his edges. “You don’t just barge into someone’s house and start throwing hands without a single, solitary hello, do you?”

“We do if it’s your house, chump!” Amethyst yelled, tossing her whip out as Pearl swiftly tossed her forward in another bold offensive. However, Bill managed to catch the end of her whip, carelessly flinging it behind him to send the purple Gem flying before deflecting the spear Pearl had sent his way in retaliation. 

“Boy, you all sure are riled up,” Bill noted with faux innocence. “I wonder what’s got you all so upset that you’d go through all the trouble of coming here to see me personally…?”

“You know exactly why we’re here, Bill!” Ford shouted, his blaster still trained on the dream demon.

“Return Stepper’s shield journal now,” Garnet demanded briskly, both of her gauntleted hands clenched in tight, unyielding fists. “Or else we’ll make you.”

“Ha! Make me?” Bill laughed mockingly, sizing himself down to a much smaller scale as he circled the group mirthfully. “Do any of you really think you stand a chance against me here, on my home turf? C’mon, get real. All you need to do is take one look at your ragtag little group of LOSERS and you’ll see why this whole thing is a very bad idea…” At this, Bill focused on the Gems, all three of whom had their weapons raised on a defensive guard as they eyed their old foe with mutual distrust and disdain. “First we’ve got the Crystal Chumps, who always THINK they save the day, but when they think they do they always find a way… to mess everything UP!” Easily provoked by such a cruel remark, the trio reacted aggressively, swinging their respective weapons in the hopes of landing so much as a single hit on the malicious dream demon, though as usual, he slipped away before they could get the chance. “And Sixer, it’s a no brainer why you’re here,” Bill remarked rather teasingly as he appeared just in front of Ford. The author wasted no time in firing a blast at him, though the dream demon disappeared before it could even come close to touching him. “I always figured you’d come crawling back here sooner or later. Still got some… unfinished business with me, don’t ya?” 

“I certainly do,” Ford remarked immediately, offering the dream demon a relentless glare. “And this time, I’m not about to let you get away with-”

“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, vengeance, blah, blah, I ruined your life, blah, blah, blah,” Bill mocked callously, only serving to aggravate the author even more. “You’re really starting to sound like a broken record at this point, Fordsy. Speaking of broken… Water Wings! Nice to finally meet ya face to face! Especially since I’ve heard so much about you from poor little Pine Tree.” Bill’s tone was cheery and bright as he glided over to Lapis, who had no qualms about launching another heavy wave of water at him right off the bat. 

“You!” she shouted, furious as she continued trying to pin him down, only for Bill to steer clear of each of her onslaughts. “You’re the one who hurt Dipper and Steven, you… you monster!”

At this, the blue Gem unleashed just about all of her raw fury upon the dream demon, calling upon her aquatic wings to supply her with plenty of water to send a specifically-targeted tidal wave his way. But as usual, even this incredibly powerful attack did little to daunt Bill, who simply dispelled the water completely with a quick, flaming barrier. 

“Monster? Aw, Water Wings, you’re too kind!” Bill quipped brightly, all but ignoring the intense glare Lapis was offering him as he turned his attention to Stan instead. “And wow! Looks like we’re meeting in the flesh for the first time too, Fez! Not that you’re a total stranger, I did go on a casual little romp through your mind a while back. Good times, good times.”

“You… what?” Stan asked, completely lost before he shook his head of this apparent distraction, raising his brass knuckles in preparation for a fight instead. “Whatever, who cares? You heard Shades: give the kids their magic book back and then get lost, freakshow!”

“Ohoho! So quick to the point! That’s what I like about you, Fez,” Bill remarked as nonchalant as ever. “You don’t waste all your time on tears like some people do.” He pointed back to Ford and the Gems, all of whom were on the verge of trying to land another hit on him, though they all ultimately took pause, realizing just how futile that would be. “But while we’re on the topic of useless crybabies…” In an instant, Bill disappeared, only to show up right alongside Mabel, who was in the midst of desperately trying to keep Stepper conscious, an effort that seemed to be all but futile as the fusion struggled to keep himself awake, much less aware of what was going on around him. “Hiya, Shooting Star! How’s Pine Bud doing? Looks like he’s realizing life’s not all it’s CRACKED up to be without his pretty little journal, huh?” Bill joked, catching Mabel off guard completely. For her part, she reacted quickly, throwing herself between the demon and Stepper, determined to protect him from sustaining any further harm. 

“S-stay away from him!” Mabel shouted as brazenly as she could manage, the others all rushing over to offer her some much needed support at a frightening moment like this. 

“Aw, it’s cute how you always try to act like you actually care about Rose Tree when you and I both know you DON’T, Shooting Star,” Bill accused with a twisted chuckle. “None of you do, you pretty much proved that by letting him come back here. But boy, am I glad you did…”

Without any warning, Bill vanished once more, but this time, he didn’t seem to reappear, at least not in anyone’s immediate field of view. Because instead, he showed up right behind them, or rather, behind Stepper, not saying a single word until he had the listless fusion right where he wanted him. “After all, I know you’re all just DYING to see how this whole thing is going to end!” 

The entire group spun around in an instant, freezing up in mutual shock at what had happened far too quick for any of them to even try to stop. Bill had returned to his towering size as he floated over all of them, but by far more alarming than that was what, or rather who he was tightly gripping in his massive hand. Stepper lay largely limp against the secure, unrelenting grip Bill had him in, his gem reverberating with pain that he’d largely gotten much too used to by this point. Pain that didn’t seem like it would ever really go away, no matter how much he desperately wished it would. 

“S-Stepper!” Mabel cried, trying to rush forward to get to him even as Stan pulled her back just in time. 

“Release him immediately!” Pearl shouted fiercely, her spear aimed directly at the dream demon. 

“Haven’t you already hurt them enough?!” Lapis added, just as desperate to keep any further harm from coming to the now-captured fusion. 

“Hurt him? Now what makes you think I’d do that?” Bill asked almost flippantly as he eyed Stepper almost cordially. “Rose Tree and I reached an understanding last time he was here; it was a pretty fair trade, all things considered. I let him leave with his life, and in exchange, he gave me THIS!” 

The shield journal flashed into existence, hovering lightly over the dream demon’s free outstretched hand and haloed in an unsettling golden glow all the while. The moment it appeared, Stepper weakly managed to glance over at it, a ripple of immediate desperation rippling through him at the mere sight of it alone. He could sense it, he could practically feel that book was what he’d been missing, what he’d been longing to get back for what seemed like his entire life, or at least what little he could remember of it. The missing piece of himself that he knew would finally tell him who he was truly meant to be, the key that would finally unlock the mysteries that were Steven and Dipper inside his mind. 

A tight gasp of pain escaped Stepper as he tried reaching for it, his upper arms fortunately free from the heavy grip Bill had around his midsection. As soon as the dream demon noticed him struggling for it, however, he was quick to pull them both even further apart than they already were, widening the gap of distance between them that, as far as Stepper was concerned, felt far too great. “Whoops! Sorry, Pine Bud, but I can’t let you go running off with this and all the precious memories tucked away in it,” Bill remarked, ignoring Stepper’s continued attempts to wriggle out of his hold. “Mostly ‘cause I wanna show you this really neat trick I came up with first! See, I thought reading up on every teeny tiny juicy little tidbit about each of your halves would be a blast; so many embarrassing, hilarious moments to pour over, all your doubts and insecurities and fears laid completely out in an open book. But see, after awhile, just reading about it all started to get sort of… boring. Turns out you were right before, Rose Tree; I already did know everything that’s in your journal. So… I figured instead of reading it, maybe I should just have a little fun with it instead…?”

Neither Stepper nor any of the others knew what Bill meant by this, until he happened to flip the shield journal open and, in a moment so quick no one could even think to try and stop it, he swiftly ripped several successive pages clear out of the book entirely. A shared gasp of horror from the group below was overtaken entirely by a sharp, intense scream of agony from Stepper, a scream that only grew louder and more anguished as Bill suddenly ignited the torn pages in his usual blue fire. For the fusion, it was an unbearable kind of pain, almost as though something had been ripped out of his very soul along with those pages, whatever that something was burnt to an unsalvageable crisp just the same. All memories he’d yet to uncover, yet to reclaim; and now, it was uncertain if he’d ever get the chance to reclaim them, even if he somehow managed to get his journal back at all. 

“Who could have guessed a magical fusion-formed journal would make such good kindling?” Bill quipped, only to narrowly pull the journal away just in time to avoid the spear Pearl had finally thrown at him. 

“How dare you do something like this to him, you… you despicable, awful, wretched-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Bird Brain, keep on squawking,” Bill rolled his eye. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“W-what happens to Stepper when you tear pages out of his journal like that?” Mabel dared to ask, clinging tightly, tearfully onto Stan’s leg. “Why does it hurt him?”

“Great question, Shooting Star!” Bill exclaimed, pulling another random page out of the shield journal, eliciting yet another anguished cry out of Stepper in the process. “See, at the moment, this book is all that’s left of who Pine Tree and Rosebud are since their empty headed fusion here clearly has no idea. So, whenever one of those pages has a little… accident,” With this, Bill swiftly burned that page completely out of existence, much to Stepper’s and everyone else’s distraught alarm. “That’s like a piece of one of them is being erased clean out of existence. Isn’t that one swell of a discovery? One that poor Pine Bud didn’t have a clue about, otherwise he might’ve thought twice about just forking it over like he did!”

“T-that’s because you tricked him!” Mabel protested with a newfound wave of fury as she pushed herself forward. “You tricked him and lied to him and didn’t give him a choice because you cracked his gem and left him with no other way out! W-why…?” she asked, choking on a tight, yet absolutely livid sob as she glared up at the dream demon hatefully. “Why would you do this to them?! What have they ever done to you?!”

Bill took pause at this, his eye narrowing specifically at Mabel so he could return her scowl much more icily. “I’ll tell you what they did, Shooting Star,” he began, his tone cold and dripping with malice. “They’ve gotten in my way one too many times. And unlike you and your dumb family and even dumber friends, I make it my mission to get rid of anyone who tries to stop me! Which is EXACTLY what I’m gonna do to every trace that’s left of Rosebud and Pine Tree, leaving THIS,” he shook Stepper violently at this, exacerbating just how sore the already battered fusion was even more. “Behind as nothing more than a dull, empty shell of who they used to be!” Despite the fact that Bill was growing red with obvious fury, he strangely cooled down quite quickly to resume his former casual tone. “Unless… one of you has something you’d be willing to trade in exchange for his journal that’s worth even MORE…?”

Bill’s sights settled directly on Ford at this, and in that moment, the author had no doubts in his mind about exactly what the dream demon’s endgame was with this entire scheme. An endgame that he wasn’t about to let him achieve, both for the sake of the boys and for the sake of the very universe as a whole. “O-oh?” Ford asked tensely, lowering his blaster just the slightest bit. “A-and what might that something be…?”

“I’m pretty sure you already know, Sixer…” Bill countered just as knowingly.

Ford did his best not to falter at this, especially as he realized Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were all offering him the same sort of scrutiny Bill was. At the same time, Mabel, Lapis, and Stan, as out of the loop as they were, all looked to the author in complete confusion, none of them having the faintest idea about the momentous trade Bill was basically forcing Ford to make. 

“Well, Ford?” Stan asked his brother harshly, expectantly. “Give this creep what he wants so he’ll give the boys their book back and we can get the heck out of here and finally put an end to this whole disaster.”

Ford hesitated, not wanting to reveal anything too direct about the rift, even though it was exceedingly clear that was what Bill was after. “I-I… can’t,” he said tightly, shifting a wary glance toward the dream demon. “I didn’t bring it.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Bill scowled, clearly disgruntled. “Why am I not surprised? Anything to keep it as far away from me as possible, huh, Sixer? Well, that’s A-OK! I’ll get my hands on it sooner or later, and until then, maybe I’ll just keep taking pages out of Rose Tree’s book instead!”

With this, Bill let out a cruel, sadistic laugh as he prepared to yank yet another handful of pages out of the shield journal, which was clearly starting to run low on them by all accounts. And while everyone else continued adamantly throwing their weapons at him in the hopes of somehow prying the journal from his grasp, Mabel found herself distracted by something else instead. Stepper had his sights set directly on her, pain still wracking his expression, yet there was a hint of hardened resolve there too, particularly as he subtly pointed down at the grappling hook in her hands. Mabel frowned in confusion, unsure of what he wanted her to do until he silently nodded over to his shield journal, forcing himself to remain quiet even as Bill carelessly ripped another page out of it. Finally, he pointed back at himself, his intention made clear, a plan that Mabel understood and was more than ready to carry out, especially if there was a chance, however small, that it could put an end to this madness once and for all. 

She made sure to take aim carefully, making sure Bill was thoroughly distracted with brashly taunting the others before she even thought about firing. And when she did, everything seemed to happen all at once, in a moment that passed both far too fast and nowhere near fast enough. 

Mabel’s aim struck true, her grappling hook latching onto the edge of the shield journal from its spot hanging above Bill’s hand. As she yanked her hook back hard, Stepper used every ounce of his waning strength to push his lower arms against Bill’s other hand, catching him off guard enough to finally break his steady grip on him. From the moment he was free, Stepper wasted no time, lunging for his now-freed journal, anxious, fearful, desperate to get his hands on it, to reclaim what was rightfully his. He strangely felt nothing the moment it fell into his grasp, but even so, he gripped it tightly the moment he did, refusing to let it be stolen from him again. Unfortunately for him, however, Bill wasn’t about to let him get away with it so easily either. 

“ROSE TREE!” he snapped, furious as he lashed out, latching onto the book’s back cover with a forceful hold. Even so, Stepper didn’t dare release the journal, even as Bill began pulling both him and the book back up toward him. A burst of raw, righteous anger flooded the fusion at this, over just how much damage this demented demon had done to him, just how much he’d taken from him, just how much he’d lost from it all. Which was why he had absolutely no qualms about lashing out as Bill yanked him upward, throwing his languished body up hard to land a direct, brutal kick right in the center of the demon’s singular eye. Bill reeled back in immediate pain from this, but still his hold on the journal didn’t give, and neither did Stepper’s as he was thrown back. Under that severe amount of stress on both sides, it wasn’t long before the journal, even as magical as it was, ended up giving way entirely. 

And in a sickening, sudden second, the shield journal was brutally ripped apart, clean down the spine, right through its center. 

An electrifying jolt of energy rushed through every single one of Stepper’s senses at this, his mind empty and his breathing completely stilled as he found himself falling away from Bill. From the other half of his shield journal, now torn entirely apart. The chaotic cries of alarm from everyone around him were practically deafened as he tightly hugged onto the half he still had, his gemstone completely engulfed in white as that glow began to spread across the rest of his form. And as he continued to fall through the empty void of the Nightmare Realm, a single, stark memory rang through his mind, through his heart, as clear as a bell. A memory of only half of who he used to be. 

“S-Steven…” he gasped, just shy of falling apart completely. 

The others were all stunned into silence as they watched Stepper split, the very sight of Steven and Dipper finally separated once more enough to shock them all. Both boys floated unconsciously near each other, their forced unfusing taking a heavy toll on them physically. Even so, the Gems wasted no time in rushing forward to catch them, Garnet being the first to retrieve their listless forms and pull them as far away from Bill as possible. Ford made sure to put even more distance between them as he fired a momentous blast at the already quite distracted dream demon, sending him flying with an enraged scream across the vast scape of the Nightmare Realm. Right along with the other half of the shield journal he still somehow possessed. 

In the brief moments of tentative peace that followed, no one wasted any time in checking on both of the boys to ensure that they hadn’t sustained any long-term damage. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were all closely gathered around Steven, the Gem leader holding him close as they all reeled from just how miraculous it was that they’d managed to get him back at all. Especially since just a few short hours ago they’d been wondering, fearing that they never truly would. 

“Steven!” Pearl shouted frantically, tightly gripping one of the young Gem’s hands. “Steven, can you hear me!?”

“Yo! Check out his gem!” Amethyst exclaimed with a bright, newfound smile. “It’s totally fixed!”

Sure enough, Steven’s gemstone was in pristine a state as ever, not a single hint of the formal brutal crack torn across it remaining it. His skin was also clear of its remnant pink scars, and his breathing was steady, even if his eyes were still closed as his body tried to recover from what it had just been through. “He’s whole again,” Garnet smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks as her visor disappeared. “That means Rose’s fountain did work on his gem, but its magic was delayed until his mind was healed. And now… it is.”

“S-so… will he-” Pearl was cut off as Steven began to stir in Garnet’s arms, letting out a soft, tired groan as his eyes slowly opened. 

“G-guys…?” he muttered, his vision largely bleary as he looked between the trio. 

“Steven!” all three of the Gems exclaimed in immense, tearful relief. 

“Are you ok, dude?” Amethyst asked, extending out a hand so both her and Pearl could help him properly sit up. “Do you, like… remember who you are again?”

Steven nodded slowly, still largely leaning against Garnet for support. “Yeah… I… I think so?” he replied, confused by the question. 

“Tell us your name, just to be sure,” Garnet said, her tone steady as her visor reappeared. 

“Uh… Steven Universe?” he answered, still trying to make sense of their concern. 

“A-and who were you just a moment ago?” Pearl pressed, fearing his short term memories might be lost. 

Steven paused for a long moment at this, trying his best to focus his scattered thoughts on what had happened and how they’d gotten here, to a place he recognized all too well: the Nightmare Realm. The very same place where Bill had cracked his gem and taken their journal and started a chain of events he couldn’t remember clearly, at least not on his own. “I-I was fused…” he said, a hand pressed against his aching head. “I was fused into Stepper with-”

“Dipper!” Mabel’s distraught cry echoed starkly through the air, startling Steven and the Gems in the process. They all turned to see the frantic scene beside them, where Mabel clung tightly onto her still-listless brother with Stan and Ford and Lapis all staying very close by his side. “I-I don’t understand!” Mabel shook her head, lightly shaking Dipper by the shoulders again, only for his head to dully loll forward instead. “What’s wrong with him!? Why isn’t he waking up?!”

“S-Steven’s fine!” Lapis tightly agreed, briefly sparing the alarmed young Gem a somewhat relieved glance. “So Dipper should be too, r-right?!”

The other Gems all gasped, Steven joining their wide-eyed stares of shock as they all gathered around Dipper as well. The young Gem’s heart sank with worry when he saw him, still completely out of it and unmoving, though that was probably the least concerning thing about his condition. His skin was frighteningly pale, and somehow still marred with the faint pink cracks that had been torn across Stepper’s. And to make matters even worse, his entire body was remarkably cold still, and he barely even seemed to be breathing, barely even seemed to be alive at all. 

“He should be, but…” Ford trailed off, entirely unsure of what to make of his nephew’s comatose condition. 

“C’mon, kid, you can’t quit on us after all this!” Stan urged, taking over where Mabel had left off in trying to physically rouse Dipper into waking up. Tears were clearly starting to well up in the conman’s eyes, tears that Mabel already had in hers and were just starting to find a place in Ford’s. The same mutual dread rising up in all three of them over a thought far too horrific for any of them to bear; the thought that Dipper might already be too far gone for them to save. 

They were all caught off guard, however, as Steven suddenly reached forward, his hand sparkling with telltale healing saliva as he gently placed his palm against Dipper’s cheek. His magic shimmered just as much as it usually did as it settled on his skin, and yet it did absolutely nothing to clear away the cracks covering it, much less awaken him. Steven drew his hand back, his eyes wide with emerging fear as he tried and failed to understand what might have gone wrong, why Dipper wasn’t recovering when he already had, what had led to this awful moment in the first place. 

“D-Dipper…” he whimpered, silently pleading with him to open his eyes, to move, to say something, to show any sign of life, however small. “I-I can’t… y-you have to-”

“Well, well, well, isn’t this an interesting turn of events…?” 

 The entire group jolted in genuine fear as they all turned to see Bill hovering over them once more, fully recovered from the previous attacks launched against him. The Gems were all immediately on high alert, with Ford joining them in forming a defensive line to keep Bill away from all three of the immensely vulnerable kids. Yet even so, the dream demon largely ignored them to keep his focus set on Steven and Dipper instead. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Rosebud!” he greeted the young Gem with a faux friendly wave. “It’s a shame Pine Tree didn’t seem to make the trip back with you. I wonder why that could be…? Something’s missing here, I know it is, but what…? Let me think… Oh! I know!” 

With a simple snap of his fingers, the other half of Stepper’s shield journal appeared hovering above Bill’s hand, still somehow intact despite how violently torn apart from its other half it had been. Steven in particular gasped in awe when he saw it, a sudden flood of memories striking him all at once, though as scattered and faded as they were, far too few of them came together cohesively. 

“I-is that…?” he tried to ask, unable to even finish the question before Bill blithely answered it. 

“Sure is! Its Pine Tree’s half of your fusion’s journal!” he exclaimed, tossing the book up into the air casually. 

“B-but… how?” Pearl asked, incredulously. “Steven and Dipper aren’t fused anymore, how can their journal still exist without Stepper?”

“I’ll tell ya how,” Bill began in clearly rising anger as he continued glaring down at the boys. “SOMEBODY had to mess up the windup to a perfect pitch, the ideal deal. You and Pine Tree just couldn’t just let yourselves die nice and peacefully, huh, Rosebud? You twerps ALWAYS refuse to die! Even when I had you cracked and on the ropes, even when you were both on the verge of being wiped out of existence forever, neither of you EVER know when to quit! Well, FINE! If I can’t get rid of both of you, then at least I can have the pleasure of watching ONE of your miserable lives burn out ONCE AND FOR ALL!” 

“N-no…” Steven gasped, not even needing to think twice about what Bill was planning. Panic surged up in him as he threw himself forward, summoning a shield and tossing it in a last-ditch attempt at trying to stop this, and knowing he couldn’t stop it all the while. “NO!” 

His shield accomplished nothing. None of the others even saw it coming. And it happened so quickly that there was nothing any of them could have done about it if they had. 

In an instant, a mere, momentary second, the other half of the shield journal, Dipper’s half, went completely up in flames. 

“No!” Mabel screamed, hugging Dipper tightly as she watched Bill burn every trace left of who he was. Along with every trace that might have saved him. 

For his part, Dipper remained completely still and silent, the only shift being the cracks in his skin finally fading, his body maintaining its deathlike pallor as all his memories were reduced to nothing more than mere ashes in a matter of seconds. Everyone else’s reactions were immediate, grief and outrage overtaking them all as they lashed out, each of them, from the Gems, to Stan and Ford, to Lapis, rushing forward to launch a full-scale attack against the dreams demon out of sheer fury alone. Acting on the same mournful, maddening impulse, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl swiftly came together to form Alexandrite, her towering form scaling up to roughly the same size as Bill’s current shape. She threw her first punch just as Bill was finishing discarding the ashes of the journal, letting them scatter aimlessly across the Nightmare Realm before he got to work deflecting the fusion’s assault. At the same time, Lapis flew high, creating watery platforms to give both Stan and Ford a boost as they threw themselves at the demon with mutually furious shouts, any and all regard for their own safety forgotten in light of what they’d just lost. Surprisingly, Bill had no taunting quips to tease them with as this chaotic brawl unfolded, largely since he was beside himself with gleeful, sadistic laughter over the devastation and despair he’d just caused, and over the innocent life he’d just effectively put to an early, empty end. 

As this chaotic brawl unfurled, Mabel continued to cling onto Dipper, awash in perhaps the worst grief she’d ever felt in her life as she poured it out in an endless round of loud, agonized sobs. Between those sobs, she kept whispering heartbroken pleas to her lost brother, begging him to somehow come back to her, to not leave her behind, to stay with her… even though he was already so clearly gone. 

At the same time, Steven also lingered close by the twins, completely shellshocked as he stared down at Dipper and nothing else. His own tears were completely silent as they streamed down his cheeks, his mind numb and racing all at the same time. He almost made another attempt at healing Dipper, until he realized it wouldn’t do any good, it wouldn’t be enough to bring him back. Nothing would… save for the very half of the shield journal that now was no more. 

Steven only barely managed to glance up to see Bill land a heavy blow on Alexandrite, enough to split the livid fusion up and send all three of the Gems flying back. Another swift, violent blast did the same to Stan, Ford, and Lapis, though fortunately the blue Gem managed to erect an aquatic shield to keep any of them from getting badly hurt. By now, it was apparent that Bill’s jovial tune had shifted into annoyance with the ongoing onslaught, and he had a plan in mind to put a succinct stop to it. A plan that was particularly cruel even in the aftermath of what he’d just done. 

Much to everyone’s surprise, Bill disappeared, without making a single remark in edgewise and leaving them all to land their attacks on the now empty space he’d just occupied. As lost to their mutual despair as they were, neither Steven or Mabel noticed him pop up behind them, at least until he suddenly reached right past them both to abruptly grip Dipper by the front of his shirt. The pair screamed, startled and scared as Bill harshly yanked his prone form away from them, pulling his body far out of their reach before either of them could so much as think to try and stop him. 

“Dipper!” Mabel cried, desperate to see her brother, whatever was actually left of him now, finally be safe and out of the dream demon’s malicious range. 

“Put him down, Bill!” Ford shouted, absolutely livid despite the tears still brimming in his eyes. 

“Nah, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll hang onto Pine Tree for a bit,” Bill remarked, holding Dipper by the back of his vest as he hung loose and limp from his hand. “After all, it’s not like he’ll be waking up anytime soon, so why don’t save you the trouble of figuring out what to do with his cold, empty husk here? After all, I’ve been wanting to take one of my favorite puppets for another go, for old time’s sake.”

A harsh, shared gasp escaped Steven and Mabel alike at this, a whole host of incredibly unpleasant memories filling them both as they realized exactly what Bill intended to do. Mabel reacted first, acting in impulse and panic alone as she lifted her grappling hook with shaking hands, hoping it could somehow manage to pull her brother’s body away from him. Yet before she could even hope to fire it, before any of the others could even try to stop him either, Bill swiftly did the unthinkable. And, with essentially nothing to stop him and no deal needed to grant him access, he easily slipped into Dipper’s lifeless, seemingly empty body, callously taking it over to use as his own again, just as he had once before. 

Suddenly “Dipper” moved, and yet everyone instantly knew it wasn’t him. Because when his eyes opened, they were merely thin black slits against a garish, glowing yellow, every bit as eerily unnatural as the wide, demented, leering grin that split across his face as he beamed down at the horrified group below him. “Ah, now isn’t this nostalgic!” Bill smirked as he looked over his stolen form. “Pine Tree’s every bit as stringy and pathetic as I remember him being. Would’ve thought that him learning how to swing that dinky sword of his around would have gotten him at least a few more muscles, but ah well. Once a wimp, always a wimp, I guess.”

As shocked and distraught by this horrendous turn of events as everyone was, no one really knew what to say or do outside of the silent, shaken tears they were all shedding over the downright sadistic way Bill had found to twist the knife even further into each of their hearts. Mabel practically fell apart at the mere sight of her possessed brother’s body, knowing that if Dipper was actually aware of anything that was happening, he’d hate what Bill was doing to him, just as he hated it so much before. Lapis was the first to actually try to do something about it, however, flying fast to get up to Bill’s level with an infuriated shout. She had a massive, downright deadly swath of water at the ready to attack him, an immediate threat that the dream demon made not a single move to try and block or evade as he simply smiled at the blue Gem, his hands held behind his back as he addressed her evenly. 

“Whatcha gonna do with all that, Water Wings?” he asked coyly as Lapis’ bombardment was brought to a grinding halt mere inches away from his puppet’s face. “Drown me? That’d be fun! I didn’t get to have a taste of that action the last time I took Pine Tree’s body for a ride; stabbing and broken bones, sure, but no drowning! Can you believe it? What’s the fun of playing with a puppet if you don’t get to watch it go limp face-down in a puddle of wa-”

“STOP IT!” Lapis shouted, sobbing heavily as her aquatic attack fell apart completely. “Just STOP it and get out of him and leave him alone! Just…” her wings faltered as she covered her face, unable to bear so much as even looking at “Dipper” like this. “J-just leave him alone… please…”

“Sorry! No can do, Water Wings!” Bill said simply as he allowed himself to drift back away from the blue Gem. “Like I said, I’m hanging onto Pine Tree for a bit. But… I might be willing to let him go early in exchange for a certain little… trinket…” 

The dream demon’s stolen smile widened, his golden sights landing on Ford once again. The author wavered under Bill’s--under his nephew’s--focused stare, and even moreso under the tearful, tense glances the Gems all sent his way. Once again, he’d found himself at an impossible crossroads, in a deadly trap that Bill had so carefully set for them all that had no way out; or at least, no way out that would result in all of them leaving with their lives. “I-I already told you…” Ford said as steadily as he could possibly manage. “I don’t have it.”

“Then get it,” Bill deadpanned, his smile turning into an irritated scowl. “I have all the time in the world to wait for another random rift back to your dimension to open up for you to go grab it. And now,” his icy smirk returned as he perched a patient hand under his puppet’s chin. “So does Pine Tree.”

Ford shuddered, the weight of this disastrous situation falling upon him all at once. He knew well what was at stake here, a fact that Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl all knew just as well as he did as they all looked to him expectantly. Bill had them all exactly where he wanted them, he had perfectly plotted this entire sinister scheme out right from the beginning and was set to see it through all the way to the end. And in the end, he’d given them all a terrible ultimatum: to risk the rift and the very fate of their world itself… or never even have so much as a chance at saving Dipper’s life, however small that chance might be now. A choice that none of them even began to know how to make. 

It was a weighty choice Steven was well aware of too, even if several of the others present weren’t. His eyes were wide as he looked over at Ford and the Gems, inferring that his guardians had somehow found out about the rift too, even if he didn’t know how. Even so, he remembered well just how the author had warned him and Dipper about the rift’s power, about how devastating it could be if Bill ever got his hands on it. And he had no doubt that was exactly what the dream demon was playing at now as he forced them to essentially pick between someone they all cared so much about and the very world they all shared. It was an awful proposition, one that had no real right answer in any regard. One life or many. Both equally as precious, and both equally at risk of annihilation. 

There has to be another way… Steven’s thoughts echoed in his grief-stricken mind, his heart aching as he looked back to Dipper, or “Bipper”, as Mabel had called him once before. There had to be something, anything he could do to stop this, to save Dipper, to save the world. And, as he happened to lift his shirt up a bit to take a peek at the stone on his stomach, he instantly came up with a way to do exactly that. 

“So, Sixer?” Bill asked casually, clearly assured of his victory. “What’ll it be?”

Ford shook his head, his mouth dry and his heart racing as his mind frantically searched for a solution he simply didn’t have, not this time, not to something like this. “I… I don’t-”

“Wait!” Steven’s sudden call startled just about everyone, even catching Bill off guard as he glided forward. “W-wait! Stop, I-I…”

“What is it now, Rosebud?” Bill scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “Can’t you see the grown-ups are bartering here?”

“I think I know something you’d like even more than what Mr. Ford can give you,” Steven said quickly, sternly as he stared the dream demon down. 

“Oh yeah?” Bill perked up in sudden, knowing interest, his gaze already drifting toward the young Gem’s stomach. “And what might that ‘something’ be…?”

“...This,” Steven lifted his shirt up, revealing his newly-healed Gem glistening upon it. 

“Steven, no!” the Gems all shouted in frightened unison. However, Steven himself was the one to stop them from approaching him by erecting a large, pink bubble around himself and Bill alone. 

“S-Steven?” Mabel whispered, her tearful eyes wide with fear as she looked to him in apt alarm. 

“Kid, what are you doing?!” Stan asked just as incredulously. 

For his part, Steven offered none of them any answers, even as a few of them began beating against his bubble in a fervent, desperate attempt at trying to stop the young Gem’s risky plan. “You do want it, right?” Steven asked Bill, his tone and his manner alike unwavering. 

“You know I do, Rosebud,” Bill grinned cordially. “But are you sure you wanna give something that valuable up for poor little Pine Tree here? That’s basically like--wait, no it is trading a priceless gemstone in for a comatose corpse. Doesn’t really seem all that fair when you think about it.”

“It is fair,” Steven insisted firmly. “T-to me. I want him back. I… I need him back.”

“Really? After all the terrible things he said to you?” Bill asked with a small, amused chuckle. “I don’t get you, Rosebud. You always put your neck out for people who don’t care about you.”

“That’s not true!” Steven protested resiliently. “Dipper does care about me! I know he does...” He placed a gentle hand against his heart, remembering the very moment that Dipper had proven just how much he did care. The moment he’d vowed to stay with him, even with a practically fatal crack torn clear across their gem. Even when they were both falling apart at the seems. He’d stayed, he’d cared, he’d refused to let go of him, to hold on to him, no matter what the cost. 

Which was exactly why Steven knew it was his turn to return the favor. To refuse to let go of him, to hang onto whatever was left of Dipper, in the hopes that it could somehow save him after all. 

“Whatever you say, Rosebud,” Bill rolled his eyes dryly. “But fine. Who am I to turn down a good bargain, especially since you’ve made such a generous offer? Besides, I’m sure it’s bound to lift at least a little guilt off your shoulders seeing as how you were basically the one who got Pine Tree into this whole mess by asking him to fuse with you in the first place…”

“Y-yeah…” Steven’s confidence finally faltered at this, remorse welling up in his expression as he admitted the truth to this awful fact. That if he’d never asked, never begged Dipper to form Stepper with him in the first place, then at least he might have found a way to spare his life instead of gravely endangering him, his memories, and everything else in the process. “I know…”

“Oh well, no use in crying over a chopped Pine Tree!” Bill quipped enthusiastically as he extended a hand out to Steven in offering. “So what do you say, Rosebud? Your gem in exchange for his empty shell. Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Steven hesitated, for just a moment as he looked to hand Bill was presenting him with, somehow covered in the dream demon’s telltale blue flames that never seemed to actually burn. At the same time, he could hear the others just outside of his bubble, still pounding against its surface with everything they had in the hopes of keeping this terrible transaction from taking place. 

“Steven, please!” Lapis cried, lashing out against his bubble with successive water whips. “Don’t do this!”

“Yeah, man! Don’t listen to him!” Amethyst added just as desperately as she punched the side of the bubble brutally.

“You can’t trust him, you know that, Steven!” Ford practically pleaded as he floated alongside Pearl, who strangely said nothing amidst her tears, both of her hands tightly pressed against her mouth as she shook her head fearfully. 

“Steven,” Garnet spoke up, her tone tight and rigid to the point that it was practically shaking. “We’ll find another way to help Dipper. Do NOT give Bill your gem.”

Steven finally glanced back at the group at this, wanting to tell them he had to, that there was no other option, that it was either his gem, the world, or Dipper. And that really, between those three things, only two of them actually mattered in the grand scheme of things. But he stopped when he caught sight of Mabel, her face nearly pressed against his bubble, her eyes shining with mournful tears as she wept softly, her attention fully focused on him instead of her possessed brother this time around. 

“S-Steven… please…” she begged him in a tiny, frail whisper, so soft he only barely managed to hear it at all. “I-I… I can’t lose you both…”

He stilled at this, a small, terse breath escaping him as he realized exactly what he was about to do here. Exactly what he was about to give up and exactly what that might cost him. True, he didn’t know what would become of him if his gem was taken from him, but given just how agonizing it had been for him when that gem was cracked, he had a hunch that its absence would likely do him far more harm than good. And even more than that, he still had no idea what Bill planned to do with it when he did get his hands on it, much less why he even wanted it to begin with. Indeed, what he was about to do was an incredible, potentially deadly risk, and Steven knew that, he was prepared for that outcome, no matter what.

And yet he still couldn’t shake that same resounding thought from before:

There has to be another way.

There had to be another way… and as another sudden memory dawned on Steven, the very memory of what had nearly torn his friendship with Dipper apart in the first place at the start of this entire disaster, he knew he’d found that way. He could only hope it’d be enough to keep them both alive in the end. To make sure that Mabel wouldn’t have to go home without them. 

“Yes,” he said unflinchingly as he turned back to Bil. “It’s a deal.”

The shared cry of alarm that rose up from the others was lost on Steven as he reached forward, ready to do whatever he could to set things right and knowing well what might happen if he couldn’t. Yet even so he stayed the course, remaining calm and steady as he took Bill’s outstretched hand and shook it squarely. 

The moment he did, he shut his eyes tightly, digging deep inside himself for a power he knew he had access to, a power he’d never really tried to use intentionally before now. For a split second, he silently pleaded with his gem for it to work before Bill could catch on, and miraculously enough, his gem seemed to hear and heed him just fine. Because in an instant, a connection was made, one that he could feel overtaking both him and Bill alike as their hands remained intertwined, even as he turned their deal completely on its head. 

As he began to embark upon his other way entirely. 

When Steven opened his eyes again a second later, the swirling colors of the Nightmare Realm were gone, replaced with a dense, dark, colorless forest. Each of its trees were dead and decaying, their lofty branches stripped of every single leaf as they creaked amidst the dull, dry breeze sweeping through them. By all accounts, this forest was lifeless and empty, just about the last thing Steven had hoped to see in what he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be Dipper’s mindscape. But even so, the fact that his mindscape still existed at all was a reassuring sign in and of itself. A sign that pointed to the possibility that maybe he wasn’t as far gone as Bill had claimed after all. 

“WHAT IN THE--ROSEBUD!” Speaking of the dream demon, his outraged shout echoed through the entire mindscape, rumbling through the trees as Steven spun around to face him. Here, he was back in his usual triangular form, his momentous size scaled down considerably as he glared at the young Gem relentlessly. “What did you DO?!”

Steven flinched but quickly regained his nerve, knowing that he couldn’t back down now that he’d already managed to make it this far. “I-I-”

“SHUT UP!” Bill snapped, his form flashing red in raw fury. “I know what you did! What, did you really think dragging us both into Pine Tree’s empty head here would change anything? Cause it WON’T! You still owe me one gem, Rosebud, so PAY UP!”

“H-hold on,” Steven advised as calmly as he could. “Just… hold on a minute. I-I… I want to make another deal with you.”

“Ha! You really think I’d be dumb enough to let you pull the wool over my eyes TWICE in a row?” Bill scoffed harshly. “Forget it, kid! You ain’t getting squat outta me!”

“B-but you’ll like this deal even more than the other one,” Steven pressed, earnestly and anxiously. “Just hear me out. I-I know Dipper’s still in here somewhere; I can… I can feel it,” he lied, knowing that he couldn’t, at least not clearly. Still, that wasn’t something Bill needed to know about, especially not at a moment like this. “Give me a chance to find him. If I do, if I can bring him back somehow, then you don’t get my gem; and you have to get out of his body and never, ever possess it again.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever, Rosebud,” Bill deadpanned, hardly phased by these terms. “What’s in it for me when you fail? Which you will, by the way, just saying.”

“I-If I can’t find him…” Steven took in a deep breath, knowing he was about to put everything on the line with this lofty contract. And yet if he succeeded, if he really did somehow save Dipper after all, then it would all be worth it. “Then not only can you have my gem. Y-you… you can destroy my memories too, all of them, just like you did with his.”

“Ohohohoh! I like the sound of that!” Bill exclaimed brightly as he circled the young Gem. “I get the rock I’ve been after AND I get to kill two pesky twerps with one stone, while inevitably breaking the hearts and spirits of all your friends and loved ones in the process! Great thinking, Rosebud! I’m in!”

Steven watched as Bill’s outstretched hand lit up in blue fire once more, in offering of another deal he couldn’t quite see the outcome to. Yet as afraid as he admittedly was, he knew he couldn’t let that fear stop him now, not when he knew who was counting on him. He also knew exactly what the cost would be if he did fail, a high penalty that could ultimately snuff out both his and Dipper’s lives in one fell swoop. Yet despite that cost, if there was still a chance, still hope that he could succeed, that they’d both come back alive and well, then that hope alone would be more than enough. 

And so, Steven found himself reaching out to shake Bill’s hand once more.

“Great! Then you better get looking, kid!” Bill exclaimed cheerfully as their handshake came to an end. “Oh, by the way, Rosebud, you should know that this whole thing is basically a fool’s errand since there’s just about NOTHING left of Pine Tree’s consciousness for you to find. So good luck! You’ll need it.”

With that, Bill disappeared in a bright flash, no doubt going to wait in the wings and watch to see what might happen next. Steven seized up in sudden anxiety the moment he was left alone, realizing that he had essentially no leads to speak of when it came to finding Dipper. The woods surrounding him were lonely and dark, without a single trace of anyone else around amidst the inky shadows between the trees. Even so, he pressed forward through them, unsure of exactly where he was going as he began a search that both his and Dipper’s very lives depended on. “Uh… Dipper?!” he called, his own voice echoing back at him through the trees. “A-are you in here? Oh, wait, of course, you’re in here, this is your head, but uh… c-could you maybe come out? I… really need to find you… please…”

Steven trailed off with a small, sad sigh, stopping in the middle of another empty clearing to look around. Once again, a familiar bout of fear filled his mind, though that fear wasn’t for his own potentially grim fate in any way. Instead, it was for the possibility that Bill was right, that there really was no trace left of Dipper to be found, even inside his own mind. Guilt welled up inside of the young Gem’s heart viciously as that thought permeated his mind, the same sort of guilt that had prompted him into essentially gambling his very own life to save Dipper’s. Because if he couldn’t actually find a way to bring him back to himself, then at the very least he deserved to share the same kind of demise. After how he’d put them both in such a horrible position to begin with, it was only fair. 

He was prepared to continue his search when suddenly, a sparse speck of light peeking through the nearby trees caught his attention. As dark as this forest as a whole was, it was a surprising sight to see, which was why Steven curiously, cautiously approached it, only to find that it was something akin to a tiny firefly hovering just a bit above the ground. Even from a distance, Steven could feel a sense of comforting warmth emanating from its glow, and he couldn’t help but smile hopefully as he slowly reached out to gently cup it in his hands. 

“D-Dipper?” he whispered wonderingly. “Is that you…?”

It wasn’t, of course, but Steven soon discovered what this light actually was as his hands carefully touched it. Because in the blink of an eye, the dark forest disappeared, replaced with a sun-drenched, grassy hill as a familiar scene played out before him.

“I’m Steven, by the way. You’ve already met Lion, of course. And this is my friend, Connie.”

“Nice to meet you! Even if it was by accident.”

“I’m Dipper and the girl losing herself inside your, uh… lion’s mane is my sister, Mabel.”

Upon this simple greeting, the boys exchanged another brief, yet kindly smile, the first of many they’d share as their close-knit friendship only grew from there. 

And just like that, it was over. Steven gasped as he found himself back in the shadowy wood, silence echoing around him on all sides once more. He stared at the flickering light before him in amazement as he realized what it was: a memory. A memory of the very day they’d first met back at the beginning of the summer, to be exact. A bright, joyful recollection that filled the young Gem’s heart with hope as another newfound thought struck him. Dipper’s memories weren’t gone after all; sparks of them still remained, however small and dwindling those sparks might be. All Steven had to do was reignite those sparks into a flame bright enough to bring Dipper back, to help him remember who he really was.

And fortunately, he happened to find yet another spark of memory floating just a few feet away. He rushed to it, reaching for it eagerly to find both of them embracing on a mountain in the aftermath of a battle that had never happened. After both of them had figured out how to be strong in the real way together. 

“Dipper! I’m so glad you’re ok! I was starting to think something happened in there!”

“I’m fine, Steven. Well… physically, at least…”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t do it. You were right; turns out the Multi-Bear didn’t deserve it at all. I beat him and everything, but when it came down to killing him… it didn’t feel right… I guess this really does make me a wimp, huh?”

“Are you kidding? Not at all! I think deciding not to go through with it makes you even braver than if you actually had done it!”

Steven smiled, remembering well how proud he’d been of Dipper at that moment. That pride turned to relief as he received yet another recollection just a bit down the forest’s unformed path. A memory that came from the aftermath of a battle they’d only narrowly managed to win, one of the first few of many decisive victories they’d see over the summer. 

“Well… I’m not gonna lie. Pretty much everything hurts. In fact, I’m pretty sure I probably have a concussion and might need stitches in a few places. But I’m sure it’s nothing Steven and his, uh, healing spit can’t fix, right?”

“Of course, Dipper! I’d be more than happy to heal you up!”

“Ok, ow! Like I said, everything still hurts, Steven! You haven’t healed me yet!”

“Oh, sorry!”

He’d always heal him, anytime he might need it. Even now, when he needed healing most inside his own mind. The next memory he found was a moment he deeply treasured,, a moment of true, earnest understanding between them both, the moment he believed they had gone from mere friends to best friends. 

“It’s like we said… we’re really different. And… maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Steven, holing myself away from everyone just to research stuff and forcing myself to spend all my time alone for it… really isn’t a good thing… If there’s one thing fusing with you taught me, it’s that.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I mean, being fused and essentially sharing a mind and body was really weird and uncomfortable and overwhelming, but… I think I finally understand what Garnet meant when she told Maven that fusion turns you into something greater than yourself…”

“I-it really does… It’s like you can feel everything that you’re feeling and everything that the other person is feeling. And when both of you are feeling good, its… it’s incredible. It feels like there’s nothing in the world that could bring you down from that. And…. that’s what I wanted for us, I guess…”

And then… once what had been damaged between them was finally repaired, that’s exactly what both of them got. 

“Well… I do know of a certain fusion who might be able to do an even better job of lending them an extra hand, or two, or four…”

“Oh, Dipper! Do you really mean it?!”

“I do. But only if we’re both on the same page about it this time.”

“Right. Well, I guess we better—whoa!” 

Then they danced, they fused, the harmony between their hearts flowing freely, openly, just as it was really meant to. Just how fusion was supposed to be. 

Tears filled Steven’s eyes as he let the warmth of that memory fall over him, cherishing their fusion, cherishing their friendship and all that it meant to him. The sweetness of that memory stood in stark contrast, however to the next, one that had happened in a moment of uncertain desperation. A moment when something important had been taken, and neither of them knew if they’d actually have a chance at getting it back. 

“Steven, wait. I-I don’t know if I’ll ever get this chance again if… if something goes wrong out there, so…  I just wanted to let you know that I’m so sorry… This whole mess is my fault, and I should have been the only one to suffer the consequences of that stupid deal! But then you got dragged into all of this, even though you had no parts in it at all! Bill’s been making you absolutely miserable all day just because you’re trying to protect me, which is something you shouldn’t even have to worry about in the first place!”

“Why not? Dipper, you’re one of my best friends, of course, I’d want to keep you safe! I wish none of this had ever happened just as much as you do, but I’m glad I was at least there to know about it the moment it happened instead of not knowing how much trouble you’re in at all! And don’t worry; now we have Connie and Mabel to help us! With all of us working together, we’ll have you back in your body in no time, I promise.”

“R-right… Well then… good luck. I’m sure we’ll all be needing it…”

He’d kept his promise to Dipper once. And as far as Steven was concerned, he was determined to do it again now that the stakes were higher than ever before. And, even if he couldn’t actually save himself in the end, at least he hoped he’d find a way to save Dipper. At least he hoped to finally set everything that had gone wrong between them right before it was too late. 

He was in tears in the next memory, awash in guilt that felt all too similar to what he felt now. Guilt over the realization of just how much he’d hurt him, just how much he hated hurting him whenever he did. 

“Dipper, I-I’m so sorry! I finally understand why you were so upset with me and Mabel about what happened yesterday! It’s because we didn’t trust you! B-because I didn’t trust you, a-and that’s why I almost erased your memories back when we were dealing with the society! I thought you couldn’t handle it all but I was wrong! I was only thinking about how bad I felt then, about how scared I was yesterday that I didn’t even t-think about how… about… about anything else! You’re right… I-I… I’m selfish… Just like my mom was…”

“Y-you guys didn’t… I was just… I… I was wrong. About Stan, about the portal, about… well, just about everything. In fact, when it comes to the big things this summer, there’s probably about only a handful of times when I’ve actually been right. And I guess I was just so tired of being wrong about everything all the time that I wanted to blame it on someone other than myself so… maybe I sort of just… pinned it all on you two. Which is something else that’s wrong, when you think about it, because you guys totally don’t deserve that. You did what you thought was right. And… in the end, it turned out for the best. I mean, it brought Great Uncle Ford back to where he belongs, it led to us finding the Gems’ memories—for better or worse—it gave us the answers to so many of the questions we had this summer. So… I’m sorry for holding it all against you guys. What happened yesterday… it changed pretty much everything. But the one thing that it shouldn’t change because of any of it is us.”

They’d found a way to fix what had been broken between them then. But it hadn’t mattered in the end, it didn’t matter now, because Steven knew he’d thoughtlessly, carelessly torn open that rift between them again, with a mistake that had been so foolish and selfish. A plan that had he had only really come up with to ease his own worries and woes instead of Dipper’s, he realized. No wonder he’d said he was just like Bill… he was right in so many different ways. 

Yet in so many others, he wasn’t. 

Because another memory showed them fusing again, no words exchanged between them as they danced, literally lighter than air, their smiles warm and mutual as that cherished harmony flowed between them again. They laughed lightly, their hearts easy and free together, until they reached the point that those two separate hearts joined to become one. As their bodies and minds came together, as the line blurred between them until there was no space, no separation left at all. 

Until Steven and Dipper became Stepper. 

Then they were Stepper again, a frightened fusion lost in a horrendous, hateful place they had no chance of escaping. Their gem was cracked, their mind damaged, their lives both in grave danger. Yet even despite all that, they held onto each other, onto their bond, for everything it was worth. And what it was worth to both of them was something far more than mere words could have ever expressed.

“I don’t want to break away from you. Our friendship means so much to me. You mean so much to me!”

“Y-you… stayed with me… s-so I’m staying with you…”

“Steven…”

Steven gasped, his eyes wide with alarm as he was pulled out of this most recent memory. Suddenly, he could sense something behind him, a break in the massive, seemingly endless forest as another wide clearing opened up within it. The sparks of memory had led him here, to the forest’s largest, most distinct feature: a large, lofty tree, one that surprisingly bore signs of life in the sparse, yet fading leaves hanging limp from its branches. Several of those branches curved inward, converging on each other to create a small enclosure toward the top of the tree. And, floating unconsciously within the center of that enclosure, was none other than Dipper himself. 

Steven froze at the mere sight of him, a sharp, stunned gasp escaping him as he kept his focus on that spot in the tree high above him. Just as he’d been before, Dipper was completely out of it, his eyes closed and his expression listless as he hovered in what almost seemed to be a peaceful sleep. He looked faint, his colors dull and faded as silence echoed in the area all around him. At least until Steven made an attempt at breaking through to him from far below. 

“Dipper! Can you hea-”

“Ah, ah, ah, Rosebud!” Bill chastised as he suddenly appeared out of thin air right beside Steven. “You wouldn’t wanna wake Pine Tree up, now would you?”

“Y-yes, I would!” Steven retorted brazenly. “I found Dipper, which means you have to keep up your end of the deal. Now get out of his mind and leave us alone!”

“Now, now, Rosebud, if I remember correctly, the terms YOU laid out were that you had to find a way to bring him back,” Bill pointed out, glancing up at Dipper. “And as far as I can tell, Pine Tree’s still completely out of commission. Which means your gem and your memories are still on the line.”

“Y-yeah, but-”

“In fact, you know what? Why don’t we speed this along a little…?” Steven flinched as a bright blue flame ignited over Bill’s palm, one that was large and devastating as it flickered with a thirst for destruction. “I’ve got places to be, space rocks to cash in, so let’s clear the slate, permanently!”

“No!” Steven shouted, leaping high off the ground at the very same time Bill launched his deadly flame toward Dipper. The young Gem floated as fast as he possibly could, essentially racing the dream demon’s sadistic fire and twisted ambitions all at once, all in the hopes that he could stop them both. In the desperate need to finally save Dipper, even if he couldn’t save himself.  

The flame was gaining, his own heart pounding as he summoned a shield to jump off of as a springboard to gain some extra speed. Somewhere far behind him, he could hear Bill’s demented laughter echoing through the woods, his flames drawing nearer and nearer to Dipper’s unmoving, unknowing form. Steven cried as that flame passed him, knowing that he wasn’t going to make it in time, that he was already too late to stop this, knowing that he couldn’t be too late to stop this, that he had to save him, he had to bring him back, he had to, he was going to-

And he did. 

Somehow, with speed Steven didn’t even know he possessed, he soared through the air toward the top of the tree, his gem flashing as it provided him the strength he lacked to succeed. He cut the fire off just in time, reaching their shared target just before it could. And as soon as he did, he formed a sturdy, steady bubble around them both as he crashed into Dipper, throwing his arms around him and locking him in a tight, tearful embrace. As the flames slammed into it and abruptly burnt out on contact, Steven still hung onto Dipper for dear life, leaning his head against his shoulder as he offered him a solemn message, one that, while soft in its delivery, managed to speak volumes all the same.

All it took were three simple words Steven whispered gently into Dipper’s ear. Three simple words that were more than enough to get Dipper to finally, finally open his eyes. 

“NO!” Bill practically screamed in raw, intense fury as he watched his devious plans unfurl all around him. The once-dead mindscape began to bloom back to life, lush green needles sprouting on the pine trees dotted across it, its black sky dawning with newfound sunshine as the memories that had been ripped out of it were restored. Amidst this swift restoration, Bill found himself being ripped out of the mindscape instead, bound by the very deal he had agreed to, especially as an all-new blinding, purifying light began to spill across the forest. “ROSEBUD! PINE TREE!” the dream demon shouted hotly, unable to do a single thing as he was forced out of the mindscape that was in the midst of being harmoniously joined to another. 

“ROSE TREE!”

Everyone took in a shocked, startled gasp as something suddenly shifted, a stark change taking place amidst what they’d been anxiously watching for what felt like ages now. During that time, both Steven and Bill had remained completely still, their eyes shut and the young Gem’s bubble still erected to keep each of them out so they wouldn’t interfere. None of them knew what to make of it, and they were even more at a loss for words as Steven suddenly pulled Dipper’s supposedly possessed body forward into an unexpected hug. The very moment he did, Bill was abruptly tossed out of Dipper’s body entirely, flung far across the Nightmare Realm with an intense amount of force and an infuriated shriek. At the same time, a telltale warm glow surrounded Steven and Dipper, the bubble around them dissipating as that light overtook them both and brought them both together again. 

And brought Stepper back together again. 

He opened his eyes with a small, startled gasp, confusion filling his mind first and foremost as he looked around his inexplicable surroundings. “W-what… where…?” he trailed off, glancing down at all four of his hands, his bewilderment only increasing as he looked himself over. “Wait… when did we fuse--” He cut himself off with a sudden sob, one of his upper hands covering his mouth as his lower arms held onto each other tightly. “Y-you… you’re back…” He smiled warmly, joyful tears streaming down his cheek, even if half of him didn’t understand where those tears were coming from. “Back? Back from where?”

“H-he’s back?” Mabel suddenly spoke up, tears brimming in her eyes as she floated forward a bit, the others all hanging back as they stared at Stepper in apt awe. 

“He’s back!” Stepper nodded happily, though that happiness soon shifted right back into a puzzled frown. “Mabel? What’s going o-” 

Once again, he was interrupted as Mabel threw herself at him, hugging his midsection tightly as his lower arms readily returned it. The others were all quick to join her, each of them engulfing the fusion in a unified, delighted embrace. As overwhelmed with relief as they all were, none of them had a single word to say, only soft, contented smiles and silent, satisfied tears over the realization that somehow, some way, Dipper and Steven were both back, their memories mutually restored. Finally, their boys were safe; finally, they were whole. 

“O-ok, not that this isn’t really sweet and everything, but I’m confused,” Stepper said with a small, uncertain chuckle as everyone finally released him, though the hug his own upper arms had locked him in still remained. “What’s going on?”

“PINE BUD!” 

As this absolutely outraged shout rattled the entire Nightmare Realm, Stepper jolted, a rush of stark realization striking him, even as Stan, Ford, and the Gems all rushed to take up a protective stance in front of the fusion. But as soon as he spotted Bill rushing across the shifting spacescape toward them, all of his questions were abruptly, immediately answered. 

“Oh… I remember now…” he scowled, all four of his hands curling up into tight fists as he glared up at the towering dream demon firmly. 

“Out of my way, chumps!” Bill seethed, wasting no time with any of the others as he swiftly shoved all of them aside to get to Stepper. “YOU…” he growled, his form a bright, blood crimson as he offered the fusion a look of absolute hatred. “Do you have ANY idea what you’ve just done!? You cost me a gem, you cost me your dimension-”

“And you cost us our memories,” Stepper countered sternly, not showing a single sign of fear against the dream demon, not this time. Not after everything he’d done. “You almost cost us our lives. I’d say this makes us more than even.”

“NOT EVEN CLOSE!” Bill shouted, his hands aglow in blazing blue flames. “I was ready, I was THERE, set to wipe both of you miserable twerps from out of existence once and for all, and then you just had to go and turn the tables and CHEAT to get your way!”

“Oh, I cheated?” Stepper asked with an incredulous scoff. “I cheated?! Did you just forget about how you pinned us down and cracked our gem!? Or how you LIED to us, how you gave us no other choice but to give you our journal, our memories, our identities?!” The fusion was absolutely livid by this point, to the point that even Bill seemed surprised by just how intense and outraged his tone and expression alike were as his anger flowed out of him freely. Anger for just how much torment this monster had put both of his halves, his family and friends, everything and everyone he cared about through as a whole. “All you do, all you’ve EVER done, is cheat and lie to get what you want, all because you can’t get enough of tearing innocent lives apart just because you think it’s funny.  News flash, Bill: it’s NOT funny and it NEVER has been! And that’s why I’m DONE watching you use, and manipulate and hurt me and the people I love! It’s over, Bill,” Stepper finished firmly, Mabel, Stan, Ford, and all of the Gems regrouping by his side so they could all face the dream demon together. “We’re not letting you get away with it this time.”

Bill surprisingly said nothing as the group before him pulled their weapons back out, their resolve renewed now that they were all truly back together again. By all accounts, the dream demon seemed caught off guard by such a united, unflinching resistance against him, but even so, he wasn’t about to back down that easily, especially when he still had the home advantage on his side. “Oh, you wanna bet…?” he hissed darkly, launching his first round of fireballs at the group. Lapis quickly deflected them with a powerful burst of water as Garnet and Pearl rushed forward amidst the resounding steam, both of them hitting Bill at just the right angles in attacks he hadn’t been ready for. As he was distracted, Stan and Amethyst teamed up as the conman tossed the purple Gem at the dream demon, her whip spinning around her all the while as Ford kept up his own line of steady offense with his powerful blaster. Stepper himself was more than ready to join the fray, yet just before he could try to summon his shield journal, a sudden hand taking his stopped him. 

“Hey,” Mabel said, looking up at him with a soft, hopeful smile. “Got room for one more in there?”

“Always,” Stepper laughed warmly, not hesitating to sweep her up into a wide, lighthearted spin, one that was more than enough to bring Mabel into the fusion. 

Dipevebel let out a steadying, contented sigh as the light faded from their form, though their focus was quick to shift back to the battle raging before them. “Ready? Ready,” they grinned, the now-replenished shield journal appearing about one of their hands while Maven’s grappling shield materialized in one of their others. “Let’s do this.”

And with that, they rushed ahead to join the fray, using their third arm to end a shield flying at Bill point-blank just as another one of Pearl’s spears struck him. The dream demon reeled back with an aggravated shout, but he was quick to retaliate by shooting a widespread laser blast that the others made sure to block or evade the best they could. Garnet and Stan both rushed in with the intent of landing a simultaneous pair of punches, though Bill easily avoided their blows by disappearing out of the crowd persistently attacking him. He wasn’t able to get too much distance before Dipevebel’s grappling shield struck him clean in the eye, knocking him back a bit until Amethyst held him back by latching her whip around one of his arms. Bill wasted no time in setting fire to that whip, forcing the purple Gem to release her hold on it, though while he was distracted, he failed to notice the blast that was coming at him from behind until it struck him squarely in the back. Ford grinned as he poised his blaster for another round, though by then Lapis had taken over, bombarding Bill with a heavy dulgue of water while the others all continued their steadfast assault. 

“I can’t believe it!” Ford exclaimed with an incredulous laugh as he regrouped with Dipevebel for a brief moment. “We’ve got him on the ropes. If only I’d brought my quantum destabilizer, then we’d have a sure-fire way to finish him off for good.”

“Well… there’s gotta be some other way to really defeat him… right?” Dipevebel asked with newfound curiosity. 

“...I suppose,” Ford noted as he readjusted his blaster. “But I’m hard-pressed to think of one at the moment. For now, just fending him off until our portal home reopens will have to do.”

With that, the author took off to rejoin the fray, leaving the fusion behind to think on what he’d just said. While they certainly seemed to be doing an adequate job at holding Bill off by working together, a part of Dipevebel couldn’t help but feel as though that wasn’t good enough. Not as long as they had the opportunity, however small, to finally put an end to Bill’s chaotic ambitions once and for all. 

Amidst the heavy, unified resistance he was facing on all sides, it wasn’t long before Bill turned from mere aggravation over such resistance to outright outrage. While he hadn’t been pulling his punches before, as intensely provoked as he was, the dream demon’s attacks steadily became more violent and vicious. He lashed out at the Gems first, clearly with the intent of poofing them, if not something even worse, based on the intense, wide-reaching blast he launched their way, one that they were only narrowly saved from thanks to the large shield Dipevebel cast over them just in time. Even so, Bill wasn’t anywhere close to finished yet as he unleashed another powerful burst of flaming energy at the entire group, and while it fortunately didn’t substantially harm any of them, it did manage to knock them all back to give the dream demon some space to recover and gear up his next onslaught. 

From the force of this attack, Dipevebel suddenly split, though only partially. As she reoriented herself, Mabel was admittedly confused as she realized Dipper and Steven had somehow remained together, almost as if they had thrown her out of their fusion intentionally, though she highly doubted that was the case. Even so, Stepper remained steady, still upholding his shield journal as the others all prepared themselves for whatever Bill might have in store for them next. 

“ENOUGH!” Bill shouted, clearly furious in tone and form. “You’re all way more trouble than you’re worth for a bunch of dumb old space rocks and useless humans! I’ve got MUCH better things to do with my time than take you chumps down a peg.”

“Oh, sorry, Bill,” Stepper taunted with a brazen scowl. “We didn’t mean to inconvenience you even though you’ve more than inconvenienced all of us by now!”

“Can it, Pine Bud!” Bill snapped, not hesitating to launch another fireball the fusion’s way, one that he easily deflected with a timely bubble. “You know what? I’m sick of looking at all of your stupid faces. I think it’s time to do what I SHOULD have done a LONG time ago and take care of you chumps FOR GOOD!”

Strangely, Bill didn’t make a single move to attack the group immediately. Instead, he brought both of his hands up high above his tip, his eye going completely blank, pupil-less and white to match the practically blinding glow forming over his raised hands. A glow that only seemed to be growing stronger and more powerful with each passing second as the dream demon continued to build it up. “W-what’s he doing?” Pearl asked in apt alarm. 

“No idea,” Amethyst said tensely. “But I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

“It looks like we won’t have to,” Ford smiled, relieved, as he spotted a spark of sudden energy appearing afar in the distance behind them. “Look!”

That spark soon split into a portal, none other than the very one that would lead them back to their home dimension. On the other side of it, Peridot anxiously waited, still maintaining the machine that had created it, though it was clear from her frantic tinkering that it would only remain open for so long. 

“It’s time to go!” Garnet shouted, leading the way to leap through the spacescape back toward the portal. Seeing as how they’d certainly gotten what they came here for, no one protested this plan of action as they all began an urgent race to the portal, hoping to get out of Bill’s destructive range as soon as possible. Yet strangely, for his part, Bill didn’t seem to notice their escape at all, instead completely focused on feeding power into his next attack, whatever that mysterious attack might actually be. 

However, in light of his lack of focus on them, one among the group suddenly stopped short, something that wasn’t lost on Mabel as the hand that had been clinging onto hers suddenly fell away. “S-Stepper, what are you doing?!” she exclaimed, noticing that not only had Stepper stopped heading for the portal; he’d strangely turned his attention back to Bill instead. “C’mon! We gotta get out of here!”

Stepper largely ignored Mabel’s futile attempts at pulling him along by one of his lower arms. Instead, he remained focused on Bill, focused on the opportunity right ahead of him, a chance he knew he wouldn’t get like this again anytime soon. It would be so easy to run full speed toward the portal just as the others all currently were, so easy to go home and put this mess behind both of his halves. And yet…

There would still be the inevitable risk of Bill returning, the risk of the dimensional tears the rift was causing giving way to someone else falling into his nightmarish home just as he had. And of course, the risk that Bill could get his hands on the rift and use it to unleash destruction and devastation untold upon the world. No one was safe as long as the dream demon still lurked somewhere; not Stepper, not either of his halves, not Mabel, not the Gems, not Stan and Ford, no one on Earth was free from his twisted, relentless treachery. Even as confined to the Nightmare Realm as he currently was, he was still free to spread his lies and deception to anyone who would listen, still free to subtly, quietly ruin the lives of innocent people by taking away what they loved most. Bill was a monster, no question or doubt about it. A monster who, Stepper knew, Stepper remembered had put him through so much suffering, so much unnecessary pain just for his own demented amusement. A monster who had ripped away every shred of who he really was, who had burned half of his very identity out of mere sadistic pleasure alone. A monster who had left so much ruin and anguish in his wake for the endless string of atrocities he’d committed, both past and present. Atrocities that, for the sake of himself and his friends and family, at least one half of Stepper refused to let continue any longer. 

Even if that meant he might not make it back in the process.

“Mabel…” he finally spoke, glancing back at her with the faintest ghost of a bittersweet smile. “I-I… I’m sorry…”

Mabel didn’t get a chance to say a single word before Stepper bolted forward, jumping off a shield he’d summoned to give him some extra speed as he rushed back in Bill’s direction. “Stepper!” Mabel shouted, her distraught cry catching everyone else’s attention as they drew close to the portal. 

“What the heck is he doing?!” Stan exclaimed, completely baffled. “Have they both gone nuts?! We’re trying to get AWAY from the psychotic, bloodthirsty triangle, not run right back to him!”

“He’s going after Bill…” Ford said with a gasp of terrified realization. “The portal could close up again at any minute; we’ve got to stop him before it does!”

“On it!” Lapis said, calling upon her wings to give chase after the fusion. 

At the same time, Stepper continued speeding toward Bill, who was still completely captivated in charging up his own power. The fusion had forgone his shield journal in favor of attacking the dream demon head on, letting sheer, unbridled rage overtake him as he remembered every horrible thing his foe had done. Amidst that rage, Stepper didn’t even realize the vibrant pink glow that had started brimming in his usually dark violet eyes, pink that steadily spread out from his face across his entire body, to the point that he was glowing with it. At the same time, the entire Nightmare Realm had begun to rumble from the immense power Bill was pulling from it, his devastating attack nearing completion as he still seemingly ignored Stepper’s furious approach. For his part, Stepper was set to complete that approach as he drew from his own power, or more specifically, his gem’s, the countless momentous emotions running rampant between both of his halves fueling the fire of that power into a grand, uncontrollable blaze. 

And, working on every ounce of unspeakable anger within him, Stepper unleashed that blaze upon Bill at full force. At the very same time Bill released his own. 

Titanic waves of white, destructive energy violently clashed against a pink, purifying flash. The moment these two completely opposing forces met, the reaction was stark and immediate. An incredible explosion rocked the entire realm, rippling through every part of it in searing shockwaves. Those shockwaves split over the group in the midst of escaping from the Nightmare Realm, energy from them blasting their way through the very same portal that led back to Earth. And from that portal, that energy continued spreading in swift, largely invisible flourishes, engulfing all of Gravity Falls itself in a brief, inexplicable flash of what almost seemed like lightning. 

A single moment was all it took, a show of power far too immeasurable to contain. And just as quickly as that power flooded between both dimensions, it was all over, leaving everything seemingly exactly the same. And yet, in the process, leaving a sudden shift in the very fabric of reality itself, one that would practically change everything.

Both Bill and Stepper were thrown back by the brunt of this blast, hard enough that the fusion briefly lost consciousness altogether. When he finally did manage to open his eyes again, his ears were ringing, his vision blurry and his skin no longer beaming pink. He was flying backward, not on his own accord, but by something else entirely: by Lapis and the steady, unrelenting hold she had on both of his upper arms as she carried him back toward the wavering portal. 

As another wave of the explosion’s fallout shuddered through the Nightmare Realm, Stepper forced his bleary vision focus ahead of him, hoping that he’d see not a single sign of Bill anywhere in sight. And yet, his worst fears were realized as the dream demon suddenly rose into view afar in the distance, shaken by the impact of the explosion, but hardly no worse for wear because of it. 

“N-no…” Stepper choked, his eyes wide and distraught as he realized his plan hadn’t worked. Still, he refused to let it not work, it had to work, he had to stop Bill somehow, he was going to stop Bill right here and now and he wasn’t going to stop until he did. 

“D-Dipper! S-Steven!” Lapis grunted as Stepper started aggressively struggling against her firm hold. “What are you doing?!”

“L-let me go!” he shouted hotly, his lower arms reaching up to pry his upper ones out of Lapis’ hands.

“Are you crazy?!” Lapis retorted, incredulously. “There’s no way I’m letting you get anywhere close to him again! We’re getting both of you home where you belong, NOW!”

 “Please! Lapis, you have to let me go finish him off!” Stepper practically pleaded, knowing that they were nearing the portal. Which meant that his time to act was running out. “I know I can! I-”

 “Forget it!” Lapis snapped, infuriated by his stubbornness. By his incredibly self-destructive behavior above all else, especially after everything he’d just been through. “You are NOT doing this! We almost lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again!”

Stepper continued resisting her hold, wanting to argue back with every bit of palpable fury he had left in him. Yet he stopped just shy of them reaching the portal, which itself was on the verge of sealing up completely after everyone had already safely made it through to the other side. He stilled briefly, just to hear Bill offer him one final vindictive word of farewell. A bitter reminder of once possible chance that had just slipped out of his hands once and for all: 

“Nice try, Rose Tree, but you can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ll always come back! And I’ll ALWAYS BE WATCHING YOU!”

The last thing Stepper heard before Lapis dragged him through the portal was the dream demon’s haunting, malicious laughter. Laughter that had always tormented his mind and heart from the very beginning. And now, as long as Bill would continue to survive and thrive and carry on with his ceaseless conquest of chaos and destruction, it always would. 

The portal sealed itself up in a blinding burst of light, closing up the connection between the Nightmare Realm and Earth just in time. The moment it did, Garnet wasted no time in plowing her gauntlets into the machine that had made it, knowing that the risk of keeping such a device around was far too great. In light of their harrowing escape, most of the group took the time to recover their lost breath on the floor of the author’s room, save for Stepper, who, as soon as Lapis finally released him, made it a point to get up and vent his immense frustration right off the bat. 

“Why?” he asked harshly, turning on Lapis in particular as she also rose to stand. “Why did you stop me?! Why didn’t you let me go back and finish what I started?!”

“Finish what?” Lapis shot back just as severely. “Trying to get yourself killed?! You’re lucky to even be alive right now after what you just went through, and you were just... ready to throw the life you only barely managed to get back away without a second thought!”

“That’s not what I was trying to do!” Stepper argued fiercely. “I was trying to beat Bill once and for all. I could have done it too, I was right there-”

“And then what?” Lapis countered, refusing to back down. “Even if you had destroyed him, which you didn’t, either you would have been stuck in there forever or you would have wound up destroying yourself at the same time! You weren’t thinking about what you were doing, Dipper!”

“I was thinking!” Stepper shouted hotly, ignoring the fact that she had been spot on about who had actually decided on such a deadly course of action to begin with. “I was thinking that I had a chance to finally, finally stop him and I took it. Unlike the rest of you who just ran as soon as you had the chance.”

“We had no choice but to run, Stepper,” Garnet interjected, her tone surprisingly even. “Even while working together, we all only barely managed to hold Bill back. We didn’t go to the Nightmare Realm to pick a fight with him in the first place. We went there to recover your memories, which we did. We had no reason to risk staying there any longer.”

“Yes, we did!” Stepper rebuffed resiliently. “If we’d all worked together, we could have taken Bill down easily! We could have won! And if we had, if you had all just let me take my chance and stop him, then we’d never have to worry about him hurting anyone else ever again!”

“Stepper,” Ford spoke up with a weary sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Believe me when I say that no one wants to see Bill’s downfall more than me. But that was not the proper time and place to launch such a haphazard, desperate, reckless-”

“Reckless?!” Stepper interrupted with an appalled scoff. “You think I was being reckless?! I knew what I was doing in there! I was ready for whatever might happen as long as it might work. Defeating Bill-”

“Is NOT your responsibility!” Ford cut him off in newfound frustration. “You’re both just kids! Children who shouldn’t be anywhere near Bill, much less trying to bring him to an end!”

“But I could have done it!” Stepper protested. “We’re strong enough, I’m strong enough to face him! A-and… and even if I hadn’t made it back, wouldn’t it have been worth it to finally get rid of him, to finally keep everyone, the entire Earth, safe from what he’s planning for it?”

“N-no…” Mabel muttered on the outskirts of this intense fight, her voice barely audible as she clung onto Stan’s leg for support. “It wouldn’t have been…”

“Stepper, just… chill already!” Amethyst advised anxiously. “We all want to see Bill go down just as much as you do-“

“No you don’t!” Stepper sharply shouted, all four of his hands in tight, shaking fists. 

“Yes, we do,” Pearl countered as calmly as she could. “Bill has hurt all of us in so many different ways-“

“Ohohoh, yeah, Bill’s really hurt all of you,” Stepper scoffed, an air of bitter mocking in his tone. “The worst he ever did to any of you was trick you or possess you. Well guess what? He did BOTH of those things to me! But I guess you’re right. I mean it’s not like he took away every part of who any of you are and just... burnt it to ashes like it was nothing, RIGHT?!”

A long, heavy bout of silence filled the room at this, one that was only permeated by a heavy, angry sob from Stepper himself. He could tell just from the pity-filled glances they were all sending his way that no one was on his side with this, not really. Instead, they were all seeing him for exactly what he was: a pair of largely broken boys hiding behind a fused facade that was falling apart at the seams every bit as much as each of his halves were. And under their scrutinizing stares, Stepper quickly realized he could scarcely bear the immense weight of his own mounting mistakes, of his own failure to finally stop Bill’s tyranny once and for all. His failure to take back everything the dream demon had stolen from him and then some.

So he sighed, wiping away his tears as he turned to leave entirely. “Yeah…” he muttered as he walked out of the room. “That’s what I thought.”

Mabel was the first to move to follow Stepper, awash in worry for his wellbeing on several levels after everything that just happened. Yet before she could get too far, Garnet happened to stop her with a sudden hand on her shoulder. “Let him go,” she advised with a small, tired sigh, clearly sharing Mabel’s concern for the troubled fusion. “He needs space to work through this on his own. To work through this together.”

Shield after shield was flung off the top of the temple hill, with no real regard given to where they might be going until they inevitably disappeared into the distance entirely. Stepper knew he was essentially throwing a childish temper tantrum as he tossed them haphazardly, wishing he could throw away all of the anger and resentment he was feeling just as easily. Though his tears were gone, his frustration had hardly diminished, even though that palpable fury was only really coming from one of his halves all while the other one stepped aside to let them both feel it. After all, pain like this simply demanded to be felt. 

“It’s not fair!” Stepper shouted, letting another shield fly loose over the edge of the cliffside. “We finally had the chance to beat Bill for good and they just… took it away from us! And now he’s still out there, still after the rift, after all of us! It’s like none of them even understand that! I-I know…” he sighed sadly, his less furious side finally peeking through the cracks a bit. “But… there is an upside to all this. Really?” he scoffed, finally letting his shield journal disappear as he crossed his upper arms. “Because as far as I can see, there is none. There is,” his lower hands gently found a place against his upper ones. “We made it back; both of us remember who we are again… I know it’s not the same as actually defeating Bill but… at least we managed to win that much from him… That’s something... right?”

Stepper took pause at this, his gem and his birthmark briefly flashing with the same mutual thought: at least you’re ok if nothing else is… 

And on that thought, the fusion let out a long, exhausted sigh as he allowed himself to fall back into the soft grass, the bright morning sun casting a sort of welcome warmth he couldn’t quite feel. Instead, he felt cold on the inside, cold and sad and empty. A feeling both of his halves were far more used to than they should have been by this point in their lives. 

“I-I just… wanted to stop him…” he whispered, covering his eyes with his arms to block out any tears that might come. “I wanted to never have to think about him or what he did to me again… I wanted to finally learn how to feel safe again…” He could feel a morose sob begin to escape him, but his other half managed to stop it as he wrapped his lower arms loosely around himself. “You are safe… with me…”

While there was so much he could have said, so much he wanted to say at a moment like that, he let that gentle promise sink in, allowing himself to accept it as a much-needed momentary comfort. He let out another deep breath as he closed his eyes, simply letting himself lie there in solemn silence to reflect on everything that they’d been through. Everything he’d been through. 

His halves could remember everything their fusion had gone through, even when their own memories had been torn away from him. They could remember how lost and scared and alone Stepper had felt, how much he’d wanted to become his own person instead of being torn apart into either of them. It was a jarring recollection, to say the least, but even so, neither of his halves could fault him for it. Because in losing both Steven and Dipper, Stepper had lost who he really was too. 

And now, both of them were back, Stepper, Steven, and Dipper were all properly restored in body and mind. But it had been a narrow, almost hollow victory, one that they had barely managed to snatch away from Bill in a moment when all hope had essentially been lost. And in the end, Bill had really been the one to win, his wicked ways allowed to survive and thrive another day despite the fusion’s very best efforts to put an end to them. Because in the end, those efforts hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough. 

Stepper didn’t know how long he’d been lying there when he finally caught onto the sound of approaching footsteps in the grass. A brief glance to the side told him Garnet was coming, and while he didn’t acknowledge her outside of that, he did sit up, pulling his knees to his chest as he glanced down at the wide view of the town before him. 

“Mind if I join you?” Garnet spoke up, though even so, Stepper refused to look her way. 

“I thought you were mad at me for being ‘reckless’, just like everyone else is…” he muttered crossly. 

“I’m not mad,” Garnet clarified, taking a seat in the grass beside him. “In fact, I’m very happy that both of you are safe and sound. We all are.”

“...But you still think what I tried to do was wrong… don’t you?” Stepper asked, finally briefly glancing her way. 

“Actually, I think what you did was very brave. And warranted. For the safety of our entire universe, Bill does need to go down, but the way you tried to go about doing it… that’s not how it was meant to go.”

“Now you tell me…” Stepper deadpanned, disappointed. 

“To be honest, I can’t see how, when, or even if Bill will ever be defeated,” Garnet said, adjusting her shades. “He evades my future vision every step of the way; that’s why what he did to the two of you came as such a shock. I could have never seen it coming; but if I had…” The Gem leader paused to wipe away the tear that had happened to slip out from under her visor. “I would have done anything in my power to keep both of you from suffering the way you did. Stepper is something that’s so special to both of you; the way you both have grown and bonded together through him is inspiring, even to me. But Bill turned your fusion, your bond, into a prison that you were both powerless to escape from. And that’s something I’ll never forgive him for.”

“Well… at least that’s something we can all agree on…” Stepper said, managing a weak smile at this. 

Garnet, on the other hand, said nothing, her focus set on the fusion before her and her expression unreadable all the while. Still, it didn’t take her long to speak to that scrutiny, noticing Stepper’s sudden confusion over it. “Stepper,” she began calmly, evenly. “Both of you have your memories back… you’re both whole again. Which is why I can’t help but wonder why, now that everything’s said and done, you’re still fused.”

“Wait… what?” Stepper frowned, looking over himself in newfound surprise. Or at least, surprise for one of his halves. “Oh my gosh, we are still fused. I-I mean, of course I knew we were fused, but… between everything else, I-I… I guess I didn’t really think about it until now…”

“Steven,” Garnet addressed the half of their fusion that was truly behind this. “You should tell Dipper the truth of why you’re still together. He deserves to know.”

“Know… what?” Stepper asked, only for his own shared thoughts to answer him as his gem and birthmark flashed once more. Tears had already started welling up in his eyes as he covered his mouth, both parts of him reeling from exactly what that answer actually was. “Y-you… you’re scared?” he whispered to himself worriedly. “Why? B-because!” he choked out a tight, sudden sob. “I don’t want to lose you again! When I brought you back from inside your mind, I-I didn’t have a clue what I was doing! I just thought fusing would work somehow, a-and it did! But… i-if we split up, then… I don’t know what’ll happen! I don’t want you to just… disappear all over again! Whoa, whoa, wait!” he stopped himself, trying to keep both of his halves steady despite such a frightening thought. “I-it’s ok! I won’t disappear. ...Will I?” he asked, looking to Garnet. 

“I… don’t know,” Garnet shook her head fretfully. “I can see several outcomes but… not all of them are good. Not all of them are absolute either.”

“So… what you’re saying is… there’s no telling what could happen?” Stepper asked, aptly anxious. Garnet only nodded in response to this, leaving the fusion at even more of a distraught loss than before. Especially when he realized what the alternative might be to staying together, an alternative with far more permanent consequences than he could really see at the moment. “Then… what should I do?”

“That’s your decision. One both of you have to make together,” Garnet advised as she stood, placing a consoling hand on Stepper’s shoulder as she did. “But whatever you choose, we’ll all be there for you. No matter what.”

And with that, the Gem leader left Stepper to ponder the momentous decision before him, the outcome of which could impact his life, or rather, the lives of his halves far more than any other decision either of them had ever been forced to make. Even so, the bittersweet irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. They’d come so far and fought so hard to get themselves, their memories, every piece of who they actually were as individuals, back from Bill. Only to realize that they still very well might have to end up trapped in their fusion all the same. Yet even so, neither of them saw that fusion as a prison, they never could. If anything, Stepper’s very existence meant more to them now, after all they’d gone through together as him, after how they’d managed to stay by each others’ sides through it all while being him, more than ever. But to be that fusion for the rest of their lives, after only just regaining their own identities… it was something Stepper wasn’t sure he could allow either of them to commit to. 

Which meant that once again, he found himself facing yet another incredible risk that he had no choice but to take.

He decided to unfuse in front of everyone, deciding it was better that they weren’t alone in doing so, just in case. There was a bit of convenient coincidence beyond that, since Ford had also spread the word that he wanted to gather everyone together for the sake of sharing some “important information”. But that information was largely the last thing on anyone’s minds as Stepper stood before them, preparing himself to finally split apart once more. He hadn’t told anyone else about the risk he’d be taking in doing so, and as far as he knew, Garnet was the only other one to know. And yet even so, she offered him a supportive nod to proceed, though he still hesitated, at least until he met Mabel’s practically pleading expression. He knew he’d kept her waiting for both of them for far too long now. It was time to give her brother and her best friend back. It was time to allow Dipper and Steven to rightfully return. 

A sense of calm washed over him at the same pace as the white, gentle light that enshrouded his form. It only took a second, it always took a second, but soon enough, there they both were, standing apart from each other, on their own, their hands still intertwined all the while. Steven opened his eyes instantly, only to notice Dipper starting to sway forward, his eyes still shut, his own return still completely uncertain. He panicked, rushing to catch him just before he could hit the den floor and Mabel hurried to join him at his side as he lay still for a long, unbearable moment. A moment in which Steven couldn’t help but think the unthinkable: that he really had just fortited Dipper’s life at the expense of his own after all. 

And yet nothing could have described the young Gem’s incredible relief when Dipper suddenly started to stir, a soft, tired moan escaping him as he slowly opened his eyes. He met the pair hovering over him with a small, warm smile, one that they both returned with a tight, tearful hug. The others were all quick to join in on that hug, the Pines and the Gems all folded together into a momentary blissful embrace… but one that ultimately did little to fully heal the heavy rifts that this dire ordeal had torn between so many of them. 

Even so, everyone settled down, taking a seat across the den to listen to Ford’s most recent findings in light of their frantic escape from the Nightmare Realm. Steven and Mabel sat with Dipper sandwiched close and comfortably between them both, all three of them quite cozy under the light blanket Pearl had draped over them. Despite that, they were just as on edge as all the others were as Ford began to divulge what he knew, his own tone and manner rather grave and serious as he reported his latest research to them. 

“So I have some good news and some bad news,” the author began as he flipped through his notes. “The good news is that after a thorough scan of interdimensional activity, I can safely say that Bill is still confined to the Nightmare Realm, as he should be. He didn’t manage to slip back through our own portal home. But… there’s still an entirely new problem altogether. It seems as though there have been several small, randomly-forming gateways to the Nightmare Realm appearing in the area in and around Gravity Falls due to… some u-unexplained phenomena.” Ford hesitated at this, exchanging a brief, knowing glance with the Gems, confirming that all of them knew the rift was to blame for those gateways. “It was through one of those gateways that Steven and Dipper first wound up in the Nightmare Realm to begin with, correct?”

“Yeah…” Dipper answered, bitterly glaring away as Steven nodded fretfully. 

“So… are these random portals something we should be worried about?” Lapis asked, aptly concerned. 

“I-I think they should be, especially if Cipher can manage to sneak his way through them!” Peridot exclaimed tightly, fearfully. 

“Well actually, he can’t!” Ford pointed out with something of a relieved smile. “Largely since those portals won’t lead to the Nightmare Realm, at least not anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Pearl asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. 

“It seems as though the fallout from that last attack exchanged between Bill and Stepper had a certain… effect on the ongoing interdimensional instability,” Ford said, clearing his throat as he looked away from Steven and Dipper in particular. The pair exchanged a confused glance all the same, completely oblivious to whatever impact their shared power could have had at large. In fact, the only thing either seemed to know of that incredibly strong, momentous attack was that it hadn’t worked as they’d intended it to. “That fallout slipped through our portal back and rippled across not only our dimension, but… from the looks of it, several others. It severed the existing connection between our world and the Nightmare Realm, for now, and instead opened up passageways between our dimension and countless worlds existing parallel to it! I’ve never seen anything like this before, it’s-”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s ‘astonishing’,” Stan deadpanned, annoyed. “Mind explaining all that mambo-jumbo in english for the rest of us, poindexter?” 

Ford returned his brother’s scowl at this but even so he complied. “Simply put, the randomly-occurring portals that once led to the Nightmare Realm will continue to show up, but instead, they’ll lead to parallel dimensions to our own.”

“Well… that doesn’t sound too bad,” Mabel piped up. “At least nobody else can get sucked into the Nightmare Realm again, right?”

“While that is true, these dimensional gateways still have me concerned all the same,” Ford mused. “Regardless of where they lead, they’re still holes torn in the very fabric of reality itself. And the more holes we let rip their way into it, the weaker that fabric will steadily become.”

“Then that makes those portals a problem,” Garnet said firmly. “Possibly even more of a problem if Bill somehow finds a way to use them to his advantage.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Ford staunchly agreed. “That’s why I’m already in the process of readying a device that can not only scan for these portals, but close them up completely. But it’s going to take some time. For now, the best any of us can do is keep an eye out for any unusual dimensional anomalies, especially anything akin to a portal. Where exactly these gateways could lead is mystery; as far as we know, the worlds they connect to could be hostile and dangerous. So until we can find a foolproof way to keep them at bay, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

A murmur of solemn agreement passed throughout the room at this, everyone understanding just how much of a problem these newfound portals could really pose. But at the same time, Steven and Dipper both remained silent, their shared role in changing where these portals led not lost on either of them. Because in the end, their last-ditch, desperate attempt at stopping Bill only did more harm than good. 

Just as everything either of them did always seemed to do.  

The night air was cool and crisp and refreshing, complimenting the dark, moonless sky well. The natural silence filling that air was calm and comforting, an aura Dipper tried to let wash over him as he sat on the shack’s roof platform alone. In general, being alone was suddenly a strange sensation to him, even outside of no longer being fused with Steven; Mabel and Stan hovered over him with immense concern (or as much concern as Stan was actually willing to show) for the rest of the day, and while Lapis and Ford both kept their distance for obvious reasons, he still caught them sending several fretful glances his way all the same. He’d assured them several times over that he was fine, that there was nothing more for any of them to worry about, but of course that worry still came all the same. 

Only now, in the very late hours of the night once everyone else had finally gone home or gone to sleep, was Dipper able to find a spare moment of solitude. Yet even still, that solitude felt strangely… wrong somehow. He frowned as he glanced down at his hands, only two now instead of Stepper’s four. The longest he’d ever been part of a fusion before was for a few hours at most; but the course of several days as Stepper, both when Stepper remembered he existed and when he didn’t, had left him feeling oddly out of place on his own. While he didn’t necessarily feel the need to be fused, he still felt wrong somehow. He felt like something important, essential even, was missing. 

Above all else, he felt alone. 

Or at least he did until the very person he wanted to see most suddenly came to join him. 

“H-hey,” Steven greeted with a small wave, landing on the roof from the floating leap he’d taken to get up there. 

“S-Steven?” Dipper started, though he was quick to ease up as Steven came over to take a seat next to him. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I… I couldn’t sleep,” the young Gem admitted. “Not after… well, you know.”

“Yeah…” Dipper sighed, pulling his knees to his chest as he perched his chin upon them. “Same here…”

Silence lingered between both boys for what felt like hours, both of them knowing there was so much they could have discussed in light of what they’d just been through together yet neither of them knew where to start. Eventually though, Dipper was the first to speak up, a very vague, distressing thought filling his mind, a memory he only really had at all thanks to Steven sharing it with him while they were still fused. “I… I really was gone… wasn’t I?” he asked, his voice barely even above a whisper. 

Steven shuttered, hating to even think about what had to have been one of the absolute worst moments of his entire life so far. Even so, he knew he owed Dipper the truth of the matter. “Yeah…” he admitted anxiously, glancing away. “You were…”

“But… you brought me back… didn’t you?” Dipper asked, glancing over at him. 

Steven nodded, finally managing to muster a small, fond smile at this. “I would have never been able to do it without your help.”

“My help? What do you mean?”

“Your memories,” the young Gem’s smile widened just a bit. “When I was inside your mind, they were what led me to find you.”

“...You were inside my mind?” Dipper asked with a light frown. 

Steven gasped, his eyes widening as he realized the unintentional slight he’d made against Dipper in doing so, memories of their bitter argument flooding his mind with guilt and dread. “I-I’m sorry!” he exclaimed anxiously. “I know you don’t like me using my powers on you, b-but it was the only thing I could think of to get Bill out and save you, a-and I-”

He was abruptly cut off as Dipper engulfed him in a tight, unexpected embrace. The tears that were well on their way stopped, for Steven at least, though for Dipper, they were only starting to arrive. “Please, please don’t be sorry,” he begged him, remorse racking his tone as he sobbed against his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be sorry! I said so many terrible things to you! I-I can’t believe I said you were anything like… like him! You’re not! You’re nothing like he is! What was I even thinking?!”

“Y-you were just upset,” Steven tried to sooth him as he gently returned his desperate hug. “I’m not angry about it; I never was.”

“You should be!” Dipper protested, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pulled away from the young Gem a bit. “You should be furious with me, not risking your life to try to save mine like you did! W-why… why’d you do that?” his volume diminished entirely at this as he closed his eyes, looking away in unspeakable shame. “Why didn’t you just let me go…?”

“Because,” Steven comforted him, placing his hands against Dipper’s arms in the hopes of calming him down. “When my gem was cracked, you didn’t let go of me. And even if you had, I still would have done anything I could to get you back.”

“B-but why?” Dipper asked, still mystified by the young Gem’s sheer, incredible sense of loyalty.

“Because you’re my best friend, Dipper!” Steven laughed warmly, tears brimming in his own eyes now. “I’d do anything for you!”

“A-anything…” Dipper repeated, letting out a small, incredulous chuckle of his own. That levity soon faded as he slowly wiped a few of his own tears away. “Even agree to sacrifice everything just because I wanted to defeat Bill, huh?” 

“Of course,” Steven nodded earnestly. “I could tell that’s what you wanted more than anything. I knew how much you thought that would help you, and all I wanted, all I’ve ever wanted, is just to help you. And I guess… I listened to you for a change to figure out how.”

“A part of me wishes you hadn’t,” Dipper sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “As much as I hate to admit it, the others were right; if our attack had worked, then… there’s a pretty good chance neither of us would be sitting here right now. I almost got us both killed, all because I was obsessed with finally getting even with him for every awful thing he’s done to us. But… it didn’t work. Of course, it didn’t…” he sighed again, shame creeping into his tone once more as he hugged himself loosely. “I was wrong… just like I always am.”

“N-no, you weren’t, it’s just…” Steven frowned, unsure of what he really wanted to say. “It’s like Garnet said; now just… wasn’t the right time. But… when we finally do stop him, and we will, then we’ll do it together, just like before.”

Dipper faltered briefly at this, wanting to believe such a hopeful idea, that Bill really could and would be brought to justice someday. And yet, in light of him so easily escaping that justice yet again, he knew that finally bringing him down once and for all would be far easier said than done. 

Yet for the moment, at least, he allowed himself to smile, grateful to be alive after everything they’d both been through. Grateful for his memories, now revived and restored in full. Grateful for Steven, grateful for his support, his selflessness, his kindness in every instance of this ordeal. And most of all, grateful that their friendship had managed to weather the worst of storms it could have ever gone through, grateful that the rifts torn between them had, at long last, finally been repaired. 

So he still smiled, knowing that even if Bill was still out there and their problems were still plentiful, there was still so much to be grateful for. Still someone who stayed right by his side through it all, who was ready to stay by his side, right up to the bitter end. 

Someone he knew, without a single question in his mind, was nothing less than the absolute best friend he could have ever asked for. 

“Yeah… Together.”

Next:

[thornboram-blog]

🎸

🕸️ what is going on, because i do not know!! however, i am guessing it is time for the INTRODUCTION of the century, ladies, ladies and gentlemen. i’m laura, i’m in the GMT+1 timezone, i’m in the discord server but it’s always better to hit me up privately because i suck at keeping up with group chats honestly. anyway - you’re here for THORN. have fun! 

+ oh yeah, i’ll be the (b)witch who won’t format her text to be small, so whenever you reblog me feel free to do your aesthetic things to my texties. 

here’s a quick rundown on boram aka thorn of the hex girls. 

━━ ☆ jinkies! i just saw THORN / SON BORAM, the LEE SIYEON lookalike of mystery inc. they’ve always struck me as a little SHORT-TEMPERED, but the others swear that they’re nothing but CARING. in the group, they’re often called the ORPHIC, but it’s great that they bring an air of SMUDGED RED LIPSTICK, THE TOUCH OF VELVET & RIPPED JEANS to the crew. given the recent drama, SHE’S out to prove to everyone that SHE HASN’T MURDERED ANYONE BY ACCIDENT. ( laura, 26, she/her, gmt+1 )

she’s the singer and guitar player of the hexes, incomplete without dusk and luna. 

as for appearance, she’s about 170cm, has black hair with differently colored highlights (whatever color she’s feeling like mostly), a tattoo on her ankle.

positive characteristics:  supportive, caring, quick-witted, honest, trust-worthy, loyal.

negative characteristics: reckless, spooky, suspicious. 

she considers herself as an eco-goth aka she’s into saving the planet and sorting her trash. 

can she do magic? kinda. if you really believe in it. 

THE ORPHIC – someone who is beyond ordinary, they’re like from a fantasy book or something ; tend to be very mysterious.

background 

born in oakhaven, son boram was the daughter to son joohyuk, learned pharmacist and lee minjoo, daughter of a long lost line of wiccan witches.

that’s why she often considers herself to be 1/16th wiccan witch. 

since she was a child, she had been a bit odd and different from others, this being the reason why she was often more on the outsider line than anywhere else, separating herself from others. 

as a teenager she started to find her musical talent, picking up on how to play the guitar and to train her singing. 

however, this was also around the time rumors started to boil up about her – something something about her poisoning the new kid at school with medicine she had stolen from her fathers pharmacy. it was a believable rumor, ruining her reputation and only making her stand out even more in the bad sense. 

now being seen as murderous witch, she just played into that more, even enjoying the fact that she seemed scary to others. 

after high school, boram never went to college. being from a small village like oakhaven, it just came naturally to her to take over her fathers pharmacy, learning from him.

regarding the mystery inc crew, she’s highly motivated and always up for a good ghost hunt or criminal bust, as long as it involves danger and thrill. 

and all while she seems a bit weird, she’s a really nice girl, she’s polite and dedicated to her work, so no worries about that! 

aaaand i got a few plot ideas which you can either find on my plot page here or just check them out below ;) (i mean you can also just go through my navi and check out the bio or profile page if you need to! even if the profile one is a bit incomplete hjhjhj) and if you’d like to plot or brainstorm anything else feel free to contact me! 

⚡️ nightly hangouts ; if your muse is a night owl like thorn, they might be known for hanging out together during the witching hours. activities can range from jamming out to drinking and partying, causing trouble or maybe reading to each other.

☄️ the curing ; since thorn has been learning from her dad, she has a basic knowledge of drugs and medicine in general. when your muse storms into the pharmacy at an ungodly hour with something like a high fever, thorn struggles with knowing what to do, still.

🌏 traveling around the world ; transylvania? dark tourist? just a backpack with a few shirts and worn out sneakers? it is time to explore and go everywhere and anywhere.

🍂 secret crush ; maybe something that had been going on for a while, filled with uncertainty, but with a step into the right direction things finally go further after just not knowing how the other person was feeling. maybe a cute confession of feelings during a private ball, surrounded by pumpkins and soft rock music.

🍄 cursed object ; behind a shed somewhere, both of you find a small, voodoo-looking doll. huh? why does this doll look slightly familiar and why is there a pin in its heart? (taken by JANGMI)

🔮 the search ; the forbidden little house of the lost witch in the woods surrounding oakhaven had always been in the back of the mind of boram since she was a child. you set out on a daytrip, trying to locate her. while you do not find her, you do find her house and can’t believe what you find inside.

[pickybearcub]

Getting to know Spider-boy: Chapter 1

Summary: Ten minutes. Ten minutes was all it took. She found his backpack in the alley and left before he got back.  Now, before Peter knows it, Ned thinks he has a secret girlfriend and Spiderman has to be her kibble runner.

Pairings: Peter Parker x OC

Warnings: None

A/N: So, just wanted to try posting my story here. It’s actually already complete on FF.net, but I’m going through it and making a edits, mostly to grammar and some inconsistencies in the story. I’ll post every few days, just to put a little time in between each chapter. Here we go...

Note: Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Chapter 2 Masterlist

Hey mom.

I finally unpacked the last box! So I guess I'm officially moved in. The new place is nice, just like your friend described. It's a little small but more cozy than anything. I really like it. It's really different from the heart of the city. A good kind of different though. I'm looking forward to running at a more normal pace.

I got a part-time job at that café I was telling you about. I'm trying to see where I can get a second job to fill in the gaps.

Glad to hear things are going well over there. Aunt Annie must be glad to have you teaching a few students. Tell me about them when you come around.

Anyway, it's almost time for my shift, so... gotta go. Best of luck to you and everyone there.

Love yah~

 Nadia clicked "send" before shutting down her laptop. She pulled her dark hair up into a quick ponytail and slung on her bag while she walked to the door. Locking it, she twirled her keys before shoving them into her bag and jogging to the other end of the hall. She hopped down the stairs two at a time and set a brisk pace to her walk.

The young woman breathed in deeply as she walked through her new neighborhood. Soon, she was passing a few familiar stores and small businesses. A bell gave a cheery jingle as she opened the door to the coffee shop she now worked at.

"Good morning, Hannah."

"Morning, dear." An older woman, the owner, greeted from behind the counter. "You're twenty minutes early again."

Huh…

Nadia shrugged, walking around the dining area, starting to set up the chairs. "It's a step up from the half-hour early and waiting for you to arrive and unlock the door."

 Hannah gave a light chuckle. "You know you don't need to be so early, though it is nice."

"It's okay. I think I'm still used to all the rushing around I did back home." Nadia lived most of her life in a fast-paced city. Here in Queens, even if it was just ten kilometers away, everything felt calmer. She didn't have to deal with hellish traffic or the morning rush of people on their way to work.

She'd have to learn to adjust and slow down just a little more.

Another bell chimed as she left another shop later that afternoon. A bookstore to be exact. When her shift had ended at three, she'd gone around to explore more of her neighborhood. She got a little carried away browsing through the titles. Especially when more than half the store was filled with used books.

Nadia always thought that secondhand books were more interesting than brand new ones. Some had various marks left from their previous owners. Notes and highlights, dedications, and dog eared pages. Every once in a while, there would be a piece of paper or two stuck between the pages. Most were older and weren't in circulation anymore, which only added to their value even if they were sold at a cheap price.

The dark-haired girl smiled as she walked. She would definitely go by there again so she could actually buy something-

A heavy thump and a huff pulled Nadia from her thoughts, bringing her attention to a familiar young boy who was tugging at two black garbage bags.

"Hey there, Sora." The ten-year-old looked up, grinning when he saw Nadia. The boy's name was really Shaun, she just called him "Sora" because of the game he was currently addicted to.

"Hi, Dia!"

She'd taken a few babysitting jobs when she first arrived in Queens. Shaun had been one of the kids she’d looked after.

"Isn't it your brother's chore to take out the trash?" She walked to him and tried lifting one bag. It was a bit heavy. Definitely a little too big for Shaun to carry on his own.

The boy huffed again, pouting. "He hid my Nintendo again. He said he'd give it back if I took out the trash this time."

Nadia frowned. That wasn't nice.

"I'm at a good part of the game too." Shaun scuffed his shoe on the ground.

The young woman let a gentle smile onto her features before once again grabbing a hold of one bag. "Why don't I take one, and you grab the other. That way, you can get back to your game faster."

"Okay!" The kid grinned and took hold of the smaller bag.

They both carried the bags to the dumpster in the back alley. When the business was done, the boy thanked her and she told him to tell his parents what his brother had done.

Shaun nodded and scampered back out the alley quickly so he could get his handheld back.

Nadia sighed and dusted off her hands on her pants. That boy never listened to her about telling on his brother, Shaun was too nice.

She was about to walk out of the alley when she noticed her shoelaces were untied. Kneeling down to redo them she spotted something by a corner beside the dumpster.

"A backpack?"

She picked it up by the strap and looked it over. It was dark blue, didn't seem very old, and it was relatively clean. Who would throw out a good bag?

But then… it had some weight to it.

Huh…

Nadia hesitated for a moment before she opened it up. There were a few notebooks, a pen, some spare change, and a few pieces of paper.

This wasn't thrown out. Someone owned this.

No. Someone lost this.

Maybe some kid got bullied and the bullies dumped his backpack here.

She slung the strap on her shoulder. She'd check out the stuff more thoroughly when she got home.

Maybe she'd find an ID or something in one of the pockets. It was starting to get dark, so it wasn't logical to leave the bag and hope whoever owned it found it here. Someone else might take it.

Nadia started walking again and thought about what she was having for dinner that night. There was still some pasta leftover from the day before. That would have to do.

**Ten minutes later**

Peter landed nimbly in the alley where he'd left his bag. He let out a breath as he took off his goggles and mask.

Man. The fabric really made for stuffy breathing after a few hours using it-

Oh no…

He looked down at the empty corner of the alley and groaned.

His backpack was gone.

May would ask him how he lost another backpack after just three weeks. He really needed to find somewhere more secure to leave his stuff when he went on patrol.

On the upside, at least he didn't leave any of his Spider-Man stuff in there.

"New backpack, Peter?" Ned said as he put some of his things in his locker. "That's like the second one this month."

Peter scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah… Uhmmm… A dog chased after me and kinda ripped it."

"Oh! But you're okay right?" Peter's best friend asked, genuinely concerned. "You didn't get bitten, did you? I heard that you get five shots just in case of rabies. Was the dog foaming at the mouth?" He shuddered at the thought.

"No, Ned." Peter chuckled. His friend could get a little easily agitated or overly enthusiastic when it came to asking questions.

"Oh. Okay. Good then." The two walked side by side to their classroom. "You've been a little distracted lately. Maybe that's why the dog got you…." Ned mused.

"Enough about the dog, Ned. Let's just get to class." Peter sighed and tugged at the straps of his new backpack. He didn't like how he had to keep lying to his friend about certain things.

But his powers….

Being Spider-Man…

Knowing Ned, telling him wasn't really the best idea.

Besides, he was still getting used to his powers himself.

Nadia knew just how difficult and irritating it could be to lose your notebooks, especially when you were a student. Taking notes was difficult as it is. She riffled through the backpack she found to see if there was something with a name.

"Peter Parker…" She mumbled, finding a slightly crumpled quiz paper. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Sitting on a stool on her kitchen island, she lazily poked at the bowl of noodles beside the few papers she'd pulled out.

"Wow…" A breath of admiration escaped her as she found two more quizzes. Math and chemistry. He got A's on all of them. "You are one smart cookie."

She pulled out a notebook. Maybe there was some hint of which school he went to. She didn't want to go through the phonebook to ring up every Parker listed there. Flipping through the pages to find a doodle of a school mascot or a randomly scribbled school name or event, she twirled her fork through the pasta she had been eating.

Decathlon tm meeting – Friday

Band practice moved to Tuesdays

So part of a decathlon team and a band… Group of friends or school band?

There probably weren't many of the schools here in Queens that had a decathlon team, right? Academic or athletic though… Ugh…

There had to be something else…

Nadia had just been about to stick the noodles in her mouth when she reached a few pages near the back.

Her fork dropped from limp fingers right onto the paper with a splat.

"Crap!" She quickly tipped the notebook up to get rid of the pasta. There was now a reddish-orange spaghetti sauce stain on the page. She rushed to grab a napkin to clean up the mess before the sauce seeped to the other pages.

Underneath the blotch of pasta sauce were a few calculations, notes, and diagrams. The top of the page read-

Web fluid 1.2

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