#Horror version will come!! Some point in the near future!! Not sure yet. I’ve been thinking about it it a lot and I have an idea for it but

[gelatinorifice]

My sprunki oc Indigogo: The Resident Nuisance! When she’s not disturbing the entire neighborhood with her obnoxiously loud boombox, they’re typically seen spending time with her girlfriend Wenda, who is one of the only other sprunkis they’re able to get along with—probably because they’re on equal levels of insanity.

She is loud, egotistical, incredibly irresponsible, and has no regard for personal space or boundaries. On top of that, she’s as stubborn as a mule and will fight tooth and nail until she gets what she wants. The only sprunki they’re willing to compromise with is Wenda, and that’s because she likes seeing her happy (though they’re too embarrassed to say it out loud. Emotional intimacy is not their strong suit. If you went to her crying because your dad died, she’d probably say something like “damn that sucks” and stand there awkwardly in silence).

Isolated character sprites below cut!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that ��more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore.  The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

[saiilorstars]

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters • Sequel to Stars Dance •  Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

Ch. 28: The Wedding of a Lifetime

Fandom: Doctor Who // Pairing: 11th Doctor x OFC

Chapter summary: Time is ripping apart until the Doctor dies at Lake Silencio but before he can make it happen, he has to make the Ponds understand, including one determined Avalon and her mother.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother​ @anotherunreadblog​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​ @stareyedplanet​ @perfectlystiles​

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

The Doctor, the Reynolds sisters, the Ponds, and River had a picnic set up near a silent lake in Utah. They had toasted and ate together, spending a nice afternoon. Everything was going fine, according to plan...and then the astronaut appeared in the middle of the lake.

"Oh, my God!" River had jumped up to her feet, prompting the others to do the same.

"What's going on?" Avalon looked around, feeling like it was some sort of trap. But that couldn't be right, the Doctor was the one who sent the letters. He'd never bring them into a trap!

"You all need to stay back. Whatever happens now, you do not interfere," the Doctor instructed them all as he stood up."Clear?"

Avalon opened her mouth to refuse but she saw the same silhouette she'd seen moments ago up at the dunes again. "Woah..." she blinked, "I...remember that, now. I-I think I've seen it before..." It looked like a creature but she wasn't entirely sure. The sun kept blocking it.

The Doctor tore her gaze away from the figure, not even bothering to look at it himself. As long as he did what they wanted, Avalon would leave the lake unharmed. "Ava, you listen to me right now," he set his hands on her arms, "You have to be careful, okay? You should..." he swallowed hard, struggling to say his words, "...you should stay away from me." Because the truth was, if she hadn't gotten all tangled up with him, she would've never been taken at Demons Run. That was their sad truth.

But of course Avalon wouldn't understand that, whether she was from the past or the future she would never agree with him.

"What?" she blinked, surprised at his urgency that had come out of nowhere. "Why would I do that?"

"Because it's the best thing you could've done," he whispered with genuine regret. He'd been too weak to stay away from her. He knew the consequences and yet he'd still fallen in temptation. "If I could change one thing it's this...you..." He gave her one last look before kissing her forehead and walked for the astronaut.

The Doctor walked a bit slowly but steadily towards the lake. He literally could not be late for this. He came face to face with the astronaut and solemnly stared at its visor. "Hello. It's OK, I know it's you," he spoke quietly, watching the visor finally raise up. "I know the choices that brought you here...I figured it out."

With the visor gone he could now see the young River Song inside. He'd worked it out a long time ago. It would always either be River or Avalon in the suit but how would Kovarian choose? She wouldn't. Her choosing would take the fun out of the whole thing. Making them choose would be the better option. It was why Avalon had her memories wiped and returned to them in Berlin. Doing that secured the secret identity of the astronaut and leave River to commit the crime.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, they made me," River was in tears, completely frantic and panicked. "They had an older Avalon and...they gave me a choice." She swallowed hard, still getting flashes of the last moments she saw Avalon and Oliver. It would take a long time for her to get over it. "Either I got into the suit...or she did. They killed her father in front of her," River scrunched her face as new tears fell down her face. The Doctor's eyes widened with genuine shock. The mystery of Oliver Reynolds' death had been solved. "If I don't do this they'll kill Avalon on sight," River's voice broke as she tried to look around from her helmet, "The Silence is here, watching her and me. I've been warned not to do anything, or they'll kill her."

"It's okay," the Doctor tried to make her see he was being honest, "I love her, and if it takes me dying to keep her safe, alive and free, then so be it."

"Please, just RUN!" River begged, "I can't stop it. The suit's in control."

"You're not supposed to. This has to happen."

"Please, just listen, just run!"

"I did run," the Doctor nodded, "Sacrificed a life with a very important woman for that. And look where I am now? Here."

"I don't want to be a murder," River nearly broke down, "My own daughter is going to hate me. Run."

"It's OK, she'll forgive you," the Doctor sighed.

"No! She won't! Her father's dead because of me and now you will be too!"

"But they erased her memory, you can tell her what happened. How you took the place they were going to force upon her," the Doctor insisted, "Tell her it was inevitable: this is where I die. This is a fixed point, this must happen, this always happens. Don't worry...you won't even remember this. Look over there," he turned very slightly at the others who were staring at them.

"That's me," River said in horror, "How can I be there?"

"That's you from the future. Serving time for a murder you probably can't remember. My murder."

"Why would you do that? Make me watch?"

"So that you know this is inevitable. And you are forgiven," the Doctor looked back at her, "Always and completely forgiven."

River struggled as her arm raised on its own. "Please, just go! Take my daughter and run!"

"I can't," the Doctor shook his head.

"Time can be rewritten."

"Don't you dare. Goodbye, River," the Doctor shut his eyes to wait for the end. There were five gunshots that made him jerk but he quickly realized that no part of him had been injured. He cracked open one eye and found River smirking at him.

"No one tells me what to do," she informed the very words her daughter would one day say as well.

"What have you done!?" the Doctor asked in terror, now fearing the consequences.

"Well... I think I just drained my weapon systems," River shrugged and became urgent, "Now take Avalon and get the hell out of here!"

"But this is fixed. This is a fixed point in time!"

"Fixed points can be rewritten..."

"No, they can't, of course they can't, who told you?!" but the Doctor never received an answer as a flash of light changed the course of time.

~ 0 ~

While the Doctor had relayed the events of his death to Winston Churchill, they'd somehow moved rooms without even noticing. That would not be strange if it wasn't for the fact that the Doctor was supposed to be an imprisoned soothsayer, even completing the role with the tattered clothes and the beard and longer hair. But as he kept telling the story, he found he'd acquired a pike from somewhere while Winston had taken out his own weapon, a gun.

"Gunsmoke. That's gunsmoke!" Winston had gotten the scent and looked at his gun in horror, "I appear to have fired this."

"We seem to be defending ourselves," the Doctor realized and was now more alarmed since the room they were in seemed completely empty.

"I don't understand..."

"The creatures that lead the Silence. Remarkable beings...they're memory-proof," the Doctor started to slowly backtrack out of the room with Winston.

"But what does that mean?" the man asked with utter confusion.

"You can't remember them. The moment you look away, you forget they were ever there..." the Doctor noticed a black tally mark on his left wrist, "Don't panic. In small numbers, they're not too difficult. Of course that was before he saw his right arm covered in the tally marks. He slowly turned his head up, making Winston do the same, and saw a swarm of Silence on the ceiling like bats, all looking down at them.

The Doctor stiffened as he heard a beeping noise coming behind them, followed by the noise of something dropping to the floor. He turned and saw a small black device, "Go!" he shouted and jumped out of the way with Winston as the device spewed out smoke then exploded.

"Go! Go!" went the voice of a soldier as an entire group of them burst into the room, "Keep the Silents in sight at all times, keep your eye drives active."

A woman dressed in a black suit walked into the room, casual as ever. She seemed to be coming directly for the Doctor. He squinted through the smoke to get a better look at her but there was simply too much smoke around.

"Who are you? Identify yourself!" Winston called with his gun already aimed at the figure.

"Lena Emilia Reynolds," the brunette woman flashed a smile as she stepped in front of the two men, "Put the gun down, you can hurt someone with that."

"Baby sister!" the Doctor exclaimed and pushed the gun down, "She's on our side, it's OK."

"There we go," Lena watched the gun be put down entirely before she whipped out her own.

The Doctor had noticed she was wearing one of the Silence eye-patches over her eye, "No! Lena, why are you wearing that?"

"Hush now," Lena said then fired her gun at the Doctor, knocking him out cold next.

~ 0 ~

Upon the Orient Express train, the Doctor woke up on a couch inside an office. He looked around and only heard the sounds of a radio broadcasting, "The Government has again apologized for extensive radio interference caused by solar flare and sunspot activity."

Once he was more lucid, he noticed Amy standing at the doorway of the room, making him spring back to life. "Amy!"

"Those stun guns aren't fun, I'm sorry. I told Lena it was best to avoid a long conversation," Amy walked further into the room, "You need to get up though, we'll be in Cairo shortly."

"Amy Pond!" the Doctor said in panic, "Amelia Pond from Leadworth, please, listen to me. I know it seems impossible, but you know me. In another version of reality you and I were best friends. We traveled together, we had adventures. Amelia Pond! You grew up with a time rift in the wall of your bedroom. You can often see what others can't, you can remember things that never happened - well, most of the time!" He picked up the first thing near his hand which happened to be a crafted miniaturized TARDIS. "And if you try, if you really, really try, you'll be able to..." And then he realized what he was holding, "Oh...oh!" He started taking notice of the many drawings pinned up on the wall, as well as clearly written stories on paper, "...oh." His voice dimmed a bit as he recognized the perfect, cursive writing.

"You look rubbish," Amy knew what had stopped his excitement from coming on.

"...you look wonderful," the Doctor set down the TARDIS without looking at her.

"So do you," Amy picked up a hanger which held the Doctor's usual attire.

The Doctor smiled slightly at that and took it from her, "Geronimo," he whispered.

~ 0 ~

A couple minutes later the Doctor was fully changed and shaved, though there was still the matter of a proper haircut left, "OK, you can turn round now. How do I look?"

Amy turned from her desk and rolled her eyes, "Cool."

"Really?"

"No."

The Doctor sighed and walked around the room, "Cool office though. Why do you have an office?! Are you a special agent boss lady? Not sure about the eye patch.

"It's not an eye patch," Amy shook her head, "Time's gone wrong. Some of us noticed. There's a whole team of us working on it... You'll see."

"And you've got an office on a train, that is so cool," the Doctor beamed, "Can I have an office? Never had an office before! Or a train. Or a train slash office."

Amy laughed and went over to hug him, "God, I've missed you!"

"OK, hugging and missing now," the Doctor pulled away and glanced back at the doorway, "Where is...everyone?"

"You mean Lena, Avalon, and Rory," Amy recited like she'd memorized the names with struggle, "Baby sister," she pointed at the Time Lord, "Granddaughter, and my husband," she ran back to her desk and picked up a sketch, "This is Rory, right?" She held the sketch to him that was really more like a stick figure. "I've no idea, I can't find him. I love him very much, don't I?"

The Doctor took the sketch from her and studied it, "Apparently."

"I have to keep doing this. I have to keep writing and drawing things," Amy put a hand on her head, "I mean, Lena I see and I know who Avalon is, but Rory? I can't remember him cos I don't know him..." she leaned against her desk and sighed.

"It's not your fault, time's gone wrong," the Doctor moved over to sit beside her, "Do you remember why?"

"The lakeside."

"Lake Silencio, Utah. I died."

"But then you didn't," Amy pointed, "I remember it twice, different ways."

"Two different versions of the same event, both happening in the same moment. Time split wide open. Now look at it," the Doctor pointed out the window, "All of history happening at once."

"Does it matter?" Amy raised an eyebrow, "I mean can't we just stay like this?"

"Time isn't just frozen. It's disintegrating. It will spread and spread and all of reality will simply fall apart."

There was a knock on the door and a soldier, Rory, leaned in, "Ma'am, we're about to arrive. Eye drives need to be activated as soon as we disembark."

Lena came in behind him, "And they say there's been alterations just with his closeness," she nodded to the Doctor, a bit confused by the smiling man. He kept smiling at her even though she hadn't done anything.

"Thank you," Amy said to them both.

"Hello," the Doctor waved at them.

Rory and Lena looked at each other, both questioning why the man was so happy in a situation like this. Still, Lena didn't want to be rude and gave a response, "Hello, nice to meet you," she even smiled and headed out of the room with Rory.

"It's weird," Amy remarked when the two were gone, "I know who Lena is, Avalon knows who she is, River knows who she is...but Lena doesn't know. It kills Avalon but she doesn't want to make things worse by giving Lena this whole backstory that might freak her out." She glanced at the Doctor since he'd given no response to that. Every time she mentioned her granddaughter's name, he got silent and...quite sad. "Why are you older? If time isn't really passing, then how can you be ageing?"

"Time's still passing for me. Every explosion has an epicenter. I'm it... I'm what's wrong."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm still alive," the Doctor sighed in resignation. Two hundred years might just be going down the drain if he didn't get things fixed asap.

~0 ~

Rory was leading Amy and the Doctor towards a room where they apparently had trapped Silents in. However, there was a bit of reluctance to keep going from Rory due to the Doctor's eye drive still not being used. The Time Lord was studying the eye drive in his palm with disgust.

"You have to put it on, sir," Rory said for the last time as they walked down a staircase.

"An eye patch. What for?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"It's not an eye patch," Amy wondered if she'd have to force the eye drive on the man at this point.

"It's an eye drive, sir," Rory went on to explain, "It communicates directly with the memory centres of the brain, acts as external storage."

"Only thing that works on them. Because no living mind can remember these things," Amy reminded, "So please, just put it on. We're about to enter."

They entered the room bathed in a blue glow to find Avalon inside, staring at the chambers that held the Silents prisoners. She didn't notice them as she was too busy studying them.

"You're looking at me, you're always looking at me," she whispered and placed a hand on the glass of one chamber, "I don't understand..."

"Avalon, get away from there!" Amy yelled as soon as they'd entered the room.

Startled, Avalon turned from the chambers to face the group, "I was only looking..." She said as her defense, a lazy thumb pointed at the chambers.

"And touching," Rory stalked up to her and pulled her away from the chambers, "There are strict orders for you—"

"Shut up," she pointed then looked past him to Amy and the Doctor, her change of attitude evident once her eyes settled on the Doctor.

The Doctor had no idea what to expect from her. Like Amy, Avalon remembered the events happening in two different ways. She was more aware than them, actually, and if she remembered what happened before Kovarian sent her to Berlin, she could be a ticking time bomb of feelings.

Avalon said nothing to him for a few seconds but suddenly she was running towards him. He barely had time to open his arms to catch her when she threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his for fear that he would slip away from her again. "You're still here," she eventually looked up at him with a big smile on her face.

"Yes, well, you can't really plan around River Song," the Doctor muttered, but he still gave her a smile. How could he not smile at her?

"Um, ma'am," Rory called to Amy suddenly, his gaze intently watching the Silence. "They're looking at him."

At his words, the Doctor and Avalon shifted to see the creatures moving just to watch him.

"It would appear so," the Doctor agreed. His arm around Avalon gripped her waist tighter. "What are the tanks for?"

"They can draw electricity from anything, it's how they attack. The fluid insulates them," Rory explained and turned around for the other chambers to see the creatures also staring at the Doctor, "And I don't like the way they're looking at you."

"Me neither..."

"Ma'am, I'm sure it's nothing, but I should check it out. They haven't been this active in a while," Rory said to Amy then called to the soldiers by the stairs, "You two, upstairs, check all the tank seals. Then the floors above, get everyone checking."

"Sir!" the soldiers filed out of the room.

"You go ahead, Ma'am," Rory looked at Amy, "And Avalon, for the love of God, don't touch the tanks."

Avalon rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah," she waved him off.

"Do you remember him?" the Doctor had to ask her in a whisper as Amy spoke to Rory.

"He's my best friend but Amy doesn't know him," Avalon nodded. "I know Lena's here too...but you know who I can't find? Apart from my uncle Ryland and Gavin? The Sapling. I know that we...we gave him life…" She said awkwardly, blushing afterwards. "But he's not here."

"He might not exist, Ava," the Doctor said with a quiet sigh. "Not everyone's made it to this reality and even if they did, some of them are disappearing, disintegrating."

"We're going to fix it though," Avalon assured him. She curled an arm around his neck and played with his longer hair at the nape of his neck. "I like this new do."

"Yeah?" The Doctor tilted his head slightly. Suddenly they weren't in the middle of a disintegrating reality, they were just spending time together.

"Mhm, there's definitely more pull," Avalon's smirk widened as soon as he stammered. "C'mon," she took his hand and called for Amy to join them. However, before they could enter, the Doctor pulled back for a moment, claiming there was something he had 'check on'. Avalon could see through his lie but he kept looking back where Rory had walked through so she let it be.

Amy lifted her jacket's lapel and spoke into her comm. "We're in. He's on his way. Be on red alert."

A short moment later, the Doctor was back and they were heading into the main chamber of Area 51: a pyramid. Time was so wrong.

The room was filled with high tech machinery. It was a sophisticated laboratory with many scientists working at every post. Upon entering, they overheard one of the scientists, a woman named Kent, informing a woman whose back was to the trio, "You were right. Just his presence in the building caused the loop to extend by nearly four chronons."

The Doctor spotted the bushy, curly haired woman the scientist was speaking to. He glowered. "River Song, what a mess you have made!" He had more to say but everything stopped when River turned around and he saw how pregnant she was. The astronaut suit was big for a reason and now they knew why. "You're…"

"Pregnant?" River rested a hand on her stomach, "Yes, I've noticed. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you did too. I've heard stories." She stepped aside to reveal Kovarian bound to a chair behind.

"The death of time. The end of time. The end of us all," Kovarian swayed her head tiredly, "Oh, why couldn't you just die?"

"Did my best, dear. I showed up," the Doctor said with a deep glower marking his face. He had felt Avalon's hand flinch in his the moment they saw Kovarian. She remembered her time with the woman too.

"You're a fool," spat Kovarian. "All of you are. None of you can see that what I'm doing is for the better of the universe. I'm from the future, if you've all forgotten. I know what happens to all of you."

The Doctor scowled at the woman. "Be quiet," he ordered. He was already going to die so she didn't have to bring in any more of his friends.

"But I do," she smirked. "Your friends will die, Doctor—"

"I said quiet!" the Doctor's voice was hard enough to make Avalon flinch beside him.

"—and you'll meet the girl I tried my best to stop you from reaching—"

"STOP!" the Doctor's command made no effect.

"—and then your precious littlest Pond will die in the fields of Trenzalore—"

"What the hell is that?" Avalon tried her best to sound brave but the truth is that she was scared out of her mind. "I'm going to d—"

The Doctor let go of her hand to stalk up to Kovarian. "I SAID SHUT UP!" he yelled in her face, now utterly furious. He had no idea what she was talking about and he doubted that it was true. It was utter nonsense!

"Doctor!" Amy called to him.

He turned around to see Avalon's widened, teary eyes. Immediately, he let Kovarian slip his mind. "Ava, hey..." he hurried back to her and wrapped her up in a hug.

Meanwhile, Kovarian smirked at everyone who dared look at her. She had said her peace and now they would wallow in the truth.

"You're going to be okay," the Doctor promised Avalon and set a kiss on her head.

"You mean because you're going to die?" she looked up at him.

He didn't want to answer that and start a whole new round of arguing. Instead, he answered with a different subject in mind. ""Love what you've done with the pyramids. How did you swing all this?"

"Hallucinogenic lipstick," River shrugged and glanced at Avalon, "Apparently, it worked wonders on President Kennedy."

"Excuse me?" it was the Doctor's turn to glare at Avalon.

"Oh shut up, she said I couldn't do it so I had to do it," Avalon rolled her eyes. River stared at her with pursed lips. "Stop looking at me," Avalon snapped and avoided her mother's gaze at all costs.

"Ah, so you remember…" the Doctor looked between the two, his eyes lowering to River's stomach, Avalon doing the same.

"It's plain weird what that is," she said quietly before meeting River's gaze. "And she is not my mother."

"Avalon, I've tried explaining everything but you won't let me," River sighed. She had lost count how many times she tried having the conversation with her.

"And yet you don't seem to take the hint!" Avalon snapped. "The only reason I am working with you is because of him!" She nodded her head at the Doctor.

"Ava," he tried to calm her down but she yanked her hand out of his when she realized it.

"No! This is one thing you can't fix, Fairy Tale Man! I don't want her! Soon as I'm…" She looked at River's stomach again, "...born, she's going to abandon me."

"I would never," River found it hard not to snap. She was the mother, she had to control herself and make Avalon see the truth. "That's why I'm doing all of this."

"River, as much as I sympathize with you right now...we can't let this continue," the Doctor said. "Reality is fatally compromised. Tell me you understand that."

"I do," River nodded and moved around the room like it was a casual Friday.

"I am alive and because of that time is dying," the Doctor reiterated, annoyed his words were flying in through one of her ears and coming out the other, "Because of you, River."

"Because I refused to kill you and set in motion my daughter's history?"

"I'm sorry but it has to be done!" The Doctor glared at River and the moment Amy say it, she shouted for the soldiers.

"Get him!"

The soldiers ran through the room just as the Doctor reached out for River. They pulled him away from her.

"I'm not a fool, sweetie. I know what happens if we touch," River said. The Doctor mocked a smile then lunged at the woman, managing to grab her wrist that time, "Get off me, get him off me!" She cried.

Avalon dashed to help and tried prying the Doctor off her, "You have to let her go!"

Across the room Kent checked the monitor that held the time, "It's moving. Time's moving!" she called

"Get him off me!" River hollered.

"I'm sorry, River, it's the only way!" the Doctor held onto her tightly and for a brief moment they were back at Lake Silencio.

"Enough!" Avalon gave the final cry as the Doctor was pulled away from them by some soldiers, "We need to restrain him," she resolved and looked at River who nodded in agreement.

"Cuff him," River ordered.

"Oh, why do you always have handcuffs?" the Doctor whined as his hands were pulled behind him to be cuffed, "It's the only way. We're the opposite poles of the disruption. If we touch, we short out the differential, time can begin."

"And I'll be by a lakeside, killing you," River nodded, "While I'm pregnant with..." her eyes flickered to Avalon.

"Shut up," Avalon ordered and looked away.

"And time won't fall apart. Reality will continue," the Doctor added, "There isn't another way."

"I didn't say there was," River sadly said, "But right here, right now, you're alive and so is she. Maybe this is not that bad?"

"It's very bad," the Doctor corrected but side-glanced Avalon with a soft smile. "I would love to spend my life with you but Time will literally run out on us. It's not possible."

Avalon tilted her head at him, smiling so lovingly at him like no one else had. "Let's go then."

The Doctor laughed lightly. "Where to?"

Avalon remembered this conversation perfectly from their first date. "Neverland." Her heart even fluttered the same way it had on that day.

Avalon hummed while she thought about such an outrageous place that even he couldn't make it happen. "I got it. Can you take me to, I don't know, Neverland?" That had to be impossible for him to reach.

"I'd make it so," the Doctor gently tugged Avalon to him, smiling at her soft laughter. "I would!"

It seemed like the Doctor remembered as well because he looked at her with a softened face. "I'd make it so," he whispered. Avalon felt the tears welling in her eyes.

Amy flinched when something cold hit her face. She realized it was a drop of water. "Doctor...what's that?" She made everyone look up to the ceiling. More water was dripping down.

"The pyramid above us. How many Silents do you have trapped inside it?" The Doctor swallowed hard once he realized what was happening.

"None," Kovarian answered the question, getting everyone's attention, "They're not trapped, they never have been. They've been waiting for this, Doctor... For you."

At that moment, Rory and Lena burst in from the doors. "They're out! All of them!" Lena shouted in terror.

Quickly, Rory and some other soldiers placed a thick plank of wood across the doors to bar them from the Silence.

"Lena, over here!" Avalon immediately ushered her sister to her side.

Rory rushed to Amy. "Ma'am, my men out there, should be able to lock this down, we have them outnumbered."

"And you're wearing eye drives based on mine, I think," Kovarian once again grabbed everyone's attention. She was smirking far too widely for their taste. "Oops!"

"What do you mean?" the Doctor inquired, equally confused as the others.

As if to answer on cue, Kent started screaming as her eye drive electrified her. She soon collapsed on the floor. Amy ran towards her body and dropped beside her to check her vitals. "She's dead," Amy looked up in horror, also catching Rory having to remove a soldier's eye drive for the same reasons.

Then the Doctor started feeling his own eye drive shock him, "Eye pads off, now, remove them!"

Avalon made sure Lena had hers off then rushed to help the Doctor take his off. "No, no, yours!" He told her, flapping his bound wrists in front of her. With a groan, she ripped her eye drive off her first then his.

"The Silence would never allow an advantage, without taking one themselves. The effects will vary from person to person... either death or debilitating agony. But they will take you all, one by one..." Kovarian's laugh was short lived when her own her eye drive started buzzing with electricity. "What are you doing? No, it's me…" She flinched in her chair each time she was shocked. "Don't be stupid, you need me. Stop it, stop that!"

"We could stop this right now, you and I," the Doctor called to River, dead serious. This was getting even more dangerous and he didn't think it was possible since Time was dying.

"Get it off me!" Kovarian cried in agony.

"Amy, tell her!" the Doctor insisted since River was keeping quiet.

"We've been working on something," Avalon spoke up instead. "The only reason i'm in the same room as River is because of this. Please, just let us show you."

"That's my point. There's nothing you can do. My time is up," the Doctor said in frustration.

"Shut up and listen, will you?" Avalon snapped, "We're doing this for you!"

"Then people are dying for me. I won't thank you for that, Ava," the Doctor snapped back.

"We'll there's a lot of things I can't thank you for either," Avalon countered, "And yet here I am. So you're gonna follow River and listen, got it?"

"Just let us show you, please," River pleaded with a low voice, still hopeful everything could turn out fine.

Amy turned to Lena, "How long do we have?"

"At most I'd say a couple of minutes," the brunette breathed then jumped as the door rattled the door from the other side, "Or less, definitely less..."

"That's enough. We're going to the Receptor Room right at the top of the pyramid," River said determinedly, "I hope you're ready for a climb."

"I could say the same thing for you," the Doctor gestured to her current state.

River rolled her eyes, "I'll manage. Avalon, let's go," she ordered and startled the ginger, also prompting a confused face, "You didn't think I was gonna let you stay here. Absolutely not, let's go."

"Fine," Avalon huffed. "But only because of the circumstances. "But Lena comes with me too." There was no way in hell she would let her sister stay back with killer Silents.

"What?" Lena blinked in confusion.

"Shut up and say okay," Avalon nudged her, soon receiving the answer she'd ordered for.

And so, River led the way for them out of the room.

"I'll wait down here, Ma'am. Buy you as much time as I can," Rory's decision kept Amy from following the others.

She turned around and saw the eye drive still on him. "You have to take your eye drive off."

"Can't do that, Ma'am. Might forget what's coming."

"But it could activate any second!"

"It has activated, Ma'am!" It was then that Amy noticed he was fiercely balling his fist on his side. He was fighting off the electricity when it was so close to killing him. "But I'm of no use to you if I can't remember. You have to go now, Ma'am."

Amy looked at him with a firm nod. "Yes."

"Now!"

"Yes, thank you, Captain Williams." Amy turned around and marched out of the room.

Rory fought the electrical pain surging through his body and turned to face the incoming Silence breaking through the door. He aimed his gun at them just as they broke in.

"Rory Williams, the man who dies and dies again," the three creatures chorused together. "Die one last time and know she will never come back for you."

Amy had a thing to say about as she marched back into the room with a machine gun and fired at all of them. She let the gun drop to the ground then helped Rory stand up since he'd fallen through the chaos. "Come on, you. Up you get. You all right?" She pulled the eye drive off him before he could answer. He breathed out in relief when he felt the electricity fade away.

"Amy, help me!" Kovarian called from her chair. Her eye drive was hanging off her face but was otherwise still attached to her skin.

Amy balled her own fists when she turned to the woman. She didn't have all the memories but she knew enough to know what that woman had done to her family. "You took my baby from me and hurt her. And now she's all grown up and she's fine, but I'll never see my baby again. And then you went ahead and you stole her daughter, my granddaughter…" She stormed up to the woman and bent down in front of her. "She was traumatized because of you."

"But you'll still save me, though. Because he would, and you'd never do anything to disappoint your precious Doctor," Kovarian truly played her last card. Amy shook her head, making her last ounce of hope fade.

"The Doctor once said he'd kill any Silence he ever came across with because of what they did to us...I wholeheartedly agree," Amy put the eyedrive back on Kovarian's eye. "River Song didn't get it all from you, sweetie." She got up and left Kovarian screaming in her chair. She took Rory by the arm and glanced at him. "So, you and me, we should get a drink some time."

Rory was surprised with the switch of moments but he would be damned if he ruined it. "Okay…"

"...and married."

"Fine." He was very okay with that.

~ 0 ~

The group arrived at the top of the pyramid where the Doctor immediately was drawn to a whirring machine at the center. It was the only thing there and it was mighty alive, meaning it was doing something. "What's this?" He circled it. "Oh, it's a timey-wimey distress beacon. Who built this?"

"I'm the child of the TARDIS, I understand the physics," River explained.

"Yes, but that's all you've got — a distress beacon!"

"But that's all we need," Lena spoke up, still sounding meek as was her usual tone. "I mean...that's what they say." She looked over to Avalon, for some reason always drawn to her whenever things got challenging.

"We've been sending out a message, a distress call," River began, "Outside the bubble of our time, the universe is still turning, and I've sent a message everywhere, to the future and the past, the beginning and the end of everything. "The Doctor is dying, please, please help".

"River, River, this is ridiculous. That would mean nothing to anyone, it's insane," the Doctor shook his head, "Worse, it's stupid! You embarrass me."

"Hey!" Avalon snapped at him. "We're trying to help, trying to keep you from dying! Be thankful! Some of us don't want you to die, dammit. You know those reports of the sunspots and the solar flares?" She went around the beacon until she came face to face with him. "They're wrong, there aren't any. It's not the sun, it's you. The sky is full of a million, million voices, saying 'yes, of course we'll help'." Tears were quick to fill her eyes. She cupped his face and managed to chuckle. "My Fairy Tale Man was very busy even before he met us. You've touched so many lives, saved so many people. All you had to do was let somebody help you. You just had to ask. You're not alone. I don't know what your life was like before us but the moment you crashed in Amy's backyard you stopped being alone. We are your family and family does not let each other die."

"Avalon…" The Doctor pried her hands off his face.

"No, you need to listen to us. You've decided that the universe is better off without you, but the universe doesn't agree. I don't agree..."

"I'm sorry Ava. I'm really sorry," the Doctor sighed and looked at River, "But she and I are ground zero of an explosion that will engulf all reality. Billions on billions will suffer and die. That will include my Ava, our Ava..."

"Not hers," Avalon muttered under her breath.

"Yes, hers. And theirs," the Doctor nodded towards Amy and Rory, the latter immediately glancing at Amy for it.

"In another reality, we got married and had a kid. That's her," Amy pointed to River then moved it over to Avalon. "And that's her kid, our granddaughter. Oh—" she side glanced Lena, —and you're her sister. Well, cousin, but sister."

"Stop all this!" River exclaimed, looking directly at the Doctor. "You think I'm being selfish, and perhaps I am, but don't I have a right? They killed my daughter's father in front of me, in front of her, and if I let time start again then I will end up losing her altogether. I don't want to give up my time with my daughter. I want to see her say her first word, I want to see her take her first steps. I want to see her grow up with me," she pointed at herself, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. "I am her mother, and I deserve to see her get ready for her first day of school, her graduation. I deserve to see her dressed in white for her wedding. I don't want to get postcards in jail, no letters. Don't you see?"

Avalon brought her hands to her face when she felt water on her cheeks. When did she start crying? She didn't want to cry, she didn't want to. River reached for one of her hands and she was able to pull Avalon slightly towards her without being rejected.

"I would never abandon you. I love you, whether you're out here...or in here," she gestured to her stomach. "You think that I don't care but that's not true. Maybe I am selfish but I don't care what I have to do to make sure that you're okay, that your safe."

"River," the Doctor hated to cut into their moment, but he had to. The truth was right in front of her and she blinding herself to avoid seeing it. "She's not safe right now. None of us. You know that it's too late, don't you?"

Avalon glanced at him with a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"

The Doctor heavily sighed. "Ava, you grew up with your uncle and aunt. You grew up with your cousins Lena and Gavin as your siblings. I'm so sorry but this has already happened. River, you've already done it. This is a fixed point."

Avalon felt River's grip on her hand loosen. When she looked at the woman, River was shaking her head. "No, no, I can fix it. I can change it."

"Don't you see? You can't," the Doctor said sadly. "If you change her past, she doesn't do half the things that will inevitably bring you to creation. Ryland would never come to live on Earth, I don't meet any Reynolds and they don't help me out in our travels. You will cease to exist, River, and so will she."

"But that's terrible!" River snapped, barely stifling her sobs. "I don't want that!"

"I know…"

"And I don't want to kill you either!"

"I know. I'm sorry," the Doctor honestly apologized to her. This was all his fault. She wouldn't have to give up her daughter if she didn't have to 'kill' him, "I've ruined Melody Pond's life with her parents and now I'll mess up Avalon's chance with her mother…"

Avalon looked between him and River. Her heart was breaking but she could honestly say that it could not be more than either of theirs. She was the middle ground they could all agree on and yet she was also making it worse for everyone. Her existence made everything more complicated and yet she continued making everything more difficult with her behavior.

"I'm sorry," she said to both of them. She withdrew her hand from River and swallowed hard when she was able to look at them again. "You're both locked in this fight because you can't decide about me."

"No, Avalon—"

"River, I'm sorry you were put into this situation in the first place. No one should have to ever go through what you have...and Doctor, I'm sorry for not listening. I did my best to help you but...there is no helping, is there?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Not this time, Ava."

"We have to fix Time," Avalon shuddered a breath when she said it. "Not for me but for everyone else. For everyone who tangled up in this...Pond mess." She cracked the tiniest of smiles that surprised River.

"Avalon, you don't—"

"I don't know what a parent does," Avalon cut River off, "And I've been ignoring what everyone's been saying. I'm sorry." Her eyes wandered to River's stomach. "It's just so weird...I'm here, but I'm also...there…"

"I want us to stay together…" River had lost her fighting voice. She was disgusted with herself for letting things happen the way they already had. She walked up to the Doctor, tears in her eyes, and looked up at him. "The choice has already been made, hasn't it?"

"A long time ago, I'm afraid," he nodded. "But I've got one thing left to say."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Look in my eyes and know that she will be safe."

"But—"

"Just do it, please."

River reluctantly agreed. The others watched them, cautious as they expected the Doctor to seize her hand and restart time again, but nothing of the sort happened.

"I'm confused," Lena whispered to Amy and Rory.

This time, Amy agreed. "Mhm."

River stepped away from the Doctor, sighing heavily. "I'm not going to see her grow up," she whispered with a quiet sniffle to follow. If that's the choice she had to keep her safe then...so be it, but there was one other thing that she could do for Avalon right now. "Show her that you won't leave her."

"What?" The Doctor didn't quite catch it the first time.

"She thought I abandoned her and she thought you left her too. I want that to stop. That is my condition. I want my daughter to know that she was loved."

"River, you can stop," Avalon called to her. "I-I get it, alright? It's hard, but...I guess I do." She would just need loads of time to process it.

"No, you listen to me," River snapped her fingers at the Doctor for him to listen, " You do this...not for me, but for her. Show her that she's not forgotten."

The epilogue. Or prologue, if he was being just a tad hopeful. He met Avalon's puzzled face and couldn't fathom being apart from her any longer. He would have to, if he wanted things to turn alright for her. "Princess," he held his hand out for her. "It's time to say goodbye."

"We've already done that. I don't want to do it again," she said and yet still took his hand, letting him bring her closer to him. "I can't take it a second time."

"I know, but can I have a dying request?"

"Anything for you."

"Marry me."

Naturally, Avalon froze. She blinked at him but he was quite serious. "You...you want me to what…?"

"It's the ending to our story, and how could I not marry my princess? My Ava?"

Avalon felt her heart beating so fast under her chest that she was sure it was close to bursting. "I-I...be your wife?" She kept asking the same thing in different ways, wasn't she?

"Well, I know the stories end with the prince getting the princess, but this daft old knight-in-shining-armor would love to take his place and marry you," the Doctor took hold of her hands, smiling at her as lovingly as she had before. "Would you marry me, Ava?"

Avalon nodded her head so fast she had to stop herself before she got dizzy. "Yes." Everything was swirling in her mind. Marry. She was going to marry him — she wanted to marry him.

There was an indescribable feeling that flourished through the Doctor at that moment. Even if it was at the very end of the Time itself, he was incredibly jubilant. His Ava had said 'yes' to marrying him. "Look at that," he glanced at River, "Looks like you won't miss something all the important moments, after all."

"This isn't what I meant," River playfully rolled her eyes, but she would take it.

"Yeah, this is crazy! Even for you two!" Amy called.

"Shut up Ponds," Avalon said without a moment's doubt, her eyes glued to the Time Lord before her, a smile growing across her face. "I'm getting married. I'm getting married to my Fairy Tale Man."

"Okay, then," the Doctor took in a breath as he practically buzzed with joy of what was actually going to happen. If he really did have to go (for a long time) then he would at least get something good out of it, and what better thing than his Ava? She would be his wife. He looked around the place. "I need a strip of cloth, about a foot long. Anything will do," he then looked at himself and beamed, "Never mind," he untied his bowtie and held it between him and Avalon, "Ava, take one end of this, wrap it around your hand, and hold it out to me."

"This isn't exactly what I thought marriage would be like," she said in amusement as she followed his instruction, "But I did always know my wedding would be the wedding of a lifetime. No divorces, even if you're dead." It was possibly the worst thing to say in a situation like this but for some reason, they both laughed with the same tears in their eyes. Neither of them ever had a clue of what being prudent meant.

"A lifetime," the Doctor touched her cheek gently. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Avalon nodded.

"We're in the middle of a combat zone, so we'll have to do the quick version. River, you're the mother here, so...say 'I consent and gladly give'."

"I consent and gladly give," River quickly said, her eyes glued on Avalon who seemed happier than ever. That's what she wanted to see all the time. Even if she was going to be far away from her, River wanted to know that her daughter would be happy.

"Old fashioned," Avalon chuckled and quickly wiped some tears from her face.

"Like a proper fairy tale. Now, for you, Ava, what do you say?"

"I do," Avalon said in a way that made her sound like she'd lost air, in a good way. She was intently watching him for every slight movement he made.

"...I do," the Doctor ultimately said, smiling with her. "I never did come up with a label for us and now I know why. You could have never been my 'girlfriend' because this is what you were meant to be for me: my wife."

"My husband," she whispered. "My Fairy Tale Man is my husband."

"There's just one more thing..." The Doctor leaned to her and whispered something in her ear. Almost immediately, Avalon's eyes half-widened and stared as the Doctor pulled away. "I just told you my name. There, my Ava, we're married." He caressed the side of her face and gave her a small kiss.

"The End," she said as they pulled away. To chapter 1.

They undid the bowtie from their hands but the Doctor left it tucked in Avalon's hand. "Keep it safe with my watch," he whispered to her. He drew in a breath and walked up to River. She raised her head at him, almost looking like she would defy him again...but she held her hand out.

Their hands met and Time resettled.

River, in the astronaut suit, fired and killed the Doctor.

The rest of the Ponds' and Lena watched it happen by the lake.

Everything was as it should be again.

~ 0 ~

Dorium Maldovar, inside his box, was being carried back to his resting place from where he'd been stolen from. There'd been too many movements for him to keep up with who had him now. Being just a sole head made a lot of things difficult like that.

"Who's carrying me?" He shouted from within the box, "I demand to know...I'm a head, I have rights! I want my doors open this time." The person carrying the box placed it on a pedestal and slid open its door before turning and walking away. "Is it you?!" Dorium called and watched as the figure stopped. It is, isn't it? It is you, I can sense it. But how did you do it? How could you possibly have escaped?!"

An ecstatic Doctor pulled down his hood and dropped his cloak to the floor. He was all too happy to share how he duped the entire Silence. "The Teselecta. A Doctor in a Doctor-Suit. Time said I had to be on that beach so I dressed for the occasion, barely got singed in that boat."

"So you're going to do this, let them all think you're dead?"

"It's the only way they can forget me," the Doctor said earnestly. He had thought about for 200 hundred years and this was the only way things could end up. "I got too big, Dorium, too noisy...time to step back into the shadows."

"And Dr. Song?" Dorium asked, "In prison all her days?"

"Well, I'm sure she'll be sneaking out every now and then. She's got a daughter to keep an eye on, after all."

"So many secrets, Doctor. I'll help you keep them, of course…"

The Doctor tried his best not to laugh on the spot. "Well, you're not exactly going anywhere, are you?"

"But you're a fool nonetheless. Kovarian had rumors spreading…" Dorium paused when the Doctor stopped altogether, "Dr. Song's daughter — you married her, didn't you?"

Dorium might be a head but the Doctor was not above making him suffer there and then. "How do you even know—"

"Kovarian said you would. She said you would marry the girl, your companions would die, and you would go to Trenzalore, the place you must never go to. You've changed the course of time and now it will happen."

"Sorry if I don't buy it from a head," the Doctor straightened his jacket. Kovarian had said nonsense to make things happen the way she wanted them to. Dorium had to be repeating what he heard. "Goodbye Dorium. My wife's about to be born and I can't miss that. I really can't." He gave a wave of his hand and turned to leave, but of course Dorium still called after him.

"It's all waiting for you now. You may not believe it, it may take centuries, but it's coming. The fields of Trenzalore, the fall of the Eleventh...and the question!"

"Goodbye!"

"The first question! The question that must never be answered, hidden in plain sight. The question you've been running from all your life," Dorium practically shouted, "Doctor who? Doctor who? Doc... tor... WHO?!"

Author's Note:

And there we have it folks! River was the astronaut to save her daughter's life. I twisted things around because, honestly, the canon of this show is ridiculously obscure and vague. You've probably noticed that I've placed a heavy importance on season 7 throughout this story, including Clara. I don't know if it was just me but I always wondered why the hell Kovarian went after the Ponds when it was Clara who ended up bringing 11 to Trenzalore. Maybe it's just me and my weird thought process but that's what I'm going for in this story. I'm telling you that season is my favorite and it'll definitely show when we get to that one, though I am splitting it up just like the show did (one for a comic arc story and the second for the later half of s7).

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Legend of the band; AU Ghost! Queen x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well this is a story that's been going through my head for a few days. I was originally gonna save this before Halloween but I figure I just go ahead and post this now in case I lost it amongst all my other writings in the near future. So background on this story it takes place in present day and the band members of Queen are ghosts.  Now I want to also put this out, I've inspired the ghosts designs from Guillermo Del Toro's film Crimson Peak. So just type in how the ghosts look and you'll see just why I've made the boys ghosts different colors.

Warnings: Swearing, death, slight attempted of assault (ALWAYS ASK PERMISSION BEFORE YOU TRY TO KISS SOMEONE), some horror elements?, fluff and angst.

*EDIT 7-27-20* NEW PARTS DOWN BELOW!!!

Part 2

Part 3

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@platawnic​

@geek-and-proud​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queendeakyy​

@queensdivas​

@kairosfreddie​

@eileen-crys​

_________________________________________________________

It started off as a dare-pact that my friends wanted to do.  Every year around Halloween we try to do some sort of Halloween dare together whether it was going to a graveyard, using a Ouija board, or crashing a Halloween party in one of the upper class neighborhoods dressed as monsters and scare the shit out of them.

It was either one person or we would do it as the entire group and this year we decided to do our next Halloween dare as a group.  The ringleader of the group Aaron gathered us up in our private clubhouse (his basement) and we were all gathered around to discuss just what we were going to do.

“Right, I call this meeting of the Halloween dare to order.” Aaron proclaimed.

“So what’s the plan for this year?” asked Brandon.

“How bout we go downtown and scare the little kids at the daycare during their Halloween party?” suggested Jake.

“No that’s just cruel even for us.” Said Amy.

“I agree.” I added. “Besides you just want to do that cause you’re little brother’s gonna be there, right?”

“So what? The little asshole got me into trouble last week. He deserves some payback.” Jake hissed.

“Alright Jake settle down. Okay so we had Amy and Susan do the Ouija board last year.”

“Which I still don’t forgive you guys. I swear I think my house is still haunted.” Susan said.

“Oh I’ve got it!” Proclaimed Brandon.

“Lay it on us Bran.” Aaron said.

“Three words for you guys. Rockfield. Farm. studios.” At that point everyone went silent.

“ARE YOU INSANE!?!?” exclaimed Amy.

“Yeah Brandon do you want to commit suicide or something!? Do you hate life!?” Jake snapped.

“Brandon, why in the fuck would you suggest that?” I asked.

“Oh come on! We’ve done practically the same stupid shit every time. Yeah sure the Ouija board could do some serious things but never have we actually tried to go to a real haunted house. So why not Rockfield farm?”

“Wait, I don’t get it. What’s Rockfield farm?” Susan asked.  Susan was the recent member to join the horror crew when she moved here from Michigan. Almost no one wanted to speak that was until I finally told her the legend.

“Rockfield farm was used as a recording studio a long time ago. Like back in the 70’s. Anyway there was this up and coming band called Queen. You know the ones who made the song Killer Queen?”

“Oh yeah my mom still has her vinyl record of that album.” Susan said.

“Well anyway, in the summer of 1975 they went to record their next record. Legend says it would’ve been their greatest album yet. It could’ve really made them even more famous than they were. But—an accident occurred at that farm.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Well that’s where the story gets a little iffy. There have been several theories throughout time on what happened.” I explained.

“One theory is that an electrical fire happened while the band was in the studio, and they couldn’t escape in time and ended up being burned alive.” Jake said.

“Another theory is that someone broke into the property and slaughtered the band mates in their sleep.” Amy said.

“A slightly different version to that theory is that it was actually the band’s assistant that killed them in cold blood. Apparently he was in love with the front man. And in rejection he slaughtered the whole band before killing himself.”

“Whichever story you choose to believe in, it is said that the ghosts of the band members still haunt the property to this day. And anyone who has entered inside, is never seen again.” Aaron finished.

“Which is why not even I will go there.” Jake emphasized.

“Oh what’s wrong Jake? Don’t got the balls to make a drive up there and spend the night in the haunted farm?” teased Brandon.

“Shut up arsehole! At least I have balls.” Brandon was just about to pounce on Jake when Amy stopped the two of them by pushing Brandon back onto the floor and I said.

“Look, I thought it was foolish enough to go to the graveyard at night. But this—this is foolishness. No way am I gonna be possessed by a ghost or anything like that.”

“You know what you guys are all chicken!” Brandon exclaimed. “We’ve done almost every single Halloween dare known to man and you lot are scared to go to a little haunted house in the country and spend the night there.”

“He’s right.” Aaron finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry what?” Amy snapped.

“He’s right. We’ve been pulling out the same stuff every year but with different people. There’s no real haunted places here in the city but Rockfield is the closest thing we can get to.”

“Thank you!” Brandon exclaimed.

“Aaron, I swear to god if you make me go to that place we are finished! Do you hear me finished!” Amy snapped as she walked right up towards her boyfriend of 3 years.

“Sorry babe, I’ve made my mind up. We’ll leave in 2 days. Meeting adjourned.” Oh god what has Brandon done?

Later that night I was staring up at the full moon from my window when my nana came in.

“I thought I had told you to go to bed sweetheart. You’ve got school in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep nana.” I said solemnly.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” she said as she came up and sat down next to me.

“Just something my friends want me to do.”

“Those troublemakers that always make you trespass on private property? Or crash a party? Honestly (y/n) I don’t know why you hang out with kids like that.”

“They’re my friends nana. They always got my back when I need them.” She sighed and surrendered.

“Alright, alright. But what’s gotten you so rattled up?” now I couldn’t really tell her just what was going on.  She’d never let me go on a road trip to Rockfield farm so I had to think of something.

“They—they suggested going on a trip and…..I don’t like to leave you alone.” She smiled at me and tucked a strand of hair.

“Oh poppet. I maybe old but I’m not frail. How long are you planning on leaving?”

“It’s just for Halloween. We’ll be back the next day.”

“Okay then. Now even though I don’t approve of your friends behavior, I can’t stop you from going out Halloween night. Just promise you’ll stay out of trouble.”

“I will.” That’s a promise that not even I know how to keep. “And you’re sure you’ll be fine?”

“Yes, yes. And don’t worry, your father won’t hear a thing from me.”

“Really?”

“I’m his mother. I don’t have to tell him anything.” She winked at me. “Now go to sleep.” She lectured me before giving me a kiss goodnight and we both told each other I love you.

Two days later it was time.  Right after school, we all piled in Brandon’s RV and we drove the long drive to the country side to Rockfield studios.  Just as the sun was about to set, we finally arrived at the farm.

God it looks even more desolated and frightening than the pictures.  The entire housing was swamped with vines, weeds, and any other ounce that Mother Nature could throw at it.  The bricks at certain spots were chipped away or even rotting away (how that’s possible I don’t know).

We slowly walked up towards the main house and we just stood before it fearfully.

“Whose gonna go in first?” Amy asked.

“I vote our raining president of this idea Brandon.” Jake said.

“I second that.” Amy replied.

“Ditto.” Said Susan.

“Fine I’ll go in first.” Brandon said as he walked up the steps of the deck before standing before the front door.  He just stood there, still as a statue before Jake cried out.

“Well go on smartass and go in already!”

“I’m going I’m going!” Brandon snapped back.  He took the door handle and slowly opened the door which made an eerie creaking sound. He took one small step into the house before he was suddenly pulled in.

“BRANDON!” we all cried out.  Soon we all piled into the house and it was so dark you could barely make out what was in front of you.  The door suddenly slammed loudly behind us which made a few of us jump.

“Come on Brandon, this isn’t funny!” Jake called out.

“Brandon?” Aaron spoke up.

“Brandon seriously if this is a joke it’s not AHHH!!!” Amy spoke before suddenly screaming as something grabbed her.  We all soon began screaming before a laugh rang out.  Coming out from underneath a white sheet was Brandon.

“You guys should’ve seen your faces!” he laughed.

“You sick fuck who does that!?” Amy said as she began to punch him as hard as she could.

“That wasn’t funny Brandon.” I scowled.

“It was pretty funny!”

“Guys I think I found the light’s switch.” Susan said as she then flipped a switch on and soon the lights came on.

“Okay so we’re here now. Why not have a look around?” Brandon suggested.

“Man do you not know your horror film goofs!? If we split up, the ghosts will hunt us down one. By. one. Starting with the good looking comedy relief guy, me!” Jake proclaimed.

“Get a grip Jake! We’ll split up into pairs. Amy and I will go together and take the barn. (Y/n) you and Susan…..”

“Oh hell no. I can’t even stand to be near Brandon right now!”

“Oh what you a wittle scaredy cat Jakey-wakey?” Brandon teased.

“SHUT UP!!!”

“Alright! Jake you and (Y/n) go take the living room, and Susan you and Brandon can take the upstairs.” Aaron said breaking up the fight with the boys.  I rolled my eyes cause I knew Jake was gonna try to flirt around with me (he’s been doing that since the start of secondary school).

“I can dig with that.” Jake said as he came right up beside me.

“Do you seriously hate me Aaron?” I muttered before we finally split up.

Jake and I came to the living room and saw a small piano right there in the middle of the room, and jointed next to the living room was the kitchen.

“Pretty spooky huh? Just imagine if this piano started playing on its own. But no worries (Y/n), if you get scared you can hold onto me and I’ll protect you.”

“My hero.” I muttered sarcastically.  It was then something caught my eye.  I walked towards a table to see what looked like an old photo album.  I blew away the dust and wiped the cover to see the writing say.

PROGRESS ON LATEST ALBUM

“Whatcha got there?” Jake said as he came up to me and shined his phone flashlight down on the photo album.

“It’s an old photo album book.” Jake scoffed.

“Wow. The only person who has stuff like that are my parents. Man thank god we have technology nowadays. Otherwise no one would get to see my handsome face.” Why does this man even exist? Seriously I don’t see why all the girls on the cheer squad go for him?

“And what a shame that would’ve been.” I muttered as I opened the book up.

“I know right?!” I turned the next page and there were a few photos of Queen inside a recording studio of sorts and below it a caption that spelled,

AT HARD WORK WITH THE LADS. R.M.T.

“What does RMT stand for?”

“I don’t know. Could be some sort of acronym or something. Maybe initials for a name.”

“Well you’re an expert on all those old guys that existed back in the Medieval ages. What were the names of the band that died here?”

“It wasn’t the Medieval ages Jake. It was 40 years ago. And I don’t really know their names. I just know them as Queen.” I flipped to the next page to see a man with long black hair at the piano and the caption under that said.

FRED AT PIANO - Bri.

“Fred huh? He doesn’t look like a Fred to me. And who signs off with Bri?” I shook my head and continued to flip through the pages.  Each picture were of the band doing certain things while recording or just being around the farm, and each picture was signed with initials RMT, JD, FM, or BRI.  Finally the last picture was all four of them together.

“Check out the date.” I said.  In the picture it read 8-13-75. “This was taken the day when the band died.”

“Holy shit you’re right. They must’ve taken this picture just before whatever happened, happened.”

“They look so young.” I said solemnly.

“Yeah. But if they had lived they’d be like—our grandparents by now.” Suddenly I heard a voice.

No wait it was—singing.  I looked around trying to find out where the singing was coming from.  It was—beautiful. Hypnotic almost.  It was the most beautiful sound I ever heard.

“(/n). (Y/n)! Oi (Y/n)!” I was snapped out of it by Jake. “Jesus you looked like you were in a trance or something.”

“Was I? Sorry I….”

“No need to apologize. Hell if it was all about me, then maybe I’ll let it slid.” He said as he stroked up my arm.

“Jake! I’ve tried to let you down easy but please for the last time. I don’t like you that way! So stop with the flirting!”

“Oh c’mon (Y/n). What is there about me that you don’t like?” Gee where do I begin? “C’mon just give me a chance.” He walked closer to me but I tried to push him away.

“No Jake stop! Back off!” suddenly the fireplace just a few feet away from us ignited.  The flames reached as high as they could and call my crazy but I thought I could see someone’s face in the fire.  Jake jumped away from me and that’s when we heard the piano being played.

Play video

It was a random play on the keys at a very fast pace on the upper keys while also hitting a couple of the lower keys every now and then.  

“What the f—” the piano then hit a single key for a couple of beats before finally changing tune to that of a marching tune.  Like someone was coming towards you and you could just hear the beat of their footsteps.

Getting freaked out by the piano, Jake ran screaming out of the living room while I was just frozen in place.  The fireplace suddenly turned off but there was still some sort of light.  I slowly turned around and saw a yellow light ball shining right there.  But it wasn’t just some random ball or something.

This was some sort of spiritual ball because I could see smoke slowly dancing around it as it floated before me.  I wanted to run but I was either too scared or stunned by what just happened.  It was then I heard the singing come back, and it was coming from this spiritual matter in front of me.

And I don’t know how or why but—it made me feel safe.  Listening to the singing that came from this ball, it was like being wrapped up tightly in a warm hug.  Or sleeping in your own bed, like the weight of the world has been dropped from you.

I soon found myself walking towards the yellow spirit ball.  It moved backwards as I walked towards it.  It floated towards the fireplace and I wouldn’t have known if I weren’t in my trance-like state once again, but the fireplace opened up to reveal a long corridor.

*3rd Person POV*

As Jake ran on ahead he soon tackled into someone and that someone ended up being Amy.

“What the hell Jake!? Get off me you perv!”

“Guys! Guys! Guys! P-p-p-p-pi….pi-gh…..(y/n)…..”

“Stop your blabbering and tell us what happened!?” Aaron said as he forced Jake off his girlfriend and helped her up.

“Piano……playing itself. Fireplace……flames go up.”

“What’s he blabbering about?” Brandon’s voice soon spoke up as he and Susan came around the hallway.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Susan asked worriedly.  They all looked at Jake who still had a look of fright on his face.  They quickly raced towards the living room and they all gasped to see (Y/n) just about to turn right of the long corridor that stood them.

“What the hell!”

“Why did you leave her you dumbass!?”

“(Y/n)!” her friends tried to run after her but the fireplace soon closed back up and the flames were once again fully ignited.  Soon coming out of the flames was a pure white figure.

His hair was all curly and long like a poodle.  He wore a few necklaces 2-3 which were wrapped around his neck while the other one draped over his bare chest due to his shirt having a few of the buttons undone. But what had the kids most horrified was that this man was transparent.

Gentle wisps of smoke flowed from his hair, fingers, and even the cut along his cheek which seeped out small amounts of ghost blood.  His eyes which were a pure dark grey stared right at the young teenagers and he let out a haunting whisper.

“She belongs……to us!” at that phrase the teens all screamed and ran off.  The girls ran towards the backway while the boys ran up the stairs.  The girls raced out towards the barn and hid underneath a hay cart.

“Was that a……” Susan started off.

“No! It couldn’t have been! It’s impossible!” Amy exclaimed in denial.

“Oh it’s entirely possible.” A male voice soon spoke up.  They slowly turned their heads and saw another ghost.

Unlike the one they saw earlier, this one was a blue spirit with haunting ocean like eyes.  His hair was long and flowing and he wore a smug grin on his face.  Susan and Amy were in gawk at this ghost. “Now, now ladies I know I’m a looker but there’s no need to stare.”

They then screamed as they tried to get out but just before they could leave the barn, the doors suddenly shut.

“Leaving so soon? Oh that’s not fair. Not before I’ve had the chance to know your names. God it’s been so long since female company have come to this farm.” Susan and Amy were terrified at the point.  They tried to get the doors open but it was all in vain.  

Suddenly they felt themselves being levitated up in the air and the ghost appeared before them and said in a low, haunting tone.

“And the three of us are gonna have such fun together.” Only the piercing, terrified screams of the girls echoed through the barn.

Back in the house, Brandon, Jake and Aaron all headed for the basement in one of the tightest rooms the house had.  They all panted heavily and Aaron said.

“Did—you guys see what I saw?”

“You mean that curly haired ghost that just said (Y/n) belongs to them. No.” Brandon said.

“Same.” Jake said. The room suddenly got colder than it was, so cold in fact that the boys could now see their breath.  It was then Jake suddenly felt something pick him up by his throat.  He squirmed in the grip of the invisible force.

“Jake!” Aaron called out but then suddenly he and Brandon were pushed up against the wall and they couldn’t move.  No matter how much they squirmed, they couldn’t budge an inch.  Suddenly Jake was thrown down onto the small rickety bed and that’s when he appeared.

A fully black ghost with long hair.  He looked younger than the last ghost they saw but there was something about him that felt—angry.  The young black ghost turned to Jake and his voice which was a soft, honey like tone say.

“If I remember, No always means No. No matter who it is.” He slowly crawled on top of Jake pinning his arms down. “But since you can’t seem to understand what it feels like to be in such a vulnerable position, maybe I should show you.” by the end of his statement his voice suddenly got lower, darker.  Almost sinister.

Through Jake’s eyes he saw as this ghost’s face actually morphed into the Devil himself. Burned and scarred with pure red and black eyes.  Jake screamed in pure terror.

*My POV*

I kept following the light as well as the voice.  The beautiful, soulful, most angelic voice.  God it was—almost inhuman of how this voice could sing.  With such gentleness but also control it when he belted out a note or a phrase.

The light ball quickly faded away and had now become a record player with an album that stood right up against it.  I slowly reached out for it and it read.

QUEEN

A NIGHT AT THE OPERA.

As I held it in my hands there was a moment where I heard screaming.  Wait my friends? They were……

“Play the record darling.” The voice soothed me.  I felt a gentle caress under my chin.  I closed my eyes and took out the record and placed it on the record player. “Play it, play it. You know you want to.” The voice continued to coo.  I turned the record on, lifted the needle but just before I could place it at the top the voice whispered to me again, “Lower.”

I adjusted the needle as the voice continued to whisper lower again and again softly in my ear.

“There!” it suddenly hissed out which frightened me and forced me to let go of the needle and soon a quartet of voices soon began to sing with no instrument backup.

Play video

My god. This……this really was Queen.  I mean I’ve only really heard a few of their songs but this was definitely them.  The way their voices melded together in perfect harmony.  The piano soon came in and I sat down by the record player and just took in this song.

I literally felt like my soul was being sucked out as the vocals took me on a trip.  Then the bass picked up as the leading front man started singing the song, the very voice I’ve been hearing from the spirit force earlier.

As the song continued to play and went on a brief instrumental break, I looked at the record to see just what this song was called because I hadn’t heard a single word that stands out except Mama.  I then saw a finger point to the second to last song.  I looked up and shocked to see one of the band member’s ghost right there with me.

His entire ghost form was the same yellow color as the spirit ball from earlier, his wild hair went down to shoulders and he had an overbite but somehow it worked on him. He looked pretty exotic (by that I knew he wasn’t from London, maybe India or something).  He nodded and gestured to the song again.  I looked down at it and read it out loud.

“Bohemian Rhapsody?” he smiled happily and soon a guitar solo came on.  But along with that, I heard the same guitar playing the same notes, almost as if—holy shit!

A curly haired pure white ghost soon held a red guitar and began playing the exact guitar solo right there.  I turned to the ghost beside me who was still smiling devilishly and he gestured for me to look back at the guitarist.  As I watched the white ghost play the guitar, I was amazed and mesmerized by how he played the guitar.

As a Classic Rock fan I’ve seen the greatest guitar players such as Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Alex Lifeson, and Eddie Van Halen, but this guy—this was unlike anything I’ve ever seen a guitarist do or even play.  It was like his guitar was actually singing a solo, instead of just being an instrument.  Like it was a person, and she sang beautifully.

The song then went quiet as the lights went out and only a single piano note was now playing over and over.  Soon the silhouette of the ghost that led me here stood before me as a single spotlight hit him.  And I don’t know whether the vocals suddenly turned off or whatever but I could actually hear singing right there.

Next thing I know, the yellow and white ghosts are now joined up with a soft blue and pure black ghost.  The four of them standing together in like a diamond shape patter with the yellow and white ghost at top and bottom respectively, the blue ghost was on my right while the black was on the left.  

The four of them once again jointed in a quartet harmony before suddenly their voices boomed out like a canon firing.  And I know it sounds crazy but I swear I think they duplicated themselves about a dozen times to get that full powerful choir sound.  The blue ghost then started to sing in a really high falsetto tone while the yellow ghost backed him up on the lower range before making his voice waver.

This pattern continued as the front man sung again softly and then the other three ghosts (or copies) backed him up.  Wow this song it’s—literally unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.  The way it started soft before BAM exploding right in your face. Just like an Opera.

I bopped my head along to the beat softly to the beat and then when the rock out section came on. I’ll admit I banged my head as hard as I could (may come to regret it later but I didn’t care).  The setting soon changed to an actual rock and roll concert stage and I saw all four of them up on the stage.  

The black ghost on bass, the blue playing the drums, the white playing his guitar and the yellow one center stage, well more like everywhere as he strutted around and sung as loudly as he could.

I smiled and stood up and couldn’t help but jump up and down as I rocked out along with them. The yellow ghost soon went back to the piano and began playing it and as the four ghosts vocalized softly, the song slowly died off the hard rock and grew soft once again.  The yellow ghost sang the last verse as the piano solely took over now just before the white ghost played his guitar for the last time.

Then when the soft bang of a gong, the song ended and the room went dark once more.

“That’s it? Oh come on please that can’t be the end of the song!” the lights soon came back on and I now found myself in a recording studio.  The four ghosts all standing there.  The yellow one came up to me with a soft smile and gently touched the center of my forehead with his index and tall fingers and I felt this warmth come over my yet again.

“We’ve got more songs than that dear, believe me. But this is the one we’re most proudest of.” His normal voice spoke to me.  

“It was either that or I’m in love with my car.” The white ghost groaned out.

“I told you before Brian it’s a metaphor!” the blue ghost snapped.

“After all these years Roger it’s still unusual. What exactly are you doing to that car?” the black ghost sassed.

“Ignore him darling. He’s just a little peeved that after all the fussing and locking himself in a cupboard, his song didn’t get the chance to go on the B side to our single. Which is my masterpiece.” The yellow ghost told me.

“Umm…..not to sound cruel but, I mean I know you guys are Queen but uhh—what are your names?”

“Oh yes that. Silly me. You my darling may call me Freddie Mercury.” The yellow ghost introduced himself with a twirl.

“Brian May. Thank you again for giving us a chance to show you our hard work.” The white ghost introduced himself.  Wow he sure was polite.

“Roger Taylor. And I must say my dear, you are quite adorable, especially when you let loose and rock out.” The blue ghost gave me a wink.  Normally I wouldn’t give flirting a second glance, especially after Jake’s insistent flirting, but for some reason I couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.

“Please forgive him. He always goes crazy over a pretty girl. John Deacon it’s lovely to meet you.” The black ghost said as he gave me a greeting bow of his head.  Freddie, Brian, Roger and John, these guys were the men behind Queen.

“It’s—an honor to meet you four. I’m (Y/n). So—all the times people have been coming into the studio, all you wanted was for someone to listen to your album?”

“Yes, but no one would stick around. All because we’re ghosts.” Freddie whined as he pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And you were the only one who had any sense of musical taste.” Roger pointed out my Hendrix shirt.  I rubbed the back of my neck and said.

“Yeah, kinda a music geek. Mostly through classic rock. But none of my friends—oh my god my friends! What did—those screams from earlier. What did you guys do to them?!”

“Take it easy lovie, your friends are safe and unharmed.” Roger assured me.

“Really?”

“Yes. I mean minus the fright we might’ve caused them, they’re completely fine. They’re passed out in that van of yours outside right now.” Brian said.

“Though Deacy dear, I must admit you truly traumatized that one young boy earlier. I could barely keep my hold on (Y/n)’s mind to bring her here cause of the screaming you had that boy doing.” Freddie said.

“Who? You mean Jake?” I asked.

“What he did to you back there. It—wasn’t right. If a woman says no, it means no.” John growled softly.

“Thanks John. I’ve tried telling him for years I never once liked him like that, but any chance we’re alone he tries to come onto me. I was getting sick and tired of it.”

“Well not to worries dear, I think from what John did to him, he’ll never bother you again for a long time.” Roger said as he ruffled John’s hair up.  John pushed his hand off his head and he came up to me and asked.

“You sure he didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine, really. I’m okay.” He sighed in relief.

“Hey guys,” they all looked at me giving me their full attention. “I—I don’t mean to get personal with you all. But uhh……How did you guys…..forget it. You don’t have to answer it. It’s probably none of my business.”

“It’s not? Then why so interested?” asked Brian.  He didn’t ask it out of annoyance, I could genuinely hear the concern in his voice.

“Well I was gonna ask, how did you guys—you know……”

“Die?” they all said together.  I nodded.

“Well dear as much as we would like to tell you, we can’t.” Freddie said.

“Yeah I get it. I mean if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t either.”

“It’s not that (Y/n).” John said.  I looked at him confused, “See while we remember some parts of our lives as humans. The day we died—that part’s fuzzy.”

“For decades we’ve tried to remember what had happened but every time we try it just—doesn’t come around.” Brian finished.  Oh wow I never knew that that could happen when you become a ghost.  Not knowing how you die and have to remain here on Earth.

“Tell us dear, what all has been said about our deaths?” Freddie asked me as he leaned sat down on the chair and rest his chin on his hand.

“Well there are several theories. The ones I know about are an electrical fire in this studio and you guys being trapped inside.”

“Sounds boring.” Freddie bluntly stated.  The other three looked at him questioningly.

“What else?” asked Roger.

“Well another theory is that someone snuck in and massacred you guys. Some people even go into detail about the homicide and what happened to each of you. I—I was honestly heartbroken hearing that and cried.”

“Aww you sweet thing.” Freddie and Roger cooed.

“A slight alteration to that theory is that it was a—day to day manager you guys had was the one to kill you guys.”

“Oh him. Well we’re proud to say he’s no longer with us anymore.” Roger said.

“I think I remember that he also died along with us. And if he did, he’s right where he belongs cause we haven’t seen him since our death. Thank god.” said John.  I softly smiled before letting out a soft yawn.

“It’s getting late, you should get some sleep.” Brian said to me.

“Where can I sleep at?” I asked.

“You could pick one of our old rooms.” Roger suggested.

“Just hope you don’t mind sleeping on rickety old beds.” Brian softly laughed.  I softly laughed and said.

“Okay uhh…..John do you mind if I take yours?”

“Not at all. Follow me.” I followed behind him and we walked out of the recording studio and back to the main house.  He walked down the steps to the basement and he said, “Just a word of warning, it’s small and it gets colder than the other rooms. You sure you still want it?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” We came to the bottom of the steps and I saw that it was indeed a tiny room. Kinda reminded me of my childhood room when my parents and I were living in a small flat.

“Again I apologize, I didn’t choose this room. Yet I’m bound to it for all eternity.” He said as he placed his hand on the dresser but it went right through it. “Kinda the price for being the youngest and most forgetful member of the band.”

“I never thought that.” He turned towards me. “From the songs I’ve heard on your three albums, your basslines are unique and easily recognizable. Especially this one song uhh—god it’s been awhile since I listened to it what’s it called…..Lies?”

“Liar?”

“That’s it! That solo is phenomenal.” He softly smiled and thanked me.  I walked towards the small bed and tucked myself in suddenly feeling tired than I was before.

“Thanks again for allowing me to take your room tonight John.”

“Anytime. Sleep well (y/n).” I then shut my eyes and finally fell asleep.

*John’s POV*

I don’t know how to explain it.  Normally I’d never allow anyone to try and sleep in my room.  All the humans that have entered this farm whether on a dare or trying to discover the secrets of this place, I’ve made sure to keep out anyone by frightening them away.

But this young girl there was something—familiar about her.  Was she—no. No that’s impossible.  I’m crazy for even suggesting it, there’s no way that’s possible.  It’s a one in a billion chances.  I sat there in the corner of my room and watched her sleep, while trying to make sense on why I’m feeling this strange pull towards her.

*My POV*

2 weeks after that night, the guys actually gave me the Night at the Opera record and I was just amazed by all the songs it had, but my favorite song will always be Bohemian Rhapsody.  But there was another song called ‘You’re my best friend’ (written by John) that had a special connection with me.

Right now I was helping my nana with some reorganizing in the attic when I came across an old box of stuff.  I opened it up and was first greeted with some dust.  I let out a sneeze as I wiped the dust out of my face before pulling out a beautiful wedding dress.

“Nana! What’s this?” she climbed up the stairs and when she saw me, her face grew solemn. She walked up towards me and knelt down beside me.

“Now this is something I haven’t seen in years. This—was my wedding dress.”

“It’s beautiful.” I said as I stroked through the fabric.

“Yeah. But oh did I look like a balloon in it. I was pregnant with your father at the time I got married.” She went through the box and soon pulled out a photo album and opened it up. “See, this was me on my wedding day with—with your grandfather.” I looked down and I was shocked.

There was her and John standing together.  The two of them smiling as the picture was being taken.  Her back to John’s chest and his arms wrapped around her pregnant stomach.

“It was a surprise, the pregnancy. And we were incredibly young but—John praised about becoming a father. But then…….” She stopped and wiped away her tears.

“Nana are—are you okay?” she sniffled and dabbed her eyes and said.

“Yes. Yes poppet I’ll be okay. Sorry. It’s just—so hard, even after over 40 years. He was my best friend, the love of my life. I wish your father talked more about your grandfather to you. Oh he would’ve loved you soo much dear. Spoiled you rotten probably.”

Oh if only she knew. Wow so—my grandfather is John Deacon. Wow that’s—not everyone can say something like that.

“What….what was grandfather like?” I asked her.

“Well, we met way back in 1974 at a Disco club. My friends and I were out for a girls night out when—” she then proceeded to tell me the entire story of how she and granddad met and fell in love.

Hearing it from her own voice, it was like something out of a fairytale.  She and John really did love each other and it seemed like they would’ve stayed together forever had what happened to Queen not occurred.

“Did—the police ever tell you what happened?” I asked her.

“For years I tried to get them to give me an answer. But the case went cold and they just ruled it as accidental. I had to live with that heartbreak ever since. So I raised your father as a single parent because there wasn’t anyone like John Richard Deacon.” I leaned against her shoulder nuzzling her arm.

She wrapped her arm around my head and gave me a soft kiss to my head.  Together the two of us sat there and she told me as many stories as she could remember between her and John.

[starrymothwings]

Fate 21, 22, 23

Now because of the very nature of Fate and Fate Grand Order in particular, you can make the arguments that there aren’t a whole lot of crack ships in general? Now if we’re talking about the regular ol’ human and mage characters then that’s one thing and I don’t have any strong opinions on that. Ship what you want as long as it’s not, like, incest or pedophilia.

However if we’re talking servants or ships that involve servants?? Understand I’m going to mostly talk about FGO because that’s the part of the franchise I’m most familiar with, but

One of the most popular ships is literally between the alternate darker versions of Jeanne d’Arc and King Arthur who is also a woman in this.

Now there’s context for this but that doesn’t make that sentence not buck wild, right? Another ship the game teases is between Martha (like, Saint Martha) and Sasaki Kojiro who is technically one of many possible nameless swordsmen who can take up the mantle of Sasaki Kojiro by taking up and mastering his techniques. As far as ships I’ve seen art of, there’s Semiramis and Amakusa, Gilgamesh and Arturia (King Arthur but woman, also this ship is one of divided opinion for very good reason), and even Tesla and Thomas Edison. You know, Tesla and the guy that stole his inventions--oh but let’s not forget that in the Fateverse Thomas Edison is merged with all of the American presidents which for some reason makes him a fucking buff punch wizard with the head of a LION.

I’m rambling, but my point is: by the very nature of Fate, there aren’t a whole lot of characters you can stick together and properly call it a crack ship. It’s one part of the ridiculous that I love about Fate, which is that you don’t have to go out of your way to imagine any number of scenarios between all sorts of colorful characters.

This is....Hard for me to answer. Very hard.

So, the thing is, there aren’t any popular characters I can say that I hate. Either because the popular characters in the Fateverse tend to be popular for more reasons beyond the fact that they’re pretty (The original VN was an eroge, yes, but that was because of marketing. You take out or ignore the eroge scenes and you have a well-written, interesting visual novel) OR it’s because I just simply don’t have enough context for that character.

For the latter, let me use Tamamo and Nero for example. These are two characters that I KNOW are popular. They’re also characters I’m not super fond of--however, that’s possibly because I don’t know them well enough. I’ve played through Fate Grand Order and Fate Extella Link. I’m currently playing through Fate Extra for the first time, but I’m on Archer’s route. I have not played Extella Link or the other two routes in Extra, I have not watched a playthrough of CCC yet, I have not watched Last Encore, I have not read Foxtail, I have not played through Extella. 

That’s a lot of context, story, and character for those two that I haven’t experienced yet. I don’t like Nero’s character in FGO because they try to erase everything she did wrong in life, or just sweep it under the rug. However, I’ve heard that she’s written much better in the game that she debuts in, Fate Extra, and that the loose anime adaptation of it, Last Encore, has something good too.

Tamamo just...Bores me. But! I know even less of her character than Nero. It’s way too soon for me to say whether or not I dislike her when I’m only taking her at face value.

I may not like the two of them for now, but my answer may change once I have all the information.

Again, I can’t say that I there are any popular characters I hate, however...

Robin Hood (pretty sure he’s at least fairly popular) is one character that I do like, but not nearly as much as I’ve seen. I just...Don’t really get the hype? Again, haven’t played through Extella or watched someone play CCC but I HAVE played past his roles in Extra and FGO. Like I like him but I can’t say he’s a favorite of mine, or even near that spot.

Nightingale, however...Nightingale I don’t like. I don’t hate her but I don’t like her either. There were spans of time in the America singularity that I was either bored or annoyed with because of her. Does she make good points and say some dope shit occasionally? Yeah. Most of the rest of her dialogue however felt very very repetitive. Like yes I know that your shtick is that you’re a nurse and you’re here to treat the illness and disease in the singularity and Cu Alter is a prime candidate for treatment because his character as he is in that current iteration is diseased, yes yes yes. But there’s only so many times I can read her talk about illness and disease before it starts to get on my nerve. Yeah she has Madness Enhancement EX, but you know who else does? Saber Gilles. Cu Alter has it too, and they’re both coherent. Also, and more importantly, I fucking hate her pose. The art in her ascensions is fine, but the pose?? I get what it’s supposed to be but it looks so stiff. It’s an insignificant detail but she looks like a balloon person and it’s upsetting.

There are...A few. But I’m gonna talk the most in detail about one of my earliest favorites when I first got into Fate. I just mentioned him, actually.

Saber Gilles. I need to specify the class because his Caster self and Saber self are completely different (well, no? It’s complicated) and Saber is the one that’ll always hold a place in my heart.

Because I have a very soft spot for pious people who are goaded by a darker side and struggle with that darkness. Saber Gilles de Rais is not the infamous Bluebeard. Saber Gilles de Rais is the man that came before Bluebeard, the one who was known for fighting alongside Jeanne d’Arc. Saber Gilles is lawful good while Caster Gilles is Chaotic Evil. At a glance, these two are completely different, but the horrifying (and there’s beauty in that horror) truth is that he’s not. And nobody feels that horror quite like Saber Gilles himself.

Fate Grand Order tells of Gilles’ struggle not through words, but through visuals.

In his first ascension, you have him in his ‘purest’ state. You can literally call him a knight in shining armor. This is the honorable man that fought alongside Jeanne, plain and simple.

Then you have the second ascension, and you can immediately tell he’s been tainted. Something isn’t right. His cloth is bloodied, some of his armor has been stripped away and you can see a bit of a dark cloak resembling what he wore as Bluebeard--having replaced that white cape. In his hand he holds a sword. His armor has become sharper, more detailed. He is still a general, yes, but something in him has changed.

Then, the third ascension. It’s a dramatic change. One thing to note is that when servants ascend, they generally gain something in appearance, but Gilles? Gilles has lost. More than half his armor is gone, and now you can very plainly see that Bluebeard-esque garment underneath. The chestpiece bearing a cross? Gone. Every piece of white cloth? Gone. And in his left hand he holds Prelati’s Book. For context, Prelati is the being that convinced Gilles to give into his darker impulses and that led to Bluebeard, or Caster Gilles. That book is also what Caster Gilles wields. In this third ascension we finally see the man who struggles with and fears what he knows he becomes. 

Again, Saber Gilles is not Caster Gilles, cannot but Caster Gilles, but the two are not so different. Caster Gilles is not an alter of Saber Gilles, after all, but rather the two are the same man at different points in his life. As we ascend him we see him transverse the point between when he is a man with strength in his convictions, to a man fighting an inner conflict and change that is coming but will never come to him. Servants generally don’t change much because they are aspects of heroic spirits, but Saber Gilles has to change.

It’s even reflected in his battle sprites. Notice the change in the third sprite? His smile and optimism: gone.

Then, we get to his final ascension art.

THIS. This is still one of my favorite final ascension arts if not my favorite. I’m pretty sure I can’t say anything about it that I haven’t already said above, so I think it’s okay to let the image speak for itself. It’s so fucking beautiful and telling all on it’s own. The angel and devil over your shoulder imagery. Note how it’s not the side with the angel that’s closer to the viewer, that’s in the foreground. I love everything about this piece and if I could buy this as a big poster to hang up in my room I would do that in a heartbeat.

I just love Saber Gilles so, so much. The way he’s written has me smitten. I know it likely won’t ever happen, but I desperately wish he gets another interlude in the future, or a serious role in an event.

...Okay, so I did want to discuss some others but this post is long enough, so I’ll just say some other unpopular characters I love are Fionn Mac Cumhaill, Amadeus Mozart, Fergus, Yagyu (more underrated than unpopular), CALIGULA, Mephistopheles, PHANTOM, Gilgamesh (NOT unpopular just decisive and one of my big favs so I have to mention him), and Salieri if he counts. Really tried to get a lady in there but I can’t think of any that are unpopular. I’m only thinking of the FGO cast because the roster is already so long.

I wouldn’t mind (read: I would LOVE) if someone asked this question again so I can go into detail about some of my other unpopular favorites. I have more that err on the more popular side too, because my heart is big and full of love. OR just straight up send me an ask, anon or not, because I have a lot to say.

Sorry about the long post and thank you for the questions!!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of OLIVIA. Admin Julie: It’s always a delight to see you in our inbox, Lia -- imagine our joy when we saw you’d returned to us in the shape of our favorite sparrow, Omi! It’s been some time since we had her in play, which is a shame, because she’s one of our personal favorites. But you’ve pinned everything about Omi down to a T, from their characteristic skill and allure in trapping others with a few words and sharp gaze, to the way they’re wound around Verona’s fingers and don’t seem to realize... or choose not to. You’ve enthralled us once again, and we cannot wait to have you back on the dashboard and knee-deep in the chaos with Omi in your hands. Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours. 

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Lia.

Age | 22

Pronouns | She/Her/Hers

Activity Level | I’m about to start my summer program, but since I’m only in class three days during next semester on online, I imagine I’ll have plenty of freetime. But knowing me, I’ll most likely log on every few days to knock out a few replies.

Timezone | EST (PST in two months (~:)

How did you find the rp?  | The tag a few centuries ago.

Current/Past RP Accounts | honestly, all of my best characters were in DV :/ All 17 of them

IN CHARACTER

Character | Olivia AKA Yamamoto Omi

What drew you to this character? |

Omi is a character I’ve eyeballed during my time at DV, but someone I’ve never quite had the nerve to apply for. But it is the qualities that I initially shied away from that have inspired me to apply for them this time around. Even upon searching the origin of Omi’s name, I was fascinated by the worldliness and elusiveness it implied about their character.  I came across two definitions, both of which I believe represented her character accurately:

1. OMI— magnificent; the sound of the universe

She is a walking contradiction— the product of love and violence— never truly lacking in either aspect within her lifetime. Maybe that is why she finally found community and comfort within Verona after venturing all over the world. As much as she might hate to admit, this very love and violence is what she’s comfortable with— it’s how she’s learned to thrive and survive. Though they never truly felt like themselves as they ventured around the world, they kept small pieces of each place they visited, all of which have made them into the Sparrow, the performer, that they are today. This is why I began viewing Omi as the sound of the universe. Vast and immeasurable, and not quite able to pinpoint to a single source. She is representative of an assembly of realities. She is never quite the same with each person she encounters, with them only receiving a snapshot or illustration of who she is, with the people she’s closest to receiving the most authentic parts of herself. To be a Sparrow is to participate— in Omi’s opinion— in one of the most precise crafts— an art form that only a select number can master. It is a performance, one in which they give their entirety to, oftentimes to the point that they sense themself slipping away, forgoing what they thought to be their true self and instead opting for the persona they have created. Somehow, being Omi the Sparrow is a far less difficult reality for her to face. What is expected of her is straightforward, her desires and fulfillment never changing very much. Omi the Sparrow always gets what she wants. Their heart is unbreakable, yet shared with everyone they encounter. The power and agency can be detected in her words, her mannerisms— she is completely sure of herself, and what she represents. But Omi— just plain Omi, questions herself constantly. She desires to be seen more than anything but is hesitant to show herself to another person. The weight of the secrets of others sometimes threatens to topple her over. What would their patrons think of their constant doubt? This was something they would never discover because she values her position more than she doubts herself. She loves luxury and security more than she questions who she is and who she’s become. She thrives in this simplistic power far more than she finds herself succumbing to it. And this leads me to what I love most about Omi. Her position allows her to wield a form of power that isn’t flashy or overt, or as obvious and clear cut as many people within the mob. It is subtle and it is dangerous. It is a power you least expect, which will certainly make her someone to look out for within the Verona. It is a power that she does not quite comprehend the magnitude and weight of as of now, but something I hope to develop over time.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

MONA— Their saving grace. There are seldom things Mona could do that would lessen the admiration that Omi holds for her, as this is the woman who they believed to have saved them, to introduce them to the boundless and limitless potential that they had. She did not introduce anything that was not there but instead nurtured the qualities that Omi already possessed for her to become one of the best, if not the best Sparrow that has glided through the various rooms and crannies of The Dark Lady thus far. Omi looks upon Mona as a big sister and is always aiming to please her, whether she recognizes that she’s actively doing so or not. But she is bound to cross her eventually— whether it is slight or monumental, and I believe Omi temporarily or permanently (dear lord idk if I could handle Mona not loving them pls sotkgoerkgose) falling from their grace would be an interesting concept to explore. So much of her existence is tied to Mona’s, and I think that it would take something like that occurring for her to recognize this. Who exactly would she be without Mona rescuing her? Would she have survived a day in the city without her? Having Omi deal with being without Mona would introduce some harsh truths. Could they truly rely on themself? Though she adamantly expresses her desire not to be possessed, is it that she truly enjoys being subjected to the whims of another person, so as long she is given the autonomy, luxury, and ability to wield some form of power? Would she simply be transferred from the hands of one power player to another, seeking out one of the mobs knowing they were the only other people who could give her what she truly desired?

FRIENDS ON THE OTHER SIDE— In the short time that Omi has spent in Verona, she���s acquired quite a few patrons from various walks of Veronesi royalty, but as much as she’s done her best to keep people at a distance, she’s also made a few friends. Chiko— whose hopes and dreams she’s carried with her since childhood— with them being one of the sole people to know Omi to near entirety. Felipe— the man who made her realize that even ghosts were capable of creating trouble for themselves, who she’d dared to offer real information about herself for whatever reason, finding something odd and compelling about the handsome enigma before her. Calina— their true match of wits, words, and worldliness— the person in which she’s entrusted with not just her fears and shortcomings, but her hopes and dreams, as well as them being that very person to set her heart aflutter. All of these people have something in common. In some shape or form, they are familiar with more than just Omi the Sparrow. I wonder what danger this could pose for her in the future. Would it be the person they are in essence that would land her in trouble? Chiko, the ruthless social climber, Felipe, who they knew trouble was always a short distance behind, and Calina, whose ties with the mob could only naturally come with trouble… couldn’t they? I want Omi to eventually land in some more trouble (maybe this could be something intertwined with my first plot, or potentially something entirely unrelated), and truly test how far she’s willing to go for the friendships she hopes to keep. Maybe it has to do with some information told to her in confidence; information she almost feels obligated to share with Mona. Will she refuse to do so, at the risk of the life and livelihood that she’s created for herself?

LOOSE ENDS— The past will always be the past for Omi— unless that past happened to make an appearance in the city of Verona. This isn’t something they would expect to occur, given that they have two dead parents, no siblings, or any known extended family. Maybe this would come in the form of Chiko— maybe some other unknown source would manage to dig up some sort of information to potentially be used against them. Regardless, I want Omi to be confronted with her past life, and for her to realize that the horror will always be apart of her, no matter how long that she’s attempted to evade it.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes, but I think I would miss her more than any of my other characters ngl :(

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

tw: mentions of death and violence

In The Dark Lady, Omi transformed into a blossom tinted mirror in which men and women alike looked upon in order to divest the realities they so desired. This functioned the similarity to a rose-tinted glass, their very persona the result of a thousand borrowed realities. In Omi, they sought the best version of themselves. They had the ability to morph into everything their patrons wanted, yet could not own, making them all the more desirable. There was something especially tantalizing about what appeared to be accessible, but ever so slightly out of a person’s reach. Even if the reality of things were that there was no chance in hell. Even if there had been a burgeoning disgust for each and every one of the wealthy, and corrupt person they encountered. Even if she’d been unable to scour away their caress no matter how many showers she subjected herself to in the early hours of the morning. How effortlessly she’d sold them a dream. How effortlessly they’d become enamored with The Dark Lady’s very own Japanese Cherry Blossom, a hand-picked artifact from Sakura to enjoy in their very own Verona. She bartered away a fantasy, and in exchange they fed her in secrets, each whisper only intensifying her power and allure. No amount of repulsion would change that they were damn good at their job. No amount of repulsion would change that she’d finally found where they’d belong.

They were notorious for their collection of extremely high heels, and rumor had it that not even a misstep had occurred in a single pair of them. Eyes danced over her as she glided into the casino, garnering an especially large crowd probably because of the fresh pixie cut she’d been sporting. Some days, Omi would linger, never quite sure whose attention she’d capture that day, but on other days, her presence had been requested by a specific patron. Today’s patron had been of particular importance. A well known Italian bureaucrat she’d actually managed to find rather endearing at times, despite her suspicion that he’d been spending more time with her than his own family. Nevermind that though. They had a sneaking suspicion that they were only moments away from stumbling upon a goldmine of information. They reckoned that this particular information could potentially make not just Mona, but both mobs particularly happy. Soon as they’d reached the Blackjack table, the patron, Patron E, swept her merrily into his arms, spinning her in place, resulting in her delighted laughter, clutching onto his shoulders to maintain her balance. Once he’d gotten his fill, she carefully placed a single kiss on each of his cheeks, taking in the scent of whiskey on his lips. No wonder he’d been especially playful. The whiskey had only begun their job for them. “Why, if it isn’t the most lovely person in all of Verona,” Patron E stated, grinning ear to ear. “I absolutely adored your old hair, bella, but with this cut, you somehow managed to become even more magnificent."

She smiles coyly, hands traveling down the lengths of his arms until meeting his hands, which he brought promptly to his lips for a kiss. "I was feeling spontaneous, E, but knowing you like it lifted a significant weight off my shoulder. Everyone else’s opinion be damned, but yours has always meant the world to me,” they coo in flawless Italian. “Is there anything else you noticed?"

His eyes drank her in hungrily, almost hungrier than usual, before returning to her eye level. "You’re wearing my good luck charm,” he responded with an almost childlike euphoria. Patron E had been referring to the deep V-Neck Dolce & Gabbana gown that had been purchased for her by another Patron of hers— Q— with the jet black of her hair only accentuating the Black sequins of the gown. She took it upon herself to take his hand and lift it above the both of them, completing a graceful, yet playful twirl to show off every sparkle and curve of the length of her body.

“Is that so?” she mused with her head tilted curiously on an axis. “It’s almost as if I wore especially for you, mio callo. You did tell me tonight was a big night for you, after all.”  His eyes twinkled gratefully as he pulled out a seat for her at the blackjack table, settling into the seat next to him, her body positioned perpendicularly to his, taking absolutely no interest in the game before them. It had been a game she’d witnessed by the side of many men before him and would witness many men after him. Her knees were pressed against his thigh, with the leg closest to the table occasionally finding itself absentmindedly caressing his own. One hand consistently remained attached his shoulder, with their other hand assisting them in the delivery of their sweet nothings, cupping his ear to whisper everything he’d ever wished to discover. Together they laughed, flirted, and whispered— he drank and she carefully sipped, until the game finally came to a close, with him losing per usual. After that, the pair of them moved to a more intimate section of The Dark Lady, the place in which Omi would officially make her move for the information she sought. There he sat on the couch, with her comfortably positioned horizontally in his lap, her slender legs coiled around her legs, with her hand absentmindedly stroking his hair. She’d been telling him some story she’d invented ages ago, half-truths tumbling effortlessly from her lips as she illustrated her last days in Sakura. Once she was done, she began studying his features intently.

“See anything you like?” he asks her quietly, and she cups his chin before deciding he’d been worthy of an answer.

“I see something I like, but something different,” she began with faux perplexion. “Even beneath this red light, I can sense the excitement almost vibrating off of you. “It suits you. I wish you were always this happy when you saw me. Far less tense than usual.”

“Now, Omi, you know I feel most like myself when I’m with you. You always receive the best parts of me,” he says seriously as his hand cups her wrist. “But, to tell you the truth, I’ve come across some very good fortune. A good fortune that I believe will alter the trajectory of my life. I’ve struck a life-changing deal.”

“That’s amazing! I couldn’t be happier for you!” she exclaims softly, before falling into a demure pout. “This… deal won’t take you away from me now, will it?”

He chuckles at her pout as if him parting from her would truly be the most unfortunate occurrence in her 30 years of life. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing, Tesoro. The deal I’ve made has allowed me to acquire a large sum of money. And I have no plans of parting from you anytime soon.”

She smiles gratefully, yet sadly as if she can’t believe it. He looks at her, searching for an answer to her sadness. “What is it, il mio amore? Why do you look so blue?”

At that moment— the slightest pang of sadness sped through her. How effortlessly he had succumbed to her charm, to the point that she’d almost felt bad for the fool. “Well… the way you aren’t giving much information about the deal is only forcing me to draw my own conclusions. Ones in which I can’t help but assume that you’ve been put in a dangerous predicament, which is stopping you from telling because you’re afraid to get me into trouble.” He drew her closely, placing a soft kiss on each of her temples, then her forehead, then her lips.

“I wouldn’t let them harm a hair on your head, Omi. I hope you know that I mean that.” She resisted chuckling. She’d been nearly divinely protected. If anything it was him who wouldn’t be able to harm a hair on her head.

“Is this them you speak of…” she looks around carefully, knowing there was no one near, but doing it as if to accentuate her supposed fear. “The government…?” she offers him, and when he does not react, she places a long, lacquered pinky nail upon her lip. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with one of the mobs, E—”

“Mixed up with the mobs?” he interrupts with a haughty chuckle. “Why, they’ve gotten themselves mixed up with me, dearest Omi. Sooner rather than later, both the Capulets and the Montagues will be feeding out of the palm of my hand.” How drunk had the man had to have been to have confessed such a silly sentiment? Or was it not the liquor at all, and simply Omi bearing witness to the limitless bounds of the male ego? Probably a mixture of both.

She shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”

With each curious caress, they’d managed to extract more and more information from their subject, his ego centering itself above all else— even his desire to live. He had to have known that, hadn’t he? Or had he simply been too foolish to even consider the danger he’d been putting himself in by leaving every detail of his plan upon Omi’s lips? How foolish he had beenShe shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”

“Someday…” he slurs, faced resting comfortably on her chest as she stroked the top of his head, his arms wrapped lovingly around her waist. “I’m gonna whisk you away. And just like that, you’ll be mine. Forever and always.”

Omi chuckles at this sentiment— ones she’s heard nearly a dozen times before. She’d had no desire to be one of his pretty things, not by him or any other person in this world for that matter.

“Why, E— I know if that were to occur, you’d be doomed to break my heart.” “Omi, you can’t truly believe that now… can you?” he says tilting his head upwards until their lips are only mere inches apart.

“I’m afraid I do, mi caro. Because the moment in which the magic begins to dwindle from your eyes when you look at me is the moment my heart is sure to break. I know that if we continue our occasional rendezvous that I’ll continue to be the loveliest I could be in your eyes. Oh— and I’m a terribly loud snorer. You wouldn’t sleep a minute in my presence.”

That had been enough to satisfy him, if only for a single moment. The very thought of him truly breaking her heart had been absurd, but the very thought of the blossom mirror cracking, the idea of her carefully constructed persona being exposed for being exactly that, alarmed her. Anything short of near perfection was unacceptable. She owed her to that and Mona. It would be at that moment that Omi would understand that she was no longer as good at her job as she needed to be. Surely that would not leave them desolate, they would still be a top-performing Sparrow after all. But they would no longer be the best, and no man or woman would ever take that away from them. Even if they meant keeping the majority of the world at a safe distance. Not when they’d finally found their people. Not when they’d finally answered their calling. Not when Verona was finally starting to feel like home.

Little did she know that this would be the last time she’d ever see Patron E. Just as she’d suspected, the information had been of immense value. Her reputation as the top Sparrow only increased tenfold, and she remained in Mona’s good graces, never tiring of her constant praise and doting. Word of his death returned to them from another one of their patrons even before it appeared even in the papers. Omi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for his widow and children. No woman and family should have their livelihood threatened by the likes of a stupid, stupid, stupid man.

She did not wear Q’s dress after that day. When she asked about it the next time he saw her, she began whispering a delightful tale about how her suitcase had mysteriously wound up missing upon returning from a brief trip to Paris, knowing she’d wind up with a new one before the conversation concluded…

[nonbinaryizutsumimoved]

i’ve been dreamin’ of you

pairing: tangfu (tang mo/fu wendou)

fandom: the earth is online

ao3 link

* spoilers for chapter 210

It was incredibly dark at this time of night. Shadows covered every corner of the room, making it impossible for even Tang Mo's enhanced vision to detect anything with sight alone, but his other senses didn't betray him.

The even lull of breaths gently resonated in his ears. The warmth of the body next to him was contagious, causing his whole body to ease into the heat. The subtle scent of lemons intermingled with sweat tingled his nostrils.

All aspects indicated Fu Wendou's presence.

His arms, strong and secure, were another indicator, wound firmly around Tang Mo's waist. Their breaths synchronized as they lay together, savoring this rare moment of solitude, of quiet. If it weren't for the weight of Tang Mo's newly obtained ability, Fu Wendou's ability, he could easily imagine that their circumstances were different, that they were back to before the Earth went online.

Tang Mo’s overactive mind entertained the thought of how it would have been.

They would have meet when neither of them could handle the anonymity anymore, of only having a name but no face, finally acquiescing to the unspoken desire to be near each other.

Back then, the both of them would show this desire through implicative remarks stating their availability and hints of when they were in the area, but it never went further.

Despite this dancing around, Tang Mo pictured the coy exchanges would have soon been replaced with more direct advances. Without the same sense of responsibility and distrust brought upon by the black tower’s world, they would have gotten together sooner, Tang Mo was sure of it.

When their glances lingered a little too long, it wouldn’t be because they were calculating, analyzing what the other’s next move would be. When they held hands, when they kissed, when they had sex, it wouldn’t be under the pretext of exchanging an ability. When they quietly confessed to each other, there wouldn’t be the burden that it could be the last time they say such words.

But the Earth went online. His now slightly built muscles and the scars that didn’t quite heal fast enough reminded him of that fact.

Tang Mo closed his eyes and released a deep sigh.

While his psychological resilience improved since the Earth went online, there was no doubt that he was still impacted by everything he encountered, plagued by the memories of what could have been. He simply buried the fallout of his and the rest of the world’s current situation deep inside, out of wanting to both represent stability to his peers and to fulfill the all-consuming need to survive, taking root in him since the very first game. He wasn’t to be held back by the ever-growing corpse count, on top of images of the horrors he witnessed in his day-to-day life. He adjusted similarly to how he proceeded when his parents died, but there were no funerals for lost people now. There wouldn’t be time to cry when it was all over, because in this version of reality, it seemed it would never be over.

Tang Mo was grounded by the sensation of a face nuzzling at the crook of his neck, his boyfriend’s lips gently pressing on the expanse of skin there. There wasn’t much of a need to sleep anymore, not since the Earth went online, so he knew Fu Wendou was awake. It was confirmed when the other’s inquiring voice reached his ears.

“Something wrong?”

Tang Mo opened his eyes, and while he couldn’t clearly see Fu Wendou, with being so in tune to the other’s mannerisms and expressions, he sensed one of his eyebrows was quirked downward, forming a crease on his forehead. Tang Mo smiled, albeit embittered by his prior thoughts, and turned fully so he faced the other man. This time, Tang Mo tipped his head, resting the side of his face atop the other’s shoulder. The words he muttered dripped with the same bitterness he carried in his smile.

“Just thinking too much. Even in moments like these, I can’t really relax. At night, I usually pretend to fall asleep and let my mind go blank for a couple hours or even sometimes manage to get some rest, but when I’m with you like this, I can’t stop thinking… which isn’t usually a problem, but it’s different this time. Maybe I just feel so comfortable, like how it was before, that I let myself linger on the more difficult thoughts I have yet to confront.”

Fu Wendou lifted one of his hands from the other’s waist and traced it up his back to nestle it between some stray locks. His slender fingers toyed with a particularly curly piece of hair, and a quiet, contemplative hum settled in his throat. Fu Wendou said himself that he wasn’t sure what qualified as comforting, but the gesture could be read as such. At least, it was able to make Tang Mo feel somewhat placated.

“What are the difficult thoughts?”

Tang Mo glanced upwards, where he pictured the ceiling was.

“Everything about our lives since the Earth went online. It’s so overwhelming. It feels like when I got Eve’s Reward again, like my head is going to explode. The only difference is with Eve’s Reward, I forgot everything soon after I woke up. My memories of the instances, the monsters, the people that have died… I carry it with me, in the back of my mind, always. I just push it down because there’s other things to focus on in the moment, but now that I’m just laying here, on top of thinking of facing the sixth floor tomorrow too... I don’t know, it’s just all coming to a head finally.”

Fu Wendou figured it was better not to speak at this time. While he shared similar thoughts, he might try to rationalize Tang Mo's concerns if he were to talk it out. But how could he form reason out of all this death, all this tragedy? There was no logic to any of it --- it was just the cruel state of reality now. Any of his attempts at what could be interpreted as reassurance would be pretty pointless, since they would ultimately be hollow words, a temporary answer to a persistent problem. Plus, Fu Wendou assumed that wasn’t exactly what Tang Mo needed right now, to hear what Fu Wendou was certain the other already knew. While this was a moment of vulnerability for Tang Mo, he wasn’t naive when it came to the state of the world now, ever familiar with everyone's self-serving attitude and twisted morality, of the crushing weight of their impermanence.

So, Fu Wendou lay there, continuing his movements in his boyfriend's hair, because that's all he could do.

Without any interruptions from Fu Wendou, Tang Mo decided to continue his explanation, blinking a couple times first, then taking a steadying breath as he continued.

“... I was also thinking about us. Of how differently things could have turned out without the towers.”

Tang Mo imagined Fu Wendou’s brows crinkling upwards as he paused his movements in Tang Mo’s hair.

“What was different?”

“Well, we were just less restricted. We weren’t overly cautious or dutiful in the way we are now. We were kind of painfully mundane in comparison. We certainly weren’t constantly bracing to face a pyramid of death, murderous fairytale creatures, and the equivalent of the X-Men around every corner.”

His eyes lowered to where he pictured Fu Wendou’s face was, envisioning the other’s wry smile.

After a couple minutes of the words hanging in the air between them, Tang Mo was certain Fu Wendou fell asleep, or at least left the conversation at that. Tang Mo didn’t necessarily mind, especially since it was kind of ridiculous to entertain the scenario based on their present lifestyle. So, Tang Mo was surprised when Fu Wendou finally spoke, a certain surety in his tone.

“Maybe we’ll have that chance to go back someday. It probably won’t ever be the same as it was before, that’s just impossible at this point, but I know you know that. Still, maybe one day we can have a semblance of that life. Together, we could pick the pieces up of what’s left and figure something out. Whatever we make of it, I want to be there to see it through.”

Despite the obvious optimism of such a possibility at the face of the end of the world, a reassuring feeling struck Tang Mo’s heart, spreading through the rest of his chest. It reached his smile too, some hopefulness seeping into his previously sour expression. As foolish as it probably was, for some reason, Tang Mo believed him.

Of course, while he remained troubled by all which permeated his thoughts, this was a brief reprieve. As Fu Wendou said, he already knew that it would never be that simple for them, that it was impossible for them to have anything like before the black towers, and that it also wasn’t guaranteed they’d even make it past the sixth floor, but he still wanted to guard that small promise of the future.

Tang Mo rearranged his arms so that they loosely encircled Fu Wendou’s neck. He leaned close to where he thought Fu Wendou’s face was, going based on where the other’s breath tickled his skin. He was unable to resist the urge to press a kiss to where Fu Wendou’s lips might be, but instead hit the corner of his mouth. At Tang Mo’s own miscalculation, a small bubble of laughter slipped past his lips. Fortunately, Fu Wendou guessed what Tang Mo sought for, and this time, they both leaned in, Tang Mo’s laughter smothered by their kiss. By the time Tang Mo parted, not without peppering other parts of Fu Wendou’s face -- his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his chin -- and trailing some down his neck, he rested his head against his chest, then nodded and finally replied.

“I want to see it through, too.”

His hands now gently brushed those strands of hair at the nape of Fu Wendou's neck. The movements gradually slowed after a couple minutes until they eventually stilled completely.

While there wasn't a need for sleep, Tang Mo felt his eyes grow heavier and the numbing feeling of approaching slumber tickle the edges of his consciousness. Perhaps the fatigue of his overthinking, the events of this past week, or their previous activities hit him all at once. On the other hand, maybe he was just relishing in the feeling of the plush mattress, his companion’s sturdy body flush against his own, and the soothingly pleasant vision of a far-off future. In his own bed, he never felt so peaceful, so comfortably warm, or at least, he couldn't recall those times anymore. No matter the source of his exhaustion, he would succumb soon.

Before he dozed off completely, sleep-heavy words escaped him.

"Thank you, Victor. I love you, you know."

Fu Wendou smiled, genuine joy contained within his expression. They knew they loved each other; even if their minds were uncertain in the turbulent months leading up to now, their hearts always knew. To finally hear such a phrase spoken aloud was like sealing some truth of their fate, that they would have ended up like this no matter the circumstances. At the thought, he allowed his eyes to close contentedly.

They would attack the sixth floor tomorrow. This might be the last time they have a moment like this --- to lay in bed together, to hold each other, to sleep, to pretend, to fulfill what they quietly yearned for in the several months long past. So, Fu Wendou imprinted this memory into his mind, of the sensations and the conversation, and eased against Tang Mo’s form, slowly pulled under by a wave of drowsiness. Softly, he reciprocated his boyfriend’s sentiment.

"I know. I love you too, Mo Tang."

Once the response passed through Fu Wendou’s lips, the only sounds in the room were the ebbing inhales and exhales carrying the night into morning.

[oskea93]

Think of You (Part three)

A/N: Hey guys!  I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has read, liked, and commented on the story. It really means a lot to me that you all like it! I’m a a nurse and the only type of writing I do on a daily is make nurses notes, which is far from writing anything like this. I really appreciate those that come back each time I post and read the update. I try my best to make it as believable as possible. I promise from now on, Nikki will be featured heavily in every update. I didn’t want the character to just rush into a relationship with him. I wanted to show how their relationship grows with time. This update isn’t the most exciting but I felt it needed to be written so the story can grow and get to the fun parts! Again, thanks for reading and please let me know if you would like to be tagged for future updates! 

“You got this.”

I gave myself a once over in the mirror, making sure my outfit and hair looked perfect. I hadn’t been on a date in quite a while and I wanted to make sure I had everything in order. This was going to be my first date since moving to California and I was a bit nervous. I had been on dates with a couple guys back in Georgia but Georgia boys were complete opposite of California boys. I quickly closed the light in the bathroom and made my way to the living room. I looked down at my watch as saw that it was nearing the time that he said he would be here. It felt as if butterflies were in my stomach and my hands were shaking like leaves. It’s not like this was my first date but yet I hadn’t been on one since college. How pathetic am I?

Before I could delve deeper into my dateless past, a strong knock sounded on the door. I smoothed down my skirt as I removed myself from the couch and made my way over to the wooden structure. A large smile ran across my face as I saw James standing before me with a bouquet of roses in his hand. “Beautiful roses for a beautiful woman.” He greeted as he handed me the flowers. I’ve never received flowers from a date before. The only people who’ve ever given me flowers were my parents. I took them out of his hands and delicately sniffed them. “They’re gorgeous.” I beamed. “Thank you so much.” He just continued to smile. I motioned him to come inside while I placed the flowers in a vase. I noticed how he stood there awkwardly, looking around at the dullness that was my apartment. Once I had the flowers in the water filled vase, I brought them back out to the living room and placed them on the coffee table. “You sure that’s a good place for them?” James questioned. “I wouldn’t want them to get knocked over.” I looked at him and then back to the flowers. In my opinion, the coffee table was the perfect spot for the flowers. They would be the first thing to catch someone’s eye as they walk in. I would be the only person walking in but it would still be a nice site to see after work.

“I believe they’ll be just fine right there.” I gave him a reassuring smile. My smile however did not seem to calm his thoughts. I heard him mutter a string of words under his breath as he turned to leave the room. I watched in utter confusion as he made his way out of the apartment and to his car without me. Was he seriously upset about where I placed the flowers? This was my apartment- I can place flowers wherever I damn well please!

I had met James at work. He taught middle school English and helped with soccer team. He was sweet, charming, and highly educated. I could tell that he enjoyed his job and that was very important to me. Teaching was my biggest passion. I knew from an early age that I wanted to be a teacher. I would even play pretend teacher in my room as a child. Once I started speaking with James, I could tell he shared my passion as well. I think that’s what attracted me to him the most. Plus, he wasn’t bad to look at either. He had gentle brown eyes to go along with his light brown hair. He wore glasses, which made him even more adorable. His sense of style was your typical yuppie fashion. He wore slacks and iron pressed button-down shirts. He was very well mannered. He was nothing like that Nikki guy from a couple nights ago….

This had to be the worst date of my life. 

I didn’t realize the placement of flowers could set someone off. From the moment I entered the car, he immediately started to rant about the cost of the roses. He went on and on about how something could happen and they would end up ruined on the floor. He explained that it would be a waste of money and that his gesture should have garnered more of a response from me. I tried to explain to him the reason I chose coffee table as the location but he wasn’t having it. I was very appreciative of the gift but he had no reason to freak out like this. I figured once we reached the restaurant he would give up but that wasn’t the case either. Adding more fuel to the fire, the restaurant was overpriced and the food was terrible. I took a couple bites of the meal I had ordered but there was no way I could finish it. The meat tasted as if it had expired months ago and they even managed to screw up a Baked Potato.

“Are you going to eat?” James questioned. I looked up from my food and shook my head. He let out an annoyed sigh, placing his fork down a little too harshly on the plate. “I’m sorry, James.” I apologized. “It’s just-“ “Waiter!” He cut me off as he called for the man. The waiter quickly made his way over, a concerned look was plastered on his tired face. “Yes sir?” He spoke. James proceeded to explain to him that he wanted the check and a box for his food. I was in complete and utter shock. Not only was he making a scene but this was not the guy I knew from school. This version of James was an absolute asshole! I decided that I had had enough. I didn’t even bother to say anything to him as I marched my way out of the restaurant. Even though James was my ride back home, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I knew there was a gas station up the road and I would just use the pay-phone to call a cab. I don’t even know if he bothered to come after me, probably not since I was a waste of money for him. I should have known this was going to happen. I couldn’t even go on a date with a decent, or who I thought was a decent guy. Maybe I was meant to be alone forever. Growing up in a religious family, my cousins used to tell me that God picked certain people to be forever single. They would always tease me and tell me that I was that person. I was slowly starting to believe that was true….

“Thanks.”

I removed myself from the cab and paid the driver the fair. It was nearing 10:00 at night and all I wanted to do was take a bath and go to bed. Luckily it was a Friday and I had the whole weekend to recover. I knew Mac would want to know how the date went but I didn’t feel like talking to her either. I slowly made my way up the staircase to my apartment. I took each step slower than the other, finally making it to the top. I rounded the corner to my complex but immediately stopped in my tracks.  

Standing right in front of my apartment door was the man I despised the most. I didn’t even know the guy but I instantly hated him from the moment we met. Nikki Sixx was the last person I wanted to see right now. “What are you doing here?” I questioned. He slowly turned around at the sound of my voice and smiled. “About time you get home.” I was taken back. How in the word did he know where I lived? Oh God, what if he’s a serial killer and I’m next on his list? What if he’s coming to retaliate after I pushed him out of the booth? The more important question was how did he know where I lived? So many thoughts were swirling around in my head that I didn’t even notice that he had moved closer to me. “Earth to Caroline!” He snapped his fingers in my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You zone out a lot.” He chuckled. I quickly put some space between us noticing how close he was. “How do you know where I live?” I blurted out. “Are you stalking me?” I was in pure panic mode at this point. I had heard horror stories on the news of young women getting kidnapped at their homes and then being found dead weeks later. What if he portrays himself as a musician so he can lure girls in and then kill them?

“Hey-” He reached out for me. “Just calm down, alright.” He seemed genuinely concerned. “I had Tommy get your address from your friend. I figured that I owed you an apology for acting the way I did the other night.” He stated. “Plus-“ I looked up at him. “I kind of wanted to see you again.” His eyes connected with mine, causing me to quickly look back to the ground. He wanted to see me again? Even after I screamed in his face and pushed him out of a restaurant booth, he wanted to see me again? I slowly lifted my eyes from the ground and scanned over his body. I started from the bottom and worked my way up. First thing I noticed was that he was wearing tennis shoes with leather pants. I found that to be a bit odd but I continued to scan the rest of his body. He had an army green, sleeveless shirt on with a black faded shirt underneath. Since neither of his shirts had sleeves, I could his toned arms and the tattoo adorned his right arm. His face had noticeable stubble and was clean of any makeup. His hair was flat against his head and looked to be even longer than the last time I had seen him. He didn’t look half bad to be honest.

“Like what you see?” His cocky question brought me back to reality. “I’m enjoying the view as well.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I couldn’t believe Mac would give this guy my address. “I think you should leave.” I told him. “It’s getting late and I have some grading to do before I go to bed.” It was all a lie but I wasn’t in the mood for company, especially his company. He let out a laugh, “You don’t get it, do you?” I looked at him confused.

“Excuse me?” I questioned.

Nikki was standing right in front of me at this point. “I want to see you again.” He whispered. He was so close that I had to look up at him. I could feel my face turning red and my heart was racing out of my chest. Nikki wasn’t the type of guy I usually fall for. I usually fall for guys like James, guys that are basically boring and like to read a lot. Nikki was the complete and total opposite of James or any guy that I’ve ever dated. He reeked of lust and bad decisions. There was no way I could agree to see him again. “No.” I simply told him.

He took a step back, “What do you mean, no?”

I just burst his little confidence bubble. I bet I was the only person to ever tell him no. “I don’t want to see you, Mr. Sixx.” I stated. “You don’t know a thing about me and I feel like we should keep it that way.” He looked taken back. “Besides, we’re complete opposites of each other and it would never work.” I gave him one last glance before I made my way to the apartment door. I placed the key into the lock and quickly opened the door. “You know opposites attract, right?” Nikki yelled before I entered my home. I didn’t even bother to look back and answer. I simply closed the door behind me, leaving the raven-haired man standing alone. A part of me was glad to be away from him, yet I was intrigued. There was something about him, something that I’ve never experienced before with a guy. He was the guy parents warned their daughters about. He was dangerous. He was pretty damn cute. And, he was pining for my affection. He was the forbidden fruit and I was slowly turning into the naïve Eve…

@triplehaitches @sighsophiia @fandomshit6000 @divaanya

[hencethebravery]

TITLE: First Family (1/1)

SUMMARY: It's not as if Killian Jones believes his husband to be incapable of winning the presidency (quite the opposite, actually)─he's just not entirely certain he wants him to. A CC 2020 Election AU. (Ao3)

NOTES: This particular story is meant to be entirely cute and in celebration of the prospect of having a “First Gentleman” (see recent Time magazine cover). It is not at all meant to be an endorsement of any one candidate, and if you come at me with anything other than love for these two boys and their dog, I will unhinge my jaw and swallow you whole. I developed Jasmine’s last name from a princess who appeared in The Book of One Thousand and One Nights (on whom Jasmine is based, or so Wikipedia tells me). Oh, and another small disclaimer, this is the first time I’ve included Emma Swan in a Captain Charming fic. For whatever reason I used to struggle with including her, but I guess I’m over it because she’s here now. If you think that’ll bother you then give this one a miss!

If the chronically thin, awkward, and punk-ass 15 year old version of Killian Jones could have, somehow, opened a portal in time and space; a feat which might have allowed him to peer into the future in an attempt to witness what the future might hold, he would have likely imbibed several ill-advised shots of cheap bloody rum, and then quite dramatically flung himself atop the rumpled sheets of his perpetually unmade bed. If the younger Jones had even an inkling of the type of life he’d be living as a 35 year old man─with a full time job, a mortgage, a husband, one wildly photogenic dog─he would have done everything in his power to steer himself off such a disturbingly clean-cut, well-behaved course.

“Well and truly boring I’ve become, isn’t that right my love?”

Dave, the husband in question, sat comfortably in his usual corner of the couch, reading glasses perched at the end of his nose, putzing about on their shared iPad, paying less and less attention by the minute, “Oh, absolutely. Can’t stand you.”

The only reason he brings it up at all is because he has, somewhat unexpectedly, been rather unsettled by the prospect of a life change so massive, he has had no other choice but to reconcile with the fact that the quiet life he has managed to build for himself could, quite likely, be completely destroyed. Forever. Never to be found again. Relegated only to a memory that he’ll return to in his twilight years, a decrepit old thing. “Ah yes,” he would mumble, smacking his lips together in that way the elderly tend to do, “I remember when you could watch an entire 48 hours of television, totally unbothered!”

It’s not as if he legitimately wants to keep his husband, arguably the love his life, from doing what he’s meant to, and clearly, the man’s meant for greatness, but Killian has become accustomed to a certain standard of living. He likes (much to his younger self’s hypothetical horror) doing the same things everyday─up with the sun, cup of coffee, walk the dog, go to school, come home, make dinner, watch Netflix, go to bed. He likes weekend drives to the country; hikes in the morning, beers in the afternoon. He enjoys the calm, safe predictability of his life that he has so miraculously found in the wake of a rather tumultuous, traumatic youth.

“Killian,” David insisted gently, “you’re my husband. Obviously, if you don’t want me to do this, I won’t do it.”

The maddening part is that he knows with absolute certainty that he’s telling the truth. David Nolan wasn’t the resentful type─it was something he both simultaneously loved and hated about the man.

“I swear, darling, the last thing I want to do is hold you back,” Killian replied, frustrated with his own lack of enthusiasm, “I just…”

“...It’s a big change,” David finished, “I know. Honestly,” he continued, “I probably won’t even win.”

“Sure,” Killian scoffed, a smirk on his face, “that’s exactly what you said last time.”

5  Y E A R S  E A R L I E R

“I JUST THINK IT’S FUNNY!” Killian yells over the deafening cheers, one arm slung round Dave’s shoulders, the other waving wildly in the air.

“WHAT?” David shouts back, his mouth turned upwards in a somewhat manic, and what was fast becoming alarmingly permanent, grin.

“IT’S FUNNY!” he repeats, the volume of his voice doing little to bely the patience in his tone. He finds a few of their friends’ faces in the crowd and blows them a kiss, his cheeks starting to hurt with the force and breadth of his own smile.

“WHAT IS?”

Killian couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the absurdity of their attempting to hold a conversation at all at a time like this, but he’d never been one to keep from saying, “I told you so,” when the opportunity presented itself. That said, it was quite the ruckus, and he had simply shaken his head in surrender, silently promising to rub it in at a later date.

To be fair to David’s humility, a mayoral race and a presidential race are two vastly different undertakings, particularly when the mayoral position in question involved a municipality of around 100,000 people, which while a large enough amount, was quite small in comparison to the rest of the country. But at the same time, given what Killian knew about his husband, he had a hard time believing that the rest of the country wouldn’t be able to see what he saw─if they were able to get past the “First Gentleman” of it all, that is.

Killian would be lying if he said he didn’t have something of a pessimistic streak. Certainly, it had grown quieter over the years, especially since meeting David (and his subsequent election to political office in a small midwestern city), but the presidential election of about 3 years prior, coupled with the many national tragedies and constitutional crises, had “awoken the dragon,” so to speak.

“You’ve been watching way too much ‘Game of Thrones.’”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

David and Killian had agreed from the very start─whomever ran in 2020 would have to be and do more than the average candidate. The only way to remind the country and the world of who they really were as a nation was to commit a complete and total act of repudiation with a substantive majority vote.

“You know everyone and their mom is gonna run,” Emma Swan, David’s campaign manager, had joked in the weeks following the 2016 election, after all of their emotional wounds had felt somewhat soothed. Alcohol helped.

“Ah, yes,” Killian agreed, taking a sip of whiskey, “I can feel the splitting migraine already.”

Looking back, David’s silence in that moment had been suspicious, and if he and Emma hadn’t gotten absolutely wrecked in preparation for an upcoming election cycle that would inevitably last what would feel like a decade, he would have prodded a bit further. In fact, if he had prodded, maybe he wouldn’t be so woefully unprepared for the, “I’m thinking of running for President of the United States,” conversation.

Immediately before the panic had set in, what he had actually felt was pride. Regretfully however, panic will-out, and in the midst of his initial tittering he forgot to effectively relay that initial emotion, which was for David he was sure, far more preferable.

In the early stages of the mayoral race, Emma had been adamant on the point of storytelling. According to her, elections were won and lost on a candidate’s ability to tell a story─about themselves, their campaign, their vision for the community─and if David was going to run, an openly gay man (albeit white as they come) from a working class background with little name recognition, the story he told would have to be good. Thankfully there was the military record, that usually played well with an older, more conservative crowd, and it wasn’t as if he was a stranger to hard work─the necessity of family, community, the like. He’d lived there his whole life, people knew who he was, however… unfamiliar they were with his “lifestyle.”

Killian had been far more concerned about himself being one of the factors that could lose Dave the race. The two of them had yet to be married at the time, despite having lived together for several years, and while Killian had lived in America for much of his adulthood, he hadn’t been born there. He was also openly bisexual, had a mostly benign criminal record, and had gotten into his share of fairly public tiffs with some less... "progressive" members of their community. One of them had even been filmed─and gone viral.

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about dragging that all back up again?” Killian had asked during their first informal meeting with Emma. The kind of discussion that started with things like, "We're not having this conversation, but if we were," etc., etc.

“After this President?” Emma scoffed, a gleam in her eye, “It’ll only help.”

Killian should’ve guessed, after seeing David’s quick, knowing glance, that he’d been found out. That it wasn’t the loss of their current lives that he truly fretted over; his inability to walk down the street unmolested, but rather a deep-seated worry of his own value as a partner. He worried, as he had during Dave’s first campaign, that he would only weigh him down.

At some point in the near future, some invasive young journalist is going to ask Killian about the spousal sacrifices. They’re going to want to know, as the spouse of the first openly gay presidential candidate, what do you anticipate giving up? And how, if at all, has he made peace with their new reality? In point of fact, the first concession that Killian had made (up until the whole, “running for leader of the free world,” business that is) was his surrender of the coast.

Killian had never really had roots─there was never a physical home with four walls and a roof overhead to which he could depart and return, over and over again. It could never even be said that he had any people to which he might turn instead; he had a brother, Liam, but they’d never been particularly close, and their history was tense at best and outright antagonistic at worst. All this to say, it was part of the reason why he had given Her up (the sea). Because Dave, most curiously, would become his home in a way he had never thought possible. It was how he was able to make a compromise─to go without the sight of the waves lapping against the rocks in favor of a large, wraparound porch, with some admittedly stunning views of the trees and hills that surrounded their home.

It was where he happened to be sitting the morning after their first casual, "meeting but not a meeting," with Emma; a mug of cooling coffee in his hand, watching Sally sniffing to and fro in the damp grass. It was an otherwise normal morning aside from the impending dose of reality he had yet to fully face. He was in the midst of a perfectly somber and on brand bit of mindless staring when he heard the quiet rumbling of Dave’s early morning voice (a personal favorite of his).

“Hey,” he said, startling Killian out of his ironically stressful meditations. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh, taking a seat beside him on the porch swing, “I didn’t feel you get up this morning.”

“My apologies, love,” Killian answered with a brief kiss, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

There was no crying of gulls, and you couldn’t taste a hint of salt on your lips, but there was still the pleasant chirping of birds; the sight of the sun peeking over the tops of the trees, the heady smell of blooming flowers. Killian cleared his throat, both knowing and dreading the conversation he could no longer avoid.

“You have never,” David began, very astutely avoiding his husband’s nervous glances for the moment, “been something to be ashamed of.”

“For you to even think it,” he continued, giving a slight shake of his head, “I must be doing something wrong.”

“Dave, no─”

“Killian,” he interrupted, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “you are the person I admire most in the world. You are the exact kind of person this country needs to see right now.”

A bit dramatic, Killian thought, desperately attempting to quell the violent beating of his own heart. Despite having known David for as long as he did, he was still somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer goodness of him. Having spent so long himself in a place of defensive cynicism, it was still a challenge to be so unabashedly confronted by such unrelenting hope. That’s what the country needs.

“I know it took us both a long time to make it…” He pauses, glancing up at the trees, the dog now slumbering at their feet, “here, but─”

“I couldn’t possibly adore you more than I already do,” Killian finished, abandoning his cold coffee in favor of framing David’s flushed face, “and I will be there every step of the way.”

“‘For better or for worse,’ blah, blah, blah?”

“Yes,” Killian laughed, pressing their lips together, “something like that.”

The secret? Say “yes,” to fucking everything. That seems to be the fundamental step when you have absolutely zero name recognition and you’re under the age of 75. It’s Emma’s first rule, and she fanatically demands that they abide by it unless she says otherwise. “Let’s let the paint dry on Fox for a hot second,” she suggests after Killian exclaims, “Surely not everything.”

But she damn well means enough. Everything from small, independent news blogs run by journalists, to “serious” news media, to BuzzFeed, and everything in between.

“One of these things is going to just,” she snaps her fingers. “And then it’s all over, boys.”

It’s during an interview with a fairly well known political podcast that really sets them on that, “nothing will be the same after this,” trajectory. He’d essentially been laughed out of the room until he sat down at a table with one of the unnecessarily handsome, affable hosts and dropped stat, after stat, after quip, after poignant observation─after some light hearted jokes that proved he wasn’t living in the dark ages.

“And I hate to ask this,” the host began, the hesitancy evident in his voice, “but what do you say to people who argue that you just don’t have enough experience for the job?”

After a brief pause, during which Killian could observe the wheels spinning from where he sat quietly in the corner of the room, David spoke. In that way he always had of speaking. That way that could convince anyone to listen to what he had to say.

“To that I think I would consider the importance of humility,” a chuckle, “I never want to be one of those people that believes they have nothing left to learn, but at the same time, to claim I have, ya know, ‘no experience,’ whether that’s because of my age, or the size of my city, is just… I don’t know, disingenuous?”

The host laughs a bit at that, “You mean to say, what precisely is their ‘concern?’”

“Yeah, I mean, we knew going into this we might create a few… waves─I don't know if you were aware, but, I am in fact very attracted to other men."

They left the sound of Killian’s obnoxious and embarrassing snort in the recording, which actually ended up being a good thing. Positive polling based on the sound of incredulity? It was strange, the small details that people seemed to cling to.

“But seriously, and this is what I believe, is that the individual experiences of every single person living in this country makes them… invaluable to understanding how it should,” he shakes his head, searching for the right word, “...exist, or be run. So, these people who are concerned about my experience, it’s not a lie for them to say that I haven’t worked at the federal level, or that I haven’t run a federal agency or served in Congress, but my experiences are valuable, my identity is valuable, and I think it’s something the people of this country deserve to see. Even if I’m not the one they choose.”

The tension at the back of Killian’s throat made swallowing a tad painful, but he had to do something to stop himself from crying, which would be… regrettable (although, once the polling had come out about the snort, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad thing after all). Crying in front of all these cool, young politicos. But at that moment, at the close of his husband’s small speech, the hopeful grin on the face of the host, the other people in the room─hell, even Emma’s radiant expression, he locked eyes with David and he knew. Snap.

First Family

Mayor David Nolan and the Rebranding of Hope

May 2, 2019

by Jasmine Badur

“I’m not sure I truly believed in ‘hope’ before I met him,” Killian Jones, the potentially first, “First Gentleman,” had somewhat reluctantly revealed in one of our early conversations. “I don’t think I necessarily knew I didn’t at the time,” he paused, giving his ear a nervous tug, “but once I got to know him… I certainly seemed to understand what it was I’d been missing.”

I was invited out to the Jones-Nolan household by Mayor Nolan’s campaign manager, Ms. Emma Swan, a woman who has proven herself to be quite formidable in our current political landscape. “If you really want to know him, them,” she had insisted during one of our many phone calls, “you’ve gotta see them where they live.”

And so, here I am, on a warm, sunny day, greeted by the pleasant sight of a rather long, winding driveway lined with tall, leaf-laden trees. The house itself is also surrounded by quite a bit of lush greenery, which, as Killian explained, was purposeful. Apparently the two men value their privacy, which is pretty ironic, considering.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he answered, unprovoked, “pretty bloody funny.”

The couple’s dog, Sally, runs down the porch steps as I exit my car, and I can hear Mayor Nolan call her name from inside the house. Despite the somewhat grandiose nature of the extended driveway, the house itself is modest, with little in the way of fuss. Both men greet me at the door, and I’m immediately offered a drink or a snack by the Mayor himself.

“He’s worse than my grandmother,” Ms. Swan half shouts from another room, after which David (“Please, call me David”) huffs and playfully rolls his eyes. “We’re like a family here,” he explains, leading me into their warm, sun-drenched kitchen, “I don’t think I know any other way to do this, to be honest.”

“This,” of course, being the campaign. The reason I’ve shown up here at all, to share this historical candidacy with a country that has proven to be far more interested than David expected it to be.

“The truth is, no,” he admitted over our tea, “I didn’t really expect this.”

A turn about the house reveals a number of familiar sights─a mix of running shoes and formalwear lined up by the door, coats on their hooks, framed photos on the mantle or hanging on the fridge. I note a young Emma in a number of these photos, to which David confirms their personal history, that of being pseudo-siblings, which most people are tangentially aware of, but the way David explains, it has a lot more to do with his campaign than you might think.

Soon after Emma Swan had moved to town to live with her aforementioned grandmother, she had met David at school, and the two quickly became inseparable.

“My grandma was a sweet lady,” Emma had shared, albeit reluctantly, “but she was pretty old. Not really prepared to have a young kid. David and his mom became my family, more or less.” When I’ve spoken to others who knew the Nolans, the stories seem to follow a similar thread. It was nearly impossible to know them and not be treated as if they had known you your entire life.

“That was what my mother believed,” David says, a resolute smile on his face, “everyone deserves to have a family.”

It might seem an unusual tactic for the candidate to take, but having spoken with Emma Swan, and having spent time with David and Killian in their home, I’m not so sure the harsher criticisms are especially valid.

“He’s a bit inclined to picking up strays, isn’t he?” Killian starts, politely if not vaguely uncomfortable. The two of us are walking through the field behind their house, and truly, it is a beautiful piece of land. “And what are we all,” he finishes, somewhat distantly, “if not a country of wanderers?"

Most people have a general understanding of Killian’s background. Born in London to an absent single mother who passed when he was about 17, a brother serving in the Royal Navy; teaches literature, unreasonably handsome, perhaps inclined to appear in viral videos─“Surprised you lasted this long,” he says, laughing. “Haven’t you lot gotten sick of that story yet?”

Unfortunately for Killian, though somewhat fortuitously for the campaign, that now famous clip, of the man in question throwing an unequivocal fist into the cheekbone of a far-right activist, has earned him some degree of popularity in progressive circles, though he contends he had absolutely no plans for such an outcome.

“It was satisfying before the entire country knew about it,” he concludes, with a blend of both seriousness and charm that can be challenging for most people to pull off. “And I’d do it again in a bloody heartbeat.”

“God bless Killian Jones,” Emma had sighed when I’d first mentioned it to her, “that man’s righteous anger could be the thing that gets us elected.”

Killian himself isn’t quite ready to admit that, but he is glad to help his husband in anyway he can, even at the expense of his own anonymity. Which, he did admit, was a serious concern at first.

“We’d spent so many years searching for this,” he explained, glancing pointedly at our surroundings, the sight of their now smoking chimney peeking over the tops of the trees. “I wasn’t sure I was ready to give it up.”

But now, he says, the doubts seem to have all but faded.

“There’s always moments of insecurity, sure,” he admits, “but I think it’s worth it.”

The Nolan-Jones household is cluttered─but not in a way that might leave you feeling suspicious of their character. True, it’s cluttered in a way you might not presume a presidential candidate’s house to be. Maybe you would consider the “right candidate,” to be so obnoxiously Type A that their home be something akin to a serial killer’s lair. If that is what you were expecting, I am sorry to say that his house is very much not that. This house is cluttered in a way that our lives create clutter. Like their "family-oriented" campaign style, the ordinariness of their home and their lives prior to this event, reveals quite a bit more than you might think. We exist in a day and age seemingly obsessed with the idea of authenticity, and while I've grown to despise the word, it seems to have been given new life here, even though their kitchen did happen to smell of freshly baked cookies during my visit.

At the end of the day, no one knows how this campaign is going to shake out. Politics have never been predictable, no matter what many pundits and strategists claim, but if there’s one thing we might always learn to expect, it is that "electability" is a true falsehood. I don’t know if Mayor David Nolan will become the first openly gay President of the United States, and neither does he, but that doesn’t seem to be the point.

“It may seem trite to some, but it is about hope,” David said in the few moments before I left, hands resting in his pockets, his gaze tired yet contented, “I think our 44th president had that part right.”

In an era of such unrelenting cynicism, it can be difficult to find the silver lining of it all, but as I drove back down the long, winding driveway in the moonlight, the sight of Killian Jones and David Nolan waving in my rearview mirror, my heart felt a little less heavy.

Jasmine Badur is a freelance political correspondent with Time, BuzzFeed News, and others. She is currently on the road following a number of Democratic candidates running for President, including Mayor David Nolan. She can be found on Twitter @badurjofficial.

[thethew]

So, I have a few endings planned for my series, but this one was eliminated because of how the story shifted away from this particular storyline. In THIS version of the story, Garrett ended up being possessed by the main villain and became the big baddie himself. This is basically the end of the final showdown and what happens afterward. It’s really nostialgic and whatnot but don’t worry it’s not in the story anymore.

SO INSTEAD I’M POSTING IT HERE.

Snippet under cut.

Tagging people first: @hannahs-creations @killer-badass @theshadowsofthenight @slythekiel @lucas-writes @ohlooksheswriting @waywordwriter @hufflepuffbanana

Jack

Everything hurt. I tried to move, but everything burned in the way where I could feel everything yet nothing all at the same time. 

“Now do you see it?”

I rolled over slowly, every movement cracking and popping and burning like fire. Garrett stood over me, his eyes flooding over with the rose coloured light. He raised his hand and my body began to lift off the ground. My head turned until my eyes met his pupilless glowing eyes.

“I’m saving all of you.”

He wasn’t, I knew it. That wasn’t him speaking. It was the deep power running through him, convincing him that this was somehow right. He waved his hand and I turned to face the Seal. Rose coloured cracks were beginning to lace through the stone surface.

“Don’t you see it?”

I squinted, watching as riots of stars began to show behind the cracks in the stone. Almost as if a whole galaxy was hiding behind it. My eyes widened. This was it. I squeezed hard and felt the stars and their power come to me. 

A glowing purple blade appeared in my hand. A surge of energy and adrenaline surged through me and I swung around, bringing the blade across Garrett’s face. He screamed in pain and we both fell to the ground.

“Really?” He shouted, “Now you choose to retaliate?”

I tightened my grip on the weapon in my hands, willing it to change shape as Garrett prepared to attack. A split second before a blast of energy spread from his fingers, I raised my new shield to block the attack.

My fingers weaved together forming a new weapon as the blast subsided. The muscles in my arm pulled painfully as I pulled the glowing bow taut. I closed my eyes and began to whisper the spell that the Oracle had told me would save the world. Seemed like the perfect time to use it.

“With bated breath and shattered pride, death and darkens to be defied. With one last breath and one dark heart, with this one arrow be split apart.”

(This spell doesn’t exist in the new version lmao^^^)

I loosed the arrow and watched as it embedded itself in Garrett’s chest. The light faded from his eyes and a quiet gasp ripped from his mouth as he fell to his knees. His eyes met mine and a few tears poured from his eyes.

“I killed her,” he whispered.

His skin began to explode in a riot of stars. The light poured from him then flew to the seal. The stone began to reform as his the light began to lift off of his body, leaving his skin pale and gray. I watched in horror as his soul ripped out of his body and faded into the nothingness behind the stone wall of the Seal.

“Goodbye, Garrett Branwenn,” I whispered.

...

“So,” Revan sighed. “It’s over?”

I nodded. Staring up at the two-story house in front of me. The asphalt sent heat floating up in the warm summer air. Revan put his hand on my shoulder and smiled in a melancholy manner.

“Go on, it’s been a while since you’ve been home.”

“You too,” I replied. “Your mom misses you.”

“Not as much as yours does. I’m pretty sure she would swap us in a heartbeat.”

I laughed, then shoved him away playfully. He walked away chuckling. I turned back to the house, staring at its paint. I could hear my mom’s records playing nearby. The smell of her cooking drifted into the street, forcing a quiet tear to my eye.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know you’ve been waiting so long for me to come back. And I’m sorry I left without saying anything. I’m sorry I fought in a war without your permission. I’m just, sorry.”

I turned away and pulled a white Nura out of my pocket. The light made swirling clouds in the milky white orb. A faint smile played across my lips. I tossed the device aside and watched as thick mist began to pour from the cracked orb. I pulled out a scrap of red cloth and placed my channeler into the fabric. I tossed the package into the mist and watched as it folded in on itself and disappeared into the Forever Forest.

I turned to the woods opposite my house and marched towards them. As I reached the edge, I gave one last glance over my shoulder at the house. My mom was staring out the window. Not at me, but through me. She looked empty, lost. I turned away, feeling my hear add another facet to its arsenal of breaks. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I walked into the woods, leaving my old life behind me. That wasn’t me anymore. I’d changed so much since that night. When Garrett had knocked on my window. The thought of him brought one final thought to my mind.

I had one last place to go before I disappeared completely.

...

“Never thought I’d be saying this,” I laughed. “But, you were a good person.”

Garrett’s grave sat there, unresponsive, of course. I could imagine him, sitting right there, staring back at me. He would’ve cocked his head to the side, then forced me to continue the statement.

“I know,” I chuckled sadly, “I know.”

The grave remained silent.

“You’re wondering why I would be saying that. Why-” I sighed- “Why after all you did, why I still-” My breath caught. “Why I loved you.”

The grave was shocked, to say the least. Even I was.

“Regardless of everything you did, or what your father made you do, you still tried. And that’s more than a lot of people did, or are doing.”

The grave seemed to agree. Was I going crazy? Talking to a dead man’s resting place in the middle of the woods outside my own house? Why had he even been buried there? Because Farclaw had fallen? Because no one else thought he deserved a proper burial? Or because I wanted to keep him with me, or somewhere near me? no, I was leaving here, so what else could I be doing here?

“I guess,” I laughed. “And this is gonna sound stupid.”

The grave agreed once more.

“You never really got to meet my mom. And I guess some part of me wanted you two to meet, because maybe,” I stumbled for something, anything to say. “Maybe she would like you. Maybe she would approve of me because I was helping you change for the better. Maybe I just wanted to be with you.”

The grave was unresponsive again. I continued regardless.

“Maybe, just maybe, some deep part of me already knew that it wanted you to stay forever. Maybe that part of me died when you did, or maybe it’s still here, bringing me to your grave to mourn the life of the man I killed.”

I turned back to the direction of my house through the woods. My heart did a strange jig for a few moments. Stay or go? That was the one question we all asked at one point in our life, whether for something as trivial as a party we didn’t want to go to but somehow ended up at anyways, or something like this. My future hung in the balance here. A life on the run, always running from my past and who I was before this godforsaken war, or a life amongst my past, growing stronger with my mother and the grave of my love?

In the end, I chose to be strong.

*CLAP* WHOOO! Why did I scrap this ending? It tugs all the right heartstrings and it’s PAINFUL FOR ALL PARTIES INVOLVED! I’ve changed my mind, I’m going back to this ending! Just kidding, I would never do that to you, this ending isn’t nearly as painful as the one I have planned.

[gffa]

FANDOM WAS REALLY GOOD TO US THIS WEEK, COME CRY OVER STAR WARS FIC WITH ME AGAIN. Because sometimes you just gotta cry over how wonderful these authors are to share such fantastic pieces with us, how reading (and I love that fandom is so invested in reading, when it feels like a dying art some days!) fic makes me fall in love with these characters and this galaxy all over again. We are so lucky that there are all these people wanting to share with us and here’s some of the really good stuff (SO MUCH GOOD STUFF) that I loved! STAR WARS FIC RECS: ✦ drink up, dreamers (you’re running dry) by 31_rabbits, han/leia & luke & ben, 2.6k    She’d expected her tears to be cold, too. But they are hot, and they are bitter. Salt from a vaporized sea. ✦ Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, some d/s, 72.7k wip    During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone. ✦ Anakin Skywalker and the Stray Droid by protos_metazu_ison (larkspyt), obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & cast, 28.4k    Anakin adopts a stray droid, much to Obi-Wan’s displeasure, which is fine because Rusty doesn’t like Obi-Wan all that much either. ✦ Death Becomes Her by stonefreeak, anakin/padme & palpatine, body horror, 1.6k    Padmé finds herself waking up after she died. Apparently, her husband couldn’t bear to let her go. She’s not grateful. At all. ✦ Armored Oasis by Spectersticks, obi-wan & anakin & cody & ahsoka & cast, 19.9k wip    The Council sends Obi-Wan Kenobi with Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano to uncover the reason behind these consistent attacks, while defending the outpost from the Nikto clan’s ranged assaults. ✦ tell me what it is you want by sunflashes, obi-wan/anakin & padme/ahsoka, NSFW, modern au, 14.4k wip    Anakin is done as fuck. His philosophy professor and academic advisor, Dr. Kenobi, has been working him to the point of breaking, and he just wants to get really, really drunk. ✦ Things Freely Given by ilcuoreardendo, obi-wan/anakin, vampire!obi-wan, ~1k    “You shouldn’t have come.” Obi-Wan’s voice is strange. ✦ untitled by likealeafonthewind, obi-wan/anakin(/padme) & sidious, 1.5k    So perhaps one way this can go is that Obi-Wan is just sitting in the Temple security room, broken and lost in the turbulence in the Force from all the violence and death that happened there (I imagine it must have created some kind of vortex of negative energy or perhaps fed into the darkside nexus under the Temple). ✦ Carrying the Stone by Makalaure, obi-wan & anakin, 4.3k    “I wish Master Qui-Gon was here instead of you.” ✦ The Virgin Duchess and Other Stories by ambiguously, obi-wan/anakin/padme/satine, ~1k    There were a number of stories about the rule of Duchess Satine Kryze. Some of them were even true. ✦ Saber’s Hilt by lovelykenobi, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, dirty talk, 2.3k wip    Anakin’s a boy with a mouth and a sassy attitude. Obi-Wan reacts accordingly. ✦ Alternative by Glare, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, dark themes, 2k    PROMPT: In the Negotiation-verse what would it be like if instead of the whole drugging and kidnapping business, they ended up sorting out the kiss and dating. Anakin has no idea his boyfriend is a serial killer. ✦ Your Face Is Like A Melody by Darlings (FromDreamstoEmpires), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, ~1k    writegowrite asked: #3 for the sexy prompt, please? ✦ Brothers (working title) by Charity_Angel, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & shmi & yoda & cast, 17.3k wip    In which Qui-Gon has a very near miss on Naboo, Obi-Wan is very stubborn, and they end up breaking a lot of rules accidentally as a result. All because of that kid they picked up on Tatooine. full details + recs under the cut! 

STAR WARS FIC RECS: ✦ drink up, dreamers (you’re running dry) by 31_rabbits, han/leia & luke & ben, 2.6k    She’d expected her tears to be cold, too. But they are hot, and they are bitter. Salt from a vaporized sea.    I’m always a sucker for Leia stories, especially ones that look at the scope of her life, give her room to really react to everything that happens, even in small moments, even when a lot of it is cut short because she picks herself up and keeps soldiering on forwards. And this is set across the span of years that really show just how epic everything is with her story, the joys and the sorrows both, and there’s just something so intense about her here that really fits with her character. A lovely read. ✦ Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, some d/s, 72.7k wip    During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone.    Chapter 15: This is an update rec and will focus on this chapter, rather than the fic as a whole. As always, I sort of want to explode over how much I love this fic and how satisfying it is, especially in regards to how much I love this version of (sort of) Sith!Anakin who is doing exactly what I had hoped for when I prompted Lily for this fic–the contrast of him against Jedi!Anakin highlights so many things about his character. It’s not just that, of course, it’s also how this is an Anakin that is more settled in who he is, because he’s entrusted himself to his Master, has chosen to give everything of himself over to this person that he loves and who loves him in return, how that clears away so much of his anger and instead allows Anakin’s charm and charisma to be at the forefront of Isten’s character. He’s just so beautiful to look at and watch, there’s something almost wild and fey about him, but also bright as the sun and so, so easy to fall in love with. And he’s still very much Anakin Skywalker, that’s what makes his scenes with actual!Anakin so fascinating, because they’re not the same person, Isten is more than just Anakin, as Anakin is more than Isten is, but Anakin is still the source and what Isten has figured out about himself has relevance to Anakin.    This makes any interaction they have a delight–just watching them strip down the ship for any parts they might be able to use, because Anakin is having a sulking fit, reminds me that they’re both mechanical geniuses and I’d have enjoyed it just for that. But the purpose of that scene is greater, it’s about Anakin having breathing room after the reveals from the previous chapter, and calming down and having the space to ask about Isten’s relationship with Veris, to show us that Anakin has all these prickly defenses about what he sees as his twin being like a slave to Obi-Wan’s twin. That it gives Anakin the breathing room to really listen to what Isten says and why it’s not what he thinks, to show us whyAnakin is still thinking about this and gravitating towards what he sees with them. That it’s not about the dark, but instead about something that settles them, something good, something that makes them both feel secure, something that Isten wants, that words are frustrating for him, but a firm hand on his back cuts through all that noise in his head and stays there. That it’s about being paid attention to, about being cherished and cared for. And you understand why Anakin keeps coming back to what he knows is between them, the something underneath the surface that we can feel in him, that cannot leave it alone.    And one of the great things that I love so much about this fic is that it doesn’t bring something up just to solve it immediately. There’s discussion of it here, it’s clear that Anakin feels a pull towards all of this, but he’s not there yet, it’s not such an easy, direct path for him. Things come up and get in the way, of course, but it’s more than that, it’s that he’s not fully ready yet and that makes the excitement over future chapters all the greater, because there was progress, there was satisfying forward movement, but there’s still more journey to go!    And, oh, I am so curious about where it’s all going, especially when they finally make contact with their men and I’m dying to know plot stuff, but also Isten being kind of bratty about soon being parted from Veris, that it’s so easy to really sink into thoughts about Isten’s affections, that we’ve seen him be really fond of Obi-Wan, to turn to him and press against him when wanting shelter, to see his affection around Anakin, for the source of himself, how he seems to likehimself in a lot of ways, to how everything is so much deeper when it comes to Veris. That Isten is cut to the core when he’ll be parted from Veris, even just for awhile, and shows it by sulking. That he’s jealous when Veris pays attention to Anakin, even with good reason. That it’s a reflection of Anakin’s desire to be sullen about things he doesn’t like, a freedom to be petulant about it that Anakin doesn’t allow himself, even while it stirs up everyone’s lack of desire to be parted from the one they love.    But EVEN MORE THAN THAT there’s another plot twist that makes perfect sense and yet I DID NOT SEE IT COMING and makes me wonder about where all of this is going, with such a remote planet that nobody is really allowed to go to, if someone should end up staying there, it’s not like there would be anyone to know they were there, and Ugly is still in the house and, oh, I’m not sure if they’ll make it off planet before the end, if Obi-Wan and Isten will spend more time together, if Veris and Anakin will spend more time together, or if Ugly will rear up before they can leave, OR WHAT. And it’s really, really exciting to be so invested in both the relationship progress and the plot progress! As you can see by how I cannot stop talking about it!! ✦ Anakin Skywalker and the Stray Droid by protos_metazu_ison (larkspyt), obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & cast, 28.4k    Anakin adopts a stray droid, much to Obi-Wan’s displeasure, which is fine because Rusty doesn’t like Obi-Wan all that much either.    All chapters: I’ve recommended this fic at several points along the way, but now that it’s finished I wanted to write a rec that’s for the overall story, because this was one of the most satisfying reads I’ve had in awhile! There’s something so incredibly solid and good about this fic, there’s a weight and sharpness to the characterizations that I really, really loved–I noticed it especially with Obi-Wan, who is this really great balance between stern and kind, that he’s both these things in a way that Obi-Wan Kenobi always should be. That there’s a warmth to his character, that he’s considered and kind, but that he’s also sharp when necessary, that there’s a heaviness to his character that makes him feel unmovable. I also love Anakin, who is this really brilliant, bright character, but who is also kind of a mess who only halfway knows what he wants–he knows that he feels all these things, but he doesn’t necessarily know how to fully untangle them–this is why the ending worked so well for me, because he just did not feel at all settled in his own skin, even when he knew what path he had to walk, which contrasted against Obi-Wan, who does have to wade through a lot to get where he is, but he knows himself and there’s a surety to him once he’s decided on something, that is spot on here.    I loved this fic for the characterization, that Obi-Wan and Anakin and Padme all felt like they were given depth and weight, but I also loved it for the plot! The OC droid character fit so well into the universe here, like this could very easily have taken place in the GFFA and was so incredibly engaging, I genuinely likedRusty the droid and would have read so much more from his point of view. The balance between what the droid himself brought to the story, his own backstory and motivations, was balanced against seeing Obi-Wan and Anakin through his eyes, seeing things with a fresh gaze that could comment on them and nudge them in a different direction, worked so, so well! And I really loved the ending, the way everything rolled towards the final events of it, and I just felt satisfiedafter reading it. “Obikin through the eyes of a droid” sounds like it could go a lot of different ways, but I thought the author absolutely did justice to it here, that it lived up to the concept and made something really engaging and true to the characters. I’m so glad to have gotten the chance to read this one and I think it’s a great read for when you want something that’s not precisely fluffy, but is definitely good for the heart! ✦ Death Becomes Her by stonefreeak, anakin/padme & palpatine, body horror, 1.6k    Padmé finds herself waking up after she died. Apparently, her husband couldn’t bear to let her go. She’s not grateful. At all.    I’m biased because this was based on one of my posts, but it’s legitimately a fantastic piece, it captures the horror of Padme being stuck in this reanimate body, the slow stealing away of her sanity, that none of this is good and, oh, Anakin, he is so far gone and doesn’t understand what he’s done to her. It’s horrifying and yet it doesn’t overplay its hand, instead there’s something almost delirious and unhinged about it in a way that makes me feel so, so much for Padme and it’s just everything I wanted from Anakin finding a way to forcePadme to stay alive! ALSO IT’S JUST REALLY AWESOME. ✦ Armored Oasis by Spectersticks, obi-wan & anakin & cody & ahsoka & cast, 19.9k wip    The Council sends Obi-Wan Kenobi with Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano to uncover the reason behind these consistent attacks, while defending the outpost from the Nikto clan’s ranged assaults.    I picked this one up pretty much because I wanted some action fic (tower defense fic is a great way to describe it!) and I very much got a fun action plot that was satisfying, but I didn’t expect to get character feelings to go along with it, yet, boy, did I ever! The beginning chapters are a really solid (though, it could stand to break up the paragraphs a bit more imo) action sequences, with some really, really quality Obi-Wan whump where he is a goddamned tank, especially when you see him through the eyes of the clones, they’re just in awe of the larger-than-life presence of their general! But eventually he hits his limit and Anakin kind of loses his goddamned mind over it in a perfectly Anakin way and freaks out over Obi-Wan getting hurt and overreactions in a really fascinating way–both what he’s capable of when he’s freaking out and because the fic shows just how much Obi-Wan means to him, that there’s such love between these characters shown in the way they interact with each other.    It hit so many of my iddy buttons, with Anakin going on a rampage because he thinks Obi-Wan might be dead and he flips out, you can knock Obi-Wan down but I’m not actually sure anything can really stop that guy from getting back up again, that Obi-Wan yells at Anakin in a legitimately heavy way, he’s justified in it, and yet it comes from a place of obvious love, and, oh, it’s this great digging into the thorny issues between them in a way that makes me love them both so very much, because Anakin is in a slippery fall here, but it comes from a place of such care. All of it is so satisfying, getting to see Obi-Wan and Anakain and Ahsoka all have their moments of total badassery, all on top of a solidly interesting and engaging mission fic! I couldn’t ask for more! ✦ tell me what it is you want by sunflashes, obi-wan/anakin & padme/ahsoka, NSFW, modern au, 14.4k wip    Anakin is done as fuck. His philosophy professor and academic advisor, Dr. Kenobi, has been working him to the point of breaking, and he just wants to get really, really drunk.    I think I’d started this fic before, but I recently picked it up again and started from the beginning, and just got really sucked into it. It was the perfect length for me to read now and had enough resolution that I’m not left pining, but instead I’m satisfied with how it was this really fun, cute college AU fic! There was just the right amount of pining-to-getting-together for my tastes, enough to make me enjoy the build-up to it, while Anakin especially just absolutely pined and was totally in love, to when that all finally came to a head and they fell into bed together. And that was wonderful as well, how there was some nice foreplay until Anakin just could not stand it anymore and he was so, so ready, please just fuck him already, grinding down onto Obi-Wan’s fingers and pleading for more, until Obi-Wan finally pushes into him. It didn’t have to be long, but it came at just the right time after the lead up to it, so that in addition to being very nicely satisfying sex (I am always here for Anakin being greedy and wanting more of Obi-Wan in him!) it made for this overall really fun, light-hearted experience in reading this fic! It had that affect on me where I felt energized afterwards again, like I could read another dozen stories just like this one, because I enjoyed this fandom and these characters so much! ✦ Things Freely Given by ilcuoreardendo, obi-wan/anakin, vampire!obi-wan, ~1k    “You shouldn’t have come.” Obi-Wan’s voice is strange.    This was a short but lovely piece of pretty much exactly what it says on the tin! There’s a very nice dramatic intimacy to the story, that there are events that happen around this, obviously before and after it, but it’s about the feelings and connection between these characters more than anything. It’s about how desperate Anakin is, how he’ll give anything (even of himself) to get them through this, to not be pushed away, and that Obi-Wan is hungry for Anakin in this really heavy, rolling way that makes for some very lovely imagery, as he pushes Anakin down onto the bed, his control frayed at the edges, and Anakin’s thoughts pushed out of his head in that way that I love for him. A very lovely read! ✦ untitled by likealeafonthewind, obi-wan/anakin(/padme) & sidious, 1.5k    So perhaps one way this can go is that Obi-Wan is just sitting in the Temple security room, broken and lost in the turbulence in the Force from all the violence and death that happened there (I imagine it must have created some kind of vortex of negative energy or perhaps fed into the darkside nexus under the Temple).    This is a description of a story more than a story itself, but it satisfied me in the same way that fic satisfies me when I read it, so onto a recs list it goes! And I really enjoyed this, it’s a ROTS fix-it piece that balances between how everything is always about Anakin at the heart of things, but that also Obi-Wan is a favored child of the Force, how things might have been nudged in a slightly different direction and then snowballed, if just a couple of little things had been changed. And it’s a super fun, pleasing read and I love the whole point of the fic, that the highlight of it is this moment: Sidious might be the Sith Lord hovering nearby waiting to take it over but Obi-Wan is one of its children, he’s grown up over its heart and called it home and family. Like, yes, GIVE ME ALL THE FORCE LOVES ITS CHILDREN FIC. ✦ Carrying the Stone by Makalaure, obi-wan & anakin, 4.3k    “I wish Master Qui-Gon was here instead of you.”    I was curious about this fic as soon as I saw it because I’ve liked the author’s Tolkien writing, so I was hopeful about getting a good Star Wars story–and, oh, I definitely did. This is a heavier fic in a lot of ways than I expected, there’s such a raw anger to bb!Anakin here, who is upset and hurt in a way that is entirely understandable and makes me ache for both him and Obi-Wan, for how hard this is to struggle through. It’s sharp and he says hurtful words (but he’s a child and the narrative understands that, even as his words hurt, they’re coming from a place of upset themselves and from someone who’s not old enough to control themselves yet, that Obi-Wan too understands this) and it’s not an easy start. But it’s still good and there’s still hope, this isn’t a fic that made me feel worse afterwards, but instead one that I felt really did justice to the way these two were thrown together, neither of them precisely chose this, and yet there’s something there already, something epic in the making. That’s a difficult balance to achieve sometimes, but this one did it beautifully. And, oh, that last line is absolutely perfect, I still grin just thinking about it. ✦ The Virgin Duchess and Other Stories by ambiguously, obi-wan/anakin/padme/satine, ~1k    There were a number of stories about the rule of Duchess Satine Kryze. Some of them were even true.    This worked well for me because it’s not really necessarily a true story, but instead about what’s said about these four characters and their relationship and what happened with them, how they came together. It’s sort of a children’s fairy tale story and I’m always a sucker for these four together, so I enjoyed this! ✦ Saber’s Hilt by lovelykenobi, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, dirty talk, 2.3k wip    Anakin’s a boy with a mouth and a sassy attitude. Obi-Wan reacts accordingly.    My caveat before I move further on is that this fic has some slur play that briefly gave me pause (though, that may be a personal thing more than anything!) that I think a heads up on would help beforehand, but I really did enjoy this fic a lot! It’s pretty well designed to appeal to my iddy wants, it’s cheerfully filthy and embraces the tropes it uses and is clearly having a greattime doing so, which is always infectious! It’s very much about the d/s relationship, how it gives Anakin structure for when he can’t help backtalking and being a real brat, how you can feel how much more wrung out of all that restless energy he is afterwards. It’s a fic meant to appeal to these elements and I enjoyed it for just cheerfully being happy dirty sex! ✦ Alternative by Glare, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, dark themes, 2k    PROMPT: In the Negotiation-verse what would it be like if instead of the whole drugging and kidnapping business, they ended up sorting out the kiss and dating. Anakin has no idea his boyfriend is a serial killer.    Oh, I really loved this so much, it’s this great mix of something fluff and yet also really creepy, knowing what we do about this serial killer!Obi-Wan. I mean, I gladly would have picked it up just for cute domestic-esque interaction where they talk over Anakin’s casework, then Obi-Wan fucks him over the desk in really sweet, satisfying sex, but to have that undercurrent of something much darker and fucked up? Ahhh, I really missed that blend from Negotation! But also really I super appreciated just how happy the sex made me, how it was cute and charming, that of course Obi-Wan had some lube on hand and Anakin was just as ready to be fucked over his desk, that there was this curl of something in him as Obi-Wan opened him up, spread him wide, and pushed into him, that it said something about Anakin that he liked what this did to him. It’s just a really, really fun, super delicious piece to read! ✦ Your Face Is Like A Melody by Darlings (FromDreamstoEmpires), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, ~1k    writegowrite asked: #3 for the sexy prompt, please?    Oh, this was lovely and another fic that came along when I needed it, just a pwp but with the undercurrents of just the right amount of a d/s dynamic, that it’s super hot sex while also giving structure to Anakin, keeping him within bounds and focused, and how much Anakin responds to that, how much he enjoys that attention, that feeling of being caught and guided and held. But also just really nicely done sex, which I appreciated so very much. ✦ Brothers (working title) by Charity_Angel, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & shmi & yoda & cast, 17.3k wip    In which Qui-Gon has a very near miss on Naboo, Obi-Wan is very stubborn, and they end up breaking a lot of rules accidentally as a result. All because of that kid they picked up on Tatooine.    Often times when I read fic that uses Legends and canon together in a fic, which are incompatible with each other, I find myself wanting to argue and yet I was just fine with it here–and it dawned on me anew that it was because this fic is clearly coming from such a great, warm, caring place with it, that it’s clearly just having fun doing its thing and loving everyone and everything, that I got swept up in that wamrth and wanted to read another 50k of it immediately. It’s such a wonderful fic where everything goes right–Qui-Gon lives after Naboo, but is injured so Obi-Wan temporarily takes over the beginning of Anakin’s training. This allows everyone breathing room, this means Obi-Wan now knows what happened on Tatooine instead of being in the dark about it, this means that he can talk to Qui-Gon about what to do with Anakin and isn’t weighed down by grief, this means that there’s breathing room for everyone, this means that things are able to be nudged in a better direction, so that Shmi can be freed and brought to Naboo, so that Anakin can be more settled, that Obi-Wan has more breathing room, and eveyrone is just really wonderful and happy.    It’s not without struggle, they still have a lot of shit to wade through, Palpatine is still out there, but it gives the Jedi breathing room and lets them have the space to take stock and deal with things more slowly. And, oh, all the worldbuilding bits! The classes that Anakin gets enrolled in! The going to get lightsaber crystals! And the characterization is wonderful, there’s such developing affection between Obi-Wan and Anakin, Qui-Gon is healing and is able to better talk to Obi-Wan here, Yoda cackling about hilarious shit that happens, Jedi friends being there to help and/or laughing at silly things! And Obi-Wan especially, my love, is gorgeously written here and we see him becoming the really great teacher that we know he’s meant to be. The way he deals with Anakin, the way he deals with other Padawans, when not weighed down by grief, is so true to his character and so warm-hearted. And Anakin is goddamned precious and Padme is kind-hearted and sparkling–and, really, everything in this fic sparkles! The writing and characterizations are so sharp and just left me with a smile on my face the entire way. It might be a fix-it fic but that doesn’t mean it’s any less engaging or wonderful to read!

[marypsue]

@blogg-saron Just remember: you asked for it.

Reincarnation Blues (95,096 words, published April 2, 2015, completed September 26, 2015)

This fic was the product of an idea that absolutely would not leave me alone. I’ve mentioned before that originally Rosa was the centre of the piece, with Ian as a supporting player and partner in crime in her bid to take over the world by being adorable and popular. Rosa Darling, Taylor Swift’s Evil Twin, crawled fully-formed out of the first time I heard Delta Rae’s ‘I Will Never Die’, at least two months before I ever wrote a word of Reincarnation Blues. 

Ian didn’t actually have a name until I decided to write a short fic based on these characters who just wouldn’t get out of my head; he was a generic, grinning-evil Devil Went Down To Georgia reference with a fiddle but no name playing backup in Rosa’s band and lending her supernatural firepower when necessary. As originally conceived, he knew exactly who he’d been and used it to his full advantage. I decided on 'Ian’ after considering ‘Liam’ as a name that referenced ‘William’, but not as obviously as a ‘Bill’ or ‘Will’, and then deciding that would give the game away too soon. I also just plain didn’t like the name ‘Liam’ as much. It was only later that I found out that the man responsible for the absolutely stunning art direction on Gravity Falls is named Ian. And I just found out now, looking up Delta Rae to see when ‘I Will Never Die’ was released, that one of the band members is named Ian. This is...typical of the experience of writing this fic.

Mira came into the picture after I gave up on finishing the fic I was working on at the time before giving the RB characters free rein on my imagination, and decided to write just a short one-shot, just to introduce them. (Hah.) I’m not sure, exactly, when or why I ended up deciding that Ian shouldn’t have any knowledge of his previous incarnation (I think it was somewhere between Brown Bird’s ‘Blood of Angels’ and the short burst of Alex!Bill popularity), but it ended up being a good decision. It would’ve been around that time that I decided I needed to put him into Alcor’s path in order for his previous incarnation to come out, and that the best way to do that was to put him into the orbit of a Mizar. Deciding to have them date was purely a ‘hey, wouldn’t it be funny if...’, with an added touch of ‘oh man, Dipper would hate that’. Mira basically started out as an amalgamation of Mabel traits and fashion that I like, and a lot of her arguments with Dipper came out of my trying to figure out just what the heck was going on in her head. (Also, her social media presence is a little bit based on Manzi, who Alex was dating at the time, because I followed her on here for a short while before realising we had practically no interests in common and she posted a LOT of stuff that wasn’t cosplay. )

And now that the stage is set:

Chapter One

This began life as a one-shot that was meant to exorcise these characters from my head. Ninety-six thousand words later, we can all see how that turned out.

I wrote a good chunk of this chapter from Mira’s perspective, but it just wasn’t working, and I realised around the point where Dipper flips out that if I wanted to keep it as a short, I needed the readers to know whether Ian was really evil and scheming like Dipper suspected, or if he was just as clueless as Mira was. Now, I think I might have stuck with my original plan and left that ambiguous, because that would be a nice, tight little horror story. On the other hand, ninety-six thousand words later...

Given the opportunity to do a complete rewrite, though, I would adjust Mira and Ian’s introduction as a couple. Their first interactions seem really, really stilted and forced to me now. 

Chapter Two

I actually wrote a short fic for the TAU blog based on a prompt about Ian and Dipper learning to tolerate each other and Ian pitching a show based on Dipper and Mabel’s experiences in Gravity Falls before I decided I was going to expand the, at the time, one-shot into a full multichapter fanfiction novel. It actually was part of what convinced me that I still had a lot of stories to tell about these characters, and that it should be expanded. That short fic also introduced Ian’s prosthetic eye, which he didn’t, at that point in Reincarnation Blues, have. I got to answer a couple of asks with axolotl gifs and feel like a real creative mastermind.

There were a couple times while I was writing the climax that I actually considered killing Ian off, because it seemed more likely with the state of each of the characters and also just so that the Toby plot could still work, but because I had made this short fic of events taking place after the events of RB and Ian was still alive in it, I decided that meant I’d made a tacit promise that he’d survive. I didn’t really want to kill him off anyway, so it made a good excuse when I was weighing my narrative options and they all seemed to be sliding towards Death.

A lot of this chapter was influenced by the surge of human!Bills in the fandom at the time, and especially of human!Bills (and human-shaped!Bills) who had flashy, obvious, fire-based powersets. I felt like Bill Cipher’s real power lay in misdirection - the flash and the fire, in canon, always only distracted the main characters from Bill’s real objectives, and, arguably, what he was really getting out of their interactions. To my way of thinking, it was far more likely that a human Bill Cipher would have some kind of mentally-based powerset, if they had a ‘powerset’ at all, and weren’t merely very quick cogitators who could think big and put themselves one step ahead of everyone around them. At the time, there were precious few authors and illustrators who seemed to have come to the same conclusion - none that I ran across, anyway. (There still aren’t, but the flood of billdip-based Cool Human Bills With Fire Powers seems to have slowed to a trickle.)

It also came in response to Toby, who was invented by the Transcendence AU’s very own Mod Z and exploded in popularity almost instantly. He was a sweetheart, a genuinely good, kind, little kid, who was facing enormous cosmic retribution for a millennia-long previous lifetime as a liar, monster, and snappy dresser. Toby is great, his creator manages to milk all the hilarious irony out of the situation, and there are some authors who’ve done really good and clever things with him. I’ve just never been all that interested in purely Good characters who just keep getting kicked in the teeth by a cruel world, and it struck me that Toby was the perfect setup for Bill to sneak in close to Dipper and do...something vicious. (I don’t think, at this point, that I knew exactly what Bill was planning to use Ian for, but I definitely knew that Bill was planning something, and it was going to blow up spectacularly in everyone’s faces.)

With those things in mind, I tried to imagine some realistic flaws or weaknesses that a near-omniscient, immortal demon forcibly bound to a decaying, imperceptive meatsack might potentially develop. Ian’s anxiety and nihilism(-lite?) and self-destructive tendencies all come from there. I settled on the feelings of insignificance and impermanence as the two major issues Ian had to face mostly because those were two things that Bill had never had to consider, would never have had to consider if he hadn’t ended up human himself, and would never have been able to satisfactorily reconcile with his own omniscience and indelible influence on human history/trail of destruction across several dimensions. It was not long after I settled on this and really committed to it (I believe it was a few chapters later than this, though) that Alex did a twitter Q&A where he talked to a fan with anxiety and...basically laid out that he suffered from very similar fears, and had developed very similar coping mechanisms to the ones I’d decided to give Ian. I initially only made Ian look like Alex for the sake of the joke, but as the fic progressed it became more and more clear to me that, by writing a version of a character who Alex Hirsch had once gotten in a ‘which character are you’ online personality quiz, I had inadvertently tapped a vein of similarity that was only gonna get wider. 

If you’re reading this, Mr. Hirsch: I am so sorry, and I swear that I did not and do not stalk you. I know my icon of cartoon Dana Terrace kinda makes this harder to believe, but still.

Chapter Three

The first Mira-POV scene! Also the first appearance of Rosa!

I think this was the chapter that really cemented for me that I was doing this, that this 'short one-shot' was now a fully-fledged multichaptered fic and I was in it for the long haul. This is the first chapter that starts to set the plot in motion, and the first chapter where I really knew that there WAS an overarching plot thread and where, in a more specific sense, it was going. I believe this is also the chapter where the fic got its title (the previous two oneshots had been posted without titles). 

...her punk-bluegrass act, the Savage Peace...

Oh yeah! I never mentioned these guys again. This was the duo that Ian and Rosa played together in, before Ian left to go into animation and Rosa went solo. The name is a riff on the Civil Wars, another excellent bluegrass duo who split up due to differences of opinion on their future direction. I love the Civil Wars.

I searched last.fm for 'punk bluegrass' after this chapter, because I had a very specific idea about what Rosa's music sounded like (like Delta Rae but with more electric guitar and bass, pretty much) and I wanted to see if anyone else had made it a reality. I did not find what I was looking for, but I did find Wood Spider, a band that plays bluegrass music with screamo vocals. I recommend 'Is It Strange?' because it is a very, very Ian song.

In case you hadn't noticed yet, a lot of the making of this fic was heavily influenced by music. I really need to make another playlist for it at some point.

Also, there's been some confusion amongst TAU peeps regarding Rosa's hair. I intended it to look like P!nk's blonde fauxhawk. Word Of God has spoken.

"He knows what I like and don't like, what matters to me, even things I don't tell him. He pays attention to what I say and do, and he remembers. He just does nice things for me sometimes when I'm least expecting it, and it's always exactly what I didn't even know I wanted."

This line was meant to show how Bill's 'ALWAYS WATCHING!' shtick might, under a very different set of circumstances and put to a different use, actually be a good thing. Post-Escape From Reality and Mabeland, it also takes on a vicious irony which I really appreciate. Successfully predicting what'll be ironic in the most painfully angsty way before canon even gets there: The Mary P. Sue Advantage!

I think this scene is where Mira actually coalesces into her own character for me, rather than 'a Mizar who is dating an r!Bill'. This is where she gets to show some of her own strengths and values, and to oppose and conflict with Dipper on her own terms, rather than because of Ian. I made a conscious effort to make sure this fic passed the Bechdel test, but I feel like even though this was a conversation with a dude, it was equally important in giving Mira a voice and an interior life separate from the men (well, okay, man and demon) in it. It also shows off the two sides of her - she's picked up a lot from Dipper, as evidenced by her nonchalance about cult-busting, but she's also still empathetic and compassionate, as shown by how she handles the kids. She's stuck between Dipper and humanity, and this is the first place where that's really shown, rather than talked about. It's one of my favourite scenes in the fic for exactly those reasons.

The last scene in this chapter is also where Mira and Ian start really feeling real to me as a couple, too. I really think this is just the chapter where I found my stride and all the pieces started to come together.

Chapter Four

I don’t have a whole lot to say about this chapter. It mostly exists to set the scene for what comes later, to get the reader more familiar with the characters, to set the cogs in motion. I am very pleased with Ian and Rosa’s friendship in the first couple scenes, though - I think it’s pretty natural.

Rosa looked up at him, her expression completely neutral. “Beale, I am goin’ to steal your girl.”

At the time I was writing this, there had been - I remember it as several, but it really must’ve been like, three - Gideon reincarnations (and preincarnations) in TAU who had gotten weirdly possessive about Mizars and had caused All Of The Plot in their respective fics by trying to make her their own. We’d also - if I recall correctly - received an ask basically proposing that Gideon’s soul would always do that, any time it came into contact with a Mizar’s, no matter what else might be going on. I...wasn’t a fan of that idea. I believe I’ve mentioned in a previous thing-where-I-talked-too-much-about-RB that Reincarnation Blues’ major theme is determinism versus individual identity. That was why I felt like this was the perfect place to kind of deconstruct that idea that there could be no r!Gideon who wasn’t an epic jerk. Right from the beginning, I intended for Rosa to get fixated on Mira, to set events in motion by doing a bunch of stuff that was beyond the pale to try to ‘steal’ her from Ian, and then to have to face the consequences of her actions. The goal was to see if she could grab a clue, if knowing what was going on and what she had done would give her a chance to look at her life, look at her choices, and make better ones the next time.

That’s right. I was redeeming Gideon before it was canon cool.

(There’s a whole lot I could get into about what I’m meaning when I say ‘redemption’ versus ‘apologism’, but...I won’t, here. Suffice it to say that I wouldn’t have wanted any kind of redemption plot for Gideon - or, indeed, any character, anywhere - that didn’t acknowledge that they started out in the wrong, and, though I usually disagree, I completely understand people not wanting to see certain villainous characters get a second chance.)

“... So - noose joke. Think that can ride, or are the censors gonna flip?"

I made a Mistake here. I was referencing the cut storyboards from Scary-oke where Dipper finds Ford’s ‘Zombie Survival Kit’ and all that’s in it is a noose. It was a suicide joke. (Well, I mean, suicide wasn’t the joke, but - well, whatever.) I should have referred to it as a suicide joke, or chosen a different deadly weapon. Instead, I referred to it as a ‘noose joke’ and it became a meme on the TAU blog, that Ian would be hiding nooses in the backgrounds of scenes all the time.

It was only, like, a month into this that I realised what the noose has historically, in the States, been a symbol for, and that without the context of a cut storyboard presented at a con (which might not necessarily be widely known) and then taken out of the context of a scene where the character is making storyboards (thereby removing the storyboard reference link)...yeah. I have to apologise for this one. Nobody has said anything to me about it, but in hindsight and with some consideration, I would word this differently if I were to rewrite the fic today.

I had a loooot of fun writing sleep-deprived Bill-like Ian here, and I hope to do more of it at some point.

Chapter Five

The introduction of Sun-mi! Sun-mi was a last-minute addition because I realised Mira had no female friends and panicked, and also because NWHS came out and I fell even harder in love with the character of the Author, and figured that tossing an r!Author (we didn’t at the time know that he was named Ford) into the mix with an r!Bill would be fun. This...is why Sun-mi’s role is small (though, I think, still important enough to justify her inclusion) - it was added to the plot post-outlining.

While I was writing Sun-mi, I was thinking of her with a voice much like April on Parks & Rec. This is not particularly relevant information to anything, I just see her as being very deadpan in that same way.

“So, not that one. How about Tam Lin?”

The mention of Tam Lin - one of the Child Ballads, in which a girl rescues her fairy lover on the night his soul is to be sent to hell as a tithe, and restores him to humanity, by holding him fast, and fearing him not - was a blatant nod to how the fic was going to end, and nobody picked up on it. It is also just a great, classic fiddle tune, though, and apparently it's not widely known that it's in the same time and key as St. Anne's Reel and so the two can be played together?

(I also answered a question about what each of the characters would have on their iPods, and said that Mira would have the Kerli song ‘Chemical’ on hers. If anyone had looked it up, they would have found out that it’s got a refrain that goes ‘This love is more than chemical’, which also directly references how the fic ends. I took every opportunity to hide spoilers for this fic in plain sight. It was so much fun.)

Stamped into the starry void around them like an artificial horizon was a massive ring, parallel lines glowing red like gashes cut into the dream to reveal an inferno on the other side. And between those lines, all around the horizon, burned familiar symbols.

Most of Ian’s nightmare is based on what I thought Bill’s experience of the Mystery Shack, from the mindscape, must have been like. This bit, though, is based entirely on a nightmare I had which involved Bill Cipher. I was practically contractually obligated to include it here.

Chapter Six

I have to preface any comments I make about this chapter with a disclaimer. Normally, I loathe miscommunication plots, especially ones where characters who ostensibly love and trust each other just flat-out refuse to listen to the other's explanation of a situation that looks bad. However, that's...exactly what I've written here.

I feel like the saving grace of this first scene is that, one, it doesn't constitute the entire plot, and two, it's more of a symptom of larger, deeper problems that they're having, rather than manufactured drama so that there can be some conflict and a tearful reunion in the third act. Sure, things end up hinging on Mira and Dipper trusting one another, but things are already strained between them, and this one miscommunication isn't the only problem they face, it's just the straw that broke the camel's back. Clearing up this one particular misunderstanding also doesn't magically solve all of their problems. I could, of course, be totally wrong and this miscommunication plot could be exactly as painful as every one I've ever seen on a made-for-TV romcom.

Had this whole thing been a colossal waste of time?

And here we see the product of Rosa's machinations! My thinking behind her slightly-absurd recruiting of Sun-mi to investigate Ian's past lives in an earlier chapter was that she thought that, any negative information Sun-mi turned up, she would share with Mira, and it wouldn't look like Rosa herself had deliberately sabotaged Ian and Mira's relationship, so she'd still have a shot with Mira. Devious.

(It occurs to me that both of the two characters who were the initial inspiration for RB started out as evil masterminds in concept, but ended up being sympathetic characters who got redemption arcs in the actual fic. There's some kind of irony about this.)

Trying to work out how the historical record might represent the Shack so far in the future was also a lot of fun. I know that the worldbuilding on this fic isn't sufficient for something that's meant to take place a full thousand years in the future, that the rate of change is so rapid that the society - and even the landscape - of the world Ian and Mira live in ought to be near-completely unrecognisable. On the other hand, I just wanted to write a fun story about character interactions, and I couldn't really set it any earlier or I'd risk 1) Dipper still having a clear thread of niblings around to anchor him, 2) things not having progressed far enough to actually have something like preincarnation testing, and 3) it being too early for Bill to have recovered from his 'defeat'.

(Also, I'm pretty sure that this, here, is the first use of the word 'preincarnation' in the TAU.)

He was still himself, more or less, he wasn't like Bill - !

Dipper is a little (or a lot) less human in this fic than in some of my others, but the thing is, he isn't really aware of that. This is the scene where it gets hammered home. It was a lot of fun constructing the scene where he eats Ian's nightmare so that it could be deconstructed here, to put all of the pieces of his real motivation and plans on display and show just how much like Bill's his modus operandi has become. (It also explains how he's able to get into Ian's head to offer the deal he does right at the end of the fic.)

Chapter Seven

aka "Shit, Meet Fan".

If you asked Dipper what seeing the future was like, he'd probably say it was like a beach.

I lifted this metaphor from Terry Pratchett's The Carpet People, a book which I strongly suggest for anyone who is interested in high fantasy, slightly deconstructed, and set among a race of teeny-tiny people living in the hairs of a carpet. He wrote it at seventeen and then came back and edited it as an adult. The result is...not quite A Terry Pratchett Book, but also not your average Extruded Fantasy Product Tolkien knockoff. He deploys the metaphor a little differently, and I can't remember how exactly he phrased things, but the concept of seeing possible futures as grains of sand on a beach came from him initially.

"I'm Alcor and I was wrong

I'm singing the Alcor Wrong Song..."

Dipper's apology is, of course, based on the Stan Wrong Song, which I thought was a nice touch to show that he was still thinking of Mira in terms of his life with Mabel in Gravity Falls. You gotta give the boy credit, though, he's trying.

I also think that Dipper will never be over his fear of puppets, partly because of Sock Opera, but also partly because we never got the Labyrinth episode. Until Dipper and Mabel have a siblinghood-affirming adventure in a giant, glittery maze with a mess of Muppets and a David Bowie guy, Dipper Pines will forever fear all puppetry.

"Well, we're all going to die."

Ian is really, really, profoundly bad at being comforting. (Unless you're worried about having embarrassed yourself or messed up your future, in which case, your ultimate insignificance in an eternal and uncaring universe and the inevitable certainty of your eventual complete eradication can sometimes be comforting.)

Ian hummed along as he turned on the faucet. "Dream a little dream of me..."

Annnnd here we go.

I decided that Ian would like folk and bluegrass music, partly because of the initial character concept and the Rosa connection, partly because I thought it was a genre that would remain resistant to introducing synthesised music even in the hypothetical future, partly because then I could make 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia' jokes. I decided he should also be into jazz music mostly because of the incredible His Name Was Billy Mischief, which is probably one of my favourite GF fics of all time and also highly recommended for anybody who liked RB. The author's inclusion of 'Someone To Watch Over Me' was both inspired and led to me looking up more jazz music, which led to finding a surprising number of songs that could be easily read as referring to Bill. It's not jazz, but Alex's inclusion of 'We'll Meet Again' in the finale still made me kick my feet in vindicated glee.

This scene was in the works from chapter 2 onwards, and it's another of my favourites - I think with good reason. I've had a lot of feedback from people that this was the most viscerally effective scene in the whole fic, and somebody drew me fanart for it! It was a little challenging to get into initially, because I was so excited to write it and I had to restrain myself somewhat to keep it taut and tense and simmering, instead of just explosive from word one. I think - I hope - that it succeeded.

Chapter Eight

“I’ll be looking at the moon,

but I’ll be seeing...you!”

I found Billie Holiday's version of 'I'll Be Seeing You' somewhere around chapter three or four and I instantly knew I had to write this scene and use it as a backdrop. I'd love to see this on film; Mira looking through the empty apartment, the slight and subtle wrongnesses adding up as a sinister bass note slowly builds from under the song to nearly drown it out, only to vanish on the final line as the camera overlooks the sink abandoned in the middle of a task and the phone left docked on the wall, letting Billie's voice echo, alone, over the unnatural stillness, before the song ends and all is left in perfect, fragile, ominous silence -

Anyway. Sometimes my mind is unnecessarily cinematic, and sometimes I profoundly regret not being able to score and soundtrack my fics.

“Do y’all mind?” Rosa asked, holding her phone away from her head. “Can’t hear a word my friend’s sayin’.”

This scene was originally even longer and more obnoxious. I really wanted to give people a reason to like and root for Rosa. Okay, so I also thought it would be badass. Thankfully, I have long trained myself to sacrifice cool awesome character stuff when it needs to be sacrificed for the sake of the story.

Are you done laughing yet? No? Okay, I’ll give you a couple more minutes.

Please ignore literally everything I had to say about the wards, because it is all bullshit. I think I said that anything less than an SS-class demon would be bounced back from Mira's wards, and that Ian, once 'active', shattered one of them completely on his way out, but that Dipper could go past them without having any effect on them at all? Which would require him to, like, probably use his powers to recreate them after he passed through...? I don't know how any of that was supposed to work.

I am, however, very, very pleased about opening a scene with Dipper missing Mabel's absolute faith in him, and immediately taking it into Mira accusing Dipper of murdering her boyfriend because Dipper's just such a demon. Juxtaposition!

The 'highlight reel' is equally if not more bullshit than the wards. I think this chapter is where I just gave up on trying to give Dipper a balanced powerset and decided to just go with whatever best served the emotional, character-arc thread. Sometimes you just have to play to your strengths.

Dipper didn't like other people knowing things he didn't. ... If he wasn't that guy, then - well, what was he?

A good brother! A real scrapper with a heart of gold and a will of adamantium! A sarcastic little shit! Dipper's focus on being The Smart Guy getting deconstructed and his realising that that isn't the be-all end-all of who he is was a wonderful good awesome character arc, even if it ended up being kind of understated in comparison with some of the more in-your-face character development that, say, the Stans got. TAU kind of does a similar thing with Dipper's arc, giving him All The Knowledge but making it come at the price of his family, which makes him reconsider its value...but it doesn't address that particular thing in the same way as canon, so I can see Dipper still getting hung up on this even thousands of years later. (Also, there are a lot of interpretations that indicate he may be kind of mentally frozen at the age he 'died', which I kind of love and subscribe to.) Hence, this line!

(I bet Dipper haaaaaaates when, like, The Slang and memes change. He has all kinds of arcane knowledge, but just what exactly the kids are talking about when they say something that looks like a random combination of syllables is beyond even his eldritch comprehension, and he can't figure out the nuances of how the new words are used, and - argh.)

"I tried to set things up so you'd find out something awful about Ian and break up with him so I could date you instead!"

There was a beat.

"That's it?" Mira asked, carefully.

One, I personally still think this is hilarious. 

Two, this is the thing about Gideon - in a world of supernatural, outsized threats, he's really quite mundane! His whole shtick is something that can and does happen in real life! And he's the second-worst antagonist in the whole show! I front-loaded the redemption arc in this fic and gave Rosa a little more self-awareness and a quicker leap to recognising that what she was doing was shitty, so how funny the mundanity of 'I want you to be my girlfriend and I don't care what you think' as compared to 'a literal demon is going to try to blow up the whole of reality' is can really shine, but, like...it's still terrible, and giving it outsized supernatural consequences doesn't make it worse or better than it is when it happens in reality. Do any of these words make sense? Who knows.

My one explicitly lesbian character in this fic being manipulative and predatory in her affections? Mmmmmmaybe not a choice I'd make again. But I do like how this storyline played out.

Chapter Nine

I'm still not entirely sure who knows what about Bill and why. That was another thing that I'd change, given a chance to do a rewrite - I'd solidly establish Bill's position in history, myth, and public consciousness in this particular future right up front. That way, it might actually make a lick of sense when the characters react to hearing his name when there's not...like...any evidence that they have any idea who the fuck he even is.

Don't set your stories in a future where magic has been real for a thousand years if you don't have a lot of experience or interest in worldbuilding, guys.

This is the chapter where Mira is just completely fucking done with absolutely everyone's shit, and I love it.

"...They used to have to take my pulse manually every time. ..."

I decided that Ian wreaks havoc with medical technology because his Ooo Weird Demon Soul Energy is, like, an actual electromagnetic weirdness that hangs around him. This is also why the viewscreen for the peephole goes all fuzzy on him in chapter seven and why, in some extracanonical material, he can't get his storyboard files from his tablet to talk to literally any other piece of technology. It's also why Rosa can tell his energy's 'weird' and why Mira's mom thinks his aura's like a hole.

"... Remember Paloma Heart?"

... "I don't."

I should have mentioned Paloma earlier. That's all.

Brown really did think that he had Ian figured out, that he knew Ian back to front, just because he knew Bill Cipher. ... He wasn't expecting Ian Thomas Beale.

Ian, here, is thinking he's making Brown nervous, making Brown think that he's up against some semi-omniscient, potentially-omnipotent extradimensional being who knows more than he does and can do more than he can, in hopes that Brown will get scared and angry and slip up, give away information that Ian doesn't actually have yet (like how Bill sent Ford that nightmare in the beginning of TLM that really had no purpose except to send Ford running scared for his defenses against Bill, and which also led to the brainwave-encryption machine being destroyed and Ford taking Dipper into his confidences and growing closer to him and ultimately seeding the rift between Dipper and Mabel that ends with Bill getting the rift...). Just how in control is Ian of his own actions here? Debatable, since what he ends up actually doing is getting Brown scared and angry enough and believing enough in Ian's 'powers' to, eventually, let Bill out. Oh, the irony.

Area 51! For someone who's never been big into aliens, I sure have put this dang place into a lot of fics.

(I also wanted to give Mira a chance to one-up Dipper in the Smart Guy department. And do something nice for Dipper. He deserves a bone thrown his way.)

Chapter Ten

Mira is one of the only people - if not THE only person - in this entire fic who has exactly zero ulterior motives. She does exactly what she means to, goes for exactly what she wants to, directly and without hesitation. I kind of love that about her, it's a breath of fresh air.

Here, however, it does probably make her immediate job a little harder.

"It just kills you, doesn't it?" he said ... "Not knowing?"

#getrektIan

I am unreasonably proud of the jet-skate Ladies of English Lit roller derby team as a method of mass destruction.

This scene originally had Dipper taunting Mira about killing mooks lead into the 'mooks' turning out to be magically mind-controlled people, which Mira found out very graphically and horribly when she wrenched the helmet off the guy who tried to choke her out to jam her fingers in his eyes and saw the sigil on his forehead - but that dragged me down a rabbit hole of Is Mira Actually A Good Person etc, and it was both too late to introduce this thread and would have muddled the plot. I might revisit the idea sometime, but then again, I might not.

Chapter Eleven

Janice!!! Janice is one of my favourite backgrounders and I almost wish I hadn't killed her off so quickly. Almost.

I have a boatload of headcanons about how the Society of the Blind Eye worked, how it was originally a secret society designed to stop Bill but Bill used Fiddleford to co-opt and disable it and then used Dipper to destroy it, most of which ended up finding a home in Raising Stakes. This is one of them. There's just no way, in-universe, that the Blind Eye is so deliberately similar to Bill's in design just by chance. (Out of universe, of course, it makes perfect sense for the gravi-team to maintain a consistent aesthetic, but still. My convoluted headcanons can still be supported by textual evidence!)

There was a circle in the middle of the room.

Goodbye, Ian. It was nice knowing you.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and his outstretched wings flickered with stars, surveillance footage, images of the fight that had just happened, an apple tree in a forest of pines, a blueprint, a wide-eyed alien-looking creature...

Dipper's wings flickering is meant to parallel Bill's face flickering in Dreamscaperers, and, like Bill's face flickering in Dreamscaperers, it contains spoilers! The surveillance footage refers to how he and Mira eventually find Ian (through the central control room, on a security tape), the apple tree in a forest of pines is a reference to Henry's antlers and his tree over his grave in Gravity Falls and also a metaphor for him being part of the Pines family, the blueprints refer to the wards on the structural components of the facility, and the alien's just a reference to the fact that it's Area Fifty-freakin'-one.

"For the love of - are you actually twelve?"

Nyahahaha.

I love the bounce castle. I love Mira and Dipper's dialogue immediately post-bounce-castle. I think I have Dipper rip the doors to the soul tree room off their hinges and then later have Mira say she should've closed them, whoops.

I have nothing particular to say about the last scene except that I'm very proud of how it turned out.

Chapter Twelve

The summer Ian had turned fourteen, one of the artists his mother represented had gone triple platinum, a record-breaking heatwave had hit the West Coast, and Ian had tried to kill himself.

I like this scene too. I like montages, bullshit experimental purpley prose, and expressing emotion through place. I also like that this nods to what they're trying to do to Ian - they can't bring Bill back proper, but they can dredge up all his memories, theoretically creating a powerless, more controllable human with all of Bill's borderline-infinite knowledge and no requirement of making a deal or dealing with demonic senses of humour to get at it. All of Ian's own memories bubbling to the surface is part flashback, part the spell dragging up something old and dead and long-buried and dislodging Ian's memories as it rises.

I also should've established Ian's father's death earlier, I think, though now that I'm staring it in the face again I don't dislike it as much as I did just considering it as a concept. I could've mentioned it more concretely earlier on, but bringing its full impact on Ian out here, where everything he's tried to forget is being dragged out of him and everything he is is being stripped bare, is not the worst narrative decision I've ever made.

The soul tree (or ‘tree of knowledge’, as Janice calls it, because haha, it bears apples and it’s a research project) is a product of me looking at what they’re doing to Ian and trying to work backwards, to see what kind of other things they might be doing to research souls, if this is how they decide to deal with Ian. It was also a nice opportunity for a great big hunk of angst, and a good excuse to give Dipper the powerup necessary for all the heavy magical lifting he’s going to have to do. Three for the price of one cool-looking plot device!

“We’re not going anywhere,” Brown said, taking his hand away from his earpiece. “We’ve still got -”

Janice gave him a pitying look. “It’s Alcor,” she said.

Janice is...probably a little bit of an Alcor fangirl. (Not the Twin Souls kind. The watches-doumentaries-about-serial-killers-on-her-days-off kind.) She is perfectly aware of, and starstruck by, the fact that he can kill her with barely a thought. She would just love to get him under a scalpel or energy blade of some description, but she’s also not a complete idiot. No one who’s ever tried to summon Alcor for anything like the kind of research she does has ever lived to tell the tale. She probably just has a wall of newspaper clippings all about Cool Shit Alcor Has Done.

“Wanna know what your future has in it?” ...  He blinked, once, slowly, deliberately, and said, “Exactly three minutes!”

This is a self-fulfilling prophecy. It also probably wouldn’t have worked if Ian hadn’t already played at being Bill for Brown earlier. BAM. PLOT. 

Ian glanced over at the timer as Brown brandished the tablet. The last few seconds drained away just as Brown pressed a finger down on the screen.

The house from Ian’s nightmares crashed down around him.

This is another one that I can see as a scene, animated or filmed; the room beyond, the ‘real world’ with the circle and the magitech and the terrified people suddenly vanishing from Ian’s viewpoint when a wall drops in front of it, no, slams down in front of it, shaking snowglobes and pine-tree trucker hats off the shelves and putting huge cracks between the boards, settling slowly into place like it was just dropped by a tornado even as blue light starts to spill up through the floorboards and the cracks start to widen as gravity fights for every board and nail...

Man, I wish I could make the moving pictures. (Though I guess if I’d put my time and energy into learning to make the moving pictures, maybe I would know less about making the words go. And, like, I’ve managed to just blither some seven thousand words about Making The Words Go. So I might actually have some modicum of skill at that by now.)

Chapter Thirteen

Mira hadn’t said anything since they’d left the room where Henry’s soul had been imprisoned, and Dipper was starting to worry.

TAU’s creator and Mod Z mentioned to me after this chapter was posted that I could’ve held off naming Henry as the owner of the soul until Dipper is forced to admit it, out loud, to Mira, and I’m still kicking myself that I didn’t think of that before posting the chapter because it’s a great suggestion and would have been very effective.

“See, at least we just kill people.”

Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t get into the ‘moral dilemma of Mizar’ aspect in this one any more than I did.

“You’re my best friend, you know? And I don’t want to lose that.” She glanced down the hall, back the way they’d come. “But if this is going to work, then sooner or later, you’re going to have to trust me.”

WHOOOOA THESIS STATEMENT

Everything from Mira and Dipper breaking into the control room straight through to Mira landing in the hospital was pretty much written in one straight shot, without stopping. This was the part I'd been itching to write since, like, chapter two, and it was GREAT to finally have it all fall together. The reactions I got to Bill's appearance - even though I think everybody was kind of expecting it by the time we got to this part - were all awesome and priceless.

I do want to make sure it's clear - the whole Bit in Area 51 was set up to approximate the circumstances under which Dipper became demonized. We had 1) an enormous, elaborate spell being worked, 2) ancient spells in the foundation of the building which had been in place for more than a thousand years, 3) all of which were destroyed, releasing all that pent-up power while 4) demonic energy and knowledge was being forced through and into a fragile puny human with an intrinsic tie to the physical plane.

It seemed like it made sense at the time, okay.

"AND PUBERTY! REMIND ME TO GIVE THE EVOLUTIONARY PROCESS THAT DREAMED THAT ONE UP A SWIFT KICK IN THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST!"

I love writing dialogue for Bill. That is all. Most of my favourite lines did actually make their way into the fic, but I still ended up having to scrap some that I really liked, just because I couldn't make the dialogue work with the plot and the other characters. A shame.

I honestly don't think I could be happier with how the scene with Bill in the centre of the circles with Mira turned out. Choreographing it was a bitch, though.

"Give Ian back, you son of a -"

"AH AH AH, LANGUAGE!" Bill interrupted, with a wink. "TRYING TO PRESERVE THAT Y-7 RATING HERE!"

this is my favourite fucking joke in the entire fic

can you imagine how much funnier it would've been if I actually had kept the entire fic Y-7 rated

"Why does everyone keep forgetting I'm Mizar?"

#getrektbill

Chapter Fourteen

I really don't have anything more to say about the rest of the scene in Area 51. I think the writing actually says exactly what I want it to say, how I want to say it. It all flowed easily and beautifully, and I barely had to edit it at all. I was and still am pleased as punch about how it came out.

Everything was floating.

This fucking scene, on the other hand.

I rewrote this entire scene from scratch no less than three times (and it was probably actually four). This scene was a righteous pain in my ass. I had one goal with it - I had to get Dipper to offer Ian the deal that would remove all outsiders' memories of Ian being an r!Bill, in exchange for eating all of the Bill-memories left in Ian's head. Usually, that's a good thing. Usually, knowing the purpose of a scene makes it pretty easy and straightforward to write. 

This motherfucker, though. This scene was like pulling teeth. I'd get about halfway through Dipper explaining the deal to Ian and why it was important, and then I would just stop. I couldn't go any farther. It was like I was on the end of an imaginary rubber band of Actual Ability To Make The Words Go that I could stretch only so far, but no farther, and only with a great amount of struggle, before I'd be snapped back to the beginning and have to try to start again from there in a direction where maybe I could make it to the next scene before I ran to the end of my rubber band again. I tried over and over and over with no luck, no success, and no small amount of frustration.

I don't know what tipped me off to the fact that, one, I had to actually deal with the demons I'd pulled out of Ian's head, and two, there was so much more I could do with the mindscape than the literary equivalent of talking head panels, but once it clicked into place, it was like that imaginary rubber band just vanished and I wrote the whole thing all the way through in forty-five minutes without stopping. It also required minimal editing, and it is now one of my favourite scenes in the entire fic.

A little while after I finished this chapter, I saw a quote (from Clickhole, so obviously fake, but) attributed to Haruki Murakami, which basically said, "If you can set a scene in the basket of a hot-air balloon, do." It was a joke, of course, but I also, since writing this, think it's genuinely excellent advice.

Also, I managed to sneak in references to used-car-salesman!human!Bill, stylised-skinny-smirky-pretty-boy!human!Bill and how I felt he was kind of a caricature and a lot of versions of him that looked like that also flattened out the depth of the character, and to the apocalypse tapestry, which I actually don't think I've seen mentioned anywhere in the fandom since Escape From Reality aired! Huh. Too bad, it was cool.

Chapter Fifteen

...and the forest outside with all of its eyes is burning, burning - 

I just really like this line, I don't know.

The news story about the Nordwext group that's playing when Ian wakes up for the first time is, one, yes, a reference to the Northwest family, and two, a callback to the girls in the factory who Dipper hadn't been able to help back in chapter five. This is him trying to do something that will actually help them and make a difference in their lives, instead of just lighting people on fire from inside out and getting them in trouble for summoning demons.

"... another such facility located under the former Ellens Air Force Base in Idaho."

Ellens Air Force Base is entirely fictional. It was invented for an episode of the X-Files, Deep Throat, where Mulder actually sees a UFO up close and personal (before having it wiped from his mind by the government). I couldn't resist.

I actually researched eye removal for this chapter. It took a lot of psyching up and then realising I could probably start with Wikipedia and click though to their sources without ever having to brave the minefield of Google Suggested Images.

He'd never seen this ring of trees (aspen? Birch?) in his life...

When I wrote this, I had the clearing where Gideon first summons Bill in mind. I also deliberately used descriptors, when Ian looks over and sees he's holding hands with himself, that could apply to either Ian or Bill.

"Oh, demons ... We can deal with demons."

I love Mira's parents.

Guess whooo put in a Twin Peaks reference without knowing basically anything about Twin Peaks!...okay, I could not pass up the opportunity. Besides, you know Ian watched Twin Pines at a formative age, and nearly flipped when he found out they were resurrecting it as Twin Pines: The Returnening.

He’s also a big fan (and friend) of Lauren Mephistopheles, but there is absolutely nothing that will make him actually watch more than ten minutes of Friendship is Prestidigitation. Sorry, Lauren. Some things are too terrifying even for an ex-demon in human skin.

And here we have the culmination of the Rosa Darling Redemption Arc! Ian telling her that Bill played all of them is, as she correctly deduces, a test - if she took the out as offered, played off her own responsibility, he’d know that he really couldn’t trust her to recognise what she’d done wrong and try to fix it. At that point, he probably would’ve had to ask Dipper to remove her memories, too. It’s a lucky thing for both of them that she got a clue!

“State-of-the-art prosthetic.” Rosa clasped her hands behind her back. “This model’s so new it’s not even on the market yet. Which, uh, would mean that technically you’d be part of a clinical trial -”

“A guinea pig,” Ian said, softly.

Just like Bill made Dipper into! I’m a genius.

“You’re not my father,” Ian says at last.

Ian’s father shrugs. “Does it matter, if I’m right?” He puts his glasses back on, light hitting the lenses just so that Ian can’t see his eyes. “Does any of this matter?”

Ian thinks.

“Yes,” he says.

Hi, my name is Mary, and I love Terry Pratchett’s writing.

“You know what,” Ian said, still looking up at the ceiling, at the hoist that dangled over the bed and the dark bulb in the reading lamp, “it’s been - three days? Four days? A couple days since we narrowly escaped death and you haven’t kissed me even once.”

“You haven’t kissed me either,” Mira said, with an affronted look, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice.

Remember how I said they started out forced and stilted? Yeah. I think that was just inexperience and a lack of familiarity with the characters. Let this be a lesson unto me: write the whole damn thing, then go back and rewrite the first, like, until it starts sounding natural again.

“Mira, don’t call me nerdface,” Alcor grumbled, coalescing out of the dark and fussing with his cufflinks.

“Okay, dorkbreath,” Mira agreed, just to hear Alcor’s long-suffering sigh.

Case in point.

Epilogue

Toby!

Everybody loves Toby. I guess I’m no exception. I am a sucker. Also I really wanted to show how the whole Ian thing affected Dipper’s relationship with Toby, while not actually causing it to deviate at all from what had already been established as TAU canon.

“Fragile neurological attachment, huh?” Dipper said, under his breath, and then, loud enough to hear, “Well, now you’ve got me.”

That’s all, folks!

Some more RB-related song recs, before I go: 

- The Garden, by July Talk (This ain’t Johnny Carson/I got thoughts that ain’t my own/I’m talkin’ black souls dressed in red and things that I shoulda never known)

- I Run Roulette, by Boots (I’ve been tricked into a thousand different ways/to slide myself away right down the drain)

- Better Not Wake The Baby, by the Decemberists (make your moan of your lot in life, split your mind half-crazy/gouge your eyes with a butter knife)

- Tic Toc, by Mother Mother (the Sandman told me, there’s no use in listening)

and because shush, it’s a great song and I had it on repeat for writing a decent chunk of the middle bits

- Out Of The Woods, by Taylor Swift (but the monsters turned out to be just trees/when the sun came up you were lookin’ at me)

[infinitehours]

Prologue

BEFORE YOU READ: This is a story based off of Disney’s ‘Story and Song of the Haunted Mansion’. The following trigger warnings are for this entire fic. If you are affected by the triggers listed right under the read more, you might want to skip this whole story (as there will be plot points tied to these things).  

It also occurred to me that I can’t edit things before a read more and have it show up on people’s reblog of this post.  :/ Which means I’m going to just put the trigger warnings underneath the read more, just in case I forgot something and need to add it.   That way, everyone who reblogs will always get the most up to date version of the trigger warnings (which is the safest way).  

Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, domestic violence, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

(The audio file is mine. I made it.  You have to open the link to listen, as it will link to another tumblr post.)

~~~~~~~~~

Table of Contents link

~

Prologue (Overture)

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.” --Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                  

It was a silver flask.

Probably not the first thing that would be in the forefront of your mind. And already, I’m sure, you must be asking:

Is it magic?

To which I will say: No.  It was nothing more than a flask used to hold drink. Often the strong kind.  

And then you might ask:

Is it beautiful?

To which I must say: Why, certainly not.  It was small, barely holding 3 ounces, and had no decorations whatsoever.  No set initials, no carvings or gems set into it, nor even a bit of polish to hide the jutting pewter layers that betrayed the idea that it was of pure silver.

And by now, you must be thinking:

Is it important?

Perhaps to some.  

But to you?

To this tale?

I would hardly think you would notice it missing beyond this chapter.  

And you must surely be furious now.  ‘Why ever would I want to read about boring flasks that are neither magic, nor beautiful, nor important?’

Ah…but you see, my friend.  All of us have such knickknacks in our lives.

Our little baubles.  

Our collections.

And while these things, by themselves, may not necessarily spark the events that shape us as people, they do often bear witness to them.  

Mementos of our first steps.

Our first job.  

Our first kiss.

Weddings, anniversaries, funerals, murders…

Who we are…who we aspire to be…our dreams, our goals, our past and the promise of our future…

We cling to these items because they represent these times.  A physical reminder we can touch...evoking the feelings we have for those we care about…an embodiment of our memories.

Who would we be in life, without our memories?

…Who would we be in death, without some token to leave behind?

After all, what are gravestones, if not markers for the living to remember the dead?

Yes…this particular item was well worn and used, and much beloved by its owner; a man that clung it to himself as any thief might cling a nugget of gold.  

He was a plain looking man with a plain look about him.  A goatee, a mustache, brown hair, brown eyes.   Plain clothes and a plain hat.  In the light of day, he might have looked like anyone else, perhaps even an upstanding citizen, albeit one that never won popularity contests.  But in the dreary dead of night at the cemetery of an abandoned mansion, with his back hunched over and his eyes always shifting to look behind him?  Even the most righteous of people would look suspicious.

A quick drink from the silver flask for courage, and the man creaked open the cemetery gate, lugging behind him a burlap sack and, inexplicably, the large case to a concert contrabass.  

Once he chose a friendly spot among the gravestones, he took out a shovel from the sack.  

For the longest time, he dug in silence. The only noises he made were the sound of shifting earth, accented by the occasional pause by which he took another swing from the flask.  He spoke no sound, but it was just as well, as there was no one in sight for which to speak to.

No one…in his sights….

                      One foot…

              Two foot…

       Three foot…

Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the mansion, a grandfather clock struck midnight, and the echoes of its chime, remarkably, could be heard all the way through the cemetery.   The man paused in his labors to listen; it caught his attention not just because it was strange for there to be a working clock in an old mansion, but because of the song it played.  It sounded vaguely the same of the Big Ben chime, the usual song any respectable grandfather clock would use, but it was warped and distorted as though the clock had grown tired of telling time:

                              Listen to the clock audio file

  Little did he know, for he was nowhere near the clock to see it, that this grandfather clock was…special.  It had eyes.  It had teeth.  It had a tail, it’s pendulum, swinging gently with each second.  And its bony fingers graced a face that held thirteen at its height.  An impossible thirteen hours.  As the chimes finished counting out their marks, the fingers began to move….backwards.  

They started slow, but, with every passing of the thirteenth mark, they grew faster.

And faster.

And faster.

And all around the halls where the clock stood proudly, the walls seem to vibrate in delight.  Doors seemed to open on their own; the very air seemed to trill with excitement.  

But of course, the man could not have known of any of this, as he was firmly in the graveyard, busy once again with digging.

                                                 Four feet…

                                   Five feet…

                        Six feet…

A crow grabbed at his hat, right as he stood to drink again.   He made a valiant effort to grab his precious flask, but it was no use.  The flask fell to the ground, the little bit left emptied.  

The crow perched at the edge of the hole, puffed up with pride and eyeing the man gleefully.  

“Stupid crow,” He muttered, hopelessly shaking the flask to his ear for any signs of leftovers.  

“Stupid man,” The crow croaked back at him.

The man glared at it.  “I won’t look so stupid to you when I get back up there.”

“Caw caw-You will, you will.  When they catch you, little fool. Caw caw.”

He’d heard of crows mimicking words, but holding actual conversations?

“Oh, but if I catch you, my feathered friend.” He began the tumultuous climb up the sides of his nicely dug hole.  “I feel as though I should light you on fire.  Do you know I could roast you so thoroughly, no one will ever know what you once-“

A green dress.

“…were….”

There was a green dress in front of him right as he hoisted himself up the edge.  As his gaze drew upwards, there was a matching green striped apron.  And upwards again, there was a face.

“Good evening,” The girl said, quite pleasantly.  

He swallowed thickly. “Good evening.”

She seemed a child, but perhaps too old for his sense of ease.  Teenagers that just turned adult were the worst brats, but at least she didn’t look threatening.  Curious, perhaps, in the way she stared at him, head cocked to the side.  Strange, perhaps, in her clothes and how the rain never quite fell on her.  But most certainly not threatening.  Dark brown hair that was cut neatly just as they reached halfway down her neck.  In contrast, her bangs were messy and clumped in three, long, uneven strands, but at the very least they did not reach far enough to impede the view from her startling, brilliant blue eyes.  

“What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I could say the same, girl.  This isn’t a place for children to play games. Run along home.”

“I am home.  And I’m not playing games….Yet.”  

He hoisted himself the rest of the way up and stared at her harshly.  “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to lie?”

“On the contrary, they taught me how to.”

“Ha!  Tell me, where in the hell are your parents that they let you run around in the middle of the night, dressed like that, at an abandoned house.”

“They’re dead,” She said, matter-of-factly. “And I’d rather not consider them to be in hell, thank you very much.”

“Oh.” He made himself busy with the latch on the case.  “My condolences.  I don’t envy them that.”

“You won’t have to. Would you care for a drink?”

The offer was sudden, but it was enough to perk the man’s attention.  His hand hesitated on his contrabass case, before he made the slow, tentative effort to open it.  Inside the case was another burlap sack, wrapped loosely around something (or somethings) so that they were undiscernible.  He gave the object a poke in several places, as if assuring himself that it was still there, before clamping the case shut quickly.  

“…What sort of drink?”

“Name your poison.”  She said, smiling in a disconcerting, daydream-like way.

The man reached to feel for his silver flask, empty but safely tucked in his inner coat pocket.

“…I’ve always been partial to gin. But I don’t suppose a little girl like you carries around alcohol, especially visiting a place like this.”

“Au contraire, good sir.  We happen to have a few good bottles, unopened, from 1883.  I wonder, sir, if that might hold your interest…?”

“Ha.  You’ve got to be joking.  You’ve got a bottle that’s made its way all from the eighteenth century?”

“Nineteenth.” She corrected, “And yes, we do.”

“Whatever century, that’s got to be nearly a hundred years old.  That’s quite a find.”

“If you say so.”

He quirked an eyebrow.  “Once you get older, I think you’ll better appreciate the quality of an aged drink.”

“Of course, sir. I do hope you’ll allow me to lead you inside, so that we may provide to you the very best gin we have.”

There was an odd twitch in her smile, which made him suspicious that she was keeping something from him.  His gaze was drawn back to the case.  

“I assure you, your…case will be left undisturbed.”

The call of the drink was stronger than his desire to keep the case secured… There seemed no one here except the two of them.  Surely no one would touch it, the man thought. ...and yet….

“It’s coming with me.”

He put the effort into hoisting the contrabass case onto his back once more.  

She made an elaborate display in opening the door to the house and bowing to him to enter, which he did after shifting the case around.

“Follow me, please.”

She took a nearby lit candelabra, an ornate thing that had carved monsters and five candlesticks. As he followed behind, he considered the girl once again.  Something was strange about how she moved, how she dressed, how she seemed perfectly at ease in an eerily empty house that she was likely squatting in.  But she didn’t seem to have any weapons on her person, despite the air of confidence she emanated; not a hint of an anxiety in the way she carelessly walked in front of him, not once looking behind to see if he would stab her in the back.  Perhaps that was what discomforted him.  

This child had no fear of strangers, and the man could not for the life of him tell whether he should be wary of this fact.  

“Is it far?” He asked, not at all liking the idea of having to trek through a whole mansion and then finish his digging.  

“The parlor isn’t, no.  At least, not at this time.  You aren’t afraid of the dark, are you?”

“’Course not. Only children are….are afraid of…”

The strangeness in the air had magnified gradually as they walked.  The eyes on the portraits seemed to follow his every move, but only out of the corner of his eye did he ever notice.  

“…I’m not afraid of the dark.”  He said, resolutely.   He whipped his head at the latest portrait, intending to catch it in the act of spying, but froze as he stared at it.

Because his own face was staring back at him.

It was the very painted image of himself, and his hat, in front of a building that was…

......

“Where did you get this from, girl?” He hissed at her.

“Get what?” She said, in that infuriating innocent tone of hers.

He turned angrily at her, nostrils flaring.

“This!  This portrait of me!  How do you know about this…this?!  What happened back then-Where did you get this from?!”  

“A portrait of you? Here?”  She came to take a look.  

But when he went to present it to her, his face and the building were gone. Instead, the visage of a man, quite impossibly tall and with a gnarled face, stood in the frame.  Each of his eyes was unique, and each of his hands held something unique as well; in one was the end of his long noose, and in the other was a sinister looking axe.  

“…Is this you?”  She said, incredulous, “It doesn’t look much like you.  If it is you, you certainly did a good job cleaning yourself up, as the man in this portrait looks rather downright ugl-ouch.”

His mouth was still agape when he turned to witness her sucking her finger.

“I guess I deserved that.” She said, smiling at him with her finger between her teeth.  His alarm and confusion was still a little hard to gulp away.

“Candlewax,” She said. “Shall we continue then?”

“But the portrait…” He eyes darted back to it, daring it to change again, utterly at a loss as to what to do about it.

“Could it be that you’ve had too much to drink already?  That you’re seeing things that don’t exist? Perhaps I should withhold the gin from you…”

The man hesitated, and tried to consider the logic.  

The incident he thought he saw in the portrait happened ages ago. He had a solid alibi, the police never once considered him a suspect, and half the community didn’t even remember him when he passed through years later.  

Nobody looked for him, nobody knew it was him; why on earth would a girl in the middle of nowhere half the country away know anything about it?  

Perhaps the stress took its toll…

And then there was still the one-hundred year old gin.

“Let’s continue,” he said, motioning for her to continue on. “I must…I must just be imagining things.  It’s been a long night.”

And surely, the man thought to himself, he could still kill her if she blackmailed him.  

“I’m sure.   Right in through here.”

The parlor was a small room, as many old parlors were, but it was far too cold for comfort.  Between the couch on the one wall and the three cushioned seats surrounding the fireplace, it was perhaps only designed to comfortably satisfy, at most, ten people.  The far opposite wall of the couch had a three tier, long bookcase and a service table replete with glasses and decanters.  The mantelpiece was decorated with a long mirror above it, and cherubs that no longer looked angelic carved into the wood.   His throat grew tight simply looking at it.  

“I do apologize for the lack of light,” The girl said, placing her candelabra up on the mantelpiece.  There was still something so very odd about the way she moved. “We don’t have much firewood at the moment.  If you’ll sit down, I’ll pour you a drink mister…?”

He waved her off. “It doesn’t matter.  Call me whatever you’d like, girl.”

“A pleasure to meet you too then,” She smirked, “And you may call me ‘Nell’.  I’d prefer it to girl.”

He huffed, unloaded the burden of the contrabass case, and took his relief in the cushions of one of the fireplace facing seats.  They were still soft, despite looking like antiques that ought to be in a museum.

“Do you mind someone to drink with?”

“You’re too young, Nell.”  He said, flatly, rubbing his arms to get some warmth.

“Oh no, not me. It’s just that the Master was wanting to see you, and he’s certainly not one to pass up a good drink.”

The man couldn’t tell if she was serious or not and eyed her funny.

“’Master’…?  Who is this ‘Master’?”

“Someone who doesn’t like gin.”

He laughed.  A short laugh that gave off his unease, as the tightness in his throat was still there.

“Sure.  Sure, if he isn’t drinking any of my gin, by all means.”

“Well then, your drink, sir.”

She handed him an unopened bottle of ‘Collison’s Gin’, dated 1883 in its feeble looking, plain tag.

“Heh.  The best service is a fast service.”

“I do try.”

Between his chair and the empty one to the left of it, she placed a slew of items on the end table.    First was a unique looking glass that had a bulge straight in its middle.  In it, she poured to the top end of the bulge a liquid that was of a sickly green.  Next, she placed a strange looking slotted spoon over the lip of the glass, and a white cube (sugar?) on top of it.  Finally, she added a clear liquid, steadily pouring over the cube so that it dissolved and the rest of the glass was filled.  Almost instantly, the green clouded into a murky white.

She noticed him staring.  “It’s the Master’s favored drink, and it needs to be prepared very specifically.”

The man swallowed, the tightness beginning to irritate him.   There was something so very ‘off’ about the girl, even up close, and he had yet to put his finger on just what it was.

“Tell me, what brings a respectable gentleman such as yourself out in the middle of a cemetery attached to, and I quote you, ‘an abandoned house’?”

The man took a long swing of his newly gotten goods, contemplating on just what to tell her.

“You know the old mine to the east of here?”

“Sightseeing at Big Thunder Mountain?  I’m sure a lot of the buildings of the town of Rainbow Ridge still stand, though I can’t imagine there would be much to see.”

He paused. “Last I heard, the town was called Tumbleweed…”

“It’s been called many things over time.  Haunted would be another.”

“I don’t much believe in silly superstitions.  The miners back then were just out of their depth in trying to rake a twisted forming mountain.”

The girl laughed, her shadow dancing in the light of the candles in an unnatural way.  

“Perhaps you should start believing in superstitions.  You never know, sir, just what sort of place you’ll end up at.  Better late than never...But, may I ask, does this mean you wish to try and re-open the mine?”

“There’s gold to be had. Plenty of it.  If others want to avoid claiming it, that’s all well and good.  More for me.”

“Is it gold that you have in that case of yours that you were burying?”

He hesitated. He had hoped she wouldn’t have brought up the subject of his case; that she had just forgotten about it, despite its presence in the room.

As he took a slow and steady drink, letting the alcohol linger and burn, he looked towards the ‘Master’s’ glass.

…It was empty…

He nearly choked on his sip.  

“That…the glass. That ‘Master’s’ glass…”

Nell turned to it. “Oh.  Dear me. I must have forgotten to pour the Master’s drink.  How silly of me.”

He watched, the goosebumps creeping, as she painstakingly repeated her earlier actions.

Pour the green liquid up to the top of the bulge.

Balance the slotted spoon on its lip.

Put the cube on the spoon.

Pour the clear liquid over the cube.

With each action, his throat tightened more, and he fiddled with his collar to relief the pressure.

“Now, where were we?” She said, returning to him.  “Oh yes.  Tell me, what brings a respectable gentleman such as yourself out in the middle of a cemetery attached to, and I quote you, ‘an abandoned house’”

The hair on the back of his neck stiffened and prickled.   Hadn't she just asked this question?

“You…you know…the old mine…to the east…”

“Sightseeing at Big Thunder Mountain?  I’m sure a lot of the buildings of the town of Rainbow Ridge still stand, though I can’t imagine there would be much to see.”

“T-tumbleweed…” He sputtered out, correcting her.

“It’s been called many things over time.  Haunted would be another.”

“Don’t believe…No superstition is going to stop me…Not the earthquakes or the flash floods they say about it…”

“Or the runaway ghost trains?”

He fiddled nervously with his collar again.

“Perhaps you should start believing in superstitions. You never know, sir, just what sort of place you’ll end up at.  Better late than never...But, may I ask, does this mean you wish to try and re-open the mine?”

The tightness in his throat irritated him again…and then he heard it.  

Slow and mournful, a musical voice.  A human voice.   She was singing, singing so beautifully and slowly and mournfully that it sounded like the lament for a loved one long since dead.  The hallways carried her chime-like, enchanting voice very well, although the echoes made her sound like an unearthly creature.  

“What is that?” He whispered to the girl, mesmerized.

It was the most alluring sound he had ever heard in his life.

“What is what?”

“The singing…someone is singing…Who else is here?”

“No body is here. Except, of course, the ones we ourselves dragged here.”

“The singing…Beautiful singing…I-“

He froze, as if remembering something, and twisted his head around back to the ‘Master’s’ glass.

His stomach dropped, the singing stopped, and the goosebumps multiplied down his back.  

The glass was empty again.

“The…the glass…” He managed to sputter.  

“Oh.  Dear, dear me.  I must have forgotten to pour the Master’s drink.  How silly of me.”

Bulge.  Green liquid.  Spoon.  Cube.   Clear liquid.

“So tell me, what brings a respectable gentleman such as yourself out in the middle of a cemetery attached to, and I quote you-”

“Just what are you playing at here?”  The man spat, trying to work himself towards a rage.  

“Playing?” Nell asked, her clearly faux look of innocence infuriating him more.

“What do you take me for, hm?  You’ve filled that glass three times, asked that same question three times.”

“Have I really filled the Master’s glass three times already?”  She asked, and her faux innocent smile twitched to a smirk.  “And to think, after all these years, the Master still has a drinking problem.”

The room began to shake, bristling and threatening to topple over the candelabra.  The man held onto his seat, a gnawing worry in the back of his mind that maybe the stories about Big Thunder and earthquakes were true. But the rumbling stopped almost as soon as it began.  

“Now you see?” The girl said.  “A true gentleman can easily show his discontent by giving the room a little shake…not pouring hot wax on me. You should take notes and follow the example.”

“What are you talking about?”  The man was on the very end of his seat, nerves galore, as the girl hadn’t even been looking at him.  

When she did, a layer of surprise clouded her face, as though she had briefly forgotten he was even there or perhaps didn’t think he would comment.  

“Oh.  My apologies if you thought I was talking to you.”

He couldn’t take it anymore.  In mere seconds, the man had the girl up against the side of the mantelpiece, the blade of his three inch folding knife against the pretty little girl’s pretty little throat.

“Now you listen here, girl,” He hissed, “I’ve played house with you long enough.  You better start wagging that tongue of yours and tell me what in the Hell’s going on around here or else I-“

HE WAS BACK IN HIS CHAIR.

It had happened so fast, it was almost a blur.  At one moment, he had the girl’s life in his very hands while she stared, unconcerned and without a trace of fear, back at him.  The very next moment, he was being driven back by a powerful and invisible force; powerful enough to send him sailing through the air and crashing firmly back into the chair.

He sat there shaking, trying to get up again.  But an unseen heavy weight kept him anchored against the cushions, his knife somehow lodged into one of the creepy cherubs out of his reach.  

“My, my, my,” Nell sighed.  She looked unconcerned by men flying through the air, just as unconcerned as she had been when he had held his knife against her throat.  “And here I thought we could all be civil about this.  But I suppose that was too much to ask from someone like you.”

“Someone…someone like me-?”  He croaked out as the tightness in his throat got phenomenally tighter.  

It suddenly occurred to the man that tightness wasn’t the result of nerves.  

She took hold of the candelabra once more.

                              “You aren’t here for gold…”

She stepped closer to him.

                              “You don’t care for riches…”

With every inch made towards the man, the man felt his neck tighten even more.

                 “And you don’t give two wits about Big Thunder…”

She stood directly in front of him as he struggled for breath.  

It was like a rope…

A rope that had been pulled tighter and tighter around his neck this entire time, and he only just started to pay it heed.

But as he struggled and gasped and scratched at his throat, there was nothing there.

There was never anything there.

“L-l-ll-little b-b-bi-” he heaved.

“Insulting the woman you just tried to kill?   It won’t do you much good from where you’re sitting, but by all means, keep digging your own grave.  You’ve already dug a physical one for us.  That was so very kind of you, by the way.  Did I ever thank you?”

The man could no longer speak.  He was forced to glare at her instead.

“No, someone like you isn’t much interested in mines.  And I can especially understand why you might be uncomfortable with ‘silly superstitions’.  I mean, given what you’ve been up to these past few months.”

The man’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, good sir.  I know someone who knows things.  So much so, that I happen to know what’s really in that case.  …And it most certainly isn’t gold from Big Thunder Mountain.”

He tried to resist the invisible restraints, wanting more than ever to run.  

“No.  What’s in your music case is far worse than gold, isn’t it?  And you’ve been worried that people were going to come looking for you because of what you did.  You would kill to keep that from happening. ….And you have killed, many times.  Yet in your attempt to get away, you’ve made one very fatal mistake…”

She loomed over him, the light source in one hand.  And in that terrible, terrible moment, he finally realized what was strange about the girl.

                                   Her shadow was too tall.

Her shadow was too impossibly tall and thin.  And, though the girl was holding a candelabra, her shadow was not.  

It was holding something much different. Longer and thinner, with a bladed edge.

His terrified eyes flicked back to the girl.  Something about her demeanor, the smile that grew on her face, suggested that she knew what he was thinking.  That she knew what he’d just noticed.  

“For someone who doesn’t believe in ‘silly superstitions’, you seem to have great faith in the silliest of all,” She said, her smile wide as she held a finger to her lips,

                 “Did you honestly believe the dead tell no tales?”

The candles in her hand went out, plunging everything into darkness.

The sensation in his neck grew tauter, and he reached out, grasping, yearning for anything that might bring relief.  

Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope-

Chanting.  The chanting in the room grew mind numbing. Something heavy was in his hand.

He could feel his fingers growing colder.  The world becoming fuzzier.

He knew what he had to do.  

Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope Take the axe and cut the rope

With the last of his strength…as he still struggled for breath…he swung the heavy object in one fell swoop towards his neck.

But there was no rope.  There was nothing there.

                                   There was nothing there.

                                        There was nothing there.

There was nothing there but flesh and blood and the remnants of the man’s final screams.  

[crossroadsdimension]

Lucky!Ford Chapter 5

Here’s the last chapter for this guy for a while. Heh heh; I had fun working with this one.

And @howtotrainyournana (and recently @impishnature) know some of why that is. There are a couple characters who pop in from another dimension and come over into this one...and they mention a character who belongs to Nana, but that character doesn’t actually make an appearance. Let’s see what you guys think of these little inter dimensional visitors, eh?

Just so you know, if I write anything more for Lucky, it’s probably gonna be one-shots of future shenanigans he gets himself into -- and his luck gets him out of!

Unexpected Visitors

It turned out that Ford’s “safe trail” wasn’t actually as safe as it had been thirty years ago.

Ford dove into the underbrush, leaving Stan yelling curses behind him as he was dragged into the open clearing they had arrived at.

One of the three figures that had suddenly appeared in their path hit Stan over the head -- a pig-like creature with leather skin and thin, sharp spikes jutting out along his spine. “Shut it.”

Stan collapsed to the ground; Ford’s hand instantly went to the gun at his belt, and he gritted his teeth. Bounty hunters. How they had managed to reach his dimension and disturb the peace, he wasn’t entirely sure and he didn’t want to find out, because that question would lead to him being captured and being taken away from the home that he had fought so hard to reach.

“That one’s got five fingers,” said the stick-thin, green humanoid figure with pointed ears. “You grabbed the wrong one! We want the six-fingered one, not this oaf.” He kicked Stan, who rolled over and let out a groan, still stunned from the whack to the head.

“Use him as bait,” said the third figure -- a portly, scaly lizard humanoid who was anything but fat, if Ford’s experience was anything to go by. “They must be related, if you look at their faces. Humans look even more alike when they are.”

Ford gritted his teeth even more tightly. He had to do something, but his gun didn’t have very many shots left, and they wouldn’t be able to do much against two of the three hunters.

Of course my luck has decided to run out.

A hand came down on Ford’s left shoulder, and he stiffened and whirled, pulling out his weapon. He froze when his eyes locked with the figure who had come up behind him. “What in--”

“Shh.” The red-gold, fox-like ears on top of the other’s head twitched and swiveled, tracking the sounds from the clearing and the forest itself. “I’m here to help.”

The last person Ford had been expecting to hear that from was himself.

“Help?” he hissed. “How do you expect to help?”

“A distraction.” The other Ford’s seven red-gold tails twitched in a way that made Ford think of a nervous, cornered animal. “Wait here; we’ll take care of the rest.”

“What are you--”

His counterpart dashed out of the underbrush before Ford could say another word. “Leave him be!”

The bounty hunters looked up from Stan’s form sharply.

“Cipher’s runaway pet!” crowed the lizard. “That’s a double score! Get him!”

Ford felt a chill run down his spine. Cipher’s runaway--

His counterpart held a hand back behind him as the bounty hunters ran towards him. A fireball materialized in his open palm, and he threw it at the bounty hunters -- who dodged it -- before bolting into a different part of the forest. “Maria, now!”

Another figure came out of the forest as Ford’s counterpart disappeared: a young woman in red, orange, and gray armor, and a frown on her face that made her seem older.

“Wait!” The pig started flailing, trying to stop. “That’s--”

The young woman flicked her wrists, and a flat disk of blue energy appeared under the three aliens. Ford’s eyes widened sharply as the three dropped into it with yelps of surprise, the disk winking out of existence a moment later.

The woman relaxed, her frown shifting into a wide grin. “Got ‘em, Sixer!”

Ford’s counterpart came out of the trees, looking relieved. “Lower-level bounty hunters; obviously, they’re still running around despite the fact that we’ve cut off the head.” He looked over at where Ford was and motioned with his head to come out of hiding.

Ford hesitated, then stepped out from the trees, gun still in hand and the two newcomers kept in his line of vision as he moved over to where Stan lay on the ground. “Stan, are you all right?”

Stan groaned, then rolled over and started to sit up. “Ugh. What the he--eeeck was that? They looked like something out of a B-rated horror movie.”

“You can swear in front of me, Stan, I’ve grown used to it,” the woman called over -- right; Ford’s counterpart had called her Maria.

Stan muttered something as Ford dropped his gun near him and grabbed his brother’s head to give it a look over. “H-hey! Watch it!”

“Hold still; you might have a concussion,” Ford replied shortly as his counterpart and Maria came closer. He eyed them as they came to a stop, then looked back at Stan and looked him in the eyes. “...it doesn’t look bad; some aspirin and you should be fine.”

Stan grunted and pulled his head back. “I could’a told you that, Poindexter.” He looked over at the other two and blinked. “Am I seein’ double or…?”

“I’m actually physically here, yes,” Ford’s counterpart replied. “I’m a dimensional double of your brother, to put it simply; others call me either Kitsune or Sixer.”

“Would’a thought they’d’ve called ya Seven or somethin’.” Stan frowned at the seven tails behind Kitsune, which twitched in response to Stan’s comment.

“He had six when I met him,” Maria explained. “One of his tails split two years later.”

“It what?”

“Is this natural or is this something else?” Ford asked sharply.

Kitsune’s tails stilled at the question, falling limp behind him; his ears flicked back. “...Something else.”

“If you’re worried about Sixer, you really shouldn’t be; the Cipher that did that to him isn’t around to cause anymore trouble.” Maria folded her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels, a knowing smirk crossing her face.

Ford’s eyes widened sharply.

“What are you talking about?!” Stan demanded. “Yer leavin’ me out of the conversation here! Who is this Cipher guy you’re talking about?!”

Maria and Kitsune stared at Stan, then looked over at Ford.

“You haven’t had Weirdmageddon?” Kitsune asked in confusion. “Or has Stan not recovered all of his memories yet?”

“What are you talkin’ about? I haven’t forgotten anything!” Stan snapped back.

“Weirdmageddon?” Ford repeated in confusion. He blinked, and his eyes widened as he connected together the information he was hearing. “You mean that’s what would have happened if I had come back through my portal and Bill had gotten his hands on the Rift--”

“Yes,” Kitsune replied flatly.

“Who’s Bill?” Stan grumbled.

“His full name is Bill Cipher,” Maria replied. “He’s...simply put, he’s a demon who has an odd attraction to Fords across dimensions. Your brother’s lucky that he managed to get back here without opening a rift -- speaking of which, how did you get back?” She looked at Ford with a raised eyebrow.

“A young man named Joshua did the exact same thing for me that you did to those bounty hunters.” Ford motioned to where the bounty hunters had been a moment ago. He was a little confused as to how the girl knew anything about Bill Cipher and was willing to speak freely about him and not attempt to arrest them.

Maria blinked, then a smirk crossed her face and she snorted. “Joshua is neither young nor human, and neither am I.” She rapped her right hand against her chest.

Clang clang.

Ford stiffened at the metallic noise; Stan’s eyes widened.

“I’m surprised that he managed to get you here without Cipher getting involved, though.” Maria frowned, lowering her hand. “I’ve tried that before -- he always blocks the natural pathways off; that’s why your rift maker is usually the only thing that works. Why wouldn’t he get involved this time….” Her frown deepened, and she tapped again against her chin thoughtfully.

“I think I know what happened.”

Maria, Stan, and Ford looked over at Kitsune.

“Enlighten me,” Ford said dryly.

“There is someone that we have made the acquaintance of a year after I met Maria,” Kitsune said carefully. “A being who is a fury goddess who has had interactions with the Mas -- w-with Cipher.”

Maria looked up at him with a worried expression as Ford’s eyes widened sharply. Maria slipped her hand in his and squeezed it, which seemed to ground Kitsune.

Kitsune closed his eyes and took in a breath for a moment, then opened his eyes again. “She was in a relationship with him previously, but after he stole part of her power from her, she went on a sort of revenge quest against any and all versions of Cipher. Which leads me to believe that she has already found your iteration of him and has destroyed him utterly.”

“Huh.” Stan blinked. “Well that was nice of her.”

“Did you just almost call Cipher Master?” Ford demanded harshly. Even more connections were starting to come together -- especially considering what the bounty hunters had called Kitsune.

Kitsune winced and pulled back a little, but not very far because of Maria’s grip on her hand. “I-I was not--”

“Sixer.” Maria looked at him with concern, then looked back at Ford. “You didn’t know about that either, huh.”

“Know about what?” Ford hissed. “That the bounty hunters referred to him as Cipher’s runaway pet? Because that and what he nearly said are all that I am going on and I would love to know why.”

Kitsune’s ears flicked back as he shuddered. “I lost. That’s the simplest answer.”

Ford stiffened at Kitsune’s statement, eyes widening. “You what?” That was not the answer that he had been expecting from his counterpart. He rose to his feet, staring at Kitsune. “But...but the Quantum Destabilizer -- Our -- my plan to--”

“I missed.” Kitsune wasn’t looking at any of them. “The Zodiac could have worked, should have worked, but Stanley and I got into an argument and Cipher took that to his advantage.” He took in a shaky breath. “The appearance I have now is a result of that; the reason that I nearly called him that is a result of that. And he did this not only to me; he did it to the rest of us as well.”

“No….”

Kitsune nodded glumly. “The four of us were changed and forced into service. We were saved from that some time ago, but...our dimension….” He shook his head again. “We were able to save the people in Gravity Falls, but no one else.”

Ford stared at his counterpart as Kitsune’s statement sank in, Stan also looking at him with a murderous expression at the mere idea that Dipper and Mabel could have possibly been pulled into this. Ford hadn’t thought that it would have been possible for any one of his counterparts to lose against Bill, to lose with not only the one weapon that they planned to use against Bill directly in the Nightmare Realm, but also with the possible backup they had if he ever happened to enter their respective worlds -- much less if they ever managed to find all the parts of the Zodiac, which was apparently possible but not something that Ford was entirely willing to put stock in.

Especially since it was apparent that Cipher was no longer going to be attempting to make his way into his dimension.

“So, wait.” Stan pushed himself up to his feet, swayed for a moment, then managed to keep his balance. “Yer sayin’ that there are some places where yer entire dimension fell ta pieces?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Kitsune replied. “I’m at fault for that as much as the Ciphers, considering what I was used for. Those bounty hunters you saw were no doubt planning on reporting in to some Cipher with your brother so they could utilize the network that I left behind. Maria and I have been working to tear it apart, but...it’s been difficult, considering how large the mess I left behind is.” He sighed and shook his head.

Ford stared at his counterpart, his mind whirring as he put the pieces together -- what his counterpart was saying, what it was that he wasn’t, what it possibly meant for his other counterparts--

“How many?” Ford asked finally.

“I’m not sure of the exact number.” Kitsune shrugged a little.

“I’m sure Agnostic might know,” Maria commented, thoughtful. “He doesn’t like to think back on what happened, though.”

“Who?” Stan frowned. “Another Ford?”

“Yeah.” Maria looked over at Ford. “One who got brainwashed pretty severely. He’s one of the few that we’ve managed to rescue from Cipher’s clutches.”

Kitsune shuddered. “And I’m glad we got to him first. I don’t know what things would look like if Bishop was still--” He shook his head.

Ford flinched back. He’d heard of Bishop, of his religious fantasies and how easily words flowed from him that could make you consider changing sides. If he was going by Agnostic now --

Well.

“What, was he some kinda demon-worshipping -- “ Stan stopped short when Kitsune nodded. “Holy Moses.”

“He’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Maria said. “There are versions of you running around doing his bidding too, Stan.”

“Me?” Stan snorted. “Like that Cipher guy would want anythin’ ta do with me. I don’t got the brains that Ford has.”

“But you have the skills to see through his attempts at making deals,” Maria replied. “It takes a con to outcon a con, and you have the reputation of being the best at that out of the entire multiverse.”

Stan straightened himself up at that, puffing out his chest as Ford rolled his eyes.

“That can’t be it,” Ford said, frowning.

“Considering that Stans have been rather consistent throughout the multiverse as being the one to trick Cipher in a final deal? I’d say that Maria’s actually right,” Kitsune replied.

Ford stared at his counterpart in disbelief. “You...you’re backing her up?”

Kitsune shrugged. “The dimension I now call home has nine other versions of me and eight versions of everyone else in our family. I’ve grown to know and appreciate the quirks everyone has.” He smiled a little. “It gets to be rather entertaining when my brother and his counterparts attempt to out-con each other, especially after a few drinks.”

Maria snickered. Ford stared with an incredulous expression. His counterpart could not have been serious.

“That’s a crowded house,” Stan commented. He swayed a little, then righted himself. “Speakin’ of which, we should probably get back to the Shack. I don’t want to leave that place in the kids’ hands for too long.” He started to take a few steps forward, then stumbled and started to fall over, only to get caught by Kitsune before he could hit the ground.

“We’ll stay in this dimension long enough to get you back, at least,” Kitsune said. “Then we should probably get moving ourselves.” He looked over at Maria, who hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“I’ll be fine, you.” Stan righted himself again. “You go on an’ keep huntin’ down those guys who are goin’ after my brother. If any more of ‘em show up again here, we’ll be ready fer ‘em next time.”

Kitsune hesitated, unsure. “Being out in the forest with you as you are could be--”

“Grunkle Stan!”

“Great-Uncle Ford!”

The group of four turned their heads as Dipper and Mabel suddenly crashed through the underbrush and grabbed their grunkles in tight hugs.

“What are you two doing out here?” Stan demanded, looking down at Mabel. “I thought I told you kids to stay back and watch the Shack!”

“We saw these monsters come out of a portal!” Mabel looked up. “They were talking about taking Grunkle Ford away!”

“W-we gotta get back to the Shack before that mean pig-thing finds you,” Dipper added. He started tugging Ford back the way they had come.

“We’re already taken care of them, Dipper,” Kitsune spoke up. “You don’t need to worry about them finding your grunkles, I can assure you.”

Dipper and Mabel stared at Kitsune and Maria with wide eyes; Maria started giggling at their expressions.

“U-Uh….” Dipper looked between Ford and Kitsune. “What’s--”

“Ohmygoshyouhavetails!” Mabel let Stan go and moved closer to Kitsune’s seven tails. “They look so soft! Can I--”

Kitsune chuckled as one of his tails moved a little closer to Mabel. She instantly buried her fingers in his red-gold fur and gasped.

“Dipper, come over and feel this! It’s like a cloud or something!”

Dipper came over, frowning, but curious. “Mabel, clouds are water vapor, they can’t exactly be--” He stopped when he put his hand in Kitsune’s fur. “Whoa; that is soft.”

A low rumbling noise came from Kitsune; Ford was startled to find he could identify it as purring.

Mabel gave a delighted squeal. “Ohmygosh! You sound like my cat when he’s on catnip!”

The purring puttered to a halt as Kitsune looked down at Mabel with an unsure expression.

Stan and Maria laughed at the look on his face as Ford’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile. Another thought popped into his head then, and the smile faded.

“Who were you before?”

Kitsune looked over at Ford at the question while Dipper and Mabel exchanged confused looks. “You mean….”

Ford nodded. “Yes; before...all that.” He eyed the flicking ears on top of Kitsune’s head.

Kitsune frowned, then sighed and shook his head. “It’s...difficult, to remember before. I’ve spent well over six centuries like this; my memory-keeping abilities may be sharper now, but...some things still fade. One or two memories stand out among the mess, but not many. And...not very many good ones.”

Maria looked up at him with a concerned expression, biting her lower lip. Ford got the impression that she had heard him say something similar before.

“Why do you ask?” Kitsune looked at Ford with a slightly-cocked head, almost like an animal that had spotted something curious.

Ford paused. “I wanted to know if -- since you ran in...similar circles, for a time -- if you knew of a mercenary known as Fish.”

Maria’s brow furrowed, and she closed one eye as Kitsune’s left ear twitched.

“Fish? I don’t-- Oh. Oh, you mean Pirana.” Kitsune nodded a little. “I heard of him, but I never met him myself. Considering he hunts us down for sport, it was more than likely that he would have killed me on sight, so we were kept out of each other’s way.” He paused. “Although, now, there’s no doubt that he’s coming after me.”

“Ho-ly scrap,” Maria squeaked as she opened her eye again. “Holy scrap I do not think I’d do much against him.”

“Interdimensional database?” Ford guessed, not sure how the World Jumper would have been able to gain such an expression so fast.

“Tumblr,” Maria replied flatly. “Any alternate universe that exists, there’s a chance there’s something for it on Tumblr.”

“Considering that you’ve heard of him, you must have had times where he passed you by for another--”

“I’ve had him chase me five times.” Ford’s interruption caused Kitsune’s eyes to widen sharply. “Joshua saved my life the fifth time.”

“...you must be quite lucky, then,” Kitsune said.

“How bad is this Fish guy?” Stan asked.

“He’d kill the entire town without a second thought, so long as he could get to your brother -- and then he’d kill him, too.” The grim tone in Kitsune’s voice caused Stan to stiffen. “He is not someone that people can stand toe-to-toe against -- not unless you can appeal to his sense of humanity, somehow, but the chance of that is silmmer than Cipher when he’s looked at from the side.”

“Who?” Dipper asked in confusion.

“No one you have to worry about,” Maria replied quickly.

“And to hear that you’ve gotten away from him five times, I can’t say I--” Kitsune stopped short. “Wait. Lucky.” His eyes widened slowly. “That’s you, isn’t it? The luckiest of us?”

“...so I’ve been told,” Ford replied carefully as Maria and his family stared at him with wide eyes. “But that was only once, from Jheselbraum -- how do you know about--”

“I think I was the one who gave you that moniker.” An excited smile started to spread across Kitsune’s face. “You remember -- in the marketplace? Your translator wasn’t working but you knew enough of the language to barter with one of the shopkeepers for--”

“A part of the Quantum Destabilizer while barely keeping in his good graces, yes.” That was a memory that stuck out in Ford’s mind clear as day. It had been early on in his journey across the Multiverse, when he had still been getting his bearings and trying to figure out how in the world he was going to survive with Bill constantly on his tail. A figure with salt-and-pepper hair and a covered face had found him after a nearly-botched trade with a tradesman and had offered to repair his translator and give him a little advice.

“Well, Lucky, I’m surprised you managed to get away from him without losing a finger!”

“That was you?” Ford stared at Kitsune.

Maria was looking back and forth between the two of them with a wide-eyed expression, a grin crossing her face as Kitsune nodded.

“Yes; it was!” Kitsune laughed. “It must have been...oh, five years before I’d managed to gather all the parts I needed. I’m glad you managed to return home safely after that, and with a surprising turn of your luck then, as well. Your luck should certainly hold now.” He looked at Maria. “I think we’ll be all right leaving them as they are.”

Maria laughed. “All right.” She looked at Dipper, Mabel, Stan, and Ford in turn and gave them a thumbs-up. “I’m glad you guys don’t have to go through what your counterparts did in other dimensions. Hopefully Gideon Gleeful will get a swift kick to the pants some other way.” She clapped her hands together, and a shimmering blue, flat disk of a portal appeared in the air next to her -- a doorway between dimensions.

“Wait!” Dipper moved closer. “I have so many questions!”

“We don’t have much time to answer them, I’m afraid.” Maria rubbed Dipper’s cap-covered head. “You’ll get your answers eventually; maybe your Grunkle Ford will be willing to tell you stories one day, when you’re a little older. Until then, you kids stay safe, don’t read any weird cave inscriptions aloud, and try to teach Gideon a lesson in a way that will get him to see reason without putting you all in a life-or-death situation. The kid needs guidance, not to be turned into an outcast.”

Mabel fidgeted as Kitsune slid his tail out from under her fingers. “But...but Gideon--”

“I know what he did, sweetheart, but he can change. It’ll take time, and probably more lessons that he had to learn in other dimensions, but he will eventually become less stalker-ish. Eventually.” Maria ruffled Mabel’s hair as well. “Don’t ever tell him he’s good boyfriend material, though; I wouldn’t trust someone with a stalker past to get in a relationship with me.”

Kitsune chuckled, his tails curling at the tips. Ford found the display odd, but he didn’t get the chance to ask what it meant, because the next thing they knew, Maria and Kitsune had stepped through the portal and out of their dimension.

Leaving Ford to be stared at by Mabel and Dipper.

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew another you?” Mabel asked, eyes shining. “Are other ones gonna show up now?”

“Highly unlikely,” Ford replied.

“I find it hard to believe that you’re the luckiest you out there,” Stan said with a snort. “There’s no way that’s possible; you’ve never beaten me at poker.”

“Because you cheat, and besides, my luck only seems to work when it’s to my advantage somewhere in the future,” Ford hissed back.

Stan huffed, took a step, and stumbled. Ford quickly caught him and pulled Stan’s left arm over his shoulders.

“Let’s get you back to the Shack and looked over properly,” Ford muttered. He started to move back towards the house, Stan limping in step with him and Dipper and Mabel moving ahead of them.

“C-could you tell us about the other dimensions?” Dipper asked, hesitant and hopeful.

“Oo! Oo! Did you find a dimension made of cotton candy?” Mabel asked.

Something about Mabel’s eagerness made Ford laugh a little. “No, no.” His face scrunched up as he thought back to some of the dimensions he’d been to. “Although, there was this one where everything was shaped like the letter ‘M.’” He shuddered.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Mabel commented.

“Every single word they spoke started with the letter ‘m,’” Ford said. “I was considering ‘mommitting muicide’ if I never found a natural rift away from there.”

“Ford!” Stan looked at him sharply as Dipper and Mabel stared at him with wide eyes. “Lay off that kinda talk, will ya? Lighten up for once, geez.”

Ford ducked his head a little at that, but a slight smile appeared on his face. “All right, all right. Let me try to think of a different one….”

[veervr-blog]

VeeR VR: Are VR Games Worth Buying Yet

If you were to ask a random person about Virtual Reality (VR), the first thought they’d have in mind is probably games. VR is particularly suited for gaming because of its power of immersion. In a way, no art can better utilize the potential of virtual reality than Gaming itself (yes, Gaming is an interactive art) – an experience that’s meant to be both immersive and interactive.

Looking at the greater picture, the whole VR gaming industry is, very much, at an early stage. We see loads of games on PSVR, OCULUS, and VIVE (hundreds, big or small). But as Ian Birnbaum from Motherboard put it over a year ago, “buying a new headset is a decision that should be justified by great content, which isn’t really here yet.” Frankly, most VR games are interesting developer experimentations… but errr (how do I put it elegantly)… disappointing consumer products. Sometimes, controls aren’t great, other times graphics are horrible, and worst case scenario, people just get bored from playing them after messing around for 20 minutes, thinking “well, that was enough of VR gaming.”

After investing hundreds of dollars on a VR headset, customers expect a completely new sort of experience made possible only by virtual reality. Plain and simple, but a hard measure to reach. It’s very promising, though – as of December 2017, we have many cases where the games have really stood out because of their VR capabilities.

Here, we break down (VR) games into six notable categories with selected examples. And I really mean to ask you guys this question –

Are VR headsets backed with enough interesting games to be worthy of purchase?

I think, from a pure game consumer point of view, these ‘categories’ are also important factors for game developers to consider in designing games. Often games combine elements from multiple categories. Since each factor brings a different experience to the table, what sort of mixed experience are you trying to create? and how should every detail (plot, character, visual, audio, control…) help to realize that?

I. High Sociability

If we assume VR gaming will become a common household activity, which likely will, games that are specifically targeted to fulfill a basic social need certainly has a market. Now, if you are thinking, “Oh! I’ve always liked getting on COD with my buddies,” then you are thinking wrong. There are games that are more fun to play with friends, like COD, but there are games considered fun only because it’s a social game (can you have fun playing King’s Cup, or Hide and Seek by yourself?… well if you still can, you should probably see a psychiatrist).

The main selling point of this kind of game, simply put, is to really just hang out with friends. The environment, character, and objective are there to support the “hanging out.”

Star Trek: Bridge Crew

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=romB8e5nMp8?start=82]

Apart from being a “Star Trek thing,” this game is all about sitting back with a circle of friends. You can follow the objective, sure, OR, why not just mess around and make each other laugh?

Werewolves Within

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxKy2lrGBBQ]

Werewolves Within is based on the old party game Mafia. Instead of meeting up physically, you can just “teleport” into a virtual world together and have a fun game night.

II. ‘Superhero’ Experience

By ‘superhero’ I really mean a badass main character in a reasonably engaging story. And in some cases, you are a known superhero, like the Batman. Superheroes sell as comic books, movies, TV series, and now, VR games. It not old because you can actually become a superhero in VR. It sounds like a simple concept but to make the experience realistic is a big challenge, especially with the locomotion options and control schemes currently available for VR.

Batman Arkham

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRfxn_WjDKE]

Batman Arkman has done a really good job in the details to bring the Batman experience to life – the visuals, sound effects, and just cool things you get to do as the man himself. Wait till you try it to make up your mind about this game because the trailer doesn’t quite deliver the awesomeness.

Another noteworthy game in this category is Arizona Sunshine, not exactly a “superhero,” but you do get to be a cowboy in a zombie apocalypse story.

III. Skill-Based/Competitive Gaming

Some games are better in VR because of the immersion it brings, others are better because a regular PC or console setup cannot achieve or utilize certain skills. Competitive games usually have a rank/stats system installed to help players motivate themselves to get better. PC/console games can try to be as realistic as they can, but certain actions simply can’t be done on those – checking what’s going on to your left but point the gun at an enemy on the right, and peeking around the corner, for instance. These are either natural or calibrated human actions in competitive situations. Sports games, too, fall into this category. When crosshair and line of sight controls are separated (sight by head movement, crosshair with controller), players can multi-task like never before. I genuinely believe that VR will come to establish a competitive gaming culture in the near future, like how CS: GO and League of Legends are to the PC world.

Eve Valkyrie

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bdp-KW83a78]

In this live stream recording, notice how the player can check a certain direction before making a commitment to move. This movement is very much natural and it makes a big difference in action-packed competitive gaming. It’s a true test of player’s skills.

IV. Appeal To Exploration

We have seen plenty of games alike – from the good old Minecraft to massive productions like No Man’s Sky. These games speak to the audience because players get to be excited about the exploration itself. It is not for everyone, I suppose, since these games provide no apparent objective to ‘win’. In the case of VR, players get to be completely immersed in a new world – think ‘Oasis’ from Ready Player One.

Elite Dangerous

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaE16Ldpel4]

This game has been around for a few years, and the VR version has seen a lot of improvements. Comparatively, Elite Dangerous has quite a steep learning curving, inasmuch it throws some people off at a first try if easily discouraged by the ‘complexity’ of it all. But if you like space explorations, this game will not disappoint you after just putting in a little more patience. The graphics and sound effects are simply astonishing. And you have got a whole Universe to explore. Additionally, if you do not mind paying a little extra, HOTAS controller is most definitely worth the investment – it’s a controller that mimics the in-game spaceship controls. See a HOTAS demo here.

V. Horror

There are things you wish to never experience in real life, but the idea of having a try, in VR especially, can be appealing.  Horror game has been more or less a genre of its own since the start: 1) they are usually built for a one time experience, not worrying about replayability. 2) like theater, each moment, scene needs to be well-choreographed. 3) almost exclusively single player. 4) a good horror game employs various psychological trickeries rather than excessively use jump scares. VR can only help to amplify that horrifying experience.

Paranormal Activity

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qsna1ChGt0E] As a big fan of P.T.(Silent Hills Playable Teaser) myself, a highly acclaimed horror game that has been canceled, I see many resemblances to P.T. in Paranormal Activity. P.T. is just a brilliant game with hardly any jump scare. With masterful plays of visual and audio effects, it overwhelms players with fears they’ve created in their own head, but not so much to the point you’d want to just quit. In a way, paranormal Activity feels very much like a VR upgrade of P.T.

VI. Experimental

Let’s scratch everything, and create an experience that’s not-of-this-ordinary-world, original, interesting, never seen before, and totally unique. In VR, developers can focus on creating a world based on their own ‘laws of physics.’

Stifled

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6FlnZGWk3M?start=225]

Stifled is a voice-controlled horror game. As the player, you are stranded in a bizarre world where everything’s seen through voice and echo. The intricacy lies in finding a balance between staying hidden from the enemy while having no idea of what’s around you, and taking the risk of attracting unwanted attention to have a better sense of your surroundings.

Are you tempted to buy a headset? I guess it’s your own decision in the end. I will say, however, if you haven’t gotten one, now wouldn’t be a bad time to start looking. Many new games are in development for 2018 release. [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=im_l8fIvwb4]

Interested in Promoting Your VR Game?

Games or movies, a VR/360° trailer is a powerful way to engage your audience:

The Conjuring 2

This was made to promote the home-entertainment release of Conjuring 2.

VeeR is a free global VR community where many companies have used for marketing/promotion, including Warner Bros. Pictures, Associated Press, CCP Games, LinkedIn, EuroNews, RussiaToday, CNBC, PintaStudios and etc.

originally from VeeR VR Blog: Are VR Games Worth Buying Yet