#I just found it a bit sad that while Howl goes back in forth and is seemingly proud about his motherland

[nadiajustbe]

Have you ever wondered if Howl gave Ben some practical, familiar things from Wales under the slogan "I know you'll miss it"?

The feather on the document Ben is signing makes the tenth smudge and Howl silently pulls a ballpoint pen out of his sleeve.

Suliman complains about headaches and difficult painkilling spells, and Howl hands him a pill of ibuprofen.

Howl suddenly starts singing a random popular 80s pop song, and Ben unconsciously sings along to the beat.

The carriage stops again because of the old horse, and Howl sarcastically informs Ben that he can even give the carriage a magic engine, and then it would be just like a car.

And one day he brings back a whole bunch of modern clothes from the shops and laughingly tells Ben how much fashion has changed since the last time he was in Wales — and Ben looks at it almost nostalgically.

[wickedapollo]

This is going to become a Saint-14 blog you watch. Everything is going to be become Saint. Everything. Oh my God, I love that man. I can't. I can't even.

Anyways, this is a Dawning gift for my friends [@lady-efriyeet @galexion @nyllius ]! It may come out before then, I have no idea currently, as I write this. I am very motivated for this one, unlike my promised Shiro oneshot... Oops. I'll get to that one in due time I swear.

Saint-14 x Hunter! Reader

Warnings : angst and [reads smudged writing on hand] flurf

The wind nips at your unarmed arms, snaking up your biceps and brushing against your throat. Your fingertips are numb with the chill, you flex them but it is all for not. They aren't frozen just cold. You sigh, closing your eyes and hanging your head.

You can't remember the last time you had a day off, it seems all you do is move about the system, killing things, saving people, and then you move on. Move on as though a leaf upon the wind who's only motive is to please such that hurries you. It is a sad existence, you think to yourself, that I am only something used to fight the battles that everyday people cannot. The mere idea that you are useless makes your heart sink in your chest. Perhaps if it sinks lower it may fall through you and hit the floor, shattering with all your prizes, all you hold dear.

Your eyes wander back to the silent bazaar. It is, after all, only two A.M. and most sane people are asleep. Your thoughts and insomnia keep you awake, brushing at the fingertips of sleep while your body falls more and more awakened. You hate nights like these, when sleep is scarce and there is no one to talk to.

If only your prayers could talk back.

You wrap your arms around your ribs as you straighten to look up at the traveler. The pristine machine god offers you no solution. No end to your sleepless night. Only the same silence as it has always treated you.

"Голубь?" It is a small, almost whisper-like voice. Scratchy and groggy from sleep. Like what you had once imagined dark chocolate would sound, not that you had imagined voices for the food you ate, that was preposterous, but it was a way to describe it. "What are you doing awake?"

"I can't sleep." You murmur, more to yourself than to him. You watch him rise groggily onto his metal forearms and squint into the darkness of your bedroom. His optics adjust in brightness, much like eyes adjusting to the dark. He sits there for less time than you expect before he pushes himself up and looks around slowly.

"It's twenty-five til three." He states, and for a moment he seems amazed by the time. Perhaps the fact that it is so late and you are still up? Who knows. He pulls the blankets off of his lap to stand, boards creaking under his feet as he does so. He easily towers over you, optics blinking as he adjusts to the lighting.

You can’t help but shrink further into the linen curtains. You know Saint means well, he always does, you don’t feel like being berated for not sleeping. Not that Saint would do that, but you know he’s going to ask questions. It’s his way of looking after you, you know. You appreciate it sometimes.

However, he doesn’t, instead he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You would expect, like most metal things, Saint would be cold to the touch. He never is, and no matter how many times you’ve touched him, you are always surprised at how warm he really is. You hope all exos are this way, though you could never truly be sure, and are too afraid to test your new theory.

“Perhaps I can help?” He offers, in the soft tone that only he can have. It reverberates throughout his chest as his hands gently smooth over your back. Truthfully they don’t have to go far, Saint’s hands are huge. You barely have enough room for one, let alone both of them. You don’t complain though, only pressing your face into his chest with a nod.

You’re moving before you can truly process it. Being pulled towards the bed with little protest, in no hurry to leave your titan’s embrace. He seems in even less a hurry to let you go. Though that is Saint, always has been, always doting and encouraging.

Strong hands lift you up, and though he doesn't say it, what he wants is as clear to you as the night sky. You sluggishly wrap your legs around his waist and wrap your arms around his neck. He moves his hands under your thighs and sets his chin on your shoulder as he walks. There's something soothing about it, perhaps it is why babies are rocked to sleep.

His warmth is intoxicating, like sitting by an open fire and reading. Like being curled in a fuzzy blanket while the wind and rain howl outside the window, something so natural and peaceful that it may have lulled you to sleep right there- If you were not so keen on staying awake to avoid the nightmares. Though your eyes droop and your limbs are heavy, you force yourself to stay awake.

If you wait long enough, Saint will let you load up on caffeine and give you disappointing looks. You could handle that, you hope. It's just that you are so tired, it's almost criminal. It's to the point you feel like crying- for no reason- at anything.

Soon enough your ambition falters, you close your eyes. They were just so heavy, you argue to yourself, not even Atlas could have held them open.

Soon your arms relax around Saint, hands falling limply from his shoulders to hang lifelessly. Your fingers rest against the warm metal of his arms, twitching as he moves. It's only then you notice, somehow, he's humming.

You try to count his tune, as a last resort of staying awake. You lose it at six, arguing over what number you had missed to not get an eight count- and you pass out then and there. Slipping into the dark, like a warm blanket.

Saint, in all honesty, isn’t ready to put you down. He’s afraid you’ll wake up if he stops moving, it’s happened before. Though that was about a year ago, and he had unceremoniously tossed you on the bed, thinking nothing of the fact that you were human and very, very fragile.

He sighs, looking over at the clock on the bedside table. You really didn't use it, never had need for an alarm, that's what you had your Ghost for. But he used it periodically, like now, seeing that it read three a.m even. The titan finally lays you down, pulling the covers over your chilled body and up to your chin. When he's satisfied he kisses your forehead, metal lips lingering along your warm brow. You could be coming down with a cold, he thinks, one more thing to worry about…

You resituate to hug a pillow close to your chest, burying your face into it's softness. It makes Saint smile. You may be Saladin's Young Wolf, who fights with honor and Valor. A god killer. However, you are also his. His guardian, his love, and his inspiration. And he is soft for you.

The large titan moves to the window, glancing out into the empty street with contempt. There is a light on across the street, with shadows moving to and from in front of the window. He smiles, someone's wrapping presents for the Dawning still. He watches them move back and forth until the light goes out.

He leans back into the apartment and shuts the open window without question. It's late, he should sleep, too. He draws the curtains and pads back to his side of the bed. You've already stolen most of the blankets, but he can't find it in him to take them from you.

Instead he lays there, quiet as he listens to you breathe and snore softly. What a beautiful way to spend tonight, he thinks, when the room is warm.

However, now it is his turn not to find sleep. He tosses and turns for nearly twenty minutes. He sighs tiredly at the white ceiling. Perhaps if he counts the popcorn bits he can sleep. So he starts, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

No dice.

An arm snakes around his waist sleepily and you pull him close. You're nowhere near fully conscious, just awake enough to be a sleepy, cuddly mess. He turns his head to look at you in surprise as you nestle into his side and nose along his jugular vein, or coolant tube… either way.

"Did I wake you, Love?"

"Mmm?" You reply, eyes falling closed as you wrap a leg around his thigh. You still as you have found comfort in the position. Saint can't hide his smile, accepting the exchange and wrapping his arms around you. You're warm, and rightfully so, you're swaddled in blankets like a fluff tortilla.

His fingers sneak into your fluffy, messy hair. Carding through it and watching it fall back into place again and again. He lets out sigh, sounding more like a purr than an actual breath. His optics dim in the lighting, and he yawns.

"Sleep tight, Моя любовь."

[castlevania-afterdark-imagines]

Hcs of the boys of Castlevania finding out their s/o is pregnant?

WARNING: Feels™ Ahead

Trevor

He’d just come home from hunting, cleaning off his boots on the doorstep before coming inside. He can tell something is off, you’re twittering around behind him instead of waiting inside like normal. Finally he caves and just asks what’s going on.

“Trevor…” “God in Heaven, what? You’re acting like-” “I’m pregnant.” “You’re…what?” “Yes.” “…what?” “Trevor, you’re going to be a father.”

This back and forth continues a bit, boots left dropped on the ground and Trevor twisting most of the way round to just stare at you.

Finally it seems to settle in, he drops his eyes, a weird lopsided grin pulling at his face like it’s not sure what it’s doing there either. Logically this makes sense, you two have been going at it for a while, have a home together, this would be the next step.

Just when you’re worried he’s been permanently brain fried he barks a laugh, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head. “My god, I’m going to be a father!” he yells into the wood.

He hops up and bolts to you, wrapping you up in his arms and pressing messy kisses all over your face.

Once the adrenaline settles he gets a solemn look on his face, all the gears in his head turning like they usually would in a battle. “Do you think I’m ready for that? I don’t…have much experience with having a father, let alone being one myself.”

He lets you pet his face, calm his fears. It’ll be a new experience for both of you. But at least, you remind him, this little creature will have significantly smaller teeth than the monster’s he’s already used to dealing with.

Alucard

He’s in his study, nose deep in a book as he usually is in the evening. But when he hears you enter he perks up, closing the book right away and moving it to give you his full attention. He’s quick to notice how you’re holding your hands behind your back.

“What have you got?” he asks immediately, a little grin pulling at his lips. He’s difficult to surprise, but he enjoys it when you can. You smile and cross the room to stand beside him. He’s polite and keeps his eyes up, not wanting to ruin whatever you’ve planned.

You tell him to close his eyes, which he does, and he feels you set something very light in his lap. When he looks down he sees a toy wolf, it’s previous wear and tear mended. His toy wolf.

“Oh, well he’s certainly looking much better,” he says, turning it in his hands. He feels a pang of sadness clutching his heart, though it is muddled with confusion. While a pleasant gift, it is very…odd.

“I thought your son might like him patched up.”

“My son…” he echoes, still turning the toy over when he freezes. He whips his face to look at you, eyes wide in disbelief while you beam at him.

“Or daughter, we have a while to see which it is.”

He huffs a laugh, his previously sad eyes welling up with entirely different tears,  the news washing over him. He’s terrified, but his unspoken fears of turning out like his father (he’d pondered that idea on many a quiet night after laying with you) seem to burn away by the light in your eyes.

He clutches the toy to his chest, covering his eyes with his other hand as he lets a few tears spill over. When he feels your hand on his shoulder he pulls it to his lips, kissing it reverently before huffing a few more quiet laughs at his own ridiculous reaction.

“Thank you, for this, for everything. I can’t wait to meet them.”

Hector

“Cezar, what have you got?” he asks the puppy running around his heels. It’s clearly a clothing item of some sort. He’s been outside, tending the small garden outside your home with the aid of a few other creatures.

You come bolting after the dog, panting and red in the face. Ah, so he’s stolen something of yours.

He scoops the dog up, carefully prying the now slobbery…whatever it is out of his mouth. “Sorry, we really do need to teach him some manners about taking what isn’t his.”

You sigh and straighten up, “Well, now that you’ve got it might as well look at it. It was meant to be a surprise but I guess Cezar thought it needed to be now.”

Hector raises a brow, looking at the ball of fabric in his fist. He lowers the dog back to the ground before carefully unfolding it. Two tiny booties, handmade.

“I presume these aren’t for Cezar,” he remarks. “As there’s only two.” When you don’t respond he looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You just stare pointedly at him, nodding a little. When he simply shakes his head a little, not getting it, you sigh and point at your stomach. After another beat he freezes, back straightening as he stares at your stomach like something might jump out of it at any second.

“Really?” “Yes, really.”

It takes a few more seconds for him to chew on the thought, face not reading anything before it finally breaks into a grin. “To think, for so long I’ve held a hatred for humans, even leant aide to what could have caused their extinction. And now…” he tears up a bit, but is beaming like the sun, “I’ve gone and helped make one!”

You both move to hug each other, meeting halfway and squeezing each other tight. He spins you round, pressing his face into your neck while he continues to laugh. This, bar none, is the happiest moment in his life.

Isaac

You’d found him during one of his meditations, much less bloody since you’d convinced him he could attain an equally clear state of mind without the flail. It’s unusual for you to interrupt, so he automatically assumes something is wrong.

You’re clearly itching with some sort of news, but he simply waits for you to tell him instead of digging for it. You sit in front of him, taking in a few breaths before just blurting it out. Dracula, of all people, had taken you aside this morning and informed you of your…condition.

His expression is completely blank, only a slight increase in his breathing visible. There is a long moment of silence before he finally speaks when he sees the worry start to form in your eyes. “Beloved, are you happy?”

You stare at him, but his face still gives nothing away. You nod a little, tears watering your eyes unwillingly.

Finally the tension is broken as a little smile pulls at his lips. “Good, I am as well.” You heave a sigh of relief and he reaches out to pull you to sit in his lap.

He shushes into your hair as you chastise him for scaring the living daylights out of you by not saying anything. He’s honestly over the stars, already thinking of where you two should live away from the castle in order to be safer. But he had wanted to be sure you wanted this first, he’d hate to betray how thrilled he was if you weren’t ready yet.

He won’t break the news to anyone, leaving that to you. But him being glued to your side for the next few weeks is a pretty big clue.

Vlad

He knows before you do. You wake one morning to find him, staring at your stomach like it bit him in the night.

“What’s wrong?” you ask groggily, startling him out of his pensive state. His face smoothes out and he lies back down, reaching to clasp your hand in his.

“You’ve performed a miracle, my love.” “Huh?” “Life. Even while you slept you’ve gone and created life. You’re…extraordinary.” The information is still seeping in but he lets you take your time, stroking the back of your hand while you think it over.

When you’re quiet a bit longer than he anticipated he looks over, expression serious. “You know you do not have to, I have a concoction that would-” You shush him, a few tears welling in your eyes before you smile at him. He chuckles softly, rolling up onto his side and reaching a hand down to stroke over your stomach.

“How did you know?” you ask softly, which earns a small shrug.

“I’ve been studying medicine for hundred of years. Not to mention these give an advantage,” he adds with a small gesture to his ears. You decide you can pick another day to enquire exactly how sensitive those ears are.

The rest of the day is spent in bed, him touching you like you’re the most delicate artifact in his collection. You tease him with terrible names for the child, all plays off of either his or your names. When you toss out a particularly cringey idea he drops the delicate act and tosses a pillow in your face.

Godbrand

You’d found him in another argument with the generals, and despite your subtle attempts to hint that you needed to speak to him he wasn’t getting it.

“Godbrand.” “And furthermore you’re a lying git, nobody’s ever managed to sail that far-” “Godbrand!” “And even if they had, whose to say-” “GODBRAND!” “FUCKING WHAT?!” The war hall goes quiet as you finally drag the vampire off and away.

He’s still sputtering away until you finally clamp a hand over his mouth. “Godbrand, you’ll need to calm the fuck down if you’re going to be a father.”

“I aint got to do shit, besides that’s not happening anytime soon,” he huffs, prying your hand off.

“Fine, you’ve got seven months or so to do it then!”

He’s about to pick the fight again when you see the realization hit him. Then he’s howling in laughter, clutching his gut.

“Fuck me then, the rest of em out there will have two of us to deal with!” He hoists you up in his arms, grinning like a fiend and hauling you off to your rooms.

Why not celebrate in much the same fashion that got you both here?

Despite his nature to want to fuck anything with two legs, he’s equally as excited to have a family with you. A troop of tiny Godbrand’s he can raise and train in his crafts of boat making and fighting. And you alongside him to make sure the house is still standing at the end of the day.

[butterflyheart-me]

My Top BL online stories (part 1)

Warning: There will be very naughty scenes 

1.  I never knew the World was this Bright

Theme: Online Gaming, School/College Life

Synopsis:

An Lian never thought he would make friends online when he started playing Red Dragon Quest for the first time. But as it turned out, he finds more than a friend... He finds a husband!

Little does An Lian know, this 'husband' in game is much closer to him in real life than he first suspects...

At the same time, in the real world, An Lian encounters a man named Jian Chen. An Lian remains oblivious to Jian Chen's advances until it is too late, and he is already too deep in the lion's den.

My thoughts:

Very Fluffy, some angst, it really makes the world bright. The MC is such a cinnamon roll while the ML is so protective of MC. Very cute couple

Side couple is super cute too. It was a nice surprise. Supportive friends FTW

2. A Lotus Born of Mud

Theme: Transmigration, Cultivation, Disciple x Master

Trigger Warning: contains sensitive themes such as child abuse, rape and self-harm

Synopsis:

"Lu ShiZun... I like you."

"I like you too XiaoYin."

"... My kind of like is where we'd tumble in bed all day all night kind of like ShiZun..."

*ferociously runs in the opposite direction

...........................................

 Lu BiMing was born in the modern ages. However due to orphaned and adopted by cruel people at a young age, his life was as miserable as any life could get. When he finally escapes looking to start a new life he slips up and drowns.

 Whilst in JiangHu lives a man has money and reputation.  He is murdered... by drowning...

 Lu BiMing's life changes after he wakes up in another body. Now he really has literally found a new life where no one knows of his past, his secrets or his fears. However, with a new body comes responsibility too and he soon discovers that twisted secrets exist in this world also.

 He goes out of character,

 He bends the rules,

 But most of all, he's caught the eye of a troubling disciple...

My thoughts:

The MC is very naive and adorable but he’s not weak. He can protect himself. He’s just very dense and unable to realize how attractive he is. He has a very sad life but he still have the strength to fight and make himself and other people he care about happy. 

ML is like a little lost puppy without his master. He can be sexy yet cute at the same time. He is very possesive to the point that he’s showing yandere-ish actions. He’s still sane tho. 

The story itself is very detailed. The characters aren’t one dimensional. Full of gray area. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry and in some cases you might get turned on

3.  I Love You from Alpha to Omega

Theme: Fantasy, Werewolves/Werecat

Trigger: contains scenes of abuse, PTSD

Ezra believed he would never find his mate, until he met Blair. While Ezra was away, training to become an Alpha strong enough to lead his pack, his mother and father adopted a new son into their home. When Ezra returnd home, he worried about competition from his new brother, Blair, for both his title and his parent's love and affection. It comes as a complete surprise to him that Blair is interested in neither. The small, skittish shifter is just a little neko, and above all, Ezra's mate.

    Ezra becomes concerned when his parents, the current Alpha and Luna of his pack, explain to him what little they know about Blair's devastating past. At first Ezra believes his only obstacle is to get his mate to accept him, but as Blair's previous life comes to light, blindsiding the couple, Ezra realizes he may have bit off more than he could chew. Ezra hopes his unconditional love for Blair will guide him in his quest to avenge his mate's honor. Follow Ezra and Blair as together they learn to trust in each other and develop a relationship unlike any other.

"I love you."

"How Much?" He breathlessly questioned.

"From A to Z, from Alpha to Omega." I confessed sincerely.

My Thoughts:

Very sensitive themes but you can really see that love exists between the main characters. It’s a little slow burn romance due to Blair’s past but you can really see how Ezra tries to become patient and understanding for his mate. I like that this story involves other kinds of love such as family/ parental love. Ezra’s parents are just the best. So pure.

2MOONS (Phayo/MingKit/ForthBeam) :

1. Last Descendant 

Theme: Fantasy, Magic, Kinda Avatar: Last Airbender inspired

Summary/ Description:

My name is Wayo Daichapanya. I am a non-magi. I can't seem to awaken my elemental powers. I envy my brother Ming who has awakened his earth magic since he was 5. He is going to go to a college in neutral lands so he can join the Wizards Rumble, a tournament of magic users. He is a powerful earth magic user, I believe he will win. I decided to come along with him to that college because I am quite attached to my brother. I always feel safe when I am with him, I can't imagine going to a different college.

I feel like someone has been stalking me in the college, but I can't seem to find who it is. Who is stalking me?

My thoughts:

Wayo is so such a cinnamon roll. He’s so lovable and innocent. Phana is such a bad ass here and also a possessive perv. 

TONS of MINGYO BROTHERLY cuteness!!!!!!!!

Mingkit is such a cute couple. Literally Fiery Kit and the adorable puppy Ming its just so funny

ForthBeam= trust issues storyline, mostly Beam’s. A very romantic Forth here. 

2. Two Planets

Summary/ Description:

He takes off his mask and what I see next is beyond awesome. Perfect face! He is so handsome. There is no way he is from Earth. Well, he is from Venus. His name is Phana, from the royal family Kongthanin.

My name is Wayo, from the royal family Panitchayasawad. Both of us got chosen as our respective planet's representative to enroll in the Intergalactic School. There will be other students from other planets too!

It has been my dream to know about other planets! But wait. Why is P'Pha holding my hands like this? This is in the school! This is embarrassing! *facepalms*

This story tells about Phana and Wayo, along with their friends from other planets in the Intergalactic School. Phana is from Venus, while Wayo is from Earth. What is about to bloom between the two planets?

My thoughts:

PREPARE TO DIE FROM EXTREME FLUFF AND CUTENESS. Sweet and loving yet possessive and perverted Phana X Innocent and lovable Prince Wayo

I just kept smiling while reading every chapter. THEY ARE BOTH CINNAMON ROLLS HERE! PLUS Phana is NOT A PLAYBOY here! He’s a virgin here.

There will be cameos

3.  Howling at the Moons

Theme: Fantasy,Supernatural, Werewolves, Omegaverse

Summary/ Description:

Yo is a young werewolf who wants nothing more than to experience life. To live, laugh, and love beyond the restrictions he has always known. Will college be his chance to do that?

 In a world where werewolves exist but are still 'in the closet' so to speak, how will our 6 boys handle their lives and loves while hiding one small secret from the world?

My Thoughts:

Very sweet loving couples. Full of Suprises. Cute funny scenes between the side couples (MingKit/ ForthBeam). MINGYO FRIENDSHIP FTW!!!!!! Very smexy scenes. 

4.  Taking a Bite Out of the Moons

Theme: Fantasy, Supernatural, Werewolves, Vampires, Fae

Trigger: School Bullying

Summay/Description:

Wayo is a simple human boy trapped in a lonely little world, until he makes friends with Ming and Forth, werewolves from the local pack. What adventures will they experience on their journey from secondary school students to college kids? And what awaits them at college?

 In a world where werewolves, vampires, and Fae exist and are 'out of the closet' so to speak, can our six boys find happiness and love?

My Thoughts:

Tons of twists and turns. Some light smexy threesome scenes but not all the way. There were actually scenes that made me cry. There will be character developments especially Wayo, Kit and of course Beam. 

CRACK/ GHOSTSHIPS

1. TEARS OF THE MOON (Forthyo)

The storyline is similar to 2moons but with Forth as lead

Summary/Description:

Ming being Ming  told me surely I had misunderstood and I so wanted it to be true, so I gladly accepted this point of view  although I knew without a shadow of doubt that I  had not misheard neither did I misunderstand.  That  night I chose to lie to myself  since I was not  prepared  to let go of P' Pha.

My Thoughts:

Seriously ship Forthyo here. Healthy relationship!!!

2.  Circus Freak (Mingyo)

Theme: Vampire, School Life

My Thoughts:

Sweet, lovely. Classic Besties turned Lovers with a twist

3. Guardian Angel (Mingyo)

Theme: School life

Summary/Description:

Ming blinks. This is this frist day in his new school and he has to witness a kid being hanged upside down in his one feet up the tree.

A thick glasses are dropped on the grass.

"Hey, do you know where the principal office is?" Ming asked him.

"Uhm. I want to show you but my sight is no use without my glasses." He said. His braces is colored blue.

Ming get the glasses from the grass and put it in the boy's eyes. Still with him hanging upside down.

He blinks several times to get used of the sudden clear sight. "Wow. You are handsome."

Ming blinks several times. "Wha...t...."

"There...." the boy points at one of the dirrection.

Ming blinks. "Why don't you just show me?" He said.

"I would like to, but if you haven't notice yet, I am hanged upside down here." He said. "Beside, you better not seen with me. You'll get trouble."

"Like what?"

"This."

Ming blinks. "Yeah... maybe my trouble would be much bigger than that. But hell with that." He puts down his back pack and then climbs up the tree.

Not long after, the boy with glasses and braces hit the ground with a loud thump sound.

Ming laughs. "You are so silly."

My Thoughts:

Bad boy/ Naughty Ming x Openly gay and sassy Wayo. Daddy kinks

This is all for now. Sorry all of them are on wattpad. the ones from other sites such as novelupdates are still ongoing so i couldn’t complete them yet

i’ll post more once i finished some more and depends if you guys want me to post more of these. 

I still haven’t finished tons of webnovels and fanfic coz they are either still updating or i got really distracted. ANY WAY PLEASE SUPPORT THE AUTHORS THEY DESERVE LOVE! 

let’s talk and discuss more love!!!

[hexyz09]

The Magic Within

Disclaimer: The Magic Within Rewrite! Somewhat!! Connecting Chapter? Prologue? Who knows, but at this point, it’s simply a bit more info on the world this chapter is in. XD And with it, a bit more info on the characters themselves, as well as their appearances.

  Beta Chapter: Awkward First Meetings

It wasn’t a beautiful day outside. Crows were cawing, and flowers no doubt drowning. On days like this, he really wished the dumbasses in his district would fuck off. But no; as the second hands of his clock continued ticking, beating down on his patience like the rain slamming against his window, Don decided that his wish was a stupid one.

Stress relief had to come in some shape or form after all. Be it from him to stop idiots desiring to be turned into paste against the walls. In their very own homes after all, cause he wouldn’t dirty his own with their blood. At this point, he just wished he didn’t put the fear into them as often, so they’d work up the nerve to try and attack.

Like right now.

…the clock continued ticking, unabated, and Don turned away from the traitorous contraption with a sigh. He’d replace it, but it was the only thing with a wolf engraving etched around the words “Hear Me Roar”. “You know, when it reaches 12, it does exactly that,” He mentioned wistfully. Then as an afterthought, “Roar I mean. With a guttural growl at first before rising to an echoing, high pitched howl that fades into the night.” A thing of beauty really, but, with a quick turn to the window, he decided that it wouldn’t reach as far.

Disappointing, but, not completely. ‘…’ Casting a quick glance over his shoulders, he found a pair of golden eyes, no, amber, peaking through dark brown bangs, wary curiosity gleaming within. Despite being in desperate need of a haircut, the boy looked to be younger than his counterpart, and with an interest in curious nick-knacks like his clock.

The other looked to be a year older, around 9, with brown curls pulled back into a loose bun, both combed and neatly held in place to the right with a cat-shaped hairpin. Unlike the boy, she was lightly bouncing on his couch, hands tightening and loosing around the edge of the cushions. ‘Not as interested,’ Don decided, but more active and desire to explore.

Not sure why though. His living room had the barest essentials. A couch and a tv, the former of which is being filled by a pair of kids. Other than that, this room only had two doors. One leading to the first-floor bathroom, while the second to the foyer that splits into a crossroad. South is the door out, right goes to the kitchen, while the northern passage would take him to a set of stairs leading both up and down. If given the chance, he’d no doubt the girl would sneak into the cellar with a smile on her face.

She had the eyes of mischief, one that usually displays innocence, but would no doubt try something when his back was turned…like…wait. Furrowing his brows, Don realized his back was turned right now, and yet nothing has happened. After a while, Don didn’t sense anything beyond honest curiosity, so he left it well alone.

The silence stretched between them was unnerving, and it was only the ticking of Don’s second-hand clock that kept him from losing his nerve. After all, how does a 12-year-old explain to kids years younger that he’ll be watching over them for the foreseeable future?

Casting another glance, his lips curled into a frown, the girl ‘Rei’, he was told, lightly curling the boy’s ‘Ko’s’ hair. Probably to keep her hands busy and distracted, though he was more curious about why the boy seemed to switch from stiffening up at her touch, to relaxing at others. Didn’t look like Rei was being rough with his hair either, but he supposed the more distracted they were, the longer he had time to think.

Tracing a finger along his neck, Don’s gaze darted to the TV, a sheen of black giving off a small reflection from the ceiling light above. It showed a black band coiled around his throat, and not for the first time, he wondered why the higher-ups would assign him children to watch over.

Trial Order’s, they were called, best made to be placed on a child upon birth, and to assess their growth and magical potential up to the age of 18, where a decision would be made. These things assess more than a person’s magical potential, but the very precipice they’ll stand on in the future, whether it’d be good or bad. It marks a person’s place in the world, based on their view of it, and judges the possible routes he or she would take.

A Scrying Ball to tell someone’s future, basically, made from probabilities and magical analytics. ‘…nothing but complete and utter bullshit.’ Tracing a finger along the band, his scowl deepened. Supposedly, it’s made to access a person’s future upon immediately being placed upon, something that can be ultimately decided with three colors.

Black. Grey. White. ‘Otherwise known as the Repulsive, Average, and Beautiful, something of which decides whether one’ll be a future criminal to your local hero.’ Infants marked with a Black Ring were condemned for life, either abandoned at birth, or spirited away, or as recently decided, sold off to the Capital to test their so-called Criminal Reformation Project.

The people in this world were idiots of the highest degree, and he’d gladly watch as they all burned for their stupidity. Maybe even crack a few bags of popcorn, watch as they climb up to freedom only for him to kick them back into the pyre.

It was an amusing thought, one that was unfortunately cut short by a quiet, flat tone that couldn’t quite hide his squeak. “Are you done monologuing?” Don raised a word at that, big word for a child, even if it wasn’t hard to pronounce.

But, it broke the silence, so he excused the cheek. “Are you done trying to threaten me in my own home?” Don retorted dryly, turning to face the child.

Ko didn’t respond, eyes narrowing into slits, but not out of malice as much it were surprise. The girl, Rei, he reminded himself looked more happy than surprised, meaning she knew very well what Ko had been doing despite the White Ring coiled around her neck. A stark contrast, considering the tan she seemed to bear, or maybe that was just her skin tone?

“You noticed?” She asked, curiosity lacing her tone with trail of airy giggles. Then, as if she remembered something, turned and tugged at Ko’s sleeve. His eyes flickered from him to her. “Okay, you can stop now lil’bro.” He looked like he wanted to protest, but Rei just tugged at his sleeve again, jerking a chin towards him with a smile. “Nothing’s been done. He noticed, and nothing’s been done.” Rei repeated, stressing the last part with barely restrained excitement.

Not that nothing could be done, since he wasn’t so sure what the kid was doing to begin with. All he sensed was the faint veil of magic in the air, thin, almost imperceptible. Ko was good at disguising his spells despite his age, very good, but if there was one thing he couldn’t hide, it was the overbearing presence that came with all Spell Casting.

The sensation that his heart was being wrapped by something, as if another layer was added over it. Not to a crushing degree that made it hard for him to breath of course, but…just enough for him to know it was there. A warning.

Ko’s attention flickered back and forth from his sister and him, uncertainty in his eyes. After a couple moments though, Rei tugged at his sleeve once more, a frown playing on her lips as she stressed the word “Ko.”

Her brother relented, and Don felt a weight lifted from his shoulders, both figuratively, and literally, since there was a mirror positioned right behind his couch, and he saw a faint ripple appear in the air above his head…in the shape of a wolf head with very sharp, pointy teeth.

‘…I’m honestly not sure whether I like this kid or not.’ It was clear Ko didn’t like him, but who would, given that he and his sister was just thrust into a house expected to live with a stranger. One designated as a Black Ring at that, though…eyeing the grey band around Ko’s neck, the shade flickering from dark to light, he couldn’t help but dread the future headaches to come. ‘…they dropped a Borderling on me? Seriously?!’

Met a few of them over the years, and if there’s one thing he can be sure of, is that they’re all Janus-faced sociopaths seeped in instability. Second Rarest to find compared to those with a White Ring like Rei, if only because they’re the only ones the Trial Order’s have issues with. Too…malleable, he decides, for a lack of a better word. Able to change their perspective on life quite easily, depending on who they’re with, but not in the way one’d expect.

“Please stop looking at him like that.” Someone stated, sadness tinging their voice. “I don’t like it when people look at him like that.”

Don blinked; a bit confused before he realized that he had been staring at Ko for…who knows how long. Long enough to make him dig his fingers into the cushion, toes curling, and canines digging into his lower lip. He wasn’t meeting his gaze, and for a brief moment, he felt something coil around his heart once more.

Only for a moment though, as Rei, instead of tugging his arm, ran her fingers through Ko’s hair, a worried frown on her lips. ‘…guess I know who’s the Older one now,’ Don admitted, watching as Ko’s twitching became less sporadic under his sister’s touch.

Soon after, he was no longer digging his fingers into things out of anxiety, instead leaning into the arm rest with a weary look in his eyes. It was then he noticed the heavy bags…and idly wondered just how long this kid’s gone without sleep.

Guess the little brother was out of commission for a while, but for some reason, instead of leaving things be, Rei decided to just switch locations, wrapped Ko’s hand in her own. The kid twitched, but only for a moment, before his eyes finally closed.

After a couple seconds, Rei turned to him. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Don’s answer was to point at the collar on his neck, but the girl simply tilted her head in confusion. “And?”

“I don’t have to play nice with a girl who sick’s her attack dog on me.” He retorted, jerking a thumb towards the sleeping child. “In my home no less, so being polite went out the window as soon as it had come.” Did she think that just because she didn’t word the command, that he wouldn’t figure things out? Her lack of response to her pet’s Spell, and what did come after it being brought up.

She knew full well what her brother, if he even believed that nonsense, was going to do and allowed it with a smile on her face. Goes to show you couldn’t judge a book by its co—

“235.” Rei stated bluntly, eyes drifting through the room. “You are number 235.”

Staring blankly, a bit annoyed at having his internal monologue interrupted, he frowned. “I prefer the number 666 thank you very much.”

Whether Rei heard him or not, Don couldn’t tell, but he did see her attention linger on his clock before stopping at him. It didn’t look like she liked it, so he wondered a bit about the why. “So, are you going to explain, or do I have to ask?”

Rei stared at him with blasé wonder. “That,” She stated, as if it explained everything…which is didn’t. “Your attitude. It’s weird.” Brows twitching, he was about to say something when she, almost as an afterthought add, “…or maybe not. I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“That I want Ko to stay,” She replied easily, as if the response was ingrained at this point. It probably was, since no one in their right mind would let a Borderling stay near a White Ring. “I told the Orderlies that, and they let me keep him.” Rei stated, as if reading his mind.

But, there was just one thing she said that made him scowl. ‘…keep?’ Eyes drifting to Ko, Don found he couldn’t see much of his previous behavior in him at all. No twitchy movements, dazed expressions, or fear. Malice was never brought up, despite his Spell’s…intended use. Just fear and anxiety, something he found lacking as Ko continued his sleep. “…you know he’s not a pet, right?”

Something strange flickered across Rei’s expression, her lips curling into a frown. “…I know.” She whispered. “…but he’s my little brother, and I want him out of that place.” Rei didn’t elaborate further, preferring to gently squeeze Ko’s hand, as if to reassure herself that he was still there. “It’s the only thing I can do with what he does to protect me.”

…and now Don kinda felt like a dick. “…you know you’re not going to get any pity from me, right?” There was no need to ask what that place was. However, he couldn’t help but ask anyway, knowing it’d probably damn him. “…but…235?” He asked, feet shuffling against the carpet. “…what do you mean I’m the 235th?”

Rei simply smiled. A small one, eyes closed. “You are 235,” she repeated airily, voice shaking near the end. “This is the 235th time I tried to find a home outside of The Foundation.”

Don…felt like he swallowed a bitter pill, one he wanted to vomit the moment it neared his taste-buds. “That’s…” He couldn’t find the words to say…and, well, even if he did, Don didn’t think they’d form. “…schedule?” He did not squeak.

“Once every three days,” She replied in disinterest. “I suppose you know what that means?”

That he did.

Rei and Ko had been here for just a bit over two years, going back and forth from a place filled with lies and honeyed words, to a controlled experiment where the only choices are what’s given to them. Ko’s passive aggressive stance, and Rei’s willingness and attitude…they didn’t come from being children (which are generally rude brats in general) but by experience and resigned expectation.

The Foundation, in short, was the Capital of Raiha, a country situated to the northeastern most corner. It held natural borders from all sides, be it steep cliffs from the North and West, to a chain of Mountain Ranges leading from the Northwest to Southeast. In short, closed off from the rest of the world unless you find a way through the Acauline Mountains, or fly in without being shot down.

It wasn’t a big country, but neither was Raiha small. What it did have, however, was a Dictatorship that masqueraded as a Democracy, the first notable ruling being that upon receiving news of pregnancy woman are to be transported to The Foundation for the duration of their term. It was to ensure branding of newborns with Trial Order’s upon birth, and also worked as a make-shift Trial to discuss the child’s placements, and to discuss the parents decision about whether they want to keep the child or not.

After all, no~ one wanted to branded as a family of crimi—

A sudden snap pulled him from his thoughts, and he stared at a bemused Rei. “You…tend to fall into internal tangents, don’t you?”

“…Who wants to know?” Seriously, who wanted to know? Rei letting loose a string of faint giggles did not help with his confusion, but he decided it wasn’t important.

Eyes drifting to his clock, Don found the hour hand 2 dashes away from it’s midnight howling. He turned back to Rei with a frown, and bit his lower lip. “…so…what now…?” He asked. Cause whether he liked it or not, the Orderlies have assigned these two to live with him for…who knows how long.

He didn’t expect an answer. “Probably up to three days, if you’re lucky,” Rei mused, tapping her heel against his couch. “Same if you’re not.”

“…I’m going to need some exposition here.”

Rei only blinked; brows furrowed in a pout. “I…don’t know what that words means…but…if it’s what I meant by that, I’m not sure,” She shrugged, humming in curious whimsy. “I never see those Ko and I stay with again, but my brother said he made sure the last one made sweet, sweet love to the business end of a Kris, whatever that means.”

And while Rei pondered on who this Kris might’ve been, Don simply stared at the sleeping child, both mildly impressed and slightly curious about how these next three days would go.

[XX}

Years later, Don watched as Ko wormed his way across his kitchen floor, bound by blue licorice, and filled with sugary vengeance to chomp down on the retreating Marshmallow Unicorns and Gummy Bears. Turning to Rei with a raised brow, he jutted a disappointed thumb towards the maniacally cackling idiot on the ground. “Your brother, your mess.”

Burritos in hand, he walked out of his kitchen, lightly flicking Rei on the nose on the way. The sister didn’t bother to turn, perfectly content to giggle in amusement, and watch Ko do the cleaning up for her. He’s always had a sweet tooth after all.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Sometimes your life gets ruined over a ham sandwich and that’s just how the fuck it goes. Outtake from our home game because this part made us all lose our shit. 

So a triton and a tiefling walk into a bar.

It’s cramped, kind of dark, and there are three reanimated skeletons sitting around one of the tables. They look super dead and super sad about being dead, just peering mournfully into empty drink glasses. There is also a bugbear drinking ale. (Alarming.) And a straight up fiend of some variety peering eagerly at them from behind the bar. (Also alarming.) The triton – who is generally ignorant about the interplanar ecosystems of the surface world – still kens that animated skeletons must be unusual and tightens her dainty and lady-like vice-grip on the tiefling’s arm.

“Ahh! New customers,” says the fiend in a voice that slopes strangely from word to word. “Welcome to the Salted Lich. I am the proprietor of this place—Dornias Voth. Please. Make yourselves at home and purchase a beverage.”

He puts a little flourish on the word ‘beverage’ for no apparent reason.

Blue smiles. Blue has a politician’s smile. She smiles like she smiled at the city guards she hoodwinked with her husband two days earlier. She smiles like it’s pageantry and carefully pulls her taller tiefling compatriot to the privacy of a far table where they sit and she – still smiling and talking somewhat strained through her teeth – says:

“I’ve been on the surface long enough that even I know that’s not normal.”

Rime could tell her, just straight up, that the thing standing behind the bar is probably the most dangerously malevolent thing he’s encountered in his whole life – a life that includes, in no particular order, mind flayers, murderers, and hobgoblin berserkers – but feels like she might wrench his arm off if he does.

So he just flags the proprietor down, casual as anything.

The fiend, upon closer inspection, is wearing a tiny pair of spectacles, perched on the end of a very long, dark, jackal-like snout. Rime nearly misses the nightly price for a room (three gold) because he’s staring at them. The fiend has very fine red robes, stands bi-pedal somewhere over six and half feet and whenever he – Dorias – speaks, the mouth certainly opens and Common tongue comes out, but jackal jaws shouldn’t be able to form consonants properly and he’s puzzled what magic it is that’s doing the work there.

Rime nods… then glances somewhat meaningfully at the pack of skeletons.

Dornias flaps a lazy hand.

“Friends of the previous owner. Sadly he cannot command them anymore, so I just let them hang around. They did not cause any harm. They simply sit there and remember when they were alive.” He straightens the tiny spectacles. “Sad. But… it is their fate.”

Rime hands over the three gold, casts Thaumaturgy, and a fabrication of his regular speaking voice originates from a point somewhere near his head.

“Do you have anything strong and… fun to drink?”

Dornias remains unflapped by the spell usage. “Of course! Of course! I can offer you the Glabrezu Brew. Made from the blood of fallen soldiers in the Blood War?”

A pause.

Blue’s head tilts exactly one inch to the right.

“That… sounds violent,” says Rime, like you turn down a garnish on a side-salad.

“Ah. Then I can also offer Devas’ Tears.” Dornias beams with pride. “Made from the sorrows of one-thousand celestials.”

Another pause.

“Can I have a shot of rum?” says Blue.

“Maybe just a shot of whiskey,” says Rime.

“Do you have anything to eat?” Blue adds when the drinks arrive.

“I have been told that my sandwiches are worth killing someone over,” says Dornias happily, fingers steepled, ears pricked forward. “Not that you would need to. It is merely two silver…”

They order food. (Though Blue confirms no one did, in fact, die for a ham sandwich.)

Dornias stalks smoothly away on long digitigrade legs and goes behind the bar where he very rapidly puts together the ingredients for the sandwiches; he slices fresh bread from a fragrant loaf, lays thick slabs of ham, cheese, and lettuce, lovingly assembling and securing the layers with an olive-garnished toothpick each. Rime props his chin in two hands and absorbs Devil sandwich design with rapt detail.

Dornias reaches for a large glass jar on a shelf behind him. It glows somewhat ominously as he unscrews the lid… and from the briny depths of the jar a screeching voice issues forth, howling, “A THOUSAND CURSES UPON YOUR BLOODLINE. MAY THE DAMNED TEAR AT YOUR SOUL FOR ALL ETERNITY! I SHALL DROWN YOU IN THE RIVER –!”

Dornias pulls out two pickles from the jar, puts the lid back on, and sets both on the sandwich plates.

Blue, upon receiving her plate, kind of unsubtly bats the pickle away from the rest of her sandwich.

Rime casts Thaumaturgy and through it says, “Can I ask what the screaming pickle jar is all about?”

“Oh, is the previous owner.” Dornias fetches the jar and sets it down on the table where Rime and Blue can observe a human skull with jeweled eyes tumbling angrily around inside the jar.

In Infernal Rime says, “What the fuck?”

Dornias, also in Infernal, eagerly explains. “The previous owner bound me to this place as part of a convoluted plot to take over the city, kill the Masked Lords, murder the Open Lord in front of his children, then rule from here as part of his own dark fiefdom.” He says all this while drumming idle claws against the lid of the pickle jar and in the tone of someone recounting a fond anecdote. “Naturally, like someone who thinks of such a complicated scheme he forgot to assure the bindings that held me in place were secure. So, I tore the head from his body and put it in this enchanted jar.”

He pats the jar and the raging skull inside spins furiously and silently.

“But I have found I like customer service!” Dornias beams.“I like seeing the smiles on a patron’s face! So here I stay.”A beat. “Also the binding was good enough that I cannot leave.”

Rime glances at Blue who is smiling and nodding like people smile and nod when they don’t speak a lick of Infernal. Which, given the information just volunteered, is probably for the best. Rime goes on, brows arching upwardly.

“You stay because it’s fun?”

“Oh, well, I suppose with time, a bit of blood, some tears, a lot of sweat, I could probably get myself free but…” He sighs a happy sigh, gesturing widely to the bar around him. “Is easy life. You wipe the counter. You serve the drinks. A horde of pit fiends never bursts through and slaughters the people you are doing the accounting for.” Another sigh. “Is the good life.”

Blue, not understanding any of that, says, “Excuse me? One more shot.”

Rime kind of laughs, falling out of Thaumaturgy into spoken Common.

“So you don’t get a lot of customers, I assume?”

Beneath his question, the passive vocal aberration in his speaking voice puts a hissing reverb in each word. Like a second, softer voice whispering and rasping beneath Rime’s regular speaking voice. Rime’s grinning a little, visibly happy for an opportunity to speak aloud in strange but (weirdly) safe company. Dornias doesn’t bat an eye at the Infernal reverb, just nods thoughtfully.

“Ah, we do not get many clientele, but we are up and coming business. I am certain the chamber of commerce will welcome me soon.” Dornias nods. “It has only been fifty years.”

Rime grins wider, feeling a little of the tension winding out of his shoulders for the first time in a few days actually because, again rather unexpectedly, being a visible weirdo is creating an unprecedented bubble of safety. Who, even the Xanathar gang on their most irritated, is going to start trouble in a bar owned by a barely bound demonic entity with the skull of his summoner in a pickle jar?

The city watch was right -- this is the perfect place to lie low.

“Sounds like you’re winning an uphill battle,” Rime enthuses.

“Yes. As for your other question,” continues Dornias, “Yes, but not in seven centuries.”

Blue glances at Rime and Rime blinks, puzzled, “My other question?”

Your other question,” Dornias insists brightly.

An awkward beat followes. Long enough for Rime to suddenly question their own recollection of a conversation less than five seconds past and say, “Wait, what other question?”

“The one you asked in your other voice.”

Dead silence then.

Rime hears absolutely nothing except the sudden thunderous crush of his own heartbeat roaring through his ears. He stares up at the jackal-headed fiend standing over him. He can feel Blue looking back and forth between them, enough context clues suddenly tossed out in a shared language to imply things. Then, after a long, confused, then horrifying stretch of silence, Rime whispers:

“What?”

“You asked how long it had been since I saw the fires of Ivernas,” says Dornias. “Seven centuries.”

Rime switches back to Infernal. “You can understand my subvocals?”

“Yes?”

“What? I – I don’t— I’ve never met anyone who could –”Rime sputters for a moment then, doubles down. “I didn’t know it was SAYING anything.”

Dornias nods as though this is not surprising. “Difficult to understand if you weren’t part of a few small platoons of Glabrezu soldiers who crossed the River Styx to make their way into Ivernas, storm the Nine Hells, and destroy the multi verse.” He shrugs a little. “Uncommon tongue.”

Blue, becoming bored of Infernal conversations she’s not part of, pokes Rime in the arm. “Rime. RIME.”

“Hmm? Hmm?!”

She pouts. “What are you saying?”

“Uhh,” Rime says, glancing Dornias. “It’s an Infernal thing?”

“Are you okay? Blink twice if you need me.”

Rime’s tone softens a little. “I am okay.”

“Are the shots going to kill me?” Blue demands, face serious and inebriated. “Is he poisoning me?”

“Absolutely not.”

Blue immediately holds up one finger in Dorias’ direction. “Third shot sir! Thank you, Mister Friend.” Then she whispers to Rime. “Is he a whowolf too?”

Rime supposes she means ‘werewolf’ but just says, “No.”

And at that moment the main door to the bar opens and both William and Bian – returned from their second meeting today with shady and unscrupulous criminals for profit – enter the bar. They immediately and understandably freeze upon seeing the clientele. Bian’s large tabaxi eyes dart around the room, one fluffy triangular ear twitching a little bit, her tail flipping back and forth as she squints particularly at Dornis and the bugbear and the rage skull pickle jar. Then she’s looking at Rime the way you look to any bellweather for direction, and takes his relative calm as cue to be regular in here.

Will, meanwhile, goes for his sword.

“Ah,” says Dornias, holding up a hand. “Please no violence on the premise. I would hate to eject you.”

Blue begins to wave down her alarmed life partner, flapping a blue web-finned hand at him. “HUBBY. HUBBYYYY.” She might be drunker than Rime first picked up on. “Come sit down and talk to our friend.”

Will nervously drops his hand from his rapier, holding his palms open as he moves toward the table. He eyes Dornias the entire way there. “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry I… sorry?” Then in a lower voice to Blue,“What have we missed?”

Bian strides (unflapped by skeletons, bugbears, or demons) across the room. She yanks a chair over to the table beside Rime, then takes a seat backwards straddling it. Properly settled, she then promptly steals and eats the pickle off Rime’s plate. Rime stares. The pickle crunches satisfactorily between sharp feline jaws and she smacks, small pink nose wrinkling slightly but otherwise shows no ill affect from eating the pickle from the cursed skull jar. Rime, somewhat warily, slides her his whiskey shot as a chaser and turns back to Dornias.

Still in Infernal, he presses, “It’s a Glabrezu dialect—?”

Blue, whispering loudly to Will, demands, “Did you know he speaks Angry Tongue?”

Will glances at Rime, then back to Blue. “No. Did you?”

“No. But I didn’t ask.”

Bian keeps gnawing on the pickle, one ear rotating toward the voices, but otherwise appears to ignore everyone. Will and Blue continue to discuss Rime just loudly enough it kind of involves Rime, despite his being in another conversation entirely. Dornias is pondering his question, however, so in the meanwhile he hears:

“I didn’t know you spoke Fishy-Fish.”

Will sounds resentful.

Blue looks offended. “I am a fish. You speak in Ely-Elf don’t you?”

Rime, loudly, butts in at this point. “It’s Infernal, by the way. All tieflings speak Infernal.”

Blue lunges up dramatically in her seat, pointing at Rime. “YOU TEACH ME INFERNAL. I’LL TEACH YOU AQUAN.”

Rime, rather taken off guard by her volume goes, “Okay. Fair?”

“Anyway,”Dornias breaks in finally, still speaking Infernal. “Most Glabrezu speak Abyssal but a few were trained in other tongues. A bastarization of Infernal, Abyssal, lil bit of Celestial, some of the language of the Modrin but not much. Aaand I had to do their accounting for a few centuries.”

Rime likewise speaking Infernal, says, “Accounting? What? You said they stormed the Nine Hells?”

Dornias switches to Common then, sounding confused. “Yes! Have you—? Oh! I forget! Material Plane. I am sorry. I am so used to the Lower Planes where everyone knows!”

Blue raises her hand like she’s in class. “I’m not from this plane either!”

Dornias looks at her, eagerly, leaning across the table a little to grin at her. It’s toothy and worrisome. “I know! I have bought and sold some of your kind!”

Then he switches to Aquan and with a voice like a man drowning, launches into some kind of extended conversation with Blue in her native “fishy-fish” tongue. To her credit, her face remains a perfect, hospitable mask of rapt glee the entire time. Will, meanwhile, steals Blue’s ham sandwich from her plate and starts eating it. He gets about halfway through one bite before a kind of involuntary rapturous look of bliss crosses his handsome half-elf features and he kind of zones out. Both Rime and Bian stare.

“You okay over there, bud?” says Bian, shooting Rime’s whiskey.

“It’s a really good sandwich,” Will whispers.

Dornias suddenly swaps back to Common. “I’m sorry. I forget people of the Central Planes are not used to conversing about the Blood War. It’s struggles and strategies.” He looks around the table. “How much do you know about the Creation of the Universe?”

There’s a pause. Before Rime or Blue can volunteer something vague, Will – a man who only a few days ago called Bian a ‘cat-person’ and Rime ‘basically a demon’ and then failed to correctly identify his wife’s native tongue – immediately lifts his head and says (mouth full of sandwich), “Well, one time, in a bar…”

And proceeds to recount in detail the broad strokes of how the universe was created. At least, as told to him once by a raging drunk wizard in a tavern somewhere. While this is happening, Bian elbows Rime slightly, leveling a weighted sidelong glance at him that Rime interprets as a generalized, ‘Are we okay? Or should I be worried?’

Because she must notice, if nothing else, the anxious tail-lashing that Rime’s got going on around his boots beneath the table. A tell that other species with tails generally ken to more quickly than other races. Rime glances at her, allowing a slight nervous uncertainty knit his brow, then wobbles one hand back and forth.

Blue, staring at Will, says loudly, “I’m so into you right now. Wow. You know so much for a surface walker.”

And while Will looks pleased with himself, Dornias addresses the table again saying, “Anyway, in war there is always the middle Neutral ground yes? The No Mans’ Land as it were? Where all must cross and blood and mud and stabbing each other and bone sticking out of the dirt? There is where I live. On the River Styx. Or at least that’s where I used to.” Proudly he adds, “Now I live in Waterdeep. I am Waterdaviancitizen.” He beams. “I won the court case.”

The whole party stares a little.

“Anyway,” Dornias says, speaking to Rime suddenly, “your weird vocal tic sounds like Glabrezu shouting orders from other room, basically.” If he notices Rime’s horror that he’s saying this to the whole table, he doesn’t act on it, but goes on knowingly. “Facility with all languages means, uh, well, I speak all languages.”

Blue looks at Rime. “So… are you like… possessed? Is it like a possession thing? Do your weird voice whispers tell you to kill people?”

Rime, horrified, completely forgets Thaumaturgy and sputters, “No! I don’t even understand it.”

Blue nods sagely. “Good to know.”

Dornias adds, “Sounds like you have direct connection to Abyss.”

Rime chokes. “What?!”

Blue slams her palms excitedly on the table. “THAT’S SO COOL, RIME!”

“Wait. I’m sorry. Sorry,” says Dornias while Rime’s body goes cold all over. “I mean Nine Hells. Occasionally you get Glabrezu across both sides. Big mess. So yes, you have direct connection to Nine Hells in your vocal cords.

Blue is now drunkenly yelling, “THAT’S AWESOOOOME.”

Rime’s frozen, gripping the table edge. “I don’t know if that’s awesome.”

Blue giggles. “What’s up with the demon possession?”

“I am not possessed!”

“Oh… so it just kind of piggybacking on you?” Blue props her chin in her hand, frowning, puzzled at him. “Like it sits on your shoulder and says shitty things?”

Rime’s cantrip keeps half falling apart in his head so he just keeps, unable to stop himself, speaking aloud out of pure instinctive panic. “I don’t— I don’t know what – Dornias, as I’m talking is it speaking to YOU? And like… as I talk can it hear you and the conversations I’m having?”

Dornias says, “Uhhhhhh.”

And then there is a very, very, very long pause. Rime can visibly see the ancient fiendish hesitate as if uncertain what to do. He’s trying to decide what to say. By the time Dornias finally moves again, Rime’s fingers are aching where he’s gripping the table. Dornias surreptitiously produces a piece of paper. Then he picks up a pen and writes something on the paper. That done, he flips the paper around for them to read:

IT SAID NOT TO TELL YOU.

Dead silence follows.

Bian breaks it by asking, deadpan, “So is it gonna kill us in our sleep?”

For a moment, Rime kind of fades out in a long buzzing silence where Rime is vaguely aware of Blue saying things and Dornias saying things and, weirdly, the thing he is most aware of is his own fingernails, blunt and digging into the wood beneath his palms. He can feel Bian kind of side-eyeing him, but can’t bring himself to look at her. The buzzing in his ears fades in time to hear Dornias promising to teach Blue a demonic dialect, but only after they kill a lantern archon and climb Mount Celestial on another plane of existence.

Rime plants a hand on Blue’s shoulder and says, “Blue. No.”

Blue doesn’t hear though, and is eagerly wooting, “Alright. Let’s go!” Just in time for Will to also grab her other shoulder and pull her back into her seat.

Rime brings up his hands and in deliberate Sign, he says, Do you understand me?

Dornias also brings his hands up and signs, Yes. I understand you.

Rime holds his gaze.

Have you ever encountered anyone else who has this affliction?

Yes. But specifically only those with powerful connections to the lower planes.

Can you elaborate?

Typically direct descendants of archfiends or demon princes.

So what would your theory be about me?

Dornias glances sidelong and Rime realizes Blue is pouting dramatically, glaring at their fast-moving hand-signs with the resentment of someone being left out of a conversation.

“Hmm, well let’s see,” he says aloud, moving suddenly toward Rime. “Red skin, horns…” He reaches up and taps one of Rime’s horns with a claw. “You have strong connection to Minaros. You might be distant child of Mamon. The Arch Devil of Greed. He through whose hands pass all coin and who sits unchallenged upon a throne of stolen wealth from all the multi-verse.”

Again. Dead silence for a moment.

Then Will, beaming over his sandwich plate says, “Hey! My kinda guy! I don’t have a faith, but I can get behind that.”

Then from the far end of the bar, the bugbear drinking from a bucket-like tankard wobbles around in his seat and burps, “Uh. Respect.” Then slurps his beer.

Rime jerks physically. “No!”

Blue is already shouting. “Shots for the four of us! And the bugbeaaaaaar!”

Cheering ensues.

Rime fumbling his Sign, tries to say something to Dornias who is eagerly pouring out more shots all around.

Dornias. Do you –?

Blue lays a hand on his wrist to get his attention, suddenly concerned and mildly wounded. “Are you not doing your shot?”

Rime stares wildly at her, then the shot glass, then her again.

He slams the shot mostly of pure Lliiran instinct and the sudden realization he’s not drunk enough for this and has not been for some time.

Blue somewhat fuzzily to Dornias, says, ��Can I have another sandwich? My dog ate mine.”

Will shoots her a look, but she ignores him.

Dornias whizzes away to prepare another screaming pickle and sandwich while Bian and Will shoot their respective drinks and Bian steals Rime’s untouched sandwich. Rime sits, hands braced against the sides of his head, staring vacantly into the middle of the table until the new sandwich lands on their table and Dornias loiters again benignly by their table, delighted apparently by their general patronage.

Rime takes the opportunity to Sign to him.

So… the vocal tick is basically that someone has a two-way connection between me and this realm of hell and someone is speaking through it whenever I speak?

Dornias studies his hands, then says aloud, “Effectively, yes.”

“Fuck!” Rime cries, pressing one palm against his forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Donias waves a hand. “Is slightly incorrect phrasing. Someones.” A beat. “At this point I have detected six distinct voices.”

Bian levels a cool look in Rime’s direction. “You got major problems.”

Rime snaps his fingers, his cantrip rebutting, “I’m fine!”

Blue folds her hands on the table, leaning forward with a knowing inebriation. “You know… Tritons respectour ancestors. Just saying…”

“I don’t know that’s what this is!”

Blue just eats her new cursed pickle while Will somewhat desperately flicks sandwich crust at her in an effort to stop her declarations about Rime’s suddenly deeply strange vocal affliction.

Rime turns to Dornias and through the spell, asks, “Is there anyway to stop it?”

“Hmm, is difficult process. But yes. I could probably stop connection.” Then, before anyone can get excited about his, he adds, “But you would have to die.”

Blue, still very drunk, flaps a hand at the fiend while Rime stares, speechless in every sense of the word.

“Do you just mean killhim?” She makes a kind of psssh/gargling noise of unimpressed-ness and jerks a thumb at Rime. “Because I can do that too.” She seems to realize how that sounds once said aloud, then mumbles, “I wouldn’tdo that… but I could.”

Dornias, trying very hard to be helpful, explains, “Process would specifically involving killing, removing heart, filling with lead, removing vocal cords, stretching them around an axe, and using it to chop up rest of body before burning in a fire from the Nine Hells.”

Blue is getting paper out of her bag. “Should we be taking notes?

Rime, very softly says, “No.”

Dornias is still explaining things. “Even after you die, connection will probably persist and eventually tear where devil soldiers will pour through into this plane of existence.”

Blue is scribbling on her piece of paper. “So definitely take notes. Can you go through that process one more time?”

Rime tries again, just once more, with shaking hands to Sign: Are you saying that I could be a portal? You said monsters could come through? What?

Dornias nods absently. “Yes, but will probably take long time. Unless you suddenly experience an enormous amount of negative energy passing through your body or alternatively someone held you down and ritually sacrificed you make it happen.” A little shrug then and a wave of the hand. “Buuut rare occurrence.”

Blue looks sincerely at Rime. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she promises with liquor-muzzy fondness. She pats him on the arm. “But if you ever die, don’t worry, Imma un-portal you.”

Rime gets up. Rime can’t hear anything but a low roar. It might be his speech cantrip going out of wack. It might be his pulse in his brain. It might be the panic overriding every other process for receiving sensory data to his higher order thoughts.

Either way, he can’t hear a damn thing. He just kind of… stands up at the table, looks around… then runs. Bolts straight out the front doors, slamming his palms against the wood and knocking them wide open  into the street outside. He hooks around the door on the right so he can fetch up hard against the tavern wall and, for just a moment, fall apart. He stacks both hands over his mouth and just… smothers the noise that tries to rush out of him. He strangles that like a kitten in a bucket and leans, breathing hard, against the wall.

Around him, people are passing idly by. Overhead, the sky is cold, autumnal, and clear. He closes his eyes and for the first time since leaving home, he regrets not leaving the other half of his sending stones in Secomber because more than anything, anything, anything right now… he’d bleed just to hear something familiar. He mouths over and over silently against his fingers, “It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s okay,” until the shape of the lie is like braille against his palms.

Rime opens his eyes. He won’t speak aloud again for a while.

[wolfsgravity]

I wrote a weird Hurt/Comfort type short fic with my S/I and Howl.

It’s like 2.6k words, which is pretty long for my attention span lmao.

We’re at a household dinner, all of us eating together. At one point when we’re all nearly full, Calcifer makes a simple comment on how long days can seem sometimes. I duck my head, assuming it’s at least in part my fault, and murmur a quiet, “Sorry you’ve got to make up for my magical inadequacies. I know shooting down my dumb magic all day must get tiring.”

While most of the table exchanges looks of pity, Calcifer fire-shrugs with a little smile. “Actually, your magic is hardly ever a problem anymore. You’ve made a lot of progress since we took you in, and I can tell you’ve been working hard by how few pings go out nowadays. Howl’s a great teacher, but you’ve learned fast for a late-bloomer.”

Howl especially notices the beaming smile that grows across my face. How I sit a little taller, like a weight has been lifted. He sees a faint shimmer in my eyes before I rub my face, muttering an “Oh shucks, you don’t need to say all that”. All the while, his heart swells with… pride?

As conversation goes on, Howl is contemplative. His eyes are casual, but he finds his attention drawn back and forth between me and Sophie. He’d only known love as he’s felt it for Sophie, but what he suddenly realizes he feels for me is eerily similar, yet holding its own charm. In a sudden movement, he stands, bringing the chatter to a stop as he silently stalks away.

Calcifer is the first to break the momentary silence. “I haven’t seen Howl storm off like that in a while. But I guess that’s his capriciousness as always.”

But it sticks with me. And Sophie as well.

The difference between Sophie and I is that she’s task-oriented. I tend to wallow. So as she busies herself with cleaning dinner and bustling upstairs to check on Howl, I help as much as she allows before heading off to my own room. As I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling, those thoughts of being ruinous return, though this is the first time in a few months I could even justify such thoughts. What if Calcifer missed a ping? Have I ruined my own happy home? No. Give it time. Sophie can help him.

Two more days pass, and Howl is physically and emotionally absent. Most time he spends in his own room, coming down for sporadic meals. Calcifer seems to think it’s only a spurious mood, Sophie is busying herself with housework, and the other members of the household go on as usual, perhaps sharing glances when Howl appears as if to say Let’s not ask.

Sophie visits him, getting no real answers from him as to the source of this mood. He’s sweet as always to her, but she sees the gears turning behind his eyes. Finally, during the third night, she decides to get more to the point. She sits next to him on his bed, and as he lays a hand on hers, she simply states,

“You will tell me what’s been on your mind.”

Howl sighs. As if by compulsion, he begins to open up.

“Sophie, I know I’ve been moping, and I do wish I could stop. But..” he pauses, “it’s about Remington.”

“Are you worried about their magic progress?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” He chews the inside of his cheek and looks into one heavily patterned wall of his room. “You know how I love you so deeply, Sophie?”

“Of course, Howl. I’d never doubt that for a second.”

“I’m.. scared. Because, though I love you no less, I think.. I may have fallen for Remington as well. And I don’t wish to send them away, but I may have to.”

Sophie, of all things, laughs quietly.

Howl groans, gripping her hand tighter. “This is a very serious subject, Sophie. I don’t want to lose the life you’ve helped me find through your love and devotion. I just… can’t bring myself to tell Remington to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

Finally, Howl looks at Sophie’s face again, seeing a gentle stare in return. She leans forward and kisses Howl, his shoulders relaxing from the highly tense state they were stuck in.

She leans her forehead against his and smiles easily. “I love you, Howl. You’ve grown so much since I got you your heart back. I appreciate your concern for me, I truly do, and it cements further how confident I am in us. Remington is a lovely person, and I’m happy with them being here however you’d like them. I trust you to never lose your love for me, and I would hope you’d trust the same of me.” Then she grins, “Anyways, maybe having two of us would make you less of a handful.”

Howl blinks owlishly as she speaks, heart racing with two kinds of love in a wonderful dance. Slowly, he smiles and kisses Sophie deeply. “You truly are an angel.”

What they don’t know is that the very apprentice they’re talking about has packed what they could in a heavy backpack. I don’t know of this conversation, all I can think is I somehow ruined everything again, and to save the house I’ve come to love, I must leave. I tiptoe my way to the main exit, not even caring where the door will lead me. I hear a quiet question from the hearth.

“You’re blaming yourself, huh?”

Calcifer looks open but sad. His flame is small, as the house can rest at night, but he’s awake as ever.

“I’m tellin’ ya, he used to have these moods a lot, so I’m sure it’s not you, kid.”

I sigh, the sadness of this whole situation clawing at my throat. “Calcifer, I can’t.. I can’t stay here if there’s a chance I’ll ruin your happy family. Intentionally or not.”

He pauses and, his voice barely audible over the crackle of his own fire, says, “This is more than fear over your magic, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer, eyes threatening to spill over.

“Remington, I wish I could say something comforting right now, I really do. But I’m not blind, your… affection for Howl… can’t work out. And I can’t even say I wish it could.”

I whimper. “It’s pathetic, I know.”

“Not pathetic, but definitely sad. I haven’t had access to his heart since all that stuff went down almost 2 years ago, but when I did.. the way it beat for Sophie was unmatched. I don’t think that would ever change, nor do I want it to.”

“I don’t either,” I admit, tears falling in the dim light, “I love this place so much. I just… don’t want to stupidly ruin that for you guys. So I have to make my own way out there.”

Calcifer sighs, sinking into his embers a little. “I get that logic. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”

I hiccup as the reality of my choice washes back over me. I nod. “Thanks, Calcifer. Tell everyone I love them, okay?”

“Sure thing. Stay safe.”

With that, I tread into the darkness.

As the morning rises, so too does the household. Howl, bright and early, whisks down the stairs, in better spirits than the last half a week. Calcifer looks mildly uncomfortable as people gather in the kitchen for breakfast.

“Where’s that apprentice of mine?” Howl muses, sending Sophie a small smile, reinvigorated from their talk the night before. He wanted to get a little bit of magic practice in for them before he broached the topic of his absence with them.

Calcifer shifted amongst his fuel. “Remington, uh.. left.”

The room, despite the fire demon’s presence, runs cold. The ex-witch and the child both dip their heads sadly. Sophie’s face holds shock and fear as she keeps her gaze on Howl, who froze on the spot.

“They…left?”

“Yeah, erm… they were worried about the energy in the house… thought it was their fault. So they left.”

Sophie quietly piped in. “You didn’t try to stop them?”

Calcifer shrinks and squirms under the stares. “I did, but they wouldn’t listen. And I didn’t wanna keep them prisoner by closing the door to them. They did want me to pass on that they love all of us.”

Howl looks at Sophie, a confused and broken look on his face, and she hurries to his side. “Follow them.”

“The castle has moved, I wouldn’t know—“

“They are your apprentice, Howl. They don’t know how to cover their magic’s tracks, if the Witch of the Waste could track you using what little magic hints she had, I’m sure you can find the untrained magician. Go clear up this whole misunderstanding!”

He nods, life slowly coming back to his eyes as he strides to the door for his cloak and hat. The whole house watches in silence as he mutters to himself, a magnifying glass appearing in his hand. “This will help me find the traces of their magic.”

“Good, bring them home, okay?”

“I will.”

The two kiss and he departs.

He finds me after a day and night of searching. I truly wasn’t trying not to be found, but I traveled tirelessly by foot to reach some kind of field filled with grasses that reached hip-height at this time of year. There is a torrential rainstorm overhead, and though there is no thunder nearby, Howl feels a prickly static filling the air. Through the seeing glass, he can see massive swirls of yellow, pink, and purple energy surrounding the figure of his apprentice in the distance.

He tries calling my name a few times as he wades through the wet grass towards me, but my back is towards him and the rain is loud around us. He’s a few yards away when he finally gets my attention, the tension in the air lightening fractionally from my surprise as I turn around.

Howl stops his forward motion once I turn towards him, holding his hands out in gentle supplication. “Come home, sweetheart, let me explain everything when we get out of this storm.”

I wince visibly when he speaks, looking down and away. My voice carries flatly over the sound of the rain. “I figured out what I need to do, so please don’t stop me.”

The wizard tilts his head, taking a step towards me since I’m making no moves towards him. “Whatever you need to do, I promise we can all help.”

With a steely glare, I bite out, “I’m going to make a deal with a demon.”

Almost as though on cue, a distant roll of thunder can be heard. Howl’s face pales. “You— No! Absolutely not!”

I scoff, turning away from him and beginning to walk. “You can’t stop me, Howl.”

The air begins to thicken again, and real fear settles into Howl’s frame. He tries to run to close the distance between us, but finds himself fighting the grass for each step. He manages enough speed to almost get in arm’s reach, but as he reaches out, I yell, “I’m not going to stop, so cut it out!”

His heart drops as, mid-stride, I begin shakily lifting off the ground, breaking into a heightening sprint.

“Remington, please come back down!” He starts his own ascent into the downpour, but I’ve made my upward motion too uneven and unstable for him to keep up with. “Please, you’re not ready for this kind of levitation!”

“I don’t care!” I all but scream, tears starting to mingle with the rain pouring down my face. I stumble mid-air as my emotions nearly overwhelm me, but I keep my mad scramble up towards the clouds.

The wizard panics, feeling very real fear for me. I’m too high to fall safely, and he isn’t sure he could catch me in a pinch. “Remington, come back! Your heart is too important to barter away like I did!”

He hears a harsh laugh, followed by me mumbling, “I don’t fucking want it.”

At least that got me to stop, wobbling high up in the air. He makes his way closer to me as he keeps talking. “I know the idea of control and power for a quick deal is tempting, but you’ve been making such great strides on your own. Look at you! You’re flying so soon! I can’t just let you do something stupid like giving your heart away,”

I look at him, eyes puffy from crying, looking defeated. “I’m already pretty stupid with my heart, but at least this way, I’d be making the choice myself.”

He pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

A sob wracks my body and I falter in the air, Howl shouting in alarm before I right myself and make another step upwards. “It doesn’t matter anymore, so I’ll tell you. I love you, and I hate myself for it.”

“Remington, I love you too, so please come down before you fall and we can go home—“

“I mean it, Howl.” I sniffle, “I love you more than I should. You took me into your home and I fell in love, and I’d rather sell this stupid heart than even imagine ruining your happy home.”

Howl smiles at me, the last expression I expect in the moment. My feet pause mid-step.

“I mean it the same way you do. I don’t know when it started, but I realized it when you were relieved of your worry of being a burden, even if it only lasted a short while because of my tantrum. I love your smile. I love how dedicated to your studies you can be. I love how Markl looks up to you and works that much harder for it. I love the way you toss things from one hand to the other—“

“No you don’t. You said that gives you a heart attack.”

“Because you did it with artifacts, without looking at what your hands were even doing. But you haven’t dropped a single thing doing that, and sometimes I see you looking at your hands afterwards like you’re proud of their dependability. I love seeing you gain confidence in yourself, and it makes me happy when it sticks instead of you devaluing yourself immediately.”

He finally reaches me, his hands cupping both of mine. My magic steadies beneath me at his touch.

“Sophie and I spoke about you, and we both want you to stay. I love you, and I’m so glad to hear you say the same. So let’s get down from here and go back to the castle, okay?”

I sniffle, calm now, but beginning to tire now that all the emotions came out. Slowly, I nod, forcing myself not to look down now that I think about how high up I’ve gotten. The rain lightens as he guides me to the ground, the both of us drenched, but smiling as we glance at each other. He leads us back to the castle, the path suspiciously shorter than it took to get out to the field in the first place.

As we step through the door, Howl calls out for Calcifer to get a bath ready, then looks at me and says, “You go first, I would hate for you to catch cold from all that.”

I silently nod, completely tuckered by now. Howl softly kisses my cheek, causing warmth to bloom where his lips touched my skin. There’s a commotion as everyone comes to greet us, but Howl fields them all as I make my way upstairs, given enough energy to warm myself in the bath. He’s waiting outside my bedroom door as I round the corner to go to bed, a warm smile on his features as he regards me.

“You seem happier now.” He states, making me smile. I give a small ‘Mhmm’, my eyes heavy with sleep. He wraps me in a comfortable embrace, my arms snaking around his back. “We have much to talk about tomorrow, but I wanted to see you before you retired tonight to tell you I love you. Sleep in as long as you’d like, you used a lot of magic today so I’m a little surprised you’re still standing.”

The hug ends naturally, Howl and I smiling at each other. Swiftly, he leans in to sweetly kiss my lips, before he says a ‘Goodnight’ and walks away.

I smile, a dopey look in my eyes, as I tiredly shuffle into my room. I unceremoniously dump myself onto my bed and almost immediately fall asleep.

[apathetic-revenant]

we can figure this thing out

...okay. so, um. explanation. 

I’ve had the rough idea for this bouncing around in my head for quite a while now, but I was trying to be a good, responsible writer and not start anything else until By the Skin of Your Teeth was finished. but then, well, things happened and I couldn’t write at all for a while, and when I finally started feeling like doing a bit I just wasn’t quite up to working on BtSoYT. my anxiety was through the roof and Nazis were running rampant and things were just generally bad, y’know, and I knew the upcoming chapter was going to be really intense and I just couldn’t do it yet.

so I fell back on this considerably less angsty idea, which, um, I sort of wrote in between two periods of not being able to work, so it’s been sitting around for like a week now because I wasn’t up to editing it. but today I did feel up to editing it, and it seems like an appropriate day to post this. I mean, it doesn’t really have anything to do with the twins’ birthday, per se, but uh...I don’t have any other fan content for you so here you go.

but please rest assured that By the Skin of Your Teeth is not dead, and I’m very sorry for leaving you guys hanging so long. 

AO3 link here. title is from It’s Only Life by The Shins. 

Everything was fine.

The Shack was almost back to its former sort-of-glory, thanks to the dedicated and boisterous efforts of pretty much the entire town. Grunkle Stan had recovered most of his memory, and seemed certain to regain the rest with a little more time. Most of the scrapes had scabbed over and the bruises yellowed and faded away, and even Grunkle Ford's burns were healing nicely. It was a warm and beautiful late summer afternoon and birds were singing and the world was healing.

Everything was fine.

Mabel sat in the grass, not caring that her skirt and shoes were getting muddy, and skipped a stone across the surface of the little pond she'd found hidden away in the woods. She watched as it skipped one-two-three times before it disappeared into the murky water, and felt absolutely terrible.

Everything was fine except it hadn't been fine when she saw all her friends imprisoned in screaming images at the snap of a finger, when she and Dipper were running down a corridor with a howling, furious demon hot on their heels, when she was staring into that vast red eye and watching the symbols sliding back and forth like a demented slot machine, waiting to know whether she or her brother would die first. It hadn't been fine when Stan was kneeling on the floor and Ford had slowly raised the memory gun in trembling hands and she had realized all in a great terrible rush what he was about to do. It hadn't been fine when she had run to Stan in the meadow, so sure that everything was alright now, only to see the blank, empty look in his eyes and realize that he no longer knew her.

It wasn't fine. It wasn't fine when she heard Dipper crying in his sleep, when he woke up in the middle of the night with a yell. It wasn't fine when she saw Ford wince as he moved, or run a hand over his wrists when he thought no one was looking. It wasn't fine when Stan hesitated over some behavior that should have been familiar, or gave her that bemused, I'm-sorry-I'm-trying-my-best smile that didn't belong on his face at all.

It wasn't fine but everyone was acting like it was, like it was all over and done with and they were all better now only she didn't feel better. She felt awful and twisted-up inside and she didn't know how to be happy and bright again. She didn't know if she ever would be.

There was a big work party going on to finish up the Shack, with food and soda and loud incoherent music for everyone, and she should have been there, should have been enjoying it, cheering everyone on, eating sheet cake icing and singing at the top of her lungs and generally being the life of the party. That was how things were supposed to go. That was how she was supposed to be. And she had tried, she really had, but every forced smile and half-hearted stab at a piece of food made her feel like she was falling apart, hairline fractures spreading farther and farther across her surface like an old china doll, until she was knew that one more crack would make her shatter into a million pieces.

She hadn't meant to run this deep into the woods. She hadn't meant to run away at all. She'd just had to get away.

She didn't even know where she was, really. She hadn't been paying attention to where she was going, until she looked up and realized she had wandered into some patch of the woods she hadn't seen before. The only identifying marks were a small pond and a few old rocks jutting up out of the grass. It looked more or less like any other part of the woods, beautiful, sunlit, meaningless.

Given the nature of the woods in question, of course, there was probably some ancient secret or hidden treasure waiting to be uncovered in that very spot. Maybe the muddy little cattail-flooded pond was actually a magic pond, and if she threw enough stones into it everything would go back to being alright, properly alright, like it had been before the wood had ended.

She threw another stone into the pond. It skipped once before sinking with a sad gurgle.

The worst thing, the thing she couldn't tell anyone, the thing burning a cold hole in her chest, was that it was all her fault.

She hadn't really remembered, at first. Her memories of being in the bubble were all strange and sticky and unclear, like someone had pulled them out and shuffled them around and messed with all the filters. It had been a lot like a dream, timeless and hazy, where the strangest things made perfect sense, and she had no idea how it had all started. At some point she hadn't been in the bubble, and then at some point she was, and the space between those two points didn't seem to properly exist.

But she'd worked it out, slowly, in bits and pieces in the dead of night, in quiet moments of aftermath, crawling pace by pace to the terrible but inevitable conclusion: she had given the rift to Bill. He had been able to enter their world, to take over, to do all of the terrible things that he did, because of her. Because she had been scared of middle school. Because she had wanted her perfect summer to last a little longer.

Her fault, her fault, her fault: the burns and the blank eyes and the crying in the night. She hadn’t told anyone. She couldn’t. It sat in her throat like she’d swallowed a rock,  like something choking her that she couldn’t cough loose, and every time she saw some evidence of the terrible days behind them it dug into her and hurt a little more.

She couldn't get away from it.

Angrily, she picked up another rock and threw it, giving it a good sharp twirl that send it skipping all the way across the pond, and dropped her head onto her knees, waiting for the splash.

It didn't come.

“Ow!”

Mabel jerked her head up in surprise, expecting to see one of the forest denizens-a gnome or a Manotaur or something-and already feeling guilty. Careless, all over again-even sitting on her own in the middle of the woods she made mistakes and they hurt people-

It wasn't a gnome or a Manotaur or any of the other things she'd been imagining. It was a unicorn.

For a moment she just stared at it, forgetting everything else. It was beautiful, graceful and shining in the late afternoon sun, and looking at it made her feel a lot like she had when she'd first seen Celestabellabethabelle: sort of awestruck and overwhelmed and guilty for being so plain and grimy and ordinary compared to that. And she'd hit it. With a rock. She'd beaned a unicorn with a rock.

“Do you mind?” the unicorn said, in that weird way unicorns seemed to talk through their horns. “I'm trying to get a drink here.”

Mabel abruptly remembered that unicorns were actually jerks.

“Go away!” she yelled at it, balling her fists into her sweater, sharp, brittle anger washing away her guilt. Stupid unicorn probably deserved to be hit in the head with a rock anyway.

“Oh, that's nice,” the unicorn said. The voice wasn't quite what Mabel would have expected; it was feminine, but not at all like Celestabellabethabelle's high, flouncy whine. This unicorn sounded...grumpy, and low, and a little gritty and a lot older. “This is your pond, is it? You get to decide who comes and who goes?”

“I said go away!” Mabel bawled back at it. “Leave me alone!”

“I was leaving you alone,” the unicorn snapped. “Minding my own business, me, not bothering nobody. You're the one who threw a rock at me.”

“I'll throw another one if you don't leave me alone!” Mabel yelled, barely even aware of what she was saying; all the anger and guilt and awfulness was racing on ahead of her like an out of control roller coaster and all she could do was try to hang on. “I'm not afraid of you! I know what unicorns are really like! You're all...all...selfish and judgy and you lie to people and make them feel bad!”

The unicorn slowly raised her head from the water she'd been lapping at.

“Really,” she said slowly. “And what, pray tell, are you basing this comprehensive value judgment on?”

Mabel scratched at the dirt with a rock. “I've met unicorns before,” she mumbled.

“Have you,” the unicorn said. “My memory must be going. I don't remember ever meeting you at all.”

“Well...no...I haven't met you,” Mabel admitted. “But...but I've met other unicorns. And my Grunkle Ford has met a bunch too,” she added, rallying a little, “and he said they were all jerks, and he's super smart and knows what he's talking about.”

“Ah. I see. So, having met some members of my species, and knowing someone else who claims to have met some members of my species, you feel confident in your assertion that we all share exactly the same qualities,” the unicorn said. “Sound logic.”

Mabel felt her stomach twist around. For a moment it was like she was back in the glade and feeling lower and lower as a voice from on high trumpeted that she was not pure of heart! But it had been a trick that time. She didn't want to get tricked ever again.

“You're just trying to...to confuse me with your...words,” she said.

“Yes. Definitely,” the unicorn said, sounding dryer than ever. “Getting hit with a rock and called a jerk has all been part of my master plan to make you feel bad. You've figured me out. Bravo.”

She lowered her head and went back to drinking.

Mabel stared across the pond and she wanted to be brave and strong and good and clever, like the Mabel who punched monsters and stood up to mean jerks from any species and made her family proud. She wanted to tell that unicorn what was what and back it up with a good left hook if it tried to argue. She wanted it so hard her fingers dug into the dirt like she might be able to hold onto it, get a grip on her better self before it could slip away, but the horribleness was bubbling up through her like a volcano, like an untended kettle getting ready to scream, and it was all drowning her out.

She leaned her head against her knees and scrunched her face up tight and felt like the world was ending all over again.

After a long, long moment she heard a soft, delicate plish splish plish sound, like hooves stepping daintily through mud.

“...Alright, kid,” the gruff voice said from somewhere above her. “What's eating you?”

Mabel screwed herself up even tighter and willed the unicorn to just go away already. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, right,” the unicorn said. “I'm not so near-sighted I can't spot a blind funk when it's right in front of me. Or are you going to tell me that glowering at a pond and chucking rocks around is how you normally express exuberant happiness?”

Mabel scowled into her skirt. “Why do you care?”

“I'm sure I don't know,” the unicorn said witheringly. “But apparently I do care, so you might as well take advantage of the opportunity.”

Mabel peeked up from her knees to glance at the unicorn. This one was white, shading to silver, with a silvery-blue mane that ran wild halfway down her back. Up close she was still graceful and pretty, but not quite as breathtakingly beautiful as she had seemed from a distance. More...normal, more like an actual creature and not a painting come to life. At the least, Mabel could see that she wasn't nearly as well groomed and coiffed as Celestabellabethabelle; there were burrs in her mane, spots of dirt and mud on her coat, and the edges of her hooves were rough and worn.

For a moment the two of them just looked at each other, and then Mabel burst into tears.

She'd never cried so hard in her life, not even when she was seven and the family cat had died, not even when she was ten and a girl at school at pushed her down and stolen her favorite backpack, not even when when she was twelve and her brother was going away forever. It felt like everything she'd kept pressurized inside her for the past few days was rushing out in a torrent so powerful she could barely even breathe. She cried so hard it hurt.

There was a shifting of silver in the corner of her eye as the unicorn lowered herself onto the grass next to Mabel. She didn't say anything, not even when Mabel huddled against her and got tears and snot on the lovely white coat, just lay there and let Mabel cry until she was finally spent.

For a while, then, there was just quiet, nothing but the sound of the woods gently stirring around them, and Mabel sniffling and hiccuping to herself.

“...'m sorry,” she said eventually.

“Apology accepted,” the unicorn said calmly. “But don't expect me to believe all that was over a mis-aimed rock.”

“...'m sorry I called you a jerk.”

“That's...not really what I meant,” the unicorn said. “But I'll accept that one too, if you want. I take it you've had an...unpleasant interaction with unicorns before?”

“Yeah,” Mabel mumbled. “It ended in a lot of punching.”

“Really? From who?”

“Me.” Mabel sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “And my friends. We had to get some unicorn hair so my uncle could protect our house. So we went to the glade and we met this unicorn called Celestabellabethabelle-”

The unicorn groaned loudly.

“-and she kept saying I wasn't pure of heart, and I was trying really, really hard to be better, but, um...things happened, and then, and then she admitted that it was all just a con anyway. That unicorns just told people that they weren't pure of heart so they didn't have to give away their hair. And she laughed at me. So I punched her.”

“About time someone did,” the unicorn muttered. “I've half a mind to go around and sort that mare out myself. I knew Celestabella was a stuck-up twit, but torturing kids with that business is a new low.”

Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “I...guess I just thought all unicorns were like that. I mean, she said-”

“Of course she did,” the unicorn muttered. “That's the sort of thing she would say, isn't it? Much easier to claim that everyone's like that than to admit that she's just being a jerk all on her lonesome.”

Come to think of it, that sounded a lot like some humans Mabel knew.

“I'm sorry,” she said again.

“Eh,” the unicorn said. “I admit, we have some bad representatives. There aren't a lot of us, so it's a lot easier for a few to speak for the lot. Especially if they're attention hogs, like some people I could name.”

“Is that why you're out here and not in the glade?” Mabel said curiously. “Because you don't like the other unicorns?”

The unicorn twitched an ear, which Mabel thought might have been something like a shrug. “Not really. The company can get a bit grating in the glade, to be sure, but it's not all bad by any stretch. I just tend to prefer my own. And I like to get out when I can, get some fresh air. Too many rainbows give me a headache.”

“Oh,” Mabel said.

“But enough about me. How about you tell me why you're out here in the woods all on your lonesome, crying up a storm?”

She didn't want to. Once upon a time Mabel had been convinced she was pure of heart; now, she knew that if this unicorn told her that she had done bad things, it would not be a lie. But the unicorn was waiting, patient as an old tree, and Mabel couldn't stand the rock in her throat any longer. She had to tell someone.

“I did something bad,” she said whispered at last. “Really, really bad.”

“Really,” the unicorn said, sounding faintly amused, but not unkind. “What heinous crime did you commit?”

Mabel swallowed hard. “I...think I kinda...caused the end of the world.”

There was a long pause.

“Well...okay,” the unicorn said eventually. “I can't say I was expecting that one. You wanna give me some context here?”

So Mabel told her.

About staying in Gravity Falls with her twin brother and her great-uncle and having great adventures except they got scary sometimes and there was this freaky one-eyed triangle demon that kept pestering them, only at some point he wasn't a pest anymore, he was terrible and threatening and he tricked her brother, and then he tricked her, and she had given him something she shouldn't have because she thought it would make things better but instead it had made everything much, much worse, and lots of people had gotten hurt and Grunkle Stan had lost his memory, had lost himself, all because she had thought, I just want summer to last a little bit longer, had thought, this is just some dumb science thing of Dipper's, had thought, it won't hurt anything.

It took quite a while.

“...and now everyone keeps acting like everything's okay but it's not okay, it's my fault and they don't know it's my fault and I can't tell them but they're gonna find out eventually and then everyone's gonna hate me and I'm not a good person!”

This last came out a lot louder than she had really intended, and startled a few birds.

“...I thought I was,” she said, after a minute. “I thought I was but...I think Celestabellabethabelle might have been right after all. I think I am a bad person.”

The unicorn sighed-a big, snorty, horsey sigh. “Hoo boy. That's a big 'un, alright. Hmm. Hmm. You got anything to eat?”

Mabel blinked, torn out of her reverie with this abrupt comment. “Um. I...have half a bag of gummy koalas.”

“Give 'em here.”

Bemused, Mabel pulled out the wadded-up bag and shook the contents onto the grass. The unicorn nosed around for a moment and selected a green one.

“Mmm. Sugar. Good. Now, then.” The unicorn looked up at Mabel sternly. “First thing, we're going to discard the notion of Celestabellawhatsherface being right about anything, on general principle.”

That made Mabel smile a little despite herself.

“Second.” The unicorn picked up a couple more gummis and mouthed over them thoughtfully. “You didn't know what was going to happen when you handed that thing over, did you?”

“Well...no,” Mabel said.

“So it's a bit rich to say you caused the end of the world. Sounds to me like it was this Bill character who was responsible.”

“Yeah, but...but...” Mabel twisted a hand around in the damp grass, pulling up a few stalks in agitation. “But I still shouldn't have given it to him. I mean, I keep thinking about what would have happened if he had done what he said he would and...I don't think that would have been a good thing. Not really.”

Not after the bubble.

“Well, no,” the unicorn admitted. “Probably not.”

“So...so I still did something really bad,” Mabel said.

The unicorn swished her tail through the grass. “You did something you shouldn't have done, yes,” she said. “There's no getting around that.”

Mabel looked down at the mud and felt her eyes start to swim with tears all over again.

“But everyone does,” the unicorn said. “Everyone screws up sometimes. We're none of us perfect-not even unicorns, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Mabel looked up. The unicorn looked back at her, calm and still.

“But...doesn't that make me a bad person?” she said.

The unicorn sighed. “Kid, I'm going to level with you on something. It's a hard truth, but it is true. You ready for this?”

Mabel wrapped her arms around her knees and nodded.

“People like Celestabella, they like to sell you on this idea that there are Good People and Bad People,” the unicorn said. “That goodness is inherent somehow. Ain't so. No such thing.”

Mabel frowned. “That's not true! There are good people, I know that- ”

“Good grief, I'm not saying everyone is terrible,” the unicorn said, rolling her eyes. “I'm talking about this whole pure of heart business.”

“I mean...I know that's baloney,” Mabel said. “I know Celestabella was lying. She said herself.”

The unicorn sighed. “Yeah. I think that might be the problem.”

She nosed through the grass for more gummies, tail twitching thoughtfully. “Look. I'm guessing you believed in this whole 'pure of heart' thing even before you met Celestabella. If you didn't think you were a Good Person, capital letters, would you have been so upset when she told you that you weren't?”

...I'm probably the most pure-of-heart person in this room!

Mabel sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess.”

“And then you found out that she was lying, and she was a jerk, so you must have been a Good Person all along, right? You were in the right and she wasn't, so it didn't matter much what she said.”

Mabel tugged on her skirt and thought about this. “Well...”

“Which, I'm not saying she was right,” the unicorn went on. “But...sometimes knowing that someone else is wrong can stop you from seeing that you're also wrong. It's a tricky thing. My point is, I'm guessing that whole encounter didn't do a lot to convince you that you weren't fundamentally a Good Person, or that Good People didn't exist. It just convinced you that unicorns weren't any good at telling who was and who wasn't. And that may have done you more of a disservice in the long run.”

“So...so I'm not a good person after all, then,” Mabel said, feeling her heart sink down somewhere into her stomach.

“No, that's not what I'm saying,” the unicorn said irritably. “What I'm saying is that being good...it's not a quality that you just have. It's not some shiny thing in you, or anyone else. Neither is being bad, for that matter. Being a good person is something that you do. And here's the hard part: it's something that you have to keep doing. It's not a prize that you win if you get enough points. It's...like a marathon that you have to keep running, every day, and there's no finish line. And sometimes you're going to run really well and cover a lot of ground, and sometimes you're going to trip and plant your face in the dirt. That's okay. The important thing is that you keep going.”

Mabel frowned this over. “So...so I have to keep doing good deeds? Like every day?”

The unicorn flicked her ears. “Not exactly. I mean, good deeds are, well, good. Generally speaking. But it's not about doing things just to be good. It's more of a mindset. Just...when you do things, think about why you're doing them, and what impact it'll have. Be good to the people around you. Give back what you receive. And when you make mistakes-because you will-learn from them. Own up to them. Do what you can to fix them. And then move on. That's the worst part of this whole stupid pure-of-heart idea. If you define yourself as a Good Person, when you do eventually slip up, well, one of two things can happen. Either it completely breaks you, because you don't know how to think of yourself as anything but a Good Person, or, worse, you get to thinking that because you're a Good Person, anything you do is automatically good. Which is how crusades get started, but that's a whole other topic. Point is, it doesn't help anyone.”

“That...that doesn't sound so hard.”

“It's not, by and large. Except when it is. Mostly, you just have to do what you can with what you have. Some days that might be giving to charity and rescuing kittens from trees and some days it might be all you can do to not haul off and punch anyone who doesn't deserve it. It'll come and go. Just do your best. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The unicorn hunted around for more gummis. “Now, for what it's worth,” she said, “I'd say you're doing pretty well. You made a mistake, alright, but only because you were in a vulnerable spot and someone took advantage of it. After all, you figured out what was wrong with that decision. You owned up to it. A lot of people wouldn't have ever made it that far, you know. So chin up, girl. Don't let one thing throw you off the track for good. After all, the world may have ended for a while, but it seems to have come back just fine.”

Mabel nodded slowly.

For the first time in several days, the rock in her throat seemed to ease up and shrink away a little.

“I daresay it'd do you some good to talk about this with someone else, though,” the unicorn said. “I know it hurts to open up sometimes, but it'll hurt more in the long run if you don't. Otherwise, this thing is just going to sit on your chest and make you miserable forever, and that won't fix anything.”

It hurt just to think about, but deep down Mabel had to admit that the unicorn was right. She couldn't imagine keeping this secret much longer. It felt like something was eating her up from the inside.

“Okay,” she said. “I will. But can I...um...ask a favor?”

“You can ask,” the unicorn said. “I may not grant.”

“Can I have some of your hair?”

The unicorn cocked her head to one side and eyed Mabel thoughtfully. “Well, that depends. Are you a girl of pure and perfect heart?”

Mabel hesitated. “No?”

“What are you?”

“I'm...I'm a person trying really really hard to be good but sometimes I make mistakes and I'm not perfect but I'm going to pick myself up again and keep trying.”

“In that case,” the unicorn said, bowing her head, “I grant you a lock of my mane. Use it well.”

Mabel pulled out the penknife Grunkle Stan had given her and gently began to saw off a lock of the silvery mane.

“Though I confess, I don't really see the appeal,” the unicorn went on. “It's just hair. But perhaps that's because I'm attached to it. The novelty's worn off a bit. What are you going to do with that, anyway?”

“I'm going to knit it into a sweater,” Mabel said, tucking the hair carefully into her pocket. “Or...no, a scarf, I think. So I won't outgrow it. I can keep it and remember.”

“Huh,” the unicorn said. “That's a new one. I like that.”

“A girl in a movie I really like did that,” Mabel said. “Well, sorta. She went to a really strange place and it was hard at first and she had to do some really scary things but it got better. And in the end she had to leave but first some of the friends that she made wove her a new hairband to remember them by. Only I don't think any of my friends know how to knit so I'll have to do it myself.”

“Mabel!”

Mabel jumped. That was Dipper's voice.

“Sounds like you're wanted,” the unicorn said.

“I'd better go.” Mabel said, and then, on sudden impulse, threw her arms around the unicorn's neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the soft, sweet-smelling mane.

The unicorn nuzzled her gently. “Oh...go on. Get on with you. Your family's waiting.”

Mabel stood up, wiping grass off her knees, and, waving hard all the way, ran off in the direction of her brother's voice.

As she got closer she heard other voices calling her name as well: Wendy, it sounded like, and Grunkle Ford. She ran harder, stomach fluttering as she realized that they all sounded worried. They must have noticed she was gone and come looking for her.

In the end she almost ran into Dipper, who was coming up the path ahead of the other two. They both skidded to a halt, kicking up leaves.

“Mabel!” Dipper gasped. He was out of breath. “Where have you been? We were all worried!”

Mabel twisted her hands, feeling guilty all over again. “Is...is everyone looking for me?”

“No, just me and Wendy and Ford right now. We-we didn't want to make a big fuss about it at first. Where'd you go? Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“No...well...not exactly.”

“Mabel, thank heaven.” Ford came jogging up the path, gasping a little, one hand held gingerly to his side. “You're okay.”

“Maybe don't go wandering off in the monster-filled woods without telling anyone right after the apocalypse,” Wendy said, managing close approximation of her usual careless tone, but not quite so close that Mabel couldn't tell that she was also relieved. “Especially when you've got this guy looking out for you.” She jerked a thumb at Ford. “We only just barely convinced him to try looking for you first instead of charging into the woods guns blazing. Literally. Did you know he just carries a gun around? Like, all the time?”

Ford glared at her, but he did look a little bit sheepish.

“I didn't mean to worry anyone,” Mabel said, twisting her hands in her sweater. “I just...”

She'd done it again. Careless. Silly.

Everyone was looking at her.

“Are you okay?” Dipper asked quietly.

The rock was back in her throat and she had thought this would be easier after getting it out the first time, after everything the unicorn had said, but it was still really, really hard.

“Mabel?”

“I have...something I have to tell you guys,” she whispered.

All three of them glanced at each other in bemusement. “What?” Dipper said.

Mabel squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists and choked out, “It was all my fault. Everything that happened. I gave Bill the thing he needed.”

Silence.

“You...you what?” Dipper said.

Mabel couldn't look at him. She couldn't look at any of them. “I, I ran out of the house cause I was all upset cause I thought everything was going to be awful and you were going to leave and I took your backpack only I didn't know it was your backpack and then that time traveler guy showed up and he said he could make summer last longer and I just, I just wanted a little more time! And he said he just needed one little thing and it wasn't that important so...so I gave it to him, only it turned out it was actually Bill and he did all the bad stuff with it and it's all my fault and I'm sorry!”

She wadded herself up with her eyes closed tight and waited for the anger, the hatred, the rejection. The how could you, the you horrible person.

Instead she felt a broad hand rest gently on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see Ford kneeling in front of her. He didn't look angry. He looked...sad.

“Mabel,” he said gently. “Bill...tricked people. That was what he did. And he was good at it. He tricked me. He...he tricked a lot of people. It's not your fault.”

“Yeah, I mean, I fell for him,” Dipper said. “And he pretty much spelled out what he was going to do to me!”

“But...but I shouldn't have given your thing away,” Mabel said. “I should have known better.”

Ford shook his head. “I should have told you about the rift. If you'd known what it was, you wouldn't have given it away. But I...I was foolish, and I didn't want to trust anyone, I thought I had to be the hero and do everything myself and...and...and if anyone's to blame for all this, it's me.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” Wendy said. “How about if instead the person actually to blame for all this is the flippin' demon who wanted to end the world.”

“I like that,” Dipper said with a grin. “Let's blame Bill.”

Ford blinked, slowly, like this thought had never occurred to him. “I...yes, it...perhaps it is time to put the blame back on the shoulders where it belongs.”

“He didn't really have shoulders,” Dipper pointed out.

“Metaphorical shoulders,” Ford amended. “The point is...you certainly aren't to blame for what happened, Mabel. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else.”

“Bill was really good at knowing right when the best time was to try and trick you,” Dipper said. “I mean, he waited to get me until I was really desperate and, uh, I'd been awake for a really long time. And he came after you when you were really upset...”

He hesitated and glanced at Grunkle Ford.

“That...is certainly true,” Ford said. “Bill was extremely good at spotting vulnerabilities.”

“Operative word being was,” Wendy pointed out.

“That's right.” Ford smiled a little. It wasn't something Mabel had seen very often, and it changed his whole face. “He's gone. We beat him. We won. Which we would not have done if you hadn't been very clever and stubborn and brave and good. So let's have no more of this, alright?”

Mabel smiled.

“C'mere, squirt.” Wendy hoisted Mabel up onto her shoulders. “We gotta get you back before Stan notices you're gone.”

“You didn't tell him?”

“We didn't want him to worry,” Dipper explained. “And it's really busy back there. I only noticed you were gone cause I went to see if you wanted to help me make some more Punch-Aid and you weren't anywhere.”

“Yeah, it's dangerous enough having one Mr. Pines freakin' out,” Wendy said. “God only knows what would happen if both of 'em thought you might be in danger. Might not be a town left afterward.”

“You're a very impudent young lady, you know that?” Ford grumbled.

Wendy grinned. “So I've been told.”

“But...um...why did you leave?” Dipper asked, looking up at Mabel with those little creases between his eyes that he always got when he was worried. Which was most of the time.

Mabel fiddled with the back of Wendy's cap. “I just...everyone was being so happy and I felt really rotten and I was trying really hard to be all happy and okay but it wasn't working and I...I don't know. I guess I kind of freaked.”

“Oh, Mabel.” Ford reached up and gently took Mabel's hand. His hand dwarfed hers and she thought of the first time she had met him. A whole finger friendlier than normal. “You...you don't have to try and act happy if you don't want to. It's, it's okay to not be okay sometimes.”

“Yeah, everyone feels rotten occasionally,” Wendy said. “Especially right now. Shhhh-shoot, man, you think everyone back at the Shack's making all that noise and using lots of power tools cause they feel really mellow? A lot of that's stress relief. It's like when my dad gets really worked up about something and he goes out and chops a bunch of trees. I mean he does that anyway, but, y'know.”

“You could always come help me and Ford down in the basement,” Dipper said. “We're fixing up the lab. It's quiet down there. Erm- that's okay, isn't it?” he added, glancing at Ford.

“Of course it's okay,” Ford said. “Frankly, we need all the help we can get down there. It's a mess, and I'm not letting Manly Dan anywhere near it-no offense, Wendy.”

“Listen, tell me something I don't know.”

Mabel perked up. “I could help you guys with your science stuff?”

“Absolutely,” Ford said.

“Oh man, there's some really cool stuff down there,” Dipper said. “Um, which I take very seriously,” he added when Ford glanced at him.

At the start of this summer, Mabel would have thought that spending an afternoon sorting out a dusty old science lab full of nerd stuff with her nerd family when there was a big loud party going on right above her would have been some kind of horrible ironic hell.

Right now it sounded like heaven.

“Oh!” she said, realizing something. “Grunkle Ford, I know something you can add to your journals!”

Ford blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah! It turns out there are nice unicorns!”

“What,” Ford said flatly.

“Get out,” Wendy said. “When did this happen?”

“Just now! I met one in the woods! She was old and grumpy and she ate all my gummy koalas but she was nice actually even though I accidentally hit her with a rock and she talked to me and then she even gave me some of her hair and I'm going to put it in a scarf!”

“Wow,” Dipper said. “Sounds kind of like Grunkle Stan.”

Ford very nearly stopped walking altogether. “What a horrible mental image.”

Mabel giggled. “It's going to be my summer memory scarf. I want to put things in it from all my friends.”

“Uh, you don't mean like, more hair, do you?” Wendy said. “Because that would be kinda weird.”

“Noooo,” Mabel said. “Just like...yarn and things. Maybe I could ask around and get everyone to pick a color of yarn.”

“That sounds rather nice,” Ford said. “I like red.”

“Dibs on green,” Wendy said.

“I call blue,” Dipper added.

“You guys do know that there are like, multiple shades of color, right?” Mabel said. “We can have different reds and greens and blues.”

“Is there a flannel shade?” Wendy asked hopefully.

“This is going to be a really interesting scarf,” Dipper muttered.

“It'll be beautiful,” Mabel said, and smiled.

But there was still one person left to tell.

Later, when the work party had broken up and everyone had gone home, leaving the Pines and one adopted honorary Pines alone in their mostly reconstructed house, Mabel sat on the arm of Grunkle Stan's chair and squirmed.

They'd gone through every scrapbook, every ancient video reel, everything concrete they could get their hands on that might jog Stan's memory. The twins had recounted every story from the course of the summer, from the biggest adventures to the tiniest anecdotes. Soos had described, at more length than was possibly strictly necessary, everything he could recall from the years that he had known Stan-if it was embellished a bit here and there, no one had said anything.

Once, Ford and Stan had gone into the kitchen and talked quietly until well after the twins had gone to bed; when they come downstairs the next morning, they found both men asleep at the table, with an empty bottle sitting between them. Dipper and Mabel had glanced at each other, fixed their bowls of cereal as quietly as possible, and crept out again without a word.

What was left now were things that no one could rediscover for Stan but himself: the things about his time in Gravity Falls that he had never told anyone, the long ten years of silence that now had no witnesses to tell the tale save a small box of keepsakes waiting in Stan's office. Stan didn't talk much about what he thought about all this, what he had remembered or not remembered; he tended to shrug it off and, laugh and steer any inquiries into another topic entirely. No one really asked much anyway.

“It's kind of like those old maps,” Dipper had said one night, as the two of them lay awake in bed talking uncertainly about it. “You know, really old cartographers, when they were making maps and there was some area they didn't know anything about, they would draw a dragon or something there instead. Like, we don't know what's out here, but it's probably really dangerous and you don't want to go there anyway. Here be dragons. Like that.”

Mabel didn't know about really old cartographers one way or the other, but it sounded right to her. Here be dragons. That was how it had felt when they had uncovered the box of fake IDs and started wondering if Stan was really even their great uncle after all: like something terrible jumping out at them from the mist. That was how it had felt when she'd been trying to figure out how Bill had gotten the rift.

For the moment, anyway, there seemed to not be much more the rest of them could do, and by general unspoken agreement it was universally felt that everyone wanted to think about something else for a little while. Dipper had suggested a movie night. This of course had immediately run into a speedbump, as no one could agree on what movie to watch, the end result being that they had decided to take turns. The disparity of tastes meant it was shaping up to be a very interesting marathon.

Dipper and Soos were in the kitchen making a small avalanche of popcorn, and Ford was off somewhere rummaging for a part that he swore would allow him to significantly upgrade the TV, leaving Stan and Mabel alone in the living room for the moment. Stan was going through the stack of movies. Mabel was fidgeting.

She knew she had to get it over with, but somehow it still wasn't any easier the third time.

“Grunkle Stan?” she said at last.

“Yeah?”

“I have to tell you something.”

She told him. It took a while. Stan wasn't entirely clear on how the whole business with the rift worked to begin with; neither was Mabel, really, come to that.

“So?” he said, when she had finally finished.

Mabel stared at him. “So...so it's kind of my fault. Um. That everything happened. That you...”

She didn't want to say it.

“I just...thought you should know,” she mumbled into the collar of her sweater.

“No it ain't,” Stan said calmly, not looking up from the pile of DVD cases.

“But...but... if I hadn't given Bill the thing-”

“There wouldn't have been a rift if I hadn't pushed Ford into that portal in the first place,” Stan said, still sounding inexplicably calm. “And spent thirty years tryin' to bring him back even when he told me not to.”

“But that was a mistake!” Mabel blurted out, horrified. This was not at all how this was supposed to be going. “It...it was an accident! You didn't mean to-”

“And you're saying you did?” Stan said, finally looking up at her.

In the sudden silence, the sound of far too much popcorn popping at once drifted in from the kitchen, along with a few panicked shouts.

Stan got up and shuffled over to the chair Mabel was sitting on. “Look,” he said, dropping into it with a sigh, “you really think I'm gonna hold something like that against you? I mean, look at all the mistakes I've made, and here you all are calling me a hero.”

“You are a hero,” Mabel said firmly.

He gave her a wry look. “Well, you can't keep calling me a hero even though I screwed up a whole lot, and keep beatin' yourself up for screwin' up. They're, uh...what's the thing. Mutually exclusive. Now, me, I'd prefer you went with the first one. It's a lot nicer for everyone.”

Mabel wasn't quite sure what to say to this.

“Anyway, take it from someone who lies to people for a living,” Stan went on. “It's not your fault. It's the other guy's fault for lyin' to you in the first place. And I punched him dead, so. Problem solved.”

To her own surprise, Mabel realized she was starting to cry again. She didn't even really know why, except that she seemed to have too many feelings all of the sudden and they were all overflowing and pouring out of her.

“Aw, c'mere, kiddo,” Stan said, holding out one arm. Mabel leaned against him and let herself be enveloped in a bear hug of the sort only Stan could provide.

“I love you, Grunkle Stan,” she whispered.

“I love you too, sweetie.”

“FOUND IT!” Ford bellowed triumphantly from somewhere deep in the house, at almost exactly the same time that the smoke alarm went off in the kitchen.

Stan rolled his eyes. Mabel giggled.

Maybe everything wasn't fine just yet.

But it was getting better.