#I know nothing about the anime aside from a reputation for being in poor taste but

[amplexadversary]

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[codedredalert]

Provocation [Golden Kamuy, Tsuki/Ogata] -- part 1/2

Tsuki/Ogata || could-be-canon pre-series || 3,254 words

Second Private Ogata is nothing but trouble, and no end to infuriating. Tsukishima is determined to treat him fairly nonetheless.

(GK fanworks exchange prompt 27: Ogata dealing with the "wildcat" jokes and consequential reputation in the army, Tsukishima somehow protecting him.)

Warnings: canon-typical violence

(On Ao3) (part 2 on tumblr)

===/\==

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Tsukishima isn't meant to hear it, but he does. He pulls two men aside to warn them for being late, and as he is walking away, he hears one mutter, "that shitty wildcat, this is his fault".

"Wildcat?" Tsukishima asks, because predatory animals near the camp are a significant concern.

"It's nothing, sir," Second Private Nikaido (he's not sure which one) responds after a moment too long and a shared look with his brother. In hindsight, that look is why Tsukishima remembers.

.

.

He doesn't think much of it until he walks into the main tent just as a fight nearly breaks out. There's shouting that abruptly cuts off as the men catch sight of him and turn to salute instead of throwing punches. Still, the tension in the air is palpable, and almost everyone is throwing dirty sideways glances at one man in particular. He's not new, but somehow, Tsukishima has yet to speak with him. His face was both familiar and less familiar than it should be, with big, dark eyes and eyebrows that turn down at both ends. He's built on the smaller side, though still taller than Tsukishima himself.

Tsukishima sighs and gestures for the men to stand at ease.

"There will be no punishment, but I need to know what happened here," he says. Most of them bow slightly in acknowledgement, though the newer men look apprehensive. No one volunteers, of course, so Tsukishima is forced to single someone out. "The Second Private in the sheepskin vest, what's your name?"

The big, honest-looking man, one of the new reserves, steps forward.

"Tanigaki Genjirou, sir."

"Second Private Tanigaki." Tsukishima nods. "What happened here?"

"I'm afraid I was not following the conversation, sir. I can only say that it appears that Second Private Ogata and Superior Private Tamai have had some disagreement."

Tsukishima turns to Superior Private Tamai expectantly.

"Second Private Ogata is just being his usual offensive self, sir. His words are not worth repeating."

"Ahh," interrupts the man with the big, dark eyes. His voice is soft with a slight rasp, almost like a purring cat. "The Superior Private and Second Private Tanigaki are giving me too much credit. I only said that having more snipers might give us more tactical options, and it's a pity that no one else in our unit is suitable. Superior Private Tamai took that as a criticism of his leadership or marksman abilities."

A collective rustle of discontent goes through the men, but no one says anything further and Tsukishima dismisses them. Then all at once, noise and movement return and it seems the men can't contain themselves anymore, speaking in agitated whispers.

"He really is a wildcat, did you hear him?"

"What a liar!"

"Shhh, the Sergeant can hear you."

"Forget the Sergeant, that bastard Ogata might hear you."

… so that's what they meant. Tsukishima thought of one particular cat back in the fishing village he once called home. A cat with a hanging belly that belonged to no-one, meowing pitifully to beg for food. Tsukishima had fed it until one fisherman had laughed at him, and told him "that cat isn't pregnant— he's just fat, and a good fraud."

He finds himself staring, and Second Private Ogata looks up and smiles.

.

.

He soon learns that there's more to it than that.

The nickname catches on with unusual speed and enthusiasm. Outside of formal channels, Second Private Ogata is almost universally referred to as "wildcat Ogata", "that wildcat", or a mix of expletives. It's compromising the order and morale of the men. Tsukishima has more pressing things to think about, but there are enough rumours that it earns its place as an item on his mental checklist of problems to deal with.

One night, when intelligence indicates that an attack by the Russians is unlikely, an air of cautious optimism pervades the camp, and men and officers alike take full advantage of the respite.

"Sergeant Tsukishima, you're slow to the party!" Someone calls to him from a group seated around a fire. "Come drink with us, Second Lieutenant Hanazawa just donated his share of sake."

Tsukishima takes his seat with them, more than readily takes the sake passed to him—he's long learned not to refuse anything that might ease the weight and reality of war— and joins them in raising a toast.

"To Yuusaku-san! May you have a long life, so your generosity can continue to bless us!"

"Empty the glasses!" someone roars amongst the cheers and uproarious laughter. "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Tsukishima echoes, raising his drink and nodding to Second Lieutenant Hanazawa. The handsome young officer laughs along with everyone, waving away the thanks modestly. That just gets him another round of cheers, and even some pats on the back.

"Yuusaku-san, you're really amazing! Brave and generous and virtuous. Your father, the Lieutenant General's blood really shows!"

A chorus of approval and agreement, indistinct. The atmosphere of relative safety and normalcy, the comfortable warmth of the fire, his accumulated fatigue, and the sake all softened the noise and going-ons around him until Tsukishima heard someone say: "Eh, no, no, that can't be right, otherwise that wildcat would also have some good qualities instead of fucking around all the time."

And then the conversation suddenly related to A Problem, and Tsukishima was too dutiful to ignore it. Holding back a sigh, he dredged up some willpower to pay attention.

"You're right, it must come from his mother's side. Or Yuusaku-san must have taken all the good parts from the Lieutenant General."

"It's true, how are they even related?"

"Simple! The child of a wildcat... must also be a wildcat!" The man who says this pronounces it with a dramatic sweep of his arm and a great deal of pride at his own cleverness, the others burst out in drunken laughter, all except Tsukishima and Second Lieutenant Hanazawa. This doesn't pass unnoticed. Not wanting to exclude their benefactor, Lance Corporal Takahashi slings his arm around the Second Lieutenant, and with all the social acumen of an injured bear, he helpfully explains.

"Ah, of course our dear flagbearer wouldn't know! Wildcat here means geisha, especially of the sort that… is willing to take some extra appointments, if you catch my meaning."

He leers so lecherously that his meaning is completely unmistakable. Second Lieutenant Hanazawa blushes, and then very rapidly goes pale. He looks like he wants to say something, but the flag-bearer's duty to camaraderie and harmony of the troops shackles him.

The same did not apply to Tsukishima.

"It does you no credit to speak ill of your fellow soldiers or their heritage," he says sharply, "—or to imply ill of your Lieutenant General."

Tsukishima speaks like the sergeant he is, so his voice carries, even if he's not trying to be particularly loud. Most of the noise in the group dies instantly, and the people at the fringes quickly quieten as well as the ones near them nudge them to lower their voices.

The Lance Corporal who was speaking does a double take, swaying slightly, drunk but not drunk enough to miss the sudden uncomfortable hush and Tsukishima's obvious disapproval.

"Ahh Sergeant, it was only a joke, a joke."

"A poor joke in bad taste," replies Tsukishima and the person's smile becomes visibly more strained, but Tsukishima doesn't care about popularity, he's a dead man returned to life by a man who outranks everyone present. Even if he were shot tomorrow, it was all borrowed time anyway, as far as he was concerned. The funny characteristic about people when they've already made their peace with death was that they cared very little about what the living think of them.

"—but—" Lance Corporal Takahashi starts to argue.

"It is also an insult to the Second Lieutenant, which is a poor way to repay him for his generosity," Tsukishima adds and as expected, that is what makes the Lance Corporal stop, glancing to the side where the Second Lieutenant is smiling uncomfortably.

"And in any case," Tsukishima continues, "it hardly matters when we're all here fighting and dying in the same war for the same country."

The mood instantly sobers, the temporary illusion of warmth and normalcy dropping away, the weight of the war they were on the front lines of returning tenfold

Tsukishima is suddenly more tired than when he first joined the group. So much for having a bit of respite this evening. He should have gone straight to the baths and stayed there.

"I've said everything I have to say and I'll stand by it, with all the authority I have. But it's late now. Excuse me, I'll take my leave." He turns to the Second Lieutenant, gives a shallow bow, probably more shallow than is polite but his body is too heavy for him to care overly much. "Thank you for the sake, sir."

He leaves. Behind him, he hears Second Lieutenant Hanazawa softly taking his leave from the table of now subdued officers. Footsteps follow him, and the young officer's voice calls out, "Wait!"

Tsukishima stops and turns, and Second Lieutenant Hanazawa jogs to meet him.

"It is good to see that the high praise I have heard about Sergeant Tsukishima is well-founded. Thank you for your defense of my elder brother."

"Second Lieutenant Hanazawa, you're being far too kind. Anything I said was merely for satisfaction of my own principles."

Tsukishima wants to turn and leave, but the Second Lieutenant looks like he has more to say, and the mix of decorum, rank, and actually not disliking the young man keeps Tsukishima standing there.

"I thought they might treat him better if they knew we were related," confesses Hanazawa, "but that provoked people's curiosity. In the end, I seem to have made more trouble for my elder brother."

From the little Tsukishima is aware of, he rather thinks that Second Private Ogata makes most of the trouble himself— there couldn't be that much smoke without even a spark of fire— but as with most situations where he doesn't know enough, he keeps his mouth shut.

Suddenly realising that he was keeping Tsukishima standing in the cold for a personal conversation, Second Lieutenant Hanazawa startles.

"I've said too much." Second Lieutenant Hanazawa bows again. "I beg for your discretion with this information."

"Of course, sir," Tsukishima replies. When Second Lieutenant Hanazawa smiles widely in relief, Tsukishima doesn't have the heart to tell him that he is just closing the doors after the horse has bolted.

.

.

That conversation haunts him, annoyingly mundane amongst the greater horrors he has to deal with. It invokes memories of his home being mocked as unclean, a murderer's dwelling-place, and the murder of a kind girl for no reason other than the appearance she was born with and the misfortune of his affection. Tsukishima takes the old nightmares in stride, as he takes everything, but every time he sees the cloaked figure of Second Private Ogata huddling near a fire or brazier, the thought returns to him, an incomplete task.

It doesn't sit well with him.

The gods give him his chance a few days later, when Second Private Ogata walks by and gives him the mandatory salute. Again, Tsukishima is struck by his big dark eyes, true black catching a small gleam of light, intelligent and strange. If all-seeing eyes existed, they must be like his. Ogata glances over Tsukishima, but his eyes don't settle, don't even linger, like he's seen all there is to see and has already dismissed it with a flick of dark eyelashes, already looking for something else.

He is a sniper. Tsukishima had looked at his records. An unnaturally good one too. It made a man wonder what those eyes could see.

"Second Private Ogata."

"Sir."

"It has come to my attention that these 'wildcat' references are an insult to your private matters and parentage. I don't stand such things. If they bring up that distasteful joke again, let me know."

A blink from those big dark eyes.

"I can deal with it," Second Private Ogata starts to say, but Tsukishima cuts him off before he can go on to make the obligatory polite refusals. He's in no mood for the song and dance of social niceties. The memory of dark hair in unusual curls and a murderer called father are too close to his thoughts today.

"This is a matter of principle. Insulting a person for their heritage has no place in this regiment." Tsukishima surprises himself with how forcefully the words come out, though that is probably not noticeable to someone who does not know him well.

"If it's not about me, then I wonder why the sergeant decided to talk to me?" Ogata's tone, normally flat with disinterest, curled ever so slightly with curiosity now. "Just make an order or punishment, as you please. Sir."

He makes a point, and somehow Tsukishima does not like the question. Still, he answers.

"An order might confirm the information and disservice you and Second Lieutenant Hanazawa more. But if that's what it takes, I will make the order and enforce it with my own two hands if I must."

Something changes. Ogata's eyes feel like they finally focus on him, even with the strange sensation that they are too big and taking everything at once, at least now that includes him. Ogata comes to some decision, lifting his chin.

"I can deal with it, sir. No need to trouble yourself."

His eyes are unreadable.

.

.

The atmosphere in the regiment becomes more vicious. As Tsukishima investigates, small misfortunes start making sense.

Superior Private Tamai's rifle sight rusts on a perfectly dry night. Second Private Tanigaki's uniform buttons go missing. Lance Corporal Takahashi's trigger finger is shot off.

No one knows for certain that it's Second Private Ogata, but everyone knows.

.

.

"You wanted to speak to me, sir?"

Ogata reports as he is required to, but from his carefully blank expression, it's clear he doesn't intend to cooperate. Tsukishima looks up from where he is writing a report and puts down his pen, sits back, more upright.

"I was under the impression we had an understanding," he says grimly, "that you'd come to me regarding those insults if necessary."

"It was not necessary," replied Ogata, just this side of insubordinate, and with a very neutral expression he goes on to say, "But I appreciate the Sergeant's special attention."

"Then it would befit Second Private Ogata to show his appreciation via his conduct."

"What conduct do you suggest?" he asks blithely with an innocently straight face and his too-big eyes and his purring voice. He's far too aware for that ignorance to be genuine.

How irritating.

"Report to me instead of acting on your own," Tsukishima says forcefully. "Or if you don't wish to bring the matter to me, you are free to go to the Second Lieutenant if you prefer. He is more than willing to help you." That gets the first involuntary reaction he sees from Ogata, a definitive rise in his shoulders, a slight lean away from Tsukishima, as if he could physically avoid the suggestion.

"If I don't go to the Sergeant, how could I go to the Second Lieutenant?" asks Ogata, insulting while somehow still staying just this side of appropriate enough to avoid penalty. "As I said, I can deal with it. There's no need to trouble yourself, sir."

.

.

Three more men trade their trigger fingers for a ticket out of the regiment.

There is no evidence that it is Second Private Ogata.

There is no evidence that it is not Second Private Ogata.

.

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This time, Tsukishima does not send a missive, he pulls Second Private Ogata aside himself.

"I told you to come to me," Tsukishima starts without preamble.

"I don't know what you mean," says Ogata with a straight face.

It takes everything in Tsukishima not to react visibly to that.

"Antagonising our own unit members is bad for morale," replies Tsukishima flatly. "And some actions are outright sabotage, or treason."

"Is Sergeant Tsukishima suggesting I would do such things?" Ogata has the gall to look surprised, and even slightly offended. Tsukishima doesn't buy it for a second.

"I am trying to be fair to you. Stop putting me in a position where I have to punish the people you provoke."

"Mmm, Sergeant Tsukishima has been very patient and generous, all for me." The words in themselves are perfectly polite, but something in the way he says it twists it to mockery. It stops all sound but the blood rushing in Tsukishima's ears.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tsukishima challenges. A spark lights in Ogata's eyes, and he tilts up his chin, looking down his nose at Tsukishima.

"Obviously the sergeant doesn't care that much about me. So the sergeant must be personally invested in this type of insult, right?"

The protest "I'm not" dies unsaid in Tsukishima's throat as patently untrue. He looks at Ogata, unable to find something to say in the varied mess of emotion struggling to resolve into something comprehensible. Disbelief, irritation, anger, sadness, profound regret, longing, something a little bit of all of these and yet none of them.

Ogata looks at him as Tsukishima's silent struggle grows, and at length, Ogata speaks.

"You already know how the unit talks about me," Ogata says. He is unbearably smug and insubordinate despite the formal address. "So this show of yours must be because you want to make sure they don't talk about you behind your back. Do you want to know what they say about you? Or is that too 'inappropriate'— it's true that I can take it better than you, just judging from your reaction."

Tsukishima's emotions resolve decidedly into fury, which he holds back for a moment before thinking — why not and swinging, landing a good hit right in the face. His fist crunches into Ogata's nose satisfyingly, makes contact with the hard socket and soft tissue of Ogata's eye. His knuckles sting slightly from the impact, tingling with the blood in his small capillaries, with the satisfaction of justified anger finding a deserving target.

Ogata's eyes have a victorious gleam of malicious amusement for a passing fraction of a second as Tsukishima swings, then he goes staggering into a tree.

"You really bring out the worst in people," Tsukishima mutters under his breath, not intending for Ogata to hear but Ogata's expression turns even more smug and even more infuriating. Tsukishima has met the worst of men, has the blood of one in his own veins even, but Ogata is something else— he thinks he's invincible and untouchable and the only real thing. He's vicious for sport and everything is a joke, even in the middle of a war. He wants to watch the world burn.

He's a liability.

With this realisation, Tsukishima knows what he must do. He looks down at Ogata where the man lays on the floor and doesn't even attempt to get up, and Tsukishima tells him, "Your attitude has become too big of an issue. I will have to bring your matter to my superior officer."

"A big issue," Ogata repeats slowly, smiling at the words as if Tsukishima had just cracked a joke instead of informing him that a disciplinary matter would be escalated. He sits up, and looks up to Tsukishima, blood dripping from his nose, the beginnings of a bruise already showing around his eye. It'll be swollen shut before tomorrow. "Please mention me favourably then, Sergeant Tsukishima."

.

===/end of part 1\===

(On Ao3) (part 2 on tumblr)  ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen ponders on the changes he sees in his fiancé, and shares some news with Nie Huaisang

It takes Lan Xichen by surprise when he enters the classroom after his uncle and Nie Huaisang smiles at him. They haven't talked since the day Nie Huaisang was told he failed his exams, not even for an apology. Lan Xichen generously told his uncle that he did not require one given in person, that writing it down would be more than enough. 

At least, he told himself that it was generosity. Mostly, once the shock of Nie Huaisang's outburst had passed and Lan Wangji confirmed that the other boy hadn't done anything stupid out of emotion, Lan Xichen had been too upset to want to deal with Nie Huaisang in any manner. Anger was one thing, but daring to compare Lan Xichen to someone like Jin Zixun and calling him the worse of the two had been uncalled for. After all, Lan Xichen has done his best to be kind. 

So the smile surprises him. 

Seeing Nie Huaisang trade amused glances with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian as Lan Qiren reminds everyone of Gusu Lan's rules, that also surprises him. He doesn't think Nie Huaisang has ever met either of them, and he's always been solitary before. Lan Xichen can only hope that Jiang Wanying has sincerely taken pity on Nie Huaisang. He would rather not have to deal with another Jin Zixun situation.

Very soon though, it is neither Nie Huaisang nor Jiang Wanyin who grab his attention, but the top disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen has never spoken to him before, but he’s heard his reputation, and earlier this morning Lan Wangji complained to him and their uncle about this unruly student who broke curfew, drank alcohol, and fought with him. It’s not that nobody ever breaks the rules, but usually they wait until a little later in the year, when they feel the Lan disciples will have relaxed their surveillance. For someone to act so boldly on their very first night… of course Lan Wangji would be in a bad mood.

A mood that Lan Qiren soon shares when it becomes obvious that, even though he has started reading aloud the rules of Gusu Lan so nobody can say they’re not aware of them, Wei Wuxian isn’t paying attention. He also doesn’t seem impressed when Lan Qiren starts quizzing him about this and that, answering quickly and perfectly while the other students tense with each new question. Lan Xichen would never admit it, but it is rather entertaining to see his uncle fail to catch Wei Wuxian at fault with his answers, a sentiment his brother apparently does not share, judging by the way he glares at the other boy.

It does appear that Lan Qiren will win this showdown when Wei Wuxian fails to answer a question that’s of a rather higher level than what would normally be expected for boys that age. But with renewed boldness, Wei Wuxian starts making improper suggestions that shock nearly everyone in the room and pushes Lan Qiren to a degree of anger his nephew has rarely seen since his mother’s death. Lan Qiren finds himself throwing books at Wei Wuxian, trying in vain to shut him up about his heretical theories, and one of those books hits Nie Huaisang’s head, bringing Lan Xichen’s attention back to him.

He’d have expected Nie Huaisang to be terrified, as he always is whenever anything happens, or perhaps to start crying because of the underserved blow. Instead, Lan Xichen finds his fiancé distractedly rubbing his head and trying to contain a grin as he stares at Wei Wuxian with ever growing delight.

It’s odd, seeing Nie Huaisang with such an expression.

When Lan Qiren’s anger rises so much he orders Wei Wuxian to get out, only to actually be obeyed by Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang is the first to recover from the shock of it. He starts laughing, soon joined by a few others, and doesn’t stop until Lan Qiren gives all of them a portion of the rules to copy for their insolence.

Thankfully, the rest of the lesson passes without more trouble. Lan Wangji dutifully listens to every word that their uncle says, even though none of it is new to him. Lan Xichen does his best to look as if he’s listening as well, while actually thinking of the things he needs to get done once the lecture is done, from an unpleasant conversation to be had, to a new song he’s learning on the xiao that he can’t seem to get quite right, meaning he needs to check with the music master if he’s free. He also promised to help check some details of the sect’s budget, since his uncle is starting to ease him into taking a more active role in these things. It's unlikely that his father will ever leave his seclusion, after all.

Quite honestly, being at this lecture is a waste of Lan Xichen’s time, but Lan Qiren insisted that it would be good for the guest disciple to know him and Lan Wangji. There are, after all, a lot of important young masters among their ranks this year.

It’s a relief when the lecture finishes at last, though that relief is short-lived when his uncle reminds him that he must speak to Nie Huaisang. To Lan Xichen’s dismay, his fiancé was among the very first to leave the classroom, dashing outside in company of Jiang Cheng, followed dutifully by the disciples of their respective sects. Having no choice, Lan Xichen too leaves, joined quickly by his brother.

“Do you need something, Wangji?” he asks, walking at a fast pace in an effort to catch up with the other boys.

“I will greet Nie gongzi as well,” Lan Wangji simply replies.

Lan Xichen rolls his eyes, but can’t help a small smile. The rabbit painting still hangs in his brother’s room. Lan Wangji has poor taste in friends, but as long as he gets out of his shell a little, Lan Xichen counts it as a win.

By the time they finally catch up with Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng at the gate of one of the gardens, the two have found Wei Wuxian and are chatting with him. Once again, Lan Xichen cannot help but be struck by how animated Nie Huaisang appears to be in the company of these two. In fact, isn’t it odd that he’s talking at all? The very few times Lan Xichen has seen him around other people (and that has always been rare indeed) Nie Huaisang was never more than a listener. Now, though, he is an active participant, making comments and being replied to by the other boys, as if all of his old awkwardness were nothing but a dream.

Lan Xichen turns to his brother to comment on this, then nearly laughs at the intense look on Lan Wangji’s face. It’s rare for him to get properly angry, but apparently Wei Wuxian has accomplished that feat, judging by the way Lan Wangji glares at him.

When Lan Xichen turns his attention back to the other group, it is to discover that they have been spotted. Jiang Cheng seems a little awkward, while Wei Wuxian appears delighted to see Lan Wangji. As for Nie Huaisang he now hides behind a fan, nothing but his eyes peeking out to stare at Lan Xichen with a more familiar anxiety.

“May I have a word with Nie gongzi?” Lan Xichen asks, coming closer.

Nie Huaisang startles at the demand. Wei Wuxian just grins, and looks at Lan Wangji.

“Sure, you can have him a moment. Can we have Lan Zhan in exchange? Lan Zhan, come chat with us, it’ll be fun!”

Aside from their mother and Lan Xichen himself, it is certainly the first time that anyone uses Lan Wangji’s personal name. It is no surprise that his glare intensifies, and that he decides to leave right away without taking the time to talk to Nie Huaisang after all. Again, Lan Xichen half wants to laugh, especially since it doesn’t seem that Wei Wuxian is being so familiar out of mean spiritedness. If Lan Wangji’s account of their fight the previous night is anything to go by, these two are of a similar level in swordsmanship. Considering how hard it is for Lan Wangji to find a worthwhile opponent, Wei Wuxian too must struggle to find someone worth sparring with and it wouldn’t be surprising if he enjoyed their little squabble.

It is something to consider later. Lan Wangji is really too solitary, it would be good for him to make friends.

First, though, Lan Xichen has his own problems to take care of.

“Will Nie gongzi come with me, then?” he insists.

With a reluctance he doesn’t try to hide, Nie Huaisang leaves his group to come at Lan Xichen’s side. Since the conversation they need to have is a somewhat private matter, Lan Xichen motions for his fiancé to follow him and they walk further into the gardens. Only when it is unlikely anyone will hear does Lan Xichen finally speak.

“My uncle has asked me to share with you some orders he gave concerning the both of us,” he announces. “He is concerned that we do not get along as well as might be preferred in a situation such as ours, and wants us to spend more time together to remedy it. From now on, we must…”

“No,” Nie Huaisang cuts him, hiding behind his fan as if it were a shield. “I don’t want to.”

“My uncle orders it,” Lan Xichen insists, shocked by this rejection of his authority. “He suggested it to your brother who agreed. We are to meet every week and…”

“No,” Nie Huaisang repeats, with more assurance, though his fan trembles a little. “I won’t do it. Da-ge did not tell me to. Your uncle did not tell me to. And I’m not listening to you.”

“You think I’d lie?”

The very idea is outrageous. Refusal to lie is held as one of the most important rules of Gusu Lan, so to be accused of it by someone who has, in fact, lied right to Lan Xichen’s face several times, is appalling. Nie Huaisang must realise it as well. He hesitates, his fan definitely shaking now from how hard he grasps it.

“I think I don’t care what you have to say,” he announces with surprising firmness. “I think if your uncle has sometimes to tell me, he can say it himself, and I’ll believe him. Until then, I’m not spending more time with you than I have to.”

Taken aback and feeling anger rise in him, Lan Xichen doesn’t stop Nie Huaisang when the other boy simply leaves. It’s for the best, because such audacity very nearly makes him lose his calm. He doesn’t know what angers him most: that Nie Huaisang would think that Lan Xichen would for some reason lie in an effort to spend time with him, or that his fiancé appears to treat his company as deeply undesirable.

As soon as he regains his calm, Lan Xichen decides to seek out his uncle and tell him about this unexpected and most shocking development.

He doesn’t know what game Nie Huaisang has decided to start playing, but he doesn’t like it in the least.

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 49

AN-So its abuot time I fucking post this chapter on here, huh? What can I say, I’ve had a busy day :P But anyway, I gotta say I’m still quite proud of this one. It was a struggle for sure (and ridiculously LONG) But the parts of it that shine just shine so much! So if you haven’t already read it yet, enjoy!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/170522545399/universe-falls-chapter-48-part-2

Chapter 49: Northwest Mansion Nightmare

N PLWKERY TSTVVAESF VNB JBSARUX N FZGNERY URZC HY CLGLGZP OPKPWGPS R KVIEFVR HYXF PLGNTVK MOAC'V GRJVK ZAI EBTVK LVIIVTL GFHU FYKM PCDX AK FW

Northwest Manor was bustling with activity as its various staff and servants bustled about, preparing for the immaculate celebration held within its lavish gates. The aptly named Northwest Fest was by and large a legendary party, one that carried a very high reputation that extended far beyond the boarders of Gravity Falls alone. And like all the parties prior to it, this year’s formal event was rumored to be every bit as posh and elegant, if not then some, and those were exactly the kind of rumors that both Preston and Priscilla Northwest wanted circulating as they oversaw the preparations for the event.

“Preston, I must say, the guest list for this year’s party has so much diversity!” Priscilla remarked to her husband as she overlooked said list.

“Yes, a nice mix of millionaires and billionaires,” Preston nodded proudly as one of his many servants handed him the day’s newspaper. His calm manner abruptly shifted, however, upon noticing another servant incorrectly setting the nearby table nearby with fine china and pure silverware, which the billionaire was quick to correct with an admonishing swat with his newspaper. “Put the oyster fork at an angle! We’re not animals, man!”

“E-excuse me, Mr. Northwest?” another servant anxiously interjected, two other staff members hauling in a large covered glass case behind him. “T-those rare, uncut gemstones you ordered have arrived.”

“Ah, yes, good,” Preston said rather dismissively. “Let me see them.”

“Oh, uh, w-well, sir…” the servant continued, wringing his hands nervously as the other staff removed the cover from the case. “They… they’re not exactly what you ordered…”

“I’ll say they’re not!” the billionaire exclaimed hotly upon taking a look at the collection of precious stones before him. Instead of the smooth, radiant gems he had been expecting, these stones were clustered and clumped together with no real order or organization at all, giving each set a haphazard, almost even ugly appearance. “What on earth all these… hideous things!? I specifically ordered the finest raw gemstones available, not these grotesque chunks of rock!”

“Ugh, just look at them!” Priscilla interjected, quite mortified herself. “What will our guests think if they see those gaudy excuses for gemstones?!”

“They won’t be thinking anything because they’re not going to see them,” Preston staunchly concluded as he addressed the servant. “Take those back to the jeweler immediately and have them send us some real stones to put on display.”

“W-well, normally I would, sir, b-but… these were the last gems the jeweler had…” the servant gulped fretfully. “T-they said they found them buried not too far away from a canyon a few hours out from town and that they’re actually quite rare, but-”

“But nothing!” the billionaire huffed, quite displeased. “I suppose that since its far too short notice to get replacements, we’ll just have to put last year’s gemstones out on display like we’re a bunch of simple peasants! And as for those… unsightly hunks of rock… just put the entire case in some hallway that no one’s likely to wander down during the party. We’ll figure out what to do with those disappointments later.”

“Speaking of which, where the devil is-” Priscilla cut herself off upon spotting her daughter finally making a rather tardy appearance. All the same, Pacifica smiled brightly as she strode into the room, already clad in the sophisticated light green ball gown she planned on wearing to the party the following evening. Her mother, however, was far from pleased. “Pacifica! What did I tell you about that dress?! The theme for the party is sea foam green, not lake foam green! Go change!”

“B-but… I kind of like it…” the heiress frowned, having already anticipated this scolding. Still, she had hoped her mother wouldn’t have noticed when she had put the dress on, but clearly, Priscilla’s sharp eye for fashion beat her own tastes in this case.

“Mind your mother, Pacifica,” Preston gave his daughter a critical glance. Still, given the fact that this was a rather minor detail, Pacifica hoped that she could somehow win out in this debate, even if she knew her chances were rather slim.

“B-but I-” Her soft protests were succinctly cut off by the sharp, high ring of a small bell, courtesy of her father. A bell that she was all too familiar with and knew well to obey. “Y-yes, father…” she muttered meekly, glancing down in embarrassment for even trying.

However, before Pacifica could even head out to follow her parent’s rigid orders, the entire dining room began to shake as if it was being rattled by a major earthquake. And yet, this was no natural occurrence as the dining ware on the table began to clatter violently, a bizarre, undeterminable gale striking up solely inside of the room as everyone present gasped in terror over the alarming sight surrounding them.

“Oh no!” Preston exclaimed fearfully, well aware of exactly what was going on. “It’s… happening.” The billionaire didn’t have much more of a chance to react to this newfound catastrophe before the opulent objects filling the room, plates, forks, knives, spoons, trays, chairs, and more, all suddenly lifted up into the air, flying around at random as they seemed to launch themselves on their own accord. Many of the servants fled altogether as this dangerous cascade of inanimate items swirled around the room, but even so, Preston did his best to fend the attacking objects off, though to little avail. “You are my possessions! Obey me!” he ordered, only for several plates to go zooming towards him in particular. The billionaire let out a frightened cry as he joined his wife and daughter in hiding under the table in the hopes that it would shield them from this chaotic onslaught.

“This is a disaster!” Priscilla cried, aptly panicked as the silverware continued flying just overhead. “The party’s in just 24 hours! What are we going to do?!”

“Surely there’s someone who can handle this sort of nonsense!” Preston lamented, only for his cry to receive a timely answer as a copy of the newspaper flopped down onto the ground right in front of him. Its headlining article featured a giant bat attacking Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland atop the town’s bell tower. Though what stood out most was the young boy, roughly about Pacifica’s age, whom he had seen around town a handful of times this summer, fearlessly fending the bat off while the officers behind him cowered in fear. Clearly, from his brazen, undaunted expression, he seemed to be right at home warding away such supernatural danger, which was something that gave Preston a much-needed idea for how to handle the current plight the upcoming party was facing. “And I think I know just the person…”

Things had been rather uneventful around the Mystery Shack as of late, a welcome change of pace, particularly for Dipper as he used this relatively peaceful rainy morning as a rare chance to relax. He had already set up shop in the den, surrounded by a plentiful abundance of snacks and sodas to keep him company as he sat comfily in front of the TV.

“You asked for it, you got it!” the TV blared excitedly. “An entire 48-hour marathon of Ghost Harassers, on the Used To Be About History Channel!”

“Be strong, bladder. We’re not gonna move until sunset,” Dipper remarked, more than content to do just that. Until, of course, his plans quickly fell through.

“We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news!” the local town news commandeered the broadcast, deviating away from the ghost hunting marathon, much to Dipper’s immediate disappointment.

“Aw, what?” he frowned crossly, only for Mabel to suddenly run in, Candy and Grenda trailing blithely behind her.

“It’s starting!” she quipped, hopping onto the chair beside her brother and forcing him to move aside.

“Turn it up!” Candy exclaimed, squeezing onto the other side of the chair as her and Mabel essentially sandwiched the already rather perturbed Dipper between them.

“Make room for Grenda!” Grenda shouted boisterously, leaping on top of them all and recklessly knocking over a lamp in the process. The girls were just in time to see the beginning of the news story, featuring Toby Determined reporting on the scene outside of Northwest Manor, standing amongst an already very large, very eager crowd of townsfolk. “Well, tonight’s the night, but I’ve been out here for days!” the reporter exclaimed, his clothes tattered and muddy from doing so. “The Northwest family’s annual high-society-shindig-ball-soiree is here! And even though common folk aren’t let in, that doesn’t stop us from camping out right outside the gates for a peek at the fanciness!”

“Ooooooh!” all three of the girls mused, stars of amazement in their eyes as they stared at the screen, enthralled. Dipper, on the other hand, couldn’t have been any less interested in this rather soft, largely unimportant news.

“Ok, can someone please explain to me why people actually care about this?” he asked dryly, rolling his eyes at the brief snippets of poor-quality clips of past Northwest parties on screen.

“Northwest Fest is pretty much the best party of all time!” Grenda informed in her usual loud way. “Rich food, richer boys!”

“They say each gift basket has a live quail inside!” Mabel added just as enthusiastically.

“Give me your life, Pacifica…” Candy sighed wistfully as a clip of the heiress played during the newscast.

“You guys have got to be kidding,” Dipper deadpanned. “In case you’ve already forgotten, Pacifica Northwest has been a complete jerk to us all summer. She’s almost as bad as Gideon, minus the whole trying to kill us thing.”

“Oh, come on, bro-bro, you’re overexaggerating,” Mabel huffed. “Pacifica’s nowhere near as crazy or evil as Gideon is.”

“Maybe not, but she’s still the worst.” Dipper was suddenly interupted by a random knock on the door, but even so, his sour attitude towards the heiress didn’t change as he got up to answer it. “And that’s not just jealousy talking; I’d say that to her face.”

Ironically enough, however, the face he was met with upon opening the door was none other than Pacifica’s herself. “I need your help,” she said, saving the pleasantries and getting right to the point.

A very brief beat of rather awkward silence passed between the two of them before Dipper quickly acted upon what he had previously said. “You’re the worst,” he quickly told the heiress before abruptly slamming the door on her without bothering to hear her out whatsoever.

The trio of girls inside gasped in horror at response to Dipper’s careless rudeness towards Pacifica, especially given the fact that her family was hosting the most incredible party in town. Still, he hardly seemed to care as he turned towards them, arms crossed and caustic expression set. “See?”

Unfortunately for him, Pacifica wasn’t willing to give up that easily as she knocked on the door once again, this time much more insistently. And despite really not wanting to, Dipper knew that she likely wouldn’t go away until he at the very least heard her out. “Alright, what do you want?” he asked coldly as he opened the door again, sending her a quite transparent glare.

“Look, you think its easy for me to come here?” Pacifica asked, dressed in clothing that would largely obscure her identity, including a scarf over her hair and sunglasses over her eyes. “I don’t want to be seen in this hovel. But my dad made me come all the way out here because there’s something haunting Northwest Manor.” At this, the heiress removed her sunglasses, a hint of desperation in her otherwise haughty manner as she continued. “If you don’t help me, the party could be ruined!”

“And you really think that matters to me, like, at all?” Dipper raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why I should even trust you. All you’ve ever done is try to humiliate me, Mabel, Steven, and Connie.”

“Hey, its not my fault you four are easy targets,” Pacifica scowled, every bit as bitter over this exchange as Dipper was. “Just name your price, ok? My dad will freak out if go back without any help, so I’ll give you anything!”

“Hi, Pacifica!” Mabel quickly interjected, rushing to the door before her brother could get a single word out. “Excuse us!” At this, she was quick to pull Dipper back into the shack despite his confused protest. “Dipper! Don’t you see what this means?!” she asked him in a fervent whisper. “If you help Pacifica, you could get us into the greatest party of all time!”

“What?” Dipper asked incredulously. “Mabel, this is Pacifica we’re talking about here. Helping her out will just end up turning into a huge disaster, I know it.”

“But it’s Candy and Grenda’s dream!” Mabel pleaded, nodding back to the starry eyed duo behind her. “And you know… it’s kinda mine too and you’d totally be the world’s number one best brother ever if you got me and my friends into this party and I’d totally owe you and shower you with the biggest, happiest hugs I can give and-”

“Ugh, alright already!” Dipper interjected, quite tired of his sister’s enthusiastic rambling on the matter as be begrudgingly turned to address Pacifica again. “I’ll bust your ghost. But in exchange, I’ll need three tickets to the party.”

The heiress let out a disgruntled growl at this, but nonetheless she conceded, reaching into her purse and retrieving the aforementioned tickets. “You’re just lucky I’m desperate.”

“Woo!” all three of the girls chanted in absolute elation in the living room, completely overwhelmed with excitement about the immaculate party that lay ahead of them. “Desperate! Desperate! Desperate!”

“Grenda, get the glue gun!” Mabel commanded with a huge, zealous grin. “We’re making dresses!”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I agreed to this…” Pacifica muttered, face palming as she prepared to leave.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this either…” Dipper remarked just as crossly, almost completely certain that he’d come to regret this choice some way or another.

Warm, plentiful laughter rung out between Steven and Connie as they emerged from the house, Lion trailing not too far behind them. The pair had spent most of the morning hanging out around the temple, with Connie practicing her sword skills on her own while Steven readily cheered her on. Still, soon enough the rousing rounds of swings and swipes soon came to an end as they decided to head down to the shack for a bit to see what Dipper and Mabel were up to.

“Well, time to assume my secret identity,” Connie joked, putting her glassless glasses back on. “Thanks again for letting me practice at your place, Steven. It’s a shame I can’t practice at home…”

“Well, why can’t you?” Steven asked, curious as he continued to hold the umbrella up for both of them, shielding them from the rain as they walked down the hill.

“Because my mom would totally flip if she caught me with a sword,” Connie remarked with a small chuckle, even though she was being serious. “And besides, Pearl hasn’t given me a ‘take home’ sword yet like she has for Dipper. Probably because I haven’t really gone on a lot of missions with you guys since we’ve started training, which I understand.”

Steven took pause upon hearing this, seeing that while Connie was apparently complacent with this fact, there was still a hint of longing in her expression all the same. Longing that he couldn’t help but feel compelled to fulfill. “Hey, wait a sec,” the young Gem stopped, prompting both Connie and Lion to do the same. “May I?” he asked, turning to the pink beast, who obediently lowered his head to allow his owner to reach inside his magical mane. Connie watched in apt curiosity as Steven felt around inside the pocket dimension for a moment, before finding what he was looking for and pulling it cleanly out of Lion’s forehead: Rose Quartz’s legendary sword.

“Here-eth,” Steven began, playfully yet dutifully bowing before the rather surprised Connie. “You can borrow-ethhhh my mother’s sword-ethhhhh.”

“S-Steven! That… that’s so nice!” Connie exclaimed with a small, albeit taken aback smile. “If grammatically incorrect. But…” At this point she was quick to switch into the same medieval tone Steven had been using. “Thou canst just giveth me thine mother’s sword!”

“Why not… -ethhhh?” the young Gem asked with a confused frown.

“Because its really important-ethhh!” Connie argued as they finally made it to the shack.

“That’s exactly why you should have-ethhhh it! You can have it to practice-ethhh with-ethhhh.”

Connie hesitated as Steven presented the sword to her once more, its large, pink form suddenly seeming quite intimidating as she looked upon it. This was by far a special blade, one that held more history that she could likely ever even hope to understand. Even with her skills progressing at the rate they were, she still felt largely unworthy by merit alone to wield such an impressively powerful sword. And yet, as she looked back to the young Gem who was so kindly offering it to her with such a hopeful smile, she found it was becoming increasingly difficult to turn that offer down. “Are you sure-ethhh?”

“Positive-ethhh,” Steven nodded with a confident, steady grin. One that was finally enough to convince Connie to take the illustrious, surprisingly light sword into her own hands.

“Thhhhhhank you!” she exclaimed with a laugh, finally capping off the pair’s playful barrage of medieval speech.

“You’re welcome,” Steven said, his smile finally falling a bit as his tone became serious. “It’s just… I was thinking… We gotta be ready if we need to fight Malachite or Peridot o-or Bill or… or those creepy Gem fusion experiments. And seeing as how you’ve already got the skills, all you really needed was a sword. Which means we’re bound to be ready for whatever comes our way next.”

“Well, there’s no real way of knowing that for sure,” Connie mused thoughtfully as they prepared to head inside the shack. “But still, I’ll take good care of it.”

The pair exchanged another warm smile as they opened the door, only to find a scene of colorful chaos unfurling before them. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were congregated in the den, mutually awash in frantic excitement as they scrambled to put their home-made evening gowns together in time for the party. As Candy and Grenda collaborated on pouring copious amounts of glitter onto a swath of already very shiny fabric, Mabel rushed towards the stairs, energized as ever.

“Hi, Steven! Hi, Connie!” she greeted the confused pair quickly as she ran past them. “No time to talk! Our pom-pom supply is running dangerously low and I gotta replenish it ASAP!”

“Uh… what’s going on?” Connie asked as Mabel rushed off.

“They’re getting ready for tonight,” Dipper said as he came over to join the pair.

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Steven asked curiously.

“There’s some stupid party happening at Northwest Manor,” Dipper explained, still rather vexed over the matter. “And I somehow got roped by Pacifica into getting rid of a ghost that’s apparently haunting the place in exchange for getting those three tickets for it.”

“Oh my gosh, the party!” Connie exclaimed with a recollective gasp. “I can’t believe I forgot about it! Ugh, my mom got invited for being one of the ‘top tier medical professionals’ in Gravity Falls, which means I have to go too, as much as I’d rather do literally anything else.”

“Same here,” Dipper staunchly agreed. “The last thing I want to do is spend an evening with Pacifica, of all people.”

“Tell me about it,” Connie crossed her arms with equal distain. “It’s kind of hard to believe Pacifica would ask you for help, Dipper, seeing as how she’s made it really clear she hates all four of us. Not that the feeling isn’t completely mutual, seeing as how she’s just about the worst.”

“That’s what I said!” Dipper exclaimed, exasperated. “But unfortunately, I couldn’t really turn her down; Mabel would have never let me live it down if I didn’t get those tickets for her.”

“Aw, I don’t know what you two are so upset about,” Steven interjected with a small smile. “This party sounds like a lot of fun! You know, aside from that whole ghost thing you mentioned, Dipper.”

“Yeah, it’ll be ‘fun’ alright,” Dipper deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “About as fun as getting a root canal.”

“Or getting hit by a bus,” Connie added before they both broke out into a bout of rather cynical laughter. Steven didn’t really join in on it as someone knocked on the door, but even so, as he went to answer it he offered the pair some more encouragement over the evening they were both so clearly dreading.

“Well, even if you guys don’t think so, I still think you’ll both have a great time at the party,” the young Gem said warmly. “I sure wish I could go. But I wasn’t invited, so I guess I’ll just have to-” Steven cut himself off as he opened the door to see a rather impatient doctor standing outside. “D-Dr. Maheswaran!”

“Yes, yes, hello, Steven,” Priyanka greeted dully as she stepped inside. “Hello, Dipper.”

“Uh, hi, Dr. Maheswaran,” Dipper replied, glancing over at Connie in confusion as she hurriedly hid Rose’s sword behind her back before her mother could see it.

“M-Mom!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with alarm at this unexpected intrusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to pick you up so we can go get ready for the party this evening, remember?” Priyanka remarked in a huff. “It’s only a few hours away and we have much to do before then, to the point that I even had to leave work early. But it’ll all be worth it if I can land the Northwests as the sponsors for the purposed new wing at the hospital. Which means I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight, young lady.”

“Yes, mother…” Connie grumbled, far from keen on the idea of sucking up to Pacifica’s family like her mother seemed to be.

“Now say goodbye to your friends,” the doctor ordered, reaching out to grab her daughter’s hand without any warning. “We’ll have to hurry if we want to-” Priyanka stopped short upon hearing the noisy clatter that came as a result of Connie loosing her grip on the sword she had been concealing as it fell to the floor.

“Oh no…” Connie groaned, face palming as she realized she had no time to reclaim it before her mother turned to see it lying in plain sight on the ground beside her.

“Is that… a sword?!” Priyanka gasped, picking the sheathed blade up in complete appalment. “Connie, where did you get this?!”

“I-it’s-” Steven nervously began to explain before Connie quickly interupted him.

“I-I found it! It was just… lying outside and I wanted to show it to Steven and Dipper.”

“Wait, but isn’t that Rose’s-” Dipper was immediately cut off by Connie as she slapped a silencing hand over his mouth while her mother seethed with fury all the while.

“How could you possibly think this is ok?!” the doctor exclaimed, completely livid as she paced back and forth the foyer with the sword still in her grip. “Do you know how many children I see coming into the hospital every day who’ve cut their faces off playing with swords?”

“Uh…”

“None!” Priyanka snapped hotly. “Because they have parents who love them and don’t let them play around with deadly weapons like some kind of gang member!”

“B-but-” Connie tried to protest, but her mother immediately shot her down.

“No buts! I don’t even know why I have to tell you this! You should know better! No playing with swords! Under any circumstances! Now, come along, we still have to get ready for the party. I’ll have a talk with your father after he gets off work tonight to calculate just how grounded you are. And we’re using the abacus!”

And with that, Priyanka abruptly turned on her heel and walked out, taking Rose’s sword along with her, much to Connie’s dismay. “I hate that abacus…” she remarked sourly before her tone turned fretful. “Steven, I’m so sorry! She took your mother’s sword!”

“Maybe we could get her to change her mind?” Steven suggested with a reassuring smile.

“She never, ever changes her mind,” Connie huffed, rubbing her temples. “We’ve got to get that sword back ourselves.”

“How are you going to do that?” Dipper asked with a frown. “There probably isn’t a great chance that Dr. Maheswaran will let the sword out of her sight considering how upset she was about it.”

“Oh, you’re right…” Connie mused worriedly for a moment before excitedly snapping her fingers. “Wait! I know! The party! We can wait until she’s distracted tonight and then, Steven, you and me can sneak off with it without her even knowing!”

“That’s a great idea, Connie!” Steven chimed brightly. “There’s just one problem though… I’m not invited to the party.”

“Connie!” Priyanka shouted quite impatiently from outside. “We need to leave, now!”

“W-well, you’ll just have to figure out a way to get in!” Connie urged as she began to hurry out. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“Hopefully…” Steven said, halfheartedly waving her off as she rushed to join her mother. “Wait a second! Dipper, didn’t you say that you convinced Pacifica to give you some tickets to the party? Do you think maybe you could get just one more from her so I could get in too?”

“Steven, it was basically a miracle that she even agreed to give me tickets for Mabel, Candy, and Grenda,” Dipper said with an apologetic frown. “I highly doubt she’s gonna be willing to fork over another one, even with me taking care of her ghost problem for her.”

“You’re probably right…” Steven sighed in disappointment. “But what am I gonna do? I gotta find a way to get into that party somehow!”

“Did somebody say party!?” Both boys were quite started as, out of nowhere, Amethyst suddenly dropped down from the ceiling, grinning wryly as she landed in between them.

“Amethyst? What are you doing here?” Dipper asked in apt confusion.

“Oh, ya know, just napping up in the rafters, just like I do all the time,” the purple Gem remarked, stretching herself out as she fully woke up. “The ones here at the shack are way more comfy than the ones up at the temple, believe it or not. But it’s been kinda hard to get any rest around here with everyone being so loud for some reason. Seriously what’s up with all that?”

“Oh well uh…” Steven began rather anxiously, not wanting to admit to any of the Gems that he had lost track of his mother’s sword. “E-everyone’s just… really excited about the Northwests’ party tonight and-”

“Ugh, that yearly snooze-fest?” Amethyst stuck her tongue out in disdain. “I don’t know why anyone would get excited over that. It’s barely even a party! Just a bunch of rich stiffs standing around yapping about how much money they have. The only good thing about it is that the grub is all you can eat, which is an offer I always took them up on whenever we went to it back in the day.”

“Wait, so you guys have been to this party before?” Dipper asked curiously.

“Yeah, a few times,” the purple Gem shrugged. “But only because we kinda sometimes filled in as bodyguards for those Northwest losers way back when before we learned that they’re a bunch of crooked jerks. Crazy thing about it is that we still actually get invites for their party every year, even though he haven’t gone since Rose was still around. Guess they never bothered to take us off the guest list, not that we’d go anyway seeing as how those prudes didn’t keep their-”

“A-Amethyst!” Steven suddenly interjected, eyes wide with newfound hope upon hearing that his guardians had invitations to the exclusive party. Which meant that there was a chance he could help Connie out after all. “Did we get invited this year too?!”

“Uh… yeah? Pretty sure Pearl has the invites up at the temple. Why?”

“B-because I wanna go this year!” Steven urged, his manner still rather tight as Amethyst looked to him in confusion.

“What? Why?” she asked caustically. “Did you hear what I just said? That party’s lame, Steven. You’d get bored in the first 5 seconds, just like I always used to.”

“W-well… maybe its not as boring as it used to be anymore!” the young Gem argued earnestly. “And besides, Connie’s going! And so are Dipper and Mabel!”

“That’s right,” Dipper nodded, supporting the young Gem in his effort to try and win the purple Gem over on the matter. “Amethyst, would it really be fair if the three of us got to go to some huge fancy party while Steven just spends the night home, bored and alone?”

“Like a poor little sadsack?” Steven added, pouting pleadingly.

Amethyst didn’t answer right away as she looked between the pair, arms crossed and expression dry. Still, her manner didn’t stay that way for long upon watching the young Gem’s lower lip start to quiver as a sign of his genuine desperation. Which was something that none of the Gems, not even Amethyst, was able to resist. “Ugh, ok fine!” she groaned in exasperation. “I’ll help you convince Garnet and Pearl into going with us to that dumb party. But only because their food is really good. And also ‘cause I’m in the mood for busting up some of the Northwests’ expensive fancy property.”

“Yes!” Steven cheered, quite relieved as he gave Dipper a thankful high five. “Thanks so much Amethyst!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the purple Gem remarked with a casual wave of her hand as she took her leave to inform her teammates of their plan. “Just don’t come cryin’ to me when you end up clonking out on that ballroom floor from how boring it all is. Which will happen. Trust me, I know, I’ve done before.”

Sure enough, with Northwest Fest set to start in roughly an hour, a massive crowd of spectators had congregated around at least a mile radius from the mansion’s securely locked gates, ones that were meant to keep the common folk out while the exclusively wealthy guests enjoyed the finery inside. Of course, this year’s party did carry some exceptions to these upscale standards, namely the group Pacifica unceremoniously escorted in through the mansion’s stately front doors.

“Welcome to Northwest Manor, dorks,” she announced dryly as Dipper, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda all got their first glimpses of the immaculate ballroom. “Try not to touch anything.”

The girls hardly heeded the heiresses as they rushed past her, clad in their flashy home-made dresses as they rushed to take in every lavish sight surrounding them. The mansion’s grand hall was quite a splendor, with high vaulted ceilings, expertly crafted woodwork and spotless marble floors. With most guests having yet to arrive, the only ones milling about at the moment were maids and servants as they put together the finishing touches for the festivities, including the massive apple cider fountain and lengthy buffet of hors d’oeurves. Overall, the setting of the party alone lived up to the stories of its splendor, splendor that the girls were more than happy to explore as they cheerfully ran about.

“Everything’s so fancy!” Mabel quipped, stars in her eyes as she spun around in her fluffy pink gown. “Fancy floor, fancy plants, fancy man!” she finished as she zealously patted the face of a nearby butler.

“Mm, yes, very good, miss,” the butler conceded dutifully before walking away.

“The rumors were true!” Candy proclaimed, running by with a quail-filled gift bag in hand before Grenda and Mabel hurried after her, chuckling cheerfully all the while.

At the same time, Preston and Priscilla entered the room, calm and composed over their nearly-complete party preparations, even despite the previous night’s setback. “Ah, if it isn’t the man of the hour!” Preston addressed Dipper cordially as the couple approached him. “I trust you can help us with out little… situation before the guests arrive in an hour.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dipper assured rather confidently. And really, he had every reason to show confidence for the task ahead as equipped as he was with the journal, ghost tracking equipment, and even his sword as an extra precaution. On top of all that was the general level of experience in fending off supernatural danger he had gained over the course of the summer alone, which made him feel more than equipped to deal with a simple, run of the mill ghostly haunting.

“Splendid! Pacifica, take our guest to the ‘problem room’,” the billionaire said to his daughter before dropping his voice down to a mutter while Dipper was distracted. “And uh… he’s not wearing that is he?” he asked, rather unimpressed with the boy’s common, almost sloppy attire and overall manner.

“I’m on it,” Pacifica nodded, wasting no time in dragging Dipper off to the mansion’s quite extensive guest dressing room. And, despite his extensive protests, she eventually managed to get him fitted in an appropriately formal suit, something that Dipper found to be incredibly uncomfortable and restricting even from the moment he first put it on.

“Ugh, it’s like this collar is strangling me,” he grumbled, pulling at the offending, quite aggravating collar. “Who do you guys think you’re impressing with this stuff anyway?”

“Uh, everyone?” Pacifica retorted just as sharply as she quickly adjusted Dipper’s tie. “You wouldn’t understand. High standards are what make the Northwest family great. And part of those high standards is that we always look our best.” To prove her point, the heiress motioned down to her own fashionable lavender ball gown, one that she knew and was quite proud of the fact that it was the best that money could buy.

“Oh really?” Dipper remarked with a wry, knowing smirk. “That’s funny seeing as how you guys didn’t look all that great when we exposed you for lying about founding the town.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Pacifica scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We’re still way better than pretty much anyone else in this town, even if we didn’t found it some stupidly long time ago. And in case you haven’t noticed, everybody still loves us, so its not like you guys ‘revealing the truth’ even changed anything.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the only reason why people supposedly ‘love’ your family is because you guys are ridiculously rich?” Dipper asked rather crossly.

“No, its because we’re respected,” the heiress corrected pointedly. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh yeah, sure, ‘respected’,” Dipper deadpanned. “For pretty much nothing but being rich.”

“Oh, just shut up already and come on!” Pacifica snapped, quite frustrated especially as Dipper kept up his smug, triumphant grin. Still, both of them were rather eager to get this ghost hunting mission over with, if for nothing more than to cut the begrudging, yet momentarily necessary tie between them. Which was why they continued on to investigate in a state of cross, bitter silence, one that neither of them felt compelled to break, lest even more biting, hostile words spark between them. Words that, ironically, were the exact opposite of the kind of sentiments that would spark up between them soon enough.

Though it had taken some doing, Steven and Amethyst had managed to convince Garnet and Pearl into going to the Northwests’ party. Still, despite their agreement to show up, none of the Gems were very excited to be there as they arrived early, just as they always used to do when they used to attend the party in the past. They had almost ended up arriving in their usual attire, but upon Steven’s insistence, they had begrudgingly shifted into more elegant wear for the evening. Garnet had taken on a smooth, sleeveless, sleek magenta gown, one that filled out wide past her knees and had a large slit revealing her shapely left leg. Pearl’s dress was more modest; a graceful, pale blue, silky ensemble, with straps and an additional skirt from behind. Though Amethyst usually abhorred getting dolled up, she had made an exception for Steven, putting on a shorter purple dress with loose skirts and low straps on top of tying her hair up into a messy, yet still presentable (thanks to Pearl) bun. As for Steven, he was clad in a rental tux that Greg had managed to score for him at the last second, but even still, he was quite ready for the party himself, even despite his apprehension for even having to be there in the first place.

“I still can’t believe we agreed to come to this shallow parade of overindulgence and excess,” Pearl huffed disdainfully as the group approached the mansion’s entrance. “I thought our days of attending these despicable Northwest parties were long over.”

“We all agreed to make an exception this year for Steven, Pearl,” Garnet reminded, even though it was clear she was none too pleased to be there either. “So we’ll just have to suck it up for a few hours.”

“Yes, I know, but still…” the white Gem dropped her voice down to a whisper as she clutched the Gem leader’s arm. “All of this shameless touting of refinement, power, and position over others? You can’t deny that it’s a little like-”

“Homeworld, I know,” Garnet’s expression darkened somewhat. “That’s one of the many reasons we stopped going to these.”

Despite their quiet conversing, Steven still picked up on what his guardians were talking about and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty for stirring up bad memories of their former planet by essentially using them as his ticket into this party. Part of him wanted to tell them his true reasoning for wanting to come, namely to help Connie reclaim Rose’s sword, but he couldn’t very well admit that to them out of shame that he had lost something so precious and important, especially since it was his responsibility to keep it safe in the first place. So instead of telling the truth, the young Gem decided to do one of the things he did best: cheer them up.

“I-I know you guys aren’t looking forward to this, but I still think we could end up having fun!” he quipped with a warm smile. “I mean, we’re all here together, and Connie, Dipper, and Mabel are coming too so maybe the party won’t be as bad as it used to be when you guys used to go to it.”

“Oh yeah, speakin’ of which,” Amethyst interjected curiously as they all presented their invitations at the door before being let inside. “How did those three get invites to this ritzy blowout anyway? I always remember this thing being super exclusive, to the point that they only let rich, snobby jerks in. And last time I checked, Connie, Dipper, and Mabel aren’t rich, snobby jerks.”

“Oh, uh, well-”

“Steven!” the young Gem was interupted almost as soon as him and the Gems stepped into the ballroom by Mabel, who had managed to spot them from the other side of the hall. She didn’t hesitate to excitedly run over towards him, though she did slow her pace somewhat, her cheeks flushing red upon noticing the rather dashing suit he was in. “W-wow…” she said as she came to a stop, trying her best not to come across as flustered and doing anything but. “Steven, you… y-you look, uh… you… um… G-great to see you!”

“Uh, its great to see you too, Mabel, even though I did just see you a few hours ago.” Steven chuckled, fortunately not paying her stumbling much mind.

“Heh, yeah… Oh my gosh!” Mabel quickly changed topics, averting her gaze from the young Gem lest she turn incoherent again as she addressed the Gems instead. “You guys all look so pretty! I love, love, love your dresses!”

“Well, thank you, Mabel,” Pearl smiled kindly. “Your dress for the evening is very… creative as well!”

“Aw, thanks so much! I made it myself!” Mabel cheerily gushed, pulling off a playful curtsy. “Still, this is so crazy awesome! I wasn’t expecting to see any of you guys here! Isn’t this party the fanciest thing you’ve ever seen?!”

“Mm… we’ve seen fancier,” Garnet noted rather dryly, eliciting confused frowns from both Mabel and Steven.

“Mabel! You gotta get over here!” Grenda suddenly called, her deep voice echoing from across the ballroom.

“Oh! Hold that thought!” Mabel exclaimed as she started to run off, though not before bidding Steven and the Gems a quick farewell as they waved her off. “I’ll catch up with you guys later! I hope you have fun!”

“Ha, like that’ll ever happen at this lamo snob party,” Amethyst grumbled, crossing her arms petulantly.

“What’s up?” Mabel asked Candy and Grenda as she joined them before a large, stately book resting on a stand.

“Look what we found! It’s the guest list!” Grenda grinned, eagerly flipping through it before stopping a few pages in. “Whoa! Check out this hottie!”

“Marius von Fundshauser!” Candy read, already completely enthralled with the wealthy young man from his picture alone. “He’s a baron from Austria!”

“Forget the quail, I’m putting him in my gift basket!” Mabel quipped, more than ready to indulge herself with another summer crush. Especially if it helped her get her mind off her ever-growing feelings for a certain young Gem.

“Hold up, ladies,” Grenda interjected, her tone surprisingly serious. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think this boy might be out of our league.”

“Grenda is right,” Candy nodded just as rationally. “He is a white whale. Hunting him will destroy us.”

“Well, there are plenty of other cute boys coming to this party,” Mabel vouched with a conceding smile. “So let’s make a sister’s truce not to waste our time on Marius. Deal?”

“Deal!” Candy and Grenda both agreed as they all put their hands together in mutual agreement on this plan. Still, all three of them laughed somewhat nervously as they broke their hands apart, none of them entirely sure if this was a deal they intended on keeping.

As her father had instructed, Pacifica led Dipper to the so-called “problem room”, which, even upon an initial glance, was exactly what he had been expecting. It appeared to be some kind of lounge, just as stately as the rest of Northwest Manor was with hand-crafted hardwood furniture, walls lined with paintings hailing the family’s allegedly proud history, and mounted animal heads, and a large roaring fireplace that cast the entire room in a shadowy, almost blood red glow.

“This is the main room where it’s been happening,” Pacifica informed as they stepped inside, her usual confident manner somewhat diminished in place of fledgling fear.

“Yeah, this looks like the kind of room that would be haunted alright,” Dipper concluded as he pulled the journal out and turned to the fortunately extensive section on ghosts. “I wouldn’t worry about it though. Ghosts fall on a ten-category scale. Floating plates sounds like a category 1, which is pretty far from being anywhere close to dangerous.”

“So what?” Pacifica asked with a teasing smirk. “Are you gonna bore him back into the afterlife by reading from that book? Or are you going to pretend to stab him with that cute little toy sword of yours?” she asked, nodding to the Ancient Sea Blade he had securely strapped to his back.

“First of all, it’s not a toy, its real,” Dipper corrected, half tempted to draw it and show her. “And secondly, I only brought it with me as a precaution. If it really is a category 1, then the most I gotta do is splash that sucker with some anointed water,” he said, holding said small bottle of holy water up. “And he should be out of your probably-fake blonde hair.”

“What was that about my hair?” Pacifica scoffed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

“Shh!” Dipper quickly interupted her as he pulled a small, ghost-tracking device out of his backpack, one that was already beeping in response to the apparent supernatural activity in the room. “I’m picking something up.”

The heiress simply sighed in aggravation but all the same she hung back, allowing him to investigate further as he followed the readings the device was giving off. Dipper stopped short in front of the fireplace as he briefly glanced up to the large painting of who appeared to be an 1880s lumberjack until the device’s signal suddenly went dead. “Ugh, come on, stupid thing,” he muttered in annoyance, beating the side of it until it began beeping once more. “There we go. Huh?” He was met with immediate confusion as he glanced up again, only to find that somehow, the lumberjack in the painting had suddenly disappeared from the frame in what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds at best. Something that Dipper already knew well from experience, was far from normal. “Uh… Pacifica?”

The heiress didn’t even heed him as she instead let out a frightened scream on the other side of the room, one that was quite warranted given the pool of blood she had just spotted near her feet, one that was being fueled from above. Both her and Dipper let out shared gasps of shock as they glanced up to see blood, thick, dark, and real, swelling from the seemingly dead mouths and eyes of every single one of the taxidermized animal heads on the walls. A steady, unnatural gale-force wind started to swirl around the room as bright, sinister flames began bursting out from the confines of the fireplace, almost as if they were trying to latch onto Dipper and Pacifica as they rushed to meet each other near the center of the room. The danger seemed to escalate more and more with each passing second as the animal heads, still dripping with unexplainable blood and blank, unseeing eyes glowing a sharp, warning red, began to raise their voices in a deep, unearthly, ominous chant.

“ANCIENT SINS! ANCIENT SINS! ANCIENT SINS!”

On and on this mysterious mantra continued as the objects in the room began to take flight, books, furniture, and antiques all rising into the air before they haphazardly glided around the appropriately terrified pair. “Dipper, what is this?!” Pacifica cried about the incredible din surrounding them, her trembling hands held close to her as her long hair whipped about in the hurricane winds.

“I-it’s a category 10…” Dipper replied, absolutely shaken. After all, the last time he had witnessed a supernatural disaster this dire or intense was when he had watched his own body be taken over by a vicious dream demon while he floated outside of it, distraught and helpless. And while this haunting was nowhere near as immediately catastrophic as that had been, it was still every bit as deadly, a fact he was starkly reminded of as his only real option for taking care of it, the vial of anointed water, abruptly shattered right in his hand.

“ANCIENT BLOOD AND BLACKENED SKIES,” the animal heads changed their chant into something new, but every bit as dark and sinister. “THE FOREST DARK SHALL ONCE MORE RISE!”

“What do we do?! What do we do?!” Pacifica practically screamed as she grabbed Dipper by the suit jacket and shook him desperately.

“I-I… I don’t know!” Dipper answered truthfully, realizing that he was actually quite unprepared for something of this caliber.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Pacifica shot back in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of supernatural expert or something?!”

“Who on earth told you that?!”

“Uh, the town newspaper did!”

“Whoa, really?” Dipper paused, rather pleasantly surprised to hear this. “That’s… actually pretty awesome.”

“Focus!” Pacifica snapped harshly. “We’re about to be killed by creepy dead animal heads and flying furniture, remember?!”

“Don’t worry,” Dipper assured as evenly as he could, given the circumstances. “It can’t possibly get any worse than this!”

Of course, he was immediately proven wrong as the fire violently sparked up again, forcing the pair to dive under the nearby table to avoid getting burned. And they did so just in time as, out of nowhere, a powerful black skeletal arm emerged from the flames, still completely consumed in them as it smashed down onto the ground. The rest of the charred skeleton subsequently pulled itself out of the fire, something akin to skin and clothes forming around the bones as they formed the visage of a large, burly man, the lumberjack from the painting himself, who was clearly deceased based on his rotting, grisly form. A sharp, deadly axe had cleaved his head, the obvious cause of his death that still remained in his undead form. And his manner was every bit as outraged and heated as the burning inferno he had emerged from as he belted out his first proclamation in a deep, rumbling voice.

“I smell… a NORTHWEST!” the ghost growled, blue flames igniting in place of where hair and a beard would normally be as his one remaining eye shot open. Dipper and Pacifica made sure to remain hidden out of the ghost’s view under the table as he began to storm around the room, another axe materializing in his hand as he dragged it threateningly across the floor with each torturously slow step. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Hurry!” Pacifica whispered to Dipper sharply as he frantically flipped through the journal for answers. “Read through your dumb book already and figure out a way to get rid of that… thing!”

“I’m looking!” Dipper retorted just as harshly as he pulled out his blacklight. “And its not dumb, ok? This book is gonna save our lives! Alright, here we go; Advice:” Hoping that the category 10 ghost page would hold the key to ousting this great, newfound threat, he held the blacklight over the page, only to get the lone, disconcerting message of “Pray for mercy!” instead of anything tangibly useful. “Aw, seriously?!”

Matters were only made worse as the table, their only real cover from the ghost and his deadly axe, suddenly hovered away, leaving them directly in the menacing specter’s line of sight, much to their shared horror. “You should not have come here!” he shouted, not even hesitating to swipe at the pair with his weapon, which they only barely dodged.

“This way! Hurry!” Pacifica exclaimed, grabbing Dipper by the arm and quickly pulling him up before they rushed out of the room. The ghost was in hot pursuit, his fiery manner sparkly with murderous intent as he relentlessly chased them down the mansion’s maze-like halls, ready to strike.

Northwest Manor’s massive doors finally opened to the illustrious group of invited party guests as Preston proudly stood by to greet them all, his wide, cordial grin completely hiding any implications that ghostly danger was currently lurking through the mansion’s halls. “Welcome, dukes, duchesses, sultans and sportsmen! And—ugh… Mayor Dewey…”

“Preston!” Dewey exclaimed brightly, rushing forward as he threw an arm over the billionaire’s shoulder. “We’re so honored to be here, isn’t that right, Buck?”

“Not really,” Buck dryly stated, his arms crossed and his shades still on despite his formal attire.

“Ha! Isn’t my son just hilarious?!” Dewey chuckled with an incredibly forced laugh as he snapped a finger at one of his aids, not noticing Preston’s quickly growing aggravation with him. “Now, smile for the campaign promotion!” The mayor did so brightly, even if the billionaire made his annoyance quite clear before finally acting upon it as soon as the aid snapped a photo.

“Alright, Dewey, that’s enough of your ‘campaigning’ for one evening,” Preston scowled scornfully, pushing the mayor back into the crowd. “Now then,” the billionaire continued, quickly regaining his composure as he addressed the rest of his guests. “Tonight we will enjoy only the finest of tastes and only the snootiest of laugher.” Someone in the crowd let out an incredibly haughty chortle in response to this remark as Preston nodded in approval. “That’s the ticket!” he exclaimed, motioning for the guests to finally step inside.

Despite the party’s exclusivity, there were still quite a few attendees who filed in, most of them quite prominent in some regard, be it wealth or reputation. Within this group were some of the town’s most esteemed medical professionals, and among them was Dr. Maheswaran, with Connie almost sullenly following in after her. After since her mother had confiscated Rose’s sword, she had been trying her best not to fall even further out of Priyanka’s good graces than she already had. Hence why she had been obedient, almost rigidly so, all the way leading up to their arrival at the party itself, in the hopes that her mother would loosen up her newly tightened reigns for the evening. And fortunately enough, her vigilance paid off, as that’s exactly what Priyanka did.

“I have to go meet with the other doctors before we propose the hospital sponsorship to the Northwests,” the doctor said to her daughter, her tone as serious as ever. “I trust that you can mind yourself like a proper young lady without getting into any more trouble for an hour or two, right?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Connie nodded apprehensively, keeping her poise and manner as polite and compliant as possible as to not give away her intention of going against her rules.

“Good,” Priyanka nodded in staunch satisfaction as she began to walk off. “And remember what we talked about on the way here!”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Connie assured with a rather fake smile. “I-I don’t think you’ll need to worry about me stumbling across any swords around here!” Her smile immediately fell into partial guilt as soon as her mother fully turned away, since she knew she would soon be seeking out the very sword that had gotten her into all this trouble on her own accord. Still, she didn’t let herself linger on that guilt for too long as Steven managed to spot her amidst the crowd and didn’t hesitate to come running over.

“Connie!” he called with an elated smile as he caught her off guard with a sudden hug.

“S-Steven!” Connie chuckled as the broke apart. “You actually made it!”

“Yeah, it turns out the Gems actually get invited to this party every year,” Steven’s smile quickly turned to wonder as he got a better view of Connie’s attire for the evening: a floor length turquoise dress with short sleeves and a dark sash, one that complimented her neatly-done updo quite nicely. “W-wow… Connie, you look great!”

“Thanks…” Connie blushed, her reddened cheeks matching the young Gem’s own. “You look really nice too. B-but there’s no time to talk about that now! We gotta get your mother’s sword back while my mom is distracted!”

“Right,” Steven nodded, resolved. “So where is it?”

“She left it outside in the car,” Connie reported with a worried frown. “Which means that we can’t just go out through the front door to get it, everybody will notice. There has to be another way out of the mansion…”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find it!” the young Gem grinned encouragingly. “Come on!” And with that, Steven grabbed Connie’s hand, reigniting the warmth in her cheeks as they slipped through the party’s growing crowds towards the back of the ballroom, where the beginning of the hallways leading to the inner sanctums of the mansion awaited. Neither of them had the faintest clue about the manor’s layout, which was why they had to settle on picking a random hallway and seeing where it led. They managed to do so without Priyanka, or really anyone else for that matter noticing them, mostly since everyone was already so distracted with the fancy offerings of the party itself. And as soon as they were out of the party proper, they both noticed that the mansion’s lofty halls were much more spacious, quiet, and even eerie than either of them would have thought they would be.

“Whoa, this place is even bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside,” Steven remarked as they made their steady way down the corridor they had chosen. “And that’s saying something seeing as how it looks huge on the outside.”

“What do the Northwests even need such a huge mansion for anyway?” Connie asked, making her disdain for the wealthy family as apparent as ever. “They probably don’t even use half the rooms in here and if they do, then they’re probably just filled with stuff they never look at or use.”

“You’re sounding like the Gems did earlier,” Steven remarked with a small, bemused smile. “They… really aren’t that happy to be here.”

“Well, who can blame them?” Connie huffed. “I’d rather be anywhere else but here either, but at least this party his good for one thing: helping us get that sword back.”

“True,” Steven nodded. “Though I don’t really know what we’re gonna do with the sword once we get it back… Lion didn’t come with us to the party, so I guess we’ll just have to sneak it back inside and hope your mom doesn’t see-” The young Gem stopped short as a display case resting against the nearby wall caught his attention as they were passing it. A case that was filled with what seemed to be rather clusters of conjoined gemstones.

“Steven?” Connie frowned as she also paused, noticing his apparent surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Steven glanced away from the case briefly. “Its just… these rocks look an awful lot like the ones those Gem experiments in the Kindergarten had…”

“Really?” Connie asked, concerned. “You don’t think…?”

“…No, they couldn’t be,” the young Gem shook his head. “We bubbled all of them up. A-and even if there were any left that we didn’t find, how would they have ended up here?”

“You got me,” Connie said with a small, reassuring smile. “Now come on, we gotta hurry and get that sword!”

Steven nodded in firm agreement, only taking a very short final glance back at the gemstone display case before he hurried after her. Still, as they continued their way down the narrow mansion hall, neither one of them noticed as one of the odd, strangely familiar-looking gem clusters slowly began to glow, its kin all steadily starting to do the same.  

Given their tarnished history with the Northwest family in general, the Gems had decided early on to make their contempt towards their party very apparent. They refused to engage themselves in interacting with any of the transparently pompous guests as they instead hung back together near the other end of the ballroom, their disdainful, disapproving scowls clear as they refused to show any signs of willingly indulging in this wasteful finery.

Well, that is, save for Amethyst.

The purple Gem had essentially overtaken an entire buffet table, scarfing down all of the expensive entrees she could get her hands on, much to Pearl’s ever increasing aggravation.

“Amethyst, could you please try to control yourself for a change!?” the white Gem asked, her arms crossed as she continued standing alongside Garnet nearby.

“No can do, P,” Amethyst said as she essentially poured an entire punch bowl on herself. “These Northwests may throw some lame parties, but at least the snacks never disappoint. I gotta admit, I almost kinda missed this.”

“Well, I certainly haven’t,” Pearl concluded, turning her nose upward coldly. “Now get down from there, you’re making a mess!”

“Good,” Garnet spoke up, undermining the white Gem with a nod of approval, much to her teammates’ confusion.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead and make a mess,” the Gem leader clarified staunchly. “It’s not like the Northwests don’t deserve it after everything they’ve done over the years.”

While Pearl was still rather lost by this bizarre order, Amethyst was more than happy to follow it through. “What, you mean like… this?” she grinned as she dropped a very expensive china tray onto the ground, shattering it upon contact.

“That works,” Garnet nodded in approval as she discreetly summoned her gauntlet. “So does this.” With a simple flick of her fingers at the window behind her, a large crack rippled across its otherwise pristine surface as the Gem leader simply smiled in smug satisfaction.

“G-Garnet!” Pearl gasped, appalled by such destructive behavior.

“Aw, c’mon, Pearl, don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Amethyst goaded, tossing another plate to the ground. “After all, you were the one who painted that awesome tag on their wall a few weeks ago. How is this any worse than that?”

The white Gem hesitated briefly, but in the end, her usual desire for order was quickly overruled by her longstanding contempt for the Northwests and all those like them. “Well…” she began by summoning her spear. “I suppose a tiny little scratch wouldn’t hurt too much…” With this, she placed the tip of her weapon against the smooth marble floor before she began to slowly drag it, leaving a long, marring scratch across the pristine surface. “Oops. Did I do that?” she grinned, already exhilarated by this act of rebellion.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Amethyst cheered, continuing her own form of vandalism as Garnet and Pearl both took to theirs, all three of them reveling in taking their age-old scorn towards the Northwests out, even if it was in a rather simple way.

It stood to reason that a party as fancy and upscale as Northwest Fest would have food and appetizers that were every bit as fancy and upscale to match. And though Amethyst had partaken of the many buffet tables around the ballroom, fortunately she hadn’t gotten to the fondue fountains yet, which was where Candy had been firmly planted for at least the past ten minutes.

“Cheese, chocolate,” she said to herself, essentially entranced as she moved her stick between the two melted substances. “Cheese, chocolate-”

“Candy, listen to me carefully,” Mabel finally interjected as she stepped over to her, halting her constant switching. “You’re caught in a sweet-savory loop. You need to stop now, before you’re lost to the chocolatey cheesiness forever! So put the fondue fork down.”

“I want to… but I can’t…” Candy mused, still completely transfixed on her fondue stick. That is, until most of the ballroom’s attention was garnished by a butler near the front doors.

“Announcing Baron Marius von Fundhauser!” he proclaimed, stepping out of the way to reveal the young baron. Upon a very first glance at him, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all instantly enamored, all three of them awestruck by his stately, royal attire and long, silky auburn hair. Clearly, he carried the air of a majestic baron in both title and manner as he strode into the ballroom confidently, the girls’ watching him in utter captivation all the while.

“Guten tag!” Marius greeted the trio with a friendly smile as he passed by them, apparently not noticing their jaws unanimously hanging agape in amazement.

“Guten take me now!” Mabel exclaimed, lovestruck as she started hurrying after him, only for Grenda and Candy to quickly stop her.

“Mabel, we had a truce!” Grenda frowned, still clearly serious about keeping said truce.

“Yes, yes, a truce,” Candy nodded, somewhat less so as she forced a complacent smile. “Uh, Grenda? Can you go fetch us some fancy napkins?”

“Wow, ok!” Grenda blithely agreed, innocently heading off to do so.

“Listen, Mabel,” Candy began, dropping her voice down to a whisper as soon as Grenda was out of earshot. “I don’t know if I can follow this truce. He is too adorable!”

“Ugh, I know, right?!” Mabel gushed tightly, almost relieved for Marius’ welcome arrival and Steven’s subsequent, unexplained disappearance from the party. “But what do we do? He’s unattainable! I mean did you see his hair!? It’s like he was straight out of a shampoo commercial!”

“What if we flirt with him as a team?” Candy suggested. “With our cuteness combined, one of us might have a chance!”

“It’s the perfect plan! But… what about Grenda?”

“I love Grenda, Mabel, but these boys are fancy! Her aggressive flirting style might scare them away!”

The pair glanced over at the larger girl, who was in the midst of “fliting” with another boy, though in her own unique, incredibly forward way. “What’s on your shirt?” she asked, pointing to his chest until he glanced down, at which point she proceeded to bring her finger up and flick him hard in the nose. “Ha! Gullible! Loser!”

Upon seeing this display, both Mabel and Candy nodded, both of them immediately on board for their plan to win Marius over between just the two of them. Really, the figured that it would be better for everyone if they left Grenda out of this loop, as much as they didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, the baron was exactly that, a baron. They couldn’t risk the chance of Grenda scaring someone as prestigious and esteemed as Marius off, or worse yet, offending him or hurting him at her own expense. And if, in the process of keeping their attempts at courting Marius between just the two of them, either Mabel or Candy ended up catching his eye and his affections, then, they supposed, that would just be an added benefit.

With the party in full swing as it was, few guests bothered to wander anywhere in the mansion past the main ballroom where all the festivities were being held. And yet, if any guest happened to start wandering the manor’s halls, then they would have likely caught sight of a fiery lumberjack ghost relentlessly chasing a pair of fearfully fleeing kids with nothing less than the absolute intent to kill.

Fortunately though, Pacifica knew the winding corridors and lengthy halls of her mansion home well as she navigated herself and Dipper through them while the ghost sped after them, chuckling threateningly all the while. Despite their efforts to shake the spirit off their trail, he kept on them tightly, his exact motivation for wanting their ends rather unclear, though that was hardly what either of them were concerned with as much as staying alive.

“What are we gonna do?!” Pacifica shouted amidst her growing breathlessness as they continued fleeing. “We can’t keep running from that thing forever!”

“I’m looking!” Dipper shouted back, the journal in one hand and his sword in the other. Of course, it was of little use against the incorporeal ghost, but at the very least it was good for fending off the stray pieces of furniture and dinnerware the specter sent flying their way.

“Well look faster!” the heiress snapped impatiently, worriedly glancing over her shoulder as they rushed through one of the mansion’s several inner gardens. The ground was still muddy from the earlier rain showers, which made their trek through it somewhat haphazard, but all the same, they managed to make it to the other end with the ghost still only a few dangerously short feet behind them.

“Come on, come on…” Dipper muttered, frantically flipping through the journal as much as he could until he finally found what he was looking for. “Aha! I got it! Haunted paintings can only be trapped in a silver mirror. And look!” he pointed ahead to the pristinely white parlor they were running straight towards, or more particularly, the large mirror conveniently hanging from its wall. “There’s a silver mirror right there!”

“Wait!” Pacifica exclaimed, grabbing Dipper’s arm before he could so much as even step foot into the room. “Don’t go in there! This room has my parent’s favorite carpet pattern! They’ll lose it if we track mud in there!”

“What? Are you serious?” Dipper scoffed, unable to believe that the heiress was even remotely concerned with something so unimportant. “Pacifica, we don’t have time for this!”

“W-well we need to make time!” Pacifica retorted, her eyes wide with fear that seemed to go beyond the threat the ghost posed. “We’ll find another way!”

“Why do we need to find another way if there’s a perfectly fine way right in front of us!?” Dipper argued crossly, trying to press his way past her into the room.

“Because my parents will kill me if I don’t listen to them and mess up their rug!”

“Why are you so afraid of your parents?!”

“You wouldn’t understand!”

By now, the argument between the pair had escalated quite a bit in intensity as they roughly grappled with each other, Dipper desperately trying to get into the room while Pacifica desperately tried keeping him out. They could both hear the ghost steadily approaching by his deep, ominous laughter alone, but he had largely been forgotten as Pacifica unexpectedly grabbed the journal, hoping that prying it away from Dipper would be enough to convince him to move on. And fortunately for her, this plan worked as she pulled it away from him, surprising him quite a bit as their eyes met in a very short beat of awkward tension before the heiress took off running down the adjacent hallway with the journal in hand.

“Hey!” Dipper shouted, adamantly running after her. “Pacifica, give that back!”

“Oh what?” Pacifica smirked back over her shoulder, triumphant and relieved that her impromptu plan had succeeded. “You want your dumb nerd book? Then come and get it, Pines!”

Dipper couldn’t help but let out a small growl of frustration at her teasing, still rather taken aback by the heiress’ stubbornness and boldness as he ran after her nonetheless. And of course, all the while, the lumberjack ghost continued its haunting chase after them both, more than ready to rain his fiery fury down the moment he inevitably caught up with them.

After traversing and admittedly getting lost amidst the mansion’s many hallways, Steven and Connie had eventually stumbled upon a back door that led to the large parking area roped off for guests behind the manor. And, though it took some doing to find Dr. Maheswaran’s vehicle amidst the myriad of limos and sports cars, they eventually reached it, only to find a setback they admittedly hadn’t anticipated.

“It’s locked…” Connie frowned in disappointment as she tried pulling the trunk open. “Ugh, we should have seen this coming. There’s no way my mom would leave something like a sword in her car without keeping it locked up tight. What are we supposed to do now?”

“Hm… I think I have an idea…” Steven said, looking to the lock thoughtfully. “Do you have a hair pin or something like that?”

“Um, yeah?” Connie complied in confusion, pulling a non-essential pin out of her updo.

“Thanks!” the young Gem grinned as he started wedging the pin into the lock.

“Where did you learn how to pick locks from?” Connie asked, her brow furrowed as she watched Steven work.

“Amethyst and Mr. Pines taught me after I walked in on them trying to open a safe they found somewhere,” Steven explained with an innocent smile. “So they taught me how to pick locks in exchange for not ‘spilling it’ to anyone else about the safe. Tough I’m still not sure why they wouldn’t want anyone else knowing about something like that…”

“Uh, probably because they stole that safe instead of finding it, Steven…” Connie pointed out.

“…Oh. Well, at least I learned something useful,” Steven shrugged as he successfully unlocked the trunk. Sure enough, Rose’s sword lay within, and despite a moment of initial trepidation for breaking her mother’s strict orders, Connie took the blade nonetheless, strapping it over her shoulder before shutting the trunk behind her.

“Ok, we got it,” she said, letting out the deep breath she felt as though she had been holding in since this entire situation began. “Now we just have to sneak it out of the party without my mom seeing…”

“And without the Gems seeing either,” Steven noted as they began making their way back up the hill to the mansion. “I sorta didn’t tell them about this whole sword thing, and I feel like they probably wouldn’t be too happy if they found out its pretty much the reason why I begged them to come to this party in the first place…”

“I guess we’re gonna be on double duty when it comes to being stealthy for the rest of the night then,” Connie said with resolve as they reentered the manor the same way they had left it. However, the pair stopped short as soon as they stepped inside upon seeing what lay before them. The highly decorated hallway was in shambles, wall tapestries torn and decorative displays laying in shattered remains on the ground without any rhyme or reason at all. “Whoa…” Connie mused, her voice dropping down to an apprehensive whisper. “What could have done all this?”

“D-didn’t Dipper say something about Pacifica asking him to help out with a ghost haunting the mansion?” Steven asked nervously, drawing a bit closer to Connie out of fear.

“Yeah but… a ghost wouldn’t have been able to do this much damage… would it?”

“I… I don’t know, maybe,” Steven shook his head fretfully, remembering well just how much destruction the convenience store ghosts had cause at the start of the summer. “We should go find Dipper and ask him if he’s seen-”

The young Gem was cut off as a low, rather inhuman moan echoed from the end of the hall in front of them. The pair froze, their hands unceremoniously intertwining tightly as a large, looming shadow draped itself over the wall, its source unknown as it grew in size and intimidation. Neither Steven or Connie dared to even breathe as the unearthly groans raised in volume, the shadow coming to a stop as a massive arm slammed down into the open before the rest of its twisted body emerged from around the corner. Simply put, it was a mass of multiple mismatched limbs, all strewn together into a hulking, massive, discolored body, if it could even be called that at all. And, resting at the center of where its face would have been if it had one, was a very familiar cluster of conjoined gemstones.

“C-Connie?” Steven whispered, gripping her hand tighter as this monster began lumbering its way towards them through the mess it had made earlier. “I-I think that’s one of the Gem mutants I was telling you about…”

“What? Are you sure?” Connie asked, her voice just as quiet, even though they had clearly already attracted the mutant’s attention.

“Preeeeetty sure at this point,” the young Gem nodded stiffly, knowing this creature looked quite close to the ones they had encountered at the Kindergarten the other week.

“Well then, we got this sword back at just the right time,” Connie scowled towards the mutant as she swiftly drew Rose’s sword, wielding the massive blade with both hands as she took up an offensive stance. Steven watched in amazement as she rushed forwards, seemingly undeterred as she pulled the mighty sword back before delivering a clean swipe straight through the mutant’s weighty midsection before it could even try to attack. With a pained whine, the forced fusion imploded, its shard-composed gemstone tumbling to the floor before Steven ran forward to bubble it and send it away.

“Looks like you were right,” Connie said, still gripping Rose’s sword tightly as she looked around for any more. “Those rocks really were Gem mutants after all.”

“Yeah, but why would they be-” Steven was cut off as a loud crash sounded out from the other end of the hall. This was immediately and unsurprisingly followed by the emergence of even more gem mutants, both big and small, rounding the corner en masse as they walked, crawled, sidled, anything they could to inch their way towards the aptly frightened pair. “Uh, C-Connie? I think now would be a good time to run!” Steven warned, grabbing her by the arm as he tried to pull her down the other way.

“No, Steven, I can take them!” Connie protested, already positioning her sword to strike.

“I-I know, but still!” Steven pleaded, fearful for her safety more than his own really. After all, the last thing he wanted was to see her get hurt as a result of overconfidence in her newly acquired blade, even as powerful as it was. “We gotta get the Gems! They can help us take care of these things before they can make it into the ballroom and end up hurting someone!”

“…You’re right,” Connie begrudgingly relented, sheathing her blade. “So come on, then! We have to hurry!”

“Right!” Steven readily agreed, leading the way out of the hallway that had already been claimed and decimated by the marauding gem mutants.

As Steven and Connie began their hasty flight through the mansion’s lofty halls, Dipper and Pacifica continued theirs, with the former still chasing after the latter in the hopes of reclaiming the journal before the ghost could catch up to them.

“Pacifica!” Dipper shouted after the heiress, quite surprised at how fast she was. “I’m serious! Give me back the journal, now!”

“Why should I?” Pacifica countered just as harshly. “So you can go running back to that room, get mud all over the floors, and get me in trouble with my parents? Because last time I checked, that’s not what you’re here for!”

“You’re right, I’m here to get rid of that ghost!” Dipper reiterated, severely annoyed. “But I can’t do that if you won’t let me just because your scared of setting off your parents for some weird reason!”

“I already told you!” the heiress shot back, gripping the journal in her arms tightly as she continued running. “You don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand!” Dipper urged, both out of frustration and genuine curiosity as to why she seemed so adamant about all this. Interestingly enough though, this was what finally got Pacifica to stop in her tracks, her expression startled and strangely soft as she turned to face him.

“W-what?” she asked rather quietly, taken aback that anyone would even inquire about the matter at all, especially him. However, before Dipper could even reply, a brand new threat made itself apparent as it slammed down into the space directly behind Pacifica from the high ceiling above. It was a tall, lanky creature, with six disproportionate arms and no face to speak of as it balanced on a pair of long, mismatched legs amidst towering over the frightened heiress, letting out a low, threatening groan all the while. Pacifica let out a horrified scream at this grotesque creature as it started to advance on her, her long dress tripping her up as she clumsily fell to the ground, shielding herself with her arm as the creature raised one of its many arms with the intent to strike. And yet… it was a strike she never felt.

Hesitantly, Pacifica opened her tightly shut eyes and took a glance back towards the monster, only to see something that shocked her just as much as its sudden appearance had. For standing squarely in between her and the multi-limbed creature was none other than Dipper, his sword raised as he firmly, fearlessly pressed back against the many hands pressed against it. Yet all the same he held his ground, his footing steady and his expression fierce as he warded off the mutant, eventually managing to push it back enough to give himself enough space to properly fight it. All the while, Pacifica remained practically frozen to her spot on the ground, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped as she watched in absolute awe as Dipper rushed towards the monster with a courageous shout, lashing out with his blade as he maneuvered with skill and ease. The creature was unable to keep up with him as he dodged its slow, sloppy movements, and in what seemed like no time at all, the tip of his sword had punctured the monster squarely in its back, resulting in its hideous form poofing into nothing more than a mismatched cluster of gem shards.

“A Gem mutant?” Dipper frowned in confusion as he carefully picked the compiled stone. “How’d this get in here? Pacifica, do you know anything about this thing?”

Strangely, he received no answer from the heiress as he glanced back to look at her, only to find that she was staring up at him, seemingly captivated, though for what reason, he had no idea. Still, try as she might, Pacifica couldn’t convince her body or her mind to respond properly as her thoughts raced randomly and her cheeks began flushing warm and pink as she kept her eyes on the boy who had effectively just saved her life. She couldn’t deny that, with both his suit and hair as mildly yet endearingly disheveled as they were, resolve and adrenaline still sparking in his eyes, and the sword still held confidently in his hand, he did look the slightest bit dashing, almost heroic even, though she’d never dare to admit that out loud.

“Uh… Pacifica? Are you ok?” Dipper asked, making the heiress realize that she had gone far too long without taking her eyes off him.

“W-wha—oh, uh, y-yeah!” she exclaimed, clearly flustered as she rejected the hand he had offered to help her stand in favor of doing so on her own. “I-I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be. That weird arm thing wasn’t even that scary.”

“Oh sure it wasn’t,” Dipper remarked with a wry, rather playful smirk. “That’s why you screamed in terror as soon as you saw it, right?”

Pacifica shot him a disapproving glare at this, though it wasn’t as harsh as it admittedly could have been as she shoved the journal back into his arms. “Here, take you lame nerd book back,” she huffed, still trying to suppress her ongoing blush. “So… uh… where’d you learn how to do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know…” she held her hands behind her back as she nodded to his sword casually enough. “That.”

“Oh, sword fighting?” Dipper clarified, glancing to his blade before sheathing it. “Me and Connie have been taking lessons from Pearl for the past few weeks. It tends to come in handy when you deal with stuff like this a lot, which… yeah, I kinda do.”

“And… your family’s just… ok with you running around with a dangerous sword all the time?” Pacifica asked, slightly baffled by such apparent freedom.

“Uh… yeah?” Dipper shrugged, unsure of what she meant by this question. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

The heiress didn’t answer as she glanced down somewhat, her brow furrowing in both confusion and what almost felt like envy, though that couldn’t possibly be right. After all, how in the world could someone as well off and highly esteemed as her be jealous of someone as common and unrefined as him?

While it was quite likely that the ghost had lost track of them in the chaos that had just ensued, Dipper didn’t want to take any chances, which was why he took the lead in moving on. However, they barely even rounded the corner before they were held up again, though this time by it fortunately wasn’t by the ghost or any Gem mutants, but rather by Steven and Connie as they all accidentally happened to run smack into each other.

“Wha—Steven? Connie?” Dipper frowned in confusion upon seeing the pair at such a random juncture. “What are you guys doing here? Why aren’t you back at the party?”

“W-well, we got my mom’s sword back,” Steven began anxiously. “But then we ran into a ton of Gem mutants, just like the ones we fought at the Kindergarten!”

“Wait, you mean there are even more of those things running around here?” Dipper asked incredulously as he handed the remains of the mutant he had defeated over to Steven so it could be bubbled. “We were just attacked by one. How’d they even get into the mansion in the first place?”

“I don’t know…” Connie mused, her tone and expression growing quite suspicious as she glanced over at the nearby heiress. “That’s a really good question, isn’t it, Pacifica?”

“Oh what? You think I have something to do with this?” Pacifica asked harshly.

“Well, seeing as how all these Gem clusters were in a display case in your mansion, so it only makes sense that you’d know something about how they ended up here.”

“Well, I don’t,” the heiress huffed, her hands on her hips. “My parents probably bought them for the party and didn’t know they were actually gross, grabby, nightmarish freakshows.”

“Actually, they’re shattered Gems who were forced to fuse with each other,” Steven said with a sympathetic frown for the mutants’ plight.

“…I literally have no idea what any of that means,” Pacifica said, clearly out of the context loop. “Still, I don’t know anything about how those things wound up here.”

“Oh yeah? And how do we know you’re actually telling the truth?” Connie asked, still rather distrustful. And really, she believed she had every reason to be, given just how dangerous these Gem mutants were and just how not coincidental their presence in the mansion seemed to be. “After all, your family has a known history of lying when it comes to their dirty little secrets, so it wouldn’t be surprising at all if you inherited that bad habit right alongside all the money you don’t deserve.”

Pacifica let out an appalled gasp at this, outraged and offended by such an accusation as she took a bold, almost threatening step forward. “Ok, you know what, Maheswaran, I’m gonna-”

“Whoa, ok, hold it!” Dipper quickly interjected before any sort of scuffle could break out, both him and Steven rushing in to stand between the two incensed girls. “Connie, I know you’re uh, not really a fan of Pacifica, but as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think she’s lying about this.”

“Seriously, Dipper?” Connie scoffed. “You know how she is, we all do! Heck, for all you know, she could be lying to you about this whole ’ghost’ thing too!”

Dipper was actually quite prepared to correct Connie on this, not noticing Pacifica flinch slightly behind him as she realized this accusation was at least partially true. However, he really didn’t have to as the lumberjack ghost’s laughter began booming through the nearby corridor once again as he started to catch up with his victims.

“Its time to stop running, Northwest, and face you DOOM!” he shouted, finally appearing at the end of the hall with blue flames sparking all over his frightening form. All four of the kids let out a shared scream of terror as the spirit soared towards them at a breakneck speed, and all of the discourse concerning mutants and lies was quickly left behind as they unintentionally split up. Steven and Connie took off in the hallway they had just ran down, wanting to get back to the ballroom and find the Gems now more than ever with the appearance of this new ghostly threat. Still, the spirit paid them no mind as he continued pursuing his original targets, who were both desperately searching for any way they could find to subdue the ghost as they fled from him. In their frantic rush, they haphazardly turned a corner, only for Pacifica to end up tripping over her dress once more. She happened to grab Dipper by the sleeve in a last ditch attempt at steadying herself, only for them both to end up falling towards the nearby wall. Or rather, right through it. The ghost didn’t see this fortunately, as he glided straight on by while the pair tumbled into an apparently hidden storage room inconspicuously hidden behind a large tapestry.

“Huh? What’s this place?” Dipper asked as both him and Pacifica picked themselves up, glancing around the apparent collection of the Northwest’s various treasures and portraits.

“I… don’t know…” Pacifica admitted in apt confusion. “That’s weird. I don’t even know where this room is…”

“Hopefully the ghost and those Gem mutants don’t either…” Dipper remarked, taking a cursory peek back into the hallway.

“Yeah, maybe we’re safe,” the heiress let out a somewhat relieved breath, not noticing as the large sheet covering a painting behind her began to swell forward on its own accord. Dipper fortunately caught sight of this just in time as the sheet began to take on the clear, massive shape, one that reached out over Pacifica slowly and threateningly.

“Pacifica! Watch out!” he warned, drawing his sword as he rushed forward to defend her. Pacifica let out a frightened gasp as the ghost tossed the sheet away, laughing menacingly as he towered over her.

“Your fate is sealed!” the specter proclaimed, his blue flames rising as he prepared to strike the terrified heiress down once and for all. Dipper had just about reached her, unsure of what he was really going to do against the ghost with his sword alone, but he stopped short immediately upon noticing a discarded antique lying on the floor nearby, none other than a small, pure silver mirror.

“Prepare to die, Northwest!” the ghost shouted, his axe raised to deliver the final blow. Pacifica quickly braced herself for what would likely be a very painful end, only for Dipper to end up saving her from it at the last second. However, instead of doing so with his sword, this time he did so with the mirror, and the moment the ghost’s weapon made contact with it, everything seemed to happen at once. The entire room was engulfed in a blinding flash as Dipper was knocked back into Pacifica, who herself was pushed back towards the room’s small, low to the ground window. The pair was still completely in the dark about what was happening as they were practically launched out of the window, entangling themselves in its curtains as they rolled down a short hill, finally landing together at the bottom of it, breathless and rattled, but largely unharmed.

“W-what happened?” Pacifica asked her and Dipper both pulled themselves up. “Did you get him?”

At this, they both looked to the mirror, only to find an incredibly relieving sight: the ghost was trapped securely inside of it, demanding his freedom in an absolute fit of rage as he pounded against the other side of the glass to no avail. “Ha! Yes!” Dipper cheered, satisfied that at the very least one threat had been neutralized.

“We did it!” Pacifica exclaimed just as triumphantly, throwing her arms around Dipper without really thinking about it. Needless to say he was complete caught off guard by this unexpected hug, especially given the fact that it was coming from the heiress of all people. Still, what baffled him even more was the sudden rush of warmth he felt in his cheeks, coupled with the odd, yet strangely wistful feeling of not wanting it to end. It did, however, as Pacifica realized exactly what she was doing, her blush even brighter than Dipper’s as she quickly pulled away, averting his gaze as she awkwardly cleared her throat, wishing she could calm her racing heart and confused, flustered thoughts down already as she pulled out a dollar. “Uh… c-can I pay you to pretend that never happened?”

Despite being held up by the occasional minor Gem mutant, Steven and Connie eventually managed to navigate their way back to the main ballroom, only to stop short in surprise upon realizing that no one at the party was even remotely aware of the dangers lurking the halls just behind them. The pair ran into the midst of the celebrating crowd, more than ready to warn them all to flee the premises before it was too late. However, before they could even get a single person’s attention, they happened to accidently bump into the last person Connie had wanted to encounter at the moment.

“M-Mom!” she exclaimed in surprise upon running right into her mother’s torso. The doctor paused, looking away from the conversation she had been engaged in to her daughter instead, only to freeze with shock and motherly fury upon noticing the large pink sword strapped to her back.

“Connie!” Priyanka gasped, appalled. “How did you even—what are you doing with that?! I made a rule, no swords under any circumstances!”

“But mom-” Connie tried to argue, knowing that she needed to be armed in the dire circumstances they were facing.

“No,” the doctor interupted rigidly. “I told you once, and I can’t believe I have to tell you again! But its clear to me now that I can’t even trust you to so much as listen to me even after I put my foot down! So you leave me with no choice; you’re grounded until further notice. Hand that sword over, now.”

“But Mom, you don’t understand, I-”

“I said now!”

Connie flinched, clearly startled by her mother’s incredibly harsh tone as she let out a defeated sigh. With no other choice, she took the sword off her back and relinquished it, largely feeling as though she was handing over a piece of herself in the process. And as Steven caught sight of her utterly dejected expression, he found he could no longer stand by in silence.

“Er, Dr. Maheswaran, wait! You can’t take that sword away from Connie! She needs it—we need it to-”

“That’s quite enough,” Priyanka cut him off, sending him a fierce warning glare. “I’m not going to argue over this sword nonsense any longer. It’s done.”

“Mom, please-” Connie pleaded desperately only to be shot down one final time as her mother began to walk off, sword in hand.

“Done!” she reiterated, glaring back at her daughter with what was nothing less than absolute disappointment. Disappointment that left Connie feeling crushed even more than losing her sword had.

“So… what now?” Steven asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I guess we just go find the Gems and let them save the day, as usual…” Connie sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she morosely headed off to do just that. Of course, what neither of the pair was aware of was that the Gems had actually taken their ongoing vandalizing spree up onto the roof, where they were currently in the process of spelling out the word “snobs” in huge letters using paint Amethyst had “happened to find”, much to the enjoyment of the still large crowd gathered outside the gates below. But even still, Steven and Connie began duly, almost solemnly even pressing their way through the party, knowing that with the horde of Gem mutants drawing ever closer and Rose’s sword no longer a viable option, they were the only hope they had left.

With the ghost finally subdued and captured, Dipper and Pacifica blithely went to go report their shared success to the heiress’ parents. And while the Northwests weren’t as openly elated or excited as the young pair, they were still quite relieved to know that their haunting had been taken care of and their immaculate party saved.

“Well, Pacifica, you really found the right man for the job,” Preston remarked, snapping his fingers to signal to the nearby butler to shake Dipper’s hand in his place.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Priscilla said before a brief pause that ended with her nodding to the butler. “That’s enough.”

“Hey, just holding up my end of the deal,” Dipper grinned as he took the mirror the ghost was in and prepared to head out.

“Wait, leaving already?” Pacifica asked in slight disappointment. “You’re at the world’s best party, dummy. Are you sure you wanna go so soon?”

“Well I’d love to stay,” Dipper said with a smile just as playful as the heiress’. “But I’ve got a category 10 ghost to dispose of and then I should really go help Steven and Connie out with the rest of those Gem mutants.”

“Oh that’s right, I almost forgot just how adventurous your life is,” Pacifica rolled her eyes with a lightly teasing smirk.

“Heh, yeah,” Dipper chuckled, not paying too much attention to where he was going as he kept his sights on the heiress behind him. Which was how he ended up walking straight into one of the garden’s pillars. Pacifica was unable to contain her laughter at this, something that flustered Dipper quite a bit as he backed up and tried to play his clumsiness off as intentional. “O-oh, uh, l-like you said: a-adventurous.”

“Oh yeah, running into a pillar,” Pacifica quipped, still chuckling. “That’s totally an epic quest right there.”

Despite still being somewhat embarrassed, Dipper couldn’t help but finally join in on the heiress’ ongoing amused laughter, something that only died down between them as he sent her a small wave of farewell, one that she returned with a warm, genuine smile. He held up a similar smile as he departed, unable to deny that this misadventure, despite all of its harrowing moments, had ended on a much better note than he had could have ever expected anything pertaining to Pacifica Northwest to. For instead of being just as closed off and callously coldhearted as she had always come across to him before, it seemed as though there was another side to her: a playful, daring, capable side that came across as so much more authentic than the haughty front she usually seemed to put up. And even more unexpected than that was the fact that he had found himself taking a genuine liking of that side of the heiress, one that he hoped to see again in any of their future encounters. “Call me crazy, but… maybe she’s not so bad after all…” Dipper remarked to himself once he was out of the heiress’ earshot, surprised that he was even admitting something like that, but pleasantly surprised nonetheless.

His satisfaction was soon cut short, however, as a mocking, knowing laugh sounded from within the mirror in his hand. “What are you laughing about, man?” Dipper asked, glancing down at the trapped ghost in apt confusion. “I defeated you.”

“You’ve been had, boy,” the ghost said with another bitter laugh. “The Northwests lied to you, just as they did to me and my kin one hundred and fifty years ago.”

“…What do you mean?” Dipper ventured, genuinely curious as the ghost began to recount his tale of woe.

“One hundred and fifty years ago this day, the Northwests asked us lumber-folk to build them a mansion atop the hill. We were told it would be a service to the town, that once a year they would throw a grand party that would be open to the people of Gravity Falls, and all would share in the bounty of their wealth! It took years of backbreaking labor and sacrifice, but the promise of such a luxorious feast kept all of us going as we worked towards the manor’s completion, aided by a group of strong, magical, yet kindly women the Northwests had contracted to help the project along.”

“Wait, magical women?” Dipper interrupted, intrigued by this point in particular. “You mean the Crystal Gems?”

“Yes,” the ghost nodded disdainfully. “The Crystal Gems were invaluable in helping us raise these stately halls, but on the night we needed them most, they were nowhere to be found to stop the injustice committed against us lumberjacks. For when it was time for the grand party the Northwests promised the common folk of the town, they coldly refused to let us in. And with the trees we had cut to build the mansion gone, the mudslides began. While they partied and laughed, I was swept away by the storm and met my end to the very axe I had used to build their undeserved empire. And so I said with final breath: ‘One-fifty years I’ll return from death, and if the gate’s still closed to the town, wealthy blood will stain the ground!’ A curse passed down across every generation of Northwests, even to this day.”

“So… wait a minute,” Dipper said once the ghost was finished, quickly putting the pieces together of how everything he had just heard related back to the present. Which, in turn created a picture he was far from happy with. “The Northwests knew this haunting was coming, and they tricked me into helping them to avoid ghostly justice? …I’ll be right back…”

With the state of the party as seemingly secured as it was, Pacifica had returned to her expected spot by her parents’ side as they mingled with their wealthy guests. Yet her thoughts were hardly in the fancy festivities going on around her as they usually were during Northwest Fest and instead they were focused on the boy she had spent the earlier half of her evening with. She found it so incredibly strange that just a few hours ago, she had barely even spared a second thought towards Dipper, viewing him as just as common and ordinary as anyone else. Yet now, after the past few hours of narrowly surviving a deadly haunting with him, she couldn’t deny that he somehow fascinated her in ways that confused yet excited her all at once. And as she thought about his brazen swordsmanship, his clever readiness for almost any situation, his awkward yet almost frustratingly endearing laughter, Pacifica couldn’t help but sail through the evening with a distant, almost dreamy smile on her face, one that was filled with an unknown yet brimming longing to see him again.

A longing that was incidentally fulfilled sooner than she thought it would; though in the last way she could have wanted it to.

The Northwests were in the midst of entertaining dignitaries in the foyer when the mansion’s front doors suddenly burst open, revealed an incredibly indignant Dipper behind them. “Northwests!” he exclaimed angrily as he marched in, mirror still in hand. “You have some explaining to do!”

“Dipper! You came back!” Pacifica instantly perked up, a bright smile on her face as she began to rush over to him. Though it was quick to disappear as he shot her a particularly harsh, glare, one that was a very far cry from the warm smile he had left her with.

“You lied to me!” he accused furiously before addressing the entire family. “All of you did! All you had to do was let the townsfolk into the party and you could have broken the curse! But you just made me do your dirty work instead!”

Pacifica took in a sharp breath at this, knowing that he had discovered the one wrench in all of this that she had hoped he wouldn’t find out, especially as the newfound camaraderie began forming between them. But before she could even try to explain anything, her father was quick to only make things worse.

“Look at who you’re talking to, boy,” Preston began coldly, essentially ignoring the incredibly hostile scowl Dipper was sending up at him. “I’m hosting a party for the most powerful people in the world. Do you really think they’d come here if they had to rub elbows with your kind?”

“My kind?” Dipper repeated with an appalled scoff, not even bothering to contest the billionaire any further. After all, he had expected as much from the head of the Northwest household, but he had foolishly come to believe that their daughter was different, that she wasn’t just another pompous, heartless sob, that she had at least some redeeming shred of actual humanity in her. But as he had just discovered, none of that was true at all. “Looks like I was right about you all along,” he said to Pacifica bitterly, not even caring about her genuinely distraught expression. “You’re just as bad as your parents. Another link in the world’s worst chain!”

“N-no! Dipper, you don’t understand!” Pacifica protested earnestly, determined to set the record straight. “I’m sorry, they made me lie to you! I should have told you everything from the start, but-” The heiress was abruptly cut off by the sharp, sudden peal of the bell in her father’s hand, one that instantly silenced her back into submission as she glanced down submissively, ashamed by her own inability to resist it, ashamed by the fact that she had even agreed to this deceptive charade in the first placed, ashamed by everything really, but mostly, she was ashamed of herself.

“Enjoy the party,” Preston remarked mockingly as Dipper turned to head out, not even bothering to send Pacifica a second glance in his palpable fury, something that made her heart ache even more than just about anything else. “It’s the last time you and your kind will ever come.”

As vehemently outraged with the Northwests as he was, Dipper knew there wasn’t much he could do get back at them for their despicable actions. So instead of frustrating himself further, he sullenly took the mirror outside, following the journal’s instructions to create the proper setup needed to oust the ghost from the mortal plane. “Stupid Northwests, making me do their exorcism for them,” he grumbled to himself after placing the mirror at the center of the circle of candles. With everything in place, he began to read the journal’s spell to get rid of ghosts, though given the circumstances, he was hardly invested in the matter whatsoever “‘Exodus demonous, spookus scarus, aintafraidus noghostus’-”

“Dipper… Dipper!” the ghost called from within the mirror. “Please let me have my revenge on the Northwests. You hate them just as much as I!”

“Hey, I feel for you, I really do,” Dipper conceded and it was true, for more reasons than one. Even aside from the fact that they had both been made fools of by the Northwests, this ghost wasn’t exactly the first being trapped inside a mirror he had taken pity on. “It’s just… my sister and my friends are in there and you seem just a little unstable…”

“Very well, boy,” the ghost hung his head in apparent acceptance of his fate. “But… before you banish my soul, may these tired lumber eyes gaze upon the trees one final time?”

“Uh, I guess,” Dipper said, somewhat confused by this odd request though he obliged nonetheless, picking the mirror up and holding it towards the nearby forest. “Go nuts, man.”

Upon getting even just a glimpse at the trees, the ghost laughed wildly as the sight of the forest empowered him enough to ignite his flames brighter and hotter, to the point that their heat rapidly spread to his mirror prison itself. Dipper didn’t even have time to be confused about what was happening before the mirror’s handle suddenly turned red hot, burning his hand to the point that he was forced to let go of it. The glass shattered the instant it made contact with the ground and with it the ghost exploded from its ruined shards, paying no mind to the startled boy who had accidentally released him as he set his sights on the mansion once more.

“Yes! Vengeance!” he proclaimed with a triumphant laugh, speeding towards the manor with the intent of finally fulfilling his bloodthirsty vendetta.

“Oh no!” Dipper exclaimed, aptly alarmed as he remembered who else was still in the mansion. “Mabel! Steven! Connie!” Despite his lasting anger at the Northwests, he knew well that he couldn’t let the ghost accomplish his violent ends so long as innocent people were in danger. Which was why, after making sure his blade was strapped securely to his back, he rushed back up towards the mansion, unsure of what he was going to do to stop this disaster but determined to try rather than do nothing, as he assumed the Northwests were very likely to do.

With their freeform destruction on the roof complete, the Gems returned to the party proper, mischievous grins on their faces as they continued their own form of “revenge” by turning over tables, piercing through expensive paintings, and breaking priceless antiques. Of course, they were always discreet enough in doing so that no one really noticed, but still, they couldn’t deny that they were all three having genuine fun in their righteous form of destruction against the wealthy family. When it came right down to it, it almost felt nostalgic, at least to Garnet and Pearl as they recalled helping break apart the similar upper-crust regime of Homeworld centuries ago. And though this was indeed on a much smaller scale than that, they still couldn’t deny that it felt incredibly cathartic all the same.

Not too far away from the tapestry the Gems were currently tearing apart, Mabel and Candy were carrying out their strategic plan to flirt with Marius, with the former boldly taking the lead as she approached the baron with a wide, cheerful smile. “Hi, I’m Mabel!” she greeted loudly, catching Marius somewhat off guard. “So, Australia, huh? Do you guys eat kangaroo meat over there, or, uh… a-are they strictly pets?”

“I am from Austria,” Marius corrected with a confused frown.

“Haha! Yeah!” Mabel let out a forced, awkward laugh, panicking as she tapped Candy’s shoulder. “Tag! Tag!���

“I am Candy!” the other girl said to the baron as she took over just as brightly. “I love the tiny hats you wear on your shoulders!”

“Hi again!” Mabel cut back in, roughly pushing Candy aside in light of this. “If you were a boat, do you know what kind you’d be? A dream boat, that’s what kind.”

“You are tagged out!” Candy protested in a harsh whisper as she elbowed Mabel.

“I tagged back in,” Mabel pushed her back crossly.

“You can’t do that!”

“I can tag myself! Its allowed!”

“No, its not!”

“Yeah, it is!”

As the girls continued to bicker amongst themselves, the very confused Marius nervously retreated, unsure of how to react to them so clearly arguing over him. They also failed to notice that someone else had watched this entire embarrassing display, and she was far from pleased with what she had just seen. “Ahem!” Grenda interjected, hands on her hips as she cut through Mabel and Candy’s argument. “What exactly was all that?! You were flirting with Marius without me!”

At this, the pair exchanged a tense glance, knowing that there was really no playing any of this off as they had been caught red-handed. “W-we are sorry, Grenda,” Candy began, genuinely apologetic. “It’s just…”

“Your flirting style can come across as a bit… intense…” Mabel continued rather hesitantly.

“Oh, I see!” Grenda scoffed, thoroughly offended by this opinion. “You think I shouldn’t be myself just because I’m at this stupid mansion! I thought you liked my style!”

“We do!” Candy affirmed. “But these boys might not!”

“Oh, then I guess they wouldn’t like this either! Hey, Marius!”

“Yah?” the baron asked curiously as he wandered back over to the group.

Grenda paused briefly, looking to her friends with a critical glare as they both shook their heads with silent pleas for her to stop before it was too late. But of course, as angry as she was, she refused to comply with them and ‘flirted’ with Marius anyway. “You’ve got something… on your shit!” Of course, the baron glanced down, only for Grenda to launch her finger upward to hit his nose rather unforgivingly. Mabel and Candy gasped in shock at Grenda’s apparent audacity, and, with all three of them equally frustrated with each other, they all stormed away from each other in a huff without sparing another word. Still, none of them paid much mind to the rather stunned baron they had left behind, who looked off in the direction of the girl who had so aggressively “flirted” with him with amazed stars of newfound infatuation in his eyes.

After what felt like ages of searching in vain for the Gems, Steven and Connie eventually gave up, opting to rethink their options when it came to dealing with the infestation of Gem mutants. An infestation that was more than likely to make it into the ballroom itself sooner rather than later.

“We’re running out of time,” Connie noted, peaking down the nearby hallway for any signs of approaching mutants. “If we don’t hurry, then those mutants could end up hurting someone!”

“Yeah, but what can we do?” Steven asked fretfully. “We can’t find the Gems and your mom took my mom’s sword… Huh, that’s… actually kinda ironic now that I think about it…”

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Connie said with firm resolve, ignoring her issues with her mother for the moment for the sake of the greater good. “We’re going to handle this problem ourselves, sword or no sword, whether my mother likes it or not!”

“Excuse me?”

Both kids let out a startled gasp as they spun around to find none other that Priyanka herself standing right behind them, having sifted her way through the crowd in search of her daughter only to find her at the exact wrong moment. The doctor still had Rose’s sword tucked under her arm, her expression completely shocked and outraged over what she had just heard, but even so, Connie had no intention of retracting what she had said.

“M-Mom, I… You have to listen to me listen to me,” she began somewhat unsteadily, though her confidence started to grow as she reached for the sword. “I really, really, really need that sword! If you don’t give it to me, then a lot of innocent people could be in huge danger!”

“What? Connie, no!” Priyanka staunchly refused, holding the blade up as her daughter continued trying to grab it. “What has gotten into you? You know I never go back on a rule, young lady.”

“But there has to be some exceptions!” Connie argued fiercely. “I’m not some… rule-driven robot!”

As soon as she had said this, a brutal crash sounded from the end of the nearby hallway, one that was immediately followed by the appearance of a very large Gem mutant, one that didn’t hesitate to lunge forward towards the group near the ballroom. “W-what on earth is that thing?!” Priyanka asked, protectively gripping her daughter’s shoulder tightly.

“It’s a Gem mutant!” Steven exclaimed, determined to help Connie fend it off as his shield formed over his arm. “It’s why you have to let Connie have that sword back, Dr. Maheswaran! So she can beat it and protect everyone here!”

“Wha—b-but-” the doctor’s protests were cut off as the mutant pounced, one of its many hands reaching out and grabbing the closest thing to it, which just so happened to be Connie. “Connie!”

“M-Mom!” Connie called back as the mutant began dragging her towards it, its grip on her strong, despite her attempts to break free from it.

“I’ll save you!” Steven exclaimed, rushing forward before slamming his shield into the mutant’s side, forcing it to relinquish its hold. “Keep away from my Connie!”

The mutant let out a threatening groan as it shoved the young Gem back roughly, still towering over the group as more creatures began filling in behind it, pressing the trio back towards the ballroom. “T-these things are beyond reason!” Priyanka shook her head, unable to believe what she was witnessing.

“Mom, if you would go back on your rule this one time!” Connie pleaded, feeling largely useless against this threat without a sword in her hand. “I just need to help Steven get us out of here!”

“No! Mother knows best!” Priyanka reiterated harshly, still keeping the sword away from her daughter, even despite the growing danger.

“W-we can’t let these things into the ballroom!” Steven cried, struggling to maintain his stance as the largest mutant continued pressing against his shield. The smaller mutants were starting to maneuver their way around the group, crawling up the walls and ceiling as they essentially surrounded them, though they still didn’t work their way into the ballroom just yet. Upon seeing this, the young Gem gasped but reacted accordingly, abandoning his shield for a bubble instead, though the mutants continued pounding against it just as viciously.

“W-we’re trapped!” the doctor exclaimed, quite alarmed by this turn of events.

“We don’t have to be!” Connie proclaimed, her expression adamant as she turned to face her mother, refusing to give up in these dire straits. “Really, Mom. I know how to do this!”

“No, you don’t!” Priyanka argued, just as resilient on her side of the matter as her daughter was.

“Ugh, yes, she does!” Steven cut in quite impatiently, knowing they were wasting very precious time fighting like this. “She’s been training! She hasn’t just been playing around with that sword! She’s been taking classes learning how to use it right! Even though she’s always studying, or practicing tennis, or playing violin, she still works really hard to be a good sword fighter and she is!”

“No,” the doctor quickly denied, refusing to believe anything of the sort. “No, no, no, no, no. I know my daughter! I know what she’s doing every second of the day. All her activities, all her internets, everything. I know she’s definitely not some sword fighting hooligan!”

By this point, Connie had gotten to the point where enough was enough. For as long as she could remember, she had always rigidly stuck to whatever her parents had told her, complying perfectly for the sake of winning their approval and pride more than anything else. It was tedious, laborious, even difficult at some points giving their very high standards for her. But now, such standards could no longer apply. Because not only were they in a life or death situation, but things had changed. She had changed. It was a shift that everyone who knew her, everyone who came in contact with her had been able to see, especially herself. Everyone but her own mother, it seemed. “You don’t know me at all!” Connie finally exploded, beyond frustrated with her mother’s stubbornness by now. “You still haven’t even noticed my glasses!”

“W-what about your glasses?”

“They don’t have lenses anymore!” Connie huffed, taking her frames off and sticking her finger straight through them. “I haven’t needed actual glasses for almost the entire summer!”

“What?!” Priyanka asked, completely baffled. “Your eyesight just… magically got better?”

“Yes!” Connie shouted adamantly as Steven shrugged in slight embarrassment, given his involvement in all this. “I’ve been dealing with magic and monsters and things like these,” she pointed to one of the mutants beating against the side of the bubble. “Ever since I met Steven! That’s why I need you to just trust me and believe that I know what to do here!”

The doctor paused, her expression softening somewhat as she looked to her daughter with genuine conflict before looking back to the pressing danger that was so clearly surrounding them all. “B-but… you-”

Before Priyanka could get another word out, the entire mansion itself seemed to shake, accompanied by what sounded like a massive explosion coming from the ballroom itself. All of the party guests let out a collective gasp as the room’s large fireplace swelled dramatically, and from its sparking embers, the lumberjack ghost emerged, laughing manically as he prepared to rain righteous devastation down upon the entire party.

“Generations locked away, my revenge shall have its day!” he shouted boisterously, blasts of blue light bursting from his palms. As this apparent magic struck several of the party guests, the effects were immediate, their bodies starting to freeze before slowly turning into hollow, immovable, non-sentient wood.

And from that moment, the entire ballroom erupted into complete and utter chaos.

Aside from the petrifying blasts the ghost continued firing off at random, his power also brought the mansion’s many taxidermized displays to life, with the dead animals terrorizing every guest who had been lucky enough to escape being transformed into wooden statues. Nature itself soon started to overtake the hall, with vines and tree limbs bursting through the floor and entrapping more unfortunate attendees for the ghost to cast his horrific spell upon them. Almost as soon as this disaster had begun, the Northwests had been quick to tuck themselves out of sight, unable to do anything else but watch as their elegant party and their mansion itself began to crumble right before their eyes.

“Preston, what are we going to do!?” Priscilla cried mournfully, though her husband remained stoic in his cowardly plan.

“Prepare the panic room,” he remarked coldly, punching a taxidermized squirrel off of his shoulder.

While the Northwests had no intention of doing anything to stop this violent onslaught, the Gems were quick to notice it, forcing them to quickly put their ongoing vandalism aside as they leapt into action. “Whoa, isn’t that guy one of those lumberjacks from way back when?” Amethyst asked, summoning her whip as she beat back a mounted deer head. “Pretty sure that dude should be dead by now, shouldn’t he?”

“He is” Garnet confirmed, gauntlets at the ready. “That’s a ghost.”

“Well, he’ll be even less than a ghost once we’re through with him!” Pearl exclaimed boldly, finally calling the specter’s attention. “You! We demand that you put a stop to this senseless destruction and release these innocent humans at once!”

The ghost did take pause at this, though only to turn to the Gems with an expectant, almost smug grin as he glided towards them. “Ah, the Crystal Gems, what ages have past since we last met?” he asked almost calmly before a certain bitterness started to enter his tone. “I suppose its only fitting that you would stand to defend those treacherous Northwest scum even all these years later. After all, you did the very same thing one hundred and fifty years ago by not rising to the occasion to ensure my brethren and I the justice we deserved!”

“We’re not defending the Northwests,” Garnet countered, her gauntlets in tight fists. “We never would. Especially after we found out what happened that night.”

“So you DO know!” the ghost exclaimed, his flames rising in fury upon hearing this. “And yet you still did NOTHING to stop it!”

“If we had been there, we certainly would have!” Pearl protested firmly. “But we were away on a mission that night; we only found out about the Northwests breaking their promise from the other lumberjacks the next day! And believe us, we’ve condemned them for their horrible actions against you all ever since!”

“Oh you have?” the ghost scoffed, clearly not believing this claim. “Then answer me this: why are the mansion gates still closed, one-fifty years on!? Why have you not forced the Northwests to right the wrongs of their sinister past? Why have you failed to do what you promised: to protect this town and its people from the evil lying right within its own borders?!”

The Gems exchanged a rather surprised glance at this, none of them quite sure of what to say at such a strong accusation of their apparent failure. But really, when it came down to it, there had been nothing they could have really done to correct this unfair situation. They couldn’t force the Northwests to open their gates to the common folk, they hadn’t been able to keep that initial rejection from happening in the first place and they couldn’t keep it from happening now. It was a delicate situation, a very human situation that the Crystal Gems had found themselves ill-equipped to deal with and still did. And, based on their lack of an answer, that was a conclusion the lumberjack ghost had already angrily reached.

“You three are no better than the very Northwests you claim to condemn,” he remarked hatefully and dismissively. “And for that, you deserve nothing more than to share their DOOMED fate!”

The Gems only had time to let out a shared gasp before the ghost struck them with his power, which, alarmingly enough, effected them in the exact same way it would any human. In mere seconds, all three of the Crystal Gems were nothing more than wooden statues, stuck frozen in offensive poses against a foe they were powerless to defeat.

“Oh no!” Steven gasped, completely distraught as he happened to watch this entire display from the edge of the hallway him, Connie, and Priyanka were still in. “The Gems!”

“Steven, no!” Connie stopped him before he could rush out, still mindful of the Gem mutants as well as the ghost. Unfortunately, it seemed as though these threats were starting to combine as mutants began pouring out of the other hallways, sulking into the ballroom and openly attacking the dwindling number of non-wooden guests right alongside the ghost himself.

It was this absolute state of pandemonium that Dipper returned to as he burst back into the mansion, breathless and soaking wet from the ongoing thunderstorm outside. He stopped immediately within the doorframe however upon taking in the disaster before him, with undead animals and marauding mutants running amok amidst the myriad of already petrified party guests. Dipper didn’t get much of a chance to analyze the situation however before a nearby Gem mutant lunged at him, prompting him to act on instinct in drawing his sword and stabbing it cleanly through right before it could reach him. However, there was little his blade could do to help the poor soul who was inching across the floor, his body already half wooden as he desperately tried to escape his fate. “P-please, help me!” the guest cried before the inevitable happened, entrapping him in an immovable, unaware wooden form.

“Whoa! That is messed up!” Dipper exclaimed in apt shock upon witnessing something so horrific, though the ghost was quick to divert his attention as he let out a rather fitting proclamation.

“Just one way to change your fate!” the specter shouted amidst turning even more terrified guests into wood. “A Northwest must open the party gates!”

“A Northwest?” Dipper gasped, realizing that this situation wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. “Pacifica!” Knowing that there really wasn’t any other viable option for quelling the ghost’s intense, deadly fury, Dipper took off, cutting through any Gem mutant in his path as he went in search of the heiress, hoping that despite her earlier deceptiveness and dishonesty, she could still turn the tide in this mess once and for all.

At the same time, Steven, Connie, and Priyanka hung back a bit from the ballroom, mostly to avoid being detected by the ghost more than anything else as most of the Gem mutants had already pressed their way past them. Still, all three of them were quite shaken by the chaos playing out before them, especially the doctor as she shook her head in frightened disbelief.

“And now there’s a ghost too?” she asked, dumbfounded. “You mean to tell me that you kids deal with deadly threats like these on a daily basis?!”

“Um… yeah, kinda,” Steven shrugged with an awkward smile, hoping the truth wouldn’t set the doctor off even more.

“But like I said, we know how to handle it!” Connie argued brazenly. “We have experience, we can stop all this and save everyone, I know we can! I just need you to let us do that!”

Priyanka didn’t answer, instead peaking out into the tumultuous ballroom and then back to her daughter, clearly unable to make a choice about what to do or what to say. “C-Connie, I… I don’t…” she trailed off, true concern and fear in her eyes as she met her daughter’s still quite adamant expression. And while Connie was somewhat surprised by her mother’s near-allowance, she knew that she couldn’t afford to wait for it any longer.

“Ugh, there’s no time for this!” she groaned, finally doing what she had wanted to do from the very beginning. In a move to quick for Priyanka to stop her, Connie pulled Rose’s sword out of its sheath in her arms, gripping it tightly as Steven pushed the bubble forward into the ballroom proper, anticipating the fight that was about to commence.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Connie, who had already taken up an offensive pose as Gem mutants started crowding around them.

“Drop the bubble,” Connie nodded readily as Steven did just that.

With their only line of defense gone, Steven and Connie both leapt into action, the latter lashing out first to the mutant that tried to jump at Priyanka, only for her blade to end up slicing cleanly through it. At the same time, the young Gem beat a handful of smaller mutants back, but as he nodded to Connie once more, they both prepared for a maneuver that they had only ever practiced before, but finally felt ready to put to use in a real fight. With deft precision, Connie leapt to Steven, using his shield as a boost to gain the proper height to land a brutal finishing blow on a taller mutant, poofing it instant. Priyanka could only stand by and watch in dumbfounded awe as her daughter, usually so intellectually minded and well-mannered, sliced her way through these savage creatures with a kind of skill that was far beyond anything she had been expecting. Still, with the majority of mutants having taken to the ballroom, Steven and Connie knew they had no time to rest on their laurels as the danger running rampant throughout the party was still quite high.

“Steven, let’s split up to take care of the rest,” Connie ordered, stilling gripping Rose’s sword tightly. “Then maybe we can try to figure out some way to get rid of that ghost and free all those people.”

“Right!” Steven nodded affirmatively, his shield still positioned on his arm as he prepared to follow Connie out into the fray.

“Mom, stay here and don’t let that ghost see you,” Connie continued, her tone just as authoritative as she turned to her mother. “Steven and I have this covered.”

“C-Connie, wait!” Priyanka exclaimed, stopping her daughter by grabbing her shoulder. Connie shot her a rather upset glance at this, fully expecting her mother to try and restrain her and hold her back, just like she always did. But instead, she did something entirely different. “Be careful,” she urged, pulling her daughter into a loose, caring, but rather solemn embrace.

“…I will be,” Connie promised, letting out a small, somewhat remorseful sigh before the hug broke apart. “Now come on, Steven. We have a party to save.”

Seeing as how Pacifica had been nowhere to be found amidst the unfurling chaos of the ballroom itself, Dipper had no choice but to rush through the mansion’s halls in search of her, knowing that he had not a moment to waste. Fortunately, his search didn’t have to go on for too long as he happened to take a quick peek in the hidden room they had first captured the ghost in, only to find the heiress sitting there alone in the dark, knees pulled to her chest and her head bowed low in apparent shame.

“Pacifica!” Dipper exclaimed, rushing over to her, even despite that fact that she seemed to pay his entrance no mind whatsoever, even as he leaned down right next to her. “I’m so glad I found you! The ghost is back and he’s turning everyone to wood and he just started rhyming for some reason? B-but anyway, I need your help!” he urged, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her up but she was quick to bitterly pull it away. “Pacifica?”

“You wanna know why this room was locked up?” Pacifica began, still averting his gaze as she coldly nodded up to the set of paintings sitting a few feet away from them. Paintings which depicted Northwests of the past taking part in deceptive, duplicitous, downright dastardly acts across history. “This is what I found in here. A painted record of every horrible thing my family’s ever done. Lying, cheating… and then there’s me. I lied to you just because I’m too scared to talk back to my stupid parents!” In a fit of apt rage, the heiress took off her expensive earrings, tossing them disdainfully towards another painting of her own parents before letting out a sigh of defeat. “You were right about me… I really am just another link in the world’s worst chain…”

Dipper took pause at this, unsure of really how to respond to the heiress’s palpable, genuine guilt. Immediately, he couldn’t help but regret his former harshness towards her, especially now that he knew she had only been following her parents’ rigid orders in tricking him. And yet, instead of offering an apology right away, he ended up going with a different tangent instead. “Well… you don’t have to be...”

“Huh?” Pacifica finally glanced over at him, confused.

“Just because you’re your parent’s daughter, doesn’t mean you have to be like them,” Dipper clarified, offering her a small, encouraging smile. “You don’t have to keep this terrible chain going; you can choose to break it, you can choose to be better than them!”

“Heh, you make it sound so easy…” Pacifica said with a bitter laugh. “And for someone like you, I guess it probably would be. You don’t have your parents standing over you almost every second of the day with some stupid bell, drilling it into your head that you have to be perfect, that you have to uphold the family reputation, that you have to be just like them otherwise you won’t ever be worth anything to anyone!”

By now, the heiress’ usual composure had completely crumbled as she let out a tight sob, with tears that she quickly tried to wipe away only for more to end up following it. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she felt doomed, doomed to repeat the treachery of her ancestors, doomed to keep this cycle of corruption going, doomed to be just another lying, cheating, heartless Northwest. It was a line of thinking that she had once been proud of, a legacy that she had willingly wanted to uphold. But now, it felt suffocating, agonizing even, as though it was pulling her down into a darkness she wanted no parts in, but would inevitably end up drowning in, no matter how hard she tried to resist it.

And yet… maybe she wouldn’t.

For as she felt herself slipping deeper into the darkness of this despair and awful repetition, an unexpected hand suddenly took hers, somehow steadying her and pulling her up out of that darkness by its mere contact alone. Pacifica drew in a small, tearful breath as she glanced up at Dipper, his expression sincere and sympathetic as he kept his firm, yet gentle grip on her hand all the while.

“Pacifica…” he began, his tone solemn yet steady. “You don’t actually believe any of that, do you?”

“I-I… I don’t know…” she shook her head truthfully, knowing that it was all she had ever been taught by her parents. Then again, it could have all just as easily been yet another lie, another fabrication to add on to the countless others her family was so infamous for. “I… I don’t… want to, I just… I guess… I just want to feel… free for a change…” Like you, she wanted to add, knowing that Dipper was perhaps one of the most unfettered people she had ever met. He could do what he wanted, say what he wanted, all without the fear or worry of anyone telling him that he couldn’t, that he had to conform to some strictly set standard that stood against everything he believed in. It was a bold, foreign concept to Pacifica, one that fascinated her to no end and made her wonder what it would be like if she was granted that much open, endless, liberating freedom herself. Freedom that she had only ever gotten close to as a result of being close to him.

“Well… then that’s up to you,” Dipper said, still smiling kindly to her. “Like I said, you don’t have to be what your parents say, especially if they’re trying to train you to be just as horrible as they are, no offense.”

“Believe me, none taken,” Pacifica remarked, unable to hold back a brief, sardonic laugh at this.

“But still,” Dipper continued, letting go of her hand, though he still kept his other one positioned on her shoulder, something that she couldn’t help but smile about. After all, it was probably among the most genuine physical affection she had gotten from anyone really, including her own parents. “You can way more than they want you to be. Heck, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve already proved that by just realizing that what your family’s doing is wrong. I’m sorry about what I said earlier, but… I do mean it when I say I think you can be someone better. It’s not too late.”

“It’s too late!” the ghost’s triumphant shout could be heard all the way from the ballroom, startling the pair out of their tender moment as they hurried out to see what was going on. The alarming sight before them elicited a horrified gasp from them both as the entire ballroom had been overtaken, either by unruly, encroaching plants or still meandering Gem mutants, all spread out around the multitude of now wooden, immovable party guests with no single survivor seeming to remain. “You’re all wood!” the ghost proclaimed with a victorious laugh from his spot at the top of the stairs overlooking the ballroom, which is vengeance had completely claimed.

For a moment, all Dipper and Pacifica could do was look over this horrific scene in apt terror as they tried to spot anyone still living and free amidst the apparent forest of wooden statues. But there seemed to be no one left, for Steven and Connie were nowhere to be found, and the Gems, Candy, Grenda, even Mabel had all fallen victim to the lumberjack’s petrifying curse. Which, of course, was something that Dipper refused to let stand as he swiftly drew his sword, determined to finally put this violent specter in his place once and for all.

“Dipper, wait!” Pacifica shouted, failing to hold him back as he rushed out brazenly, taking up a stance of opposition not too far away from the ghost itself, much to the heiress’ apt alarm.

“Alright, ghost,” Dipper began boldly, grabbing a discarded silver platter with the hopes of trapping the ghost inside of it. “Prepare to get-” He was abruptly cut off as the ghost blasted both the platter and his sword out of his hands, showing that the spirit had no patience to even trade barbs with the boy who had trapped him in the first place. “No, wait!” Dipper exclaimed in sudden fear as the ghost remorselessly hit him with his inescapable curse. The effect was immediate, working from the ground up as it all too quickly turned his flesh into hallow, unfeeling wood, much to his apt panic. “N-no! No, stop! Someone, help!” he cried desperately, crippled by a hauntingly familiar sensation of rapidly losing all his senses entirely as his chest became nothing more than frozen bark before it spread up his arms and finally to his face. “Help, please!” His final, agonized plea hung onto the air as an echo as he finally froze, completely turned to wood and stuff in an eternal pose of stricken terror as he reached for help that would likely never come.

All Pacifica could do as she witnessed all this was let out a sharp gasp of both shock and anguish, unexplainable tears welling up in her eyes as she watched Dipper succumb to the threat that her family was solely responsible for. One of the few people who had managed to inspire her, to encourage her to move beyond her family’s harsh standards, who showed her genuine warmth and kindness that hadn’t been bought but rather earned, was now nothing more than a wooden husk and she knew it was all thanks to her. Which was why she had to do something. She couldn’t just walk away and leave Dipper, and really every other innocent person in the mansion, to such a grisly fate. She had to stand up, to right the wrongs of her family’s past, to truly be someone better than any of her predecessors had been, including her own parents.

She had to open the gates.

And yet… she couldn’t. As much as she wanted to, she knew well what would happen if she even tried. Her parents would never forgive her, in all honesty, they’d probably punish her more than she could possibly imagine. They didn’t take disobedience kindly, especially when it came to massive matters like this. Seeing as how she couldn’t find them amidst the crowd of statufied guests, she knew that they’d find out about her blatant defiance somehow, they just would. And then, any shred of empirical freedom she thought she had would disappear completely; any hope she might have had to become a better person, to improve herself and rise above her family name, would vanish entirely. She’d be trapped, just like she always was, in that cycle of lies and greed and selfishness that had poisoned the Northwest name for decades.

And the possibility of that happening was something she desperately didn’t want to risk.

So instead, Pacifica let fear take over as she took a step back into the shadows, out of the ghost’s range, away from the disaster she could so easily solve with just the pull of a lever. However, she failed to see one of the few other survivors rushing along the edges of the hall, trying to take out the remaining Gem mutants while remaining out of the ghost’s sight, until they happened to haphazardly crash right into each other.

“Ugh, Pacifica!” Connie snapped, pulling away from the heiress with a cold scowl. “Get out of my way! I have to—wait a second,” she stopped short, lowering her sword somewhat as concern filled her expression. “W-where’s Dipper? Wasn’t he with you earlier?”

“H-he was…” Pacifica glanced down guiltily, trying her best to hold back her returning tears. “But… but he… t-the ghost… I wasn’t able to-”

Connie cut her off with a sharp, startled gasp as she glanced out into the ballroom, instantly spotting Dipper’s now wooden form near the center of the hall. “Dipper!” she exclaimed, aptly distraught as she turned back to Pacifica, clearly livid. “What happened?!”

“H-he just… ran out there! I wanted to stop him, but I-”

“Oh yeah, sure you did,” Connie deadpanned harshly. “Like I’m gonna stand here and believe that you actually even thought about sticking your neck out for someone else. Heck, I bet the only reason you’re so torn up about what happened to Dipper is because you lost your only ghost hunter, right?”

“Augh, you don’t know anything do you?!” Pacifica retorted just as fiercely, her gloved hands clenched in tight fists at her sides. “You think the only person I care about is myself, but you’re wrong! Believe me, I’d love to just run out there and open the gates so that ghost would set everyone free, but I can’t! Because if I did, then my parents would… t-they’d…”

“They’d… what?” Connie asked, her glare softening somewhat as she noticed just how visibly anxious Pacifica seemed to be.

“Forget it,” the heiress said dismissively, wrapping her arms around herself as she glanced out towards the ballroom sadly. “You wouldn’t understand…”

“…Somehow, I think I would…” Connie admitted with a hesitant sigh, looking to the hallway she knew her mother was still hiding in. “My mom is… pretty strict. She didn’t even know about my sword fighting training until tonight and when she found out about it, she refused to let me fight, even against all these Gem mutants running around. But… I knew a still had to fight, that I was one of the only ones with any hope of stopping all this, and so I am.”

“E-even though your mom said no?” Pacifica asked, rather amazed by such a concept as blatantly going against parental orders with no apparent regret.

“Even though my mom said no,” Connie confirmed with a nod, pausing for a moment as she looked to the rather conflicted heiress with newfound pity. Perhaps, despite what she had been led to believe, Pacifica wasn’t really spoiled or cruel from her own choosing; maybe that was just how her parents had raised her, had forced her to be. And as someone who knew all too well just how heavy a burden trying to live up to parental standards was, maybe, Connie realized, the two of them weren’t so different after all. “I think I realized that… sometimes my parents aren’t always right. And when they’re not, that’s when I have to just… figure things out for my own, you know? And maybe… maybe that’s something you need to try for yourself, Pacifica.”

The heiress said nothing in response to this, her brow furrowed as she kept her sights on Dipper afar in the distance more than anything else. Connie raised an eyebrow upon seeing this, surprising something of an incredulous smile as she realized what was going on here, though she said nothing about it at the moment. “I gotta go find Steven,” she said, repositioning her grip on Rose’s sword as she hurried off. “Try to make the right choice, ok?”

Pacifica took in a deep breath, steadying herself as she slowly nodded, even after Connie had left. “Ok,” she whispered, resolve to do this, determined to save them all, to save him.

Whether her parents liked it or not.

“A forest of death,” the ghost concluded grimly, still presiding in his spot above the ballroom. “A lesson learned, and now the Northwest Manor will BURN!” The specter erupted into vengeful laughter as flames rose up from him, igniting the large portrait of the Northwest family hanging from the nearby wall first, though it quickly began to spread, more than ready to burn everything, and everyone, in the mansion to ashes in minutes.

Or at least it would have.

“Hey, ugly! Over here!” Pacifica shouted as she emerged from hiding, figuring now was as good a time as any to put an end to all this. She stood before the ghost boldly, unfettered by the powerful, hateful spirit as she stepped towards the lever that would open the mansion’s outer gates. “You want me to let in the townsfolk? Cause I’ll do it! Just change everyone back!”

“You wish to prove yourself?” the ghost asked challengingly. “Then pull that lever and open the grand gate to the town! Fulfill your ancestors’ promise and right this wrong once and for all!”

Pacifica was prepared to do just that, her expression hardened as she began reaching for the nearby lever. However, her hand froze right before she could grab it as an underground hatch leading down to the panic room opened up a few feet away, her father, mother, and one of their countless butlers anxiously peeking out of it. “Pacifica Elise Northwest! Stop this instant!” Preston exclaimed in a harsh, incredibly disapproving whisper. “We can’t let the town see us like this! We have a reputation to uphold!”

“A reputation?” Pacifica looked to him, appalled. “Our entire mansion’s about to go up in flames and a bunch of innocent people right along with it and you’re worried about our reputation?!”

“Well, of course I am!” Preston scowled adamantly. “And you should be too, young lady! Our family is built off of power and position, we can’t have common nobodies off the street running rampant in our mansion! Now come into the panic room. There’s enough mini-sandwiches and oxygen to last you, me, and a butler a full week.” At this, he quickly dropped his voice down to a whisper so the nearby servant couldn’t hear him. “We’ll eat the butler.”

“You’re wrong!” the heiress snapped, her former fear of standing against her parents quickly fading as she realized just how many self-serving lies she had been fed her entire life. Lies that she refused to eagerly buy into any longer. “The only things our family was built off of are cheating and dishonesty! I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to learn that, but I have! And its about time everyone else did too!”

“You dare disobey us?” Preston scoffed in disbelief. “Where did this shamefully disrespectful attitude of yours come fro—oh wait, I know…” The billionaire’s tone turned disdainful as he shot a glance towards the center of the ballroom, where Dipper’s wooden remains stood. “It was that foolish Pines boy, wasn’t it? He was the one who inspired you to start thinking like a no-account vagrant instead of the elite young lady of status that you truly are! Well, worry not,” he said, pulling the bell that Pacifica had come to dread and loathe so much out of his suit pocket. “I know of the perfect to fix that…”

Pacifica flinched, pulling her hand away from the lever on instinct upon hearing the bell’s clarion ring, a ring that seemed to echo throughout her entire childhood and always carried one, singular order: behave. A ring that had groomed her into what her parents wanted her to be: submissive, unquestioning, accepting of all the atrocities the Northwests were responsible for in the past and were still committing even now. A ring that she hated, with every fiber of her being, but she knew better than to resist it.

Until now.

Because now, that ring wasn’t her master any longer. It couldn’t be. She remembered the advice both Dipper and Connie had given her, advice that mixed together inside her mind that she could be more, that she could do the right thing even when her own family never had, that she could change.

That she could be free.

And no matter what the cost might be, that freedom was something she was finally ready to take.

“Dingly, dingly!” Preston growled, ringing the bell harder as he noticed Pacifica was paying it no mind and reaching for the lever once more. “Is this bell broken?”

“Our family name is broken!” Pacifica proclaimed, slamming her foot down as she finally grabbed the lever. “And I’m gonna fix it!”

Putting every last ounce of reservation and fear behind her, the heiress pulled the lever down hard, at long last finally opening the gates up to the common townsfolk outside. The people of Gravity Falls gasped in amazement at this unexpected turn of events, but of course, none of them hesitated to rush forward, delighted to be allotted inside the legendary Northwest Fest for the very first time ever.

“Yes! Yes, its happening!” the ghost happily cried as the townsfolk excitedly ran up the hill to get to the mansion itself. “My heart, once as hard as oak, now grows soft, like more of a… birch or something.”

As a result of the ghost’s satisfaction, his curse upon the mansion quickly faded away, the taxidermized animals becoming still and unmoving as the wild plants disappeared back into the ground they had emerged from. At the same time, all of the petrified party guests seamlessly and painlessly were returned to normal, from the wealthy dignitaries, to the Gems, and to Dipper, who let out a sharp gasp as he returned to normal, rather startled by this shift as he happened to glance across the hall over at Pacifica. The heiress remained where she was by the lever, but even so, the huge smile of warm relief she sent him was undeniable, knowing that to see him alive and well again made all of her struggling against her parents more than worth it.

“Pacifica,” the ghost addressed her, briefly diverting her gaze away from Dipper right as he returned her smile. “You are not like other Northwests and for that, you should be proud. I feel… lumber justice…” And with these final words of contentment relayed, the specter finally disappeared from the mortal plane, leaving only his axe behind as it slammed into the ground, the only remaining physical sign of the devastation he had wrought.

Of course, almost as soon as the ghost had vanished, the multitude of townsfolk reached the manor, flooding in through the front doors in a flurry of chaos and excitement. They had no mind for manners whatsoever as they ran about, indulging on buffet tables, leaping into cider fountains, and laying their hands on whatever expensive knick-knacks they could find. Still, their arrival had added an undeniable and much-needed element of reckless fun and freedom to the party, one that absolutely appalled Preston and Priscilla as they stood by, helpless to stop what their daughter had so brazenly done.

“Good lord, the riffraff! Its everywhere!” the billionaire cried, aghast at the state of his once pristine party as he ran about, trying and completely failing to reclaim some sense of class and order.

At the same time, the Gems, upon recovering from their formerly petrified states, were quick to see the wild debauchery going on all around them, something that aptly confused them, given how they knew Northwest parties to usually be.

“What’s going on here?” Pearl asked, her spear dissipating as she watched Manly Dan toss a keg of cider across the hall.

“I dunno, but this is my kinda party!” Amethyst cheered, laughing as a few of the town’s teens rode an empty platter down the nearby stairs.

“Looks like everyone else has followed our lead,” Garnet remarked with a wry smirk, placing hands on both of her teammates’ shoulders. “You know what that means.”

“Woo! Time to bust it up!” the purple Gem rowdily whooped, rushing forward unrestrained.

“N-now Amethyst, let’s try not to bust things up too much!” Pearl warned as she began to run after her, though she quickly stopped with an incredulous scoff. “Wait, what am I saying? This is the Northwests’ mansion we’re talking about here! Let’s bust it up to our hearts’ content!”

“Now you got it,” Garnet nodded in amused approval, joining her teammates as they gladly leapt into the ongoing chaos and fun all around them.

Meanwhile, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all in the midst of recovering from their own bouts as wooden statues, though none of them knew much about what had really occurred. Still, as soon as they had properly gathered their bearings, Grenda was quick to turn on the pair, sending them a disapproving scowl as she addressed them.

“Ahem,” she began somewhat coldly. “Don’t you two have something you’d like to say?”

“…Grenda, we are so sorry,” Candy relented remorsefully.

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have left you behind,” Mabel added just as empathetically.

“It’s ok,” Grenda conceded, her bitter manner quickly dropping upon noticing their sincerity. “Maybe I do need to work on my flirting. But for now, come on. Let’s go dip our heads in some cheese and chocolate. Friends?”

“Friends,” the other two girls happily agreed as they all joined together in a group hug. This moment of reconciliation soon came to an end however, for before they could make their way over to the fondue fountains, they were abruptly halted by a certain baron.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Marius called after them, approaching Grenda in particular with a fond, longing smile. “Grenda, was it? I must speak with you. There is something about you, I-I can’t get you out of my head! You’re so bold and confident! I know you are probably out of my league, but… might I give you mien phone number?”

“I don’t have a phone!” Grenda brightly exclaimed, elated by this offer. “Write it on my face!”

The baron proceeded to do so as Mabel and Candy watched on, neither of them having to pretend to be happy for their friend’s successful romantic catch. “Whoa-oh! Go Grenda!” Mabel exclaimed with a surprised grin.

“I guess we shouldn’t have sold her short,” Candy concluded. “I call bridesmaid!”

“What? I call co-bridesmaid!” Mabel countered before both of them shared a warm laugh. Despite their earlier scuffle, their friendship had been easily repaired, with all three of them knowing that no boy, no matter how cute or fancy, was worth damaging something so valuable to them all.

“Is that the last of them?” Connie asked Steven as he finished bubbling away what seemed to be the last of the Gem mutants. They had finished proofing and capturing them all around the same time the ghost had disappeared, which meant that now the party and its guests could truly be safe to enjoy the remainder of their evening.

“Yeah, I think so,” Steven nodded, offering her a small, congratulatory smile. Connie didn’t get much of a chance to return it, however, before her mother approached, her manner strangely anxious as she met her daughter’s somewhat unreadable gaze.

“C-Connie,” Priyanka began gently, looking between her daughter and the sword in her hand. “I… is this… really what you’ve been doing all summer? Training to fight these… things?”

“Yeah…” Connie nodded, glancing down guiltily. “Mom… I’m really sorry about lying to you. It started off as a tiny secret, and then it felt like I didn’t hide it, you wouldn’t let me see Steven or Dipper or Mabel ever again…”

“Is… is that how you feel?” Priyanka asked, her tone genuinely upset at the thought of unintentionally causing her daughter such worry and fear. “Are we too controlling?”

“…Maybe…” Connie admitted with a small shrug, deciding to be completely honest with her mother on this.

“I just… wanted to be a good mother,” the doctor said remorsefully, almost sadly even. “I-I just wanted to protect you.”

“But I can protect myself now!” Connie urged firmly. “You saw that I can! You just… need to start trusting that I can handle some things on my own.”

Priyanka sighed, a bittersweet smile crossing her face as she knelt down and placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You are growing up awfully fast, aren’t you?” she said, a hint of pride filling her tone. “Okay. We’ll pull back on the rules. And I’ll try to keep an open mind about this,” she nodded to the sword in Connie’s hand. “And that,” she looked towards the bubbled Gem Steven was sending off to the temple. “And… him…” She finished rather tightly, nodding to the somewhat confused young Gem himself.

“That’s… all I really want,” Connie said, finally smiling herself.

“I know, its just… it scares me that you can’t talk to me about all this!” Priyanka pressed with apt concern. “I need to know what’s happening in your life. I need to be able to step in when you’re in over your head. Would you just promise me that you’ll stop all the lying?”

“That’s a rule,” Connie nodded, resolved to meet her mother halfway in doing just that.

“I love you, honey,” Priyanka smiled as she pulled her daughter into a warm, protective embrace.

“I love you too, Mom,” Connie retorted just as contentedly, more than happy to let her mother intervene if the need ever arose.

Steven wore a soft smile himself as he stood by, watching this heartwarming display. However, his grin did fade somewhat as he happened to glance down at Rose’s sword in his arms, particularly at his mother’s iconic symbol on its scabbard. He couldn’t help but wonder, as he watched Connie and her mother share such a tender, genuine moment, if he would have ever known a similar relationship with his own mother if she was still around. But as it stood, this was a gap he’d never truly have filled, a kind of protective, motherly love he’d never fully get to know. Or at least he thought.

For the young Gem was soon drawn out of his solemn thoughts as a familiar hand landed on his shoulder. Steven glanced up to meet Garnet’s gentle grin, followed by Pearl’s and Amethyst as they filled in beside her.

“Y-you guys!” he exclaimed in apt relief to see them unharmed. “You’re ok!”

“Of course we are!” Amethyst quipped, playfully elbowing him. “What, you really think we’re gonna let some undead lumber loser beat us down? Please, you know us better than that!”

“Are you enjoying the party, Steven?” Pearl asked, flustered changing the subject though she was still smiling down at her young ward nonetheless.

Steven paused, looking down at his mother’s sword one last time before smiling back up at his guardians. “You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

With the ghost gone and the heiress’ parents preoccupied, Dipper and Pacifica had found it rather easy to reunite and debrief from their harrowing experiences, both of them more than happy to watch the unfurling freedom of the newly-opened party all around them. “Man, if your family hates this, then they’re idiots,” Dipper remarked with a small laugh as several townsfolk ran by noisily but happily. “This is great!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Pacifica huffed, crossing her arms. “Next year, I’m sure they’re just gonna lock everyone out again.”

Dipper paused, briefly noticing that the heiress still seemed rather remiss after everything had happened. Fortunately though, he quickly thought of a sure-fire way to change her sour tune. “Hey, guess what we’re standing on.”

Pacifica glanced down, her face lighting up with a vindictive grin as she noticed their muddy shoes were planted firmly on a repeat of her parents’ favorite white rug. From that point, neither of them were really able to hold their laughter in as they freely tarnished the carpet, spilling food and punch onto it without any care in the world, all in a sign of defiance to the billionaire’s rigid, self-righteous rules.

“Hey, so, uh…” Pacifica began somewhat awkwardly as their laughter began to die down. “I just wanted to say… um… thanks, I guess, for what you said back there. In a way, I guess it kinda inspired me to finally stop listening to my parents’ self-entitled garbage and start listening to myself for a change. And I gotta admit, it… feels kind of… nice.”

“If anyone’s thanking anyone around here, I should be thanking you,” Dipper said just as warmly. “If it wasn’t for you, then I’d still be a boring old hunk of wood right now.”

“Yeah, that totally would have sucked,” Pacifica remarked with something of a flirtatious grin. “I couldn’t imagine you, of all people, being so stiff and boarding.”

Dipper couldn’t really hold in a burst of heavy laughter at this, something that only served to fluster the heiress even more than she already was. “What, did you come up with that one yourself?”

“Hey, at least I tried. It’s not like puns are really my strong suit.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Oh shut up,” Pacifica smirked, pushing him playfully as he continued laughing. “But seriously though, I should probably go and find someone to clean this mess up. I’ll be right back!”

Dipper waved her off with a fond smile that he was unable to chase away, even if he had wanted to. As catastrophic as this night had turned out to be, at the end of it all, it had all been worth it to form a true, genuine bond with Pacifica, who, as far as he was concerned, was so, so much kinder, braver, and better than he had ever thought her to be.

His contented musings on the heiress didn’t last too long, however, before a certain old hillbilly ran up, seemingly just as zany and excitable as ever. “Woo! Scoobity-doo!” McGucket exclaimed, hopping up and down in his usual wild way. “Hornswaggle m’goat knees!”

“Whoa, hey, McGucket!” Dipper greeted with a bright smile, happy to see the hillbilly out and about in the aftermath of recovering his memories. “How have you been? Are you—whoa!” he was succinctly cut off as McGucket suddenly pulled him aside, his kooky act falling to the wayside for a much more serious one as soon as they were out of everyone else’s earshot.

“Dipper! I’ve been lookin’ for ya!” the hillbilly began intently, his expression and tone both dire as he put his glasses on and pulled out the old laptop, which looked nowhere as bad off as it had been before. “I fixed the laptop and-”

“You fixed it?! Dipper interupted, his eyes wide with surprise at this news. He paused, however, forcing himself not to be too overwhelmed by it as he remembered exactly why he had strived so hard to unlock said laptop in the first place. “Y-you… you didn’t happen to find anything on there about how split Gem fusions up… did you?”

“Er, uh… no?” McGucket frowned, confused by such an odd question before he returned to the matter at hand. “B-but anyway, I’ve been doin’ calculations, and I think somethin’ terrible is comin’! The apocalypse! The end times!”

Dipper simply let out a disappointed sigh at this as he glanced to the laptop somewhat bitterly, knowing he had wasted and lost so much for something that wouldn’t have even been able to help Lapis in the first place. But given that his spirits were relatively high from the party, he didn’t particularly feel like lowering them at the moment to look into the hillbilly’s frantic warnings, which in and of themselves, might not really hold any weight at all. “You know what, McGucket? How about we talk about this stuff tomorrow?”

“But-” McGucket fretfully tried to protest, only for Dipper’s already waning attention to quickly be diverted.

“Dipper!” Pacifica called from the party proper, smiling brightly as she beckoned for him to join her.

“Be there in a second!��� he called back to her before turning to the distraught hillbilly once more with a small smile and a shrug. “It’s a party. Let’s have some fun for once, huh?”

“N-no! Wait!” McGucket exclaimed, though his pleas were in vain as Dipper left, dangerously unaware of what he had just uncovered. The hillbilly quickly opened the laptop up, its screen blaring the words “Imminent threat” in bright, glaring red as a countdown steadily blinked upon it, showing that only less than 24 hours remained. “Oh, this is bad!” he shook his head nervously. “Something’s coming! Somethin’ big!”

The hillbilly continued to look over his worrisome findings, completely unaware of the tapestry behind him, one that seemed to almost foretell of the very danger he feared was soon to come: a burning landscape with suffering humans upon it, and a long triangular shape presiding over the chaos, its singular eye watching all.

“Hey,” Dipper greeted Pacifica blithely as he rejoined her near the makeshift ‘dance floor’ the townsfolk had set up at the center of the ballroom. “What’s up?”

“Uh… well…” the heiress blushed, anxiously averting his gaze. “I was just, um… Well… Oh, how do I put this…? I was thinking maybe… y-you and I could… you know…” Unable to spit it out, she instead nodded to the several pairs freely moving about the dance floor, biting her lip as she noted his initial confusion, followed by his dawning realization.

“What, you mean, dance?” he asked, looking back to her rather surprised.

“Y-Yeah, I mean, i-if you wanna…” she crossed her arms, feigning stoicism over the matter. “W-we don’t have to. I just thought it would be like, fun or something.”

“Oh, well, uh… I-I’m not really that much of a dancer,” he admitted, starting to become rather flustered himself in light of this offer.

“So? Neither are any of them,” she nodded back to the dance floor again, where the couples upon it were basically just spinning around in tandem without any rhyme or reason at all. All the same, he hesitated, his eyes wide and his cheeks just as red as hers as he met her awkward, apprehensive expression. “W-what? Are you embarrassed or something?”

“N-no!” he shook his head quickly. “Are you?”

“No!”

“W-well then, I guess we should…”

“Yeah…” she took in a deep breath, slowly taking the hand he shakily offered out to her, In truth, neither of them were exactly sure why there were so nervous, even as they emerged onto the open floor together. After all, they really had no reason to be; this was just going to be a loose, friendly, freeform dance. Nothing less, and nothing more.

And though it took a moment or two of mental preparation, they soon started to fall into this mindset themselves as they began to spin, hands intertwined as they rotated in wide, dizzying, almost chaotic circles. It didn’t take long for them to start laughing, their faces still somewhat red but this time it was a welcome warmth as they “danced” about, the ballroom around them and the multiple pairs of eyes curiously watching them soon forgotten just as much as their initial inhibitions were. As wild and unkempt as it was, there was no denying they were both having fun, enjoying each other’s company, something neither of them thought could never happen before this fateful night. Yet here they were, a highly-esteemed heiress with a tarnished family history and a middle-class boy only really known for his knowledge of the supernatural. An unusual pair, for sure, but that hardly mattered to either of them at that moment for as far as they were concerned, they were the same. Just two kids, spinning around an elegant ballroom, hands intertwined as they laughed together with freedom in their minds and happiness in their hearts.

Happiness that would someday become something that nothing, not the past, the present, or the future, would ever be able to destroy.  

Next:

[nightcoremoon]

I typically don't eat very much meat on a day to day basis. usually I just eat granola, pasta, rice and beans, peanut butter and nacho cheese doritos, tomato and vegetable soup, and lots and lots of fruit. sometimes I'll have grilled cheese, eggs, and I do drink milk on a daily basis. maybe once a week I'll eat something with chicken or beef in it, but the meat I eat the most is tuna. when I'm in financial dire straights I'll eat ramen since it's a quarter each. but I have to feed myself on a very low budget, and oftentimes that calls for including meat, since my body can't digest beans well, and peanut butter can't be the primary source of protein in your life, and nuts trigger some sensory issues, and I think soy is really bad for you, and quinoa is expensive as fuck because of the flying it in and the slave labor because capitalism is evil. regardless, the point is, I don't eat that many meat and animal products in the long run. I don't subsist entirely on bacon cheeseburgers. I don't live breathe and eat an entire cow at a time. I eat just enough to keep me alive. I don't appreciate being told I'm a bad person for this.

I don't appreciate assholes who bully people on the internet for being in the same position as me. I don't appreciate self righteous pieces of fucking garbage who send waves and waves of anon hate to people who don't just let them be dicks in peace. I especially loathe the kind of person who has more respect for literal pigs than for actual human beings, comparing the lives of black, jewish, muslim, gay, trans, poor, disabled, mentally ill, autistic, and culinarily minded individuals to animals. do you realize how fucked that is? to care more about stupid fucking LIVESTOCK than about your fellow man and to let it govern your every waking moment? it's bullshit and I won't stand for it. I'm a good person. My mind doesn't let me believe it most times but I know in my heart that I always have the best interests of all humanity at the front of my mind. I respect every single human life who is not literally evil, a genocidal fascist, wants to kill me or anyone else based on something as trivial as our demographics. I was with a girl two nights ago and I was just a few steps away from having sex with somebody for the first time in my entire life which is something that the dark bits in the back of my mind have tried endlessly and tirelessly to accomplish, but she said she didn't want to do that so I didn't, and it was one of the easiest decisions I have ever made in my entire life, no matter how much I actually wanted to do it, no matter how much the intrusive thoughts told me to do it anyway. I didn't. Because I know that that's just a part of my mental illness, because I know it isn't really me saying or wanting or attempting the doing of those things, and the real me is one of the nicest people in the fucking world. So many other people tell me that I am but I disagree with them so often. I've had to work so hard to get to a point where I don't hate myself, where I can actually look at my face in the mirror and hear myself sing to the songs I love and take care of myself, things I never did in the past.

Granted, part of that has a little to do with my transition, but it's still relevant. I'm there, or as close to there as I've ever been. I still slip here and there, I still don't have a clean room, I still don't bathe as often as I need to, I still have a whole hell of a lot of sleeping problems, I still sometimes go a day without eating any food. Yesterday I passed out at work because I hadn't eaten any *real* food in a couple of days. Food is something that I struggle with, but it's the one thing that I've never lost interest in for a future career for my entire life. Cooking is very special to me and it's something that I enjoy doing when literally everything else I can do- video games, youtube, netflix, anime, books, music, I even enjoy cleaning somewhat- brings me zero joy, tastes like mashed potatoes, isn't even doable at my lowest. And I cook the most comfortably with meat, eggs, dairy, and all the things that vegans would literally crucify me for if they saw me touching it. And I refuse to feel any amount of guilt for that.

My life is worth more than that of an animal that is bred specifically for being eaten and nothing else. My life is worth more than any animal that exists. My life is worth more than a dozen, than two dozen, than one hundred cows or chickens or pigs or goats or sheep or any other edible animal. My life is worth more than the collective lives of all the animals that I already have, am, and will ever eat. And the same goes for any other human being alive on this planet who is not a literal nazi. Biblically, man was given full dominion over animals. Scientifically, man has evolved to be at the top of the food chain, but second only to wolves, bears, boars, big cats, birds of prey, giant lizards, and any other kind of animal that can, will, and has eaten humans. Either way, if predatory or omnivorous animals are allowed to eat other animals, we are too.

I refuse to bully vegans. I refuse to seek them out and send anon hate mail. I refuse to bring myself down to the level of the disgusting and hateful militant ones who say the shit that just boils my blood over. I actually have friends who are vegans. My sister is a self ID'd vegetarian who doesn't eat most animal products so she's kind of one in everything but name. I support their lifestyle choices and am not a dickhead to them anymore. And I will defend to the death their choice to reject societal norms and try in whatever small way they can to fight against animal cruelty. I try to eat only from reputable sources that don't make it as inhumane as is physically possible. The key word there is try. Some places don't have any information on how or where they get their meat from. But even if it is from someplace that sucks ass because of capitalism, I'd like to break down capitalism and rebuild it from the ground up, hopefully in a way that keeps unfair treatment from negatively affecting any living creature aside from maybe bugs because the moment vegans start chanting #ANT LIVES MATTER, I will begin subsisting entirely on meat out of pure spite.

Because spite runs me. Every time I see some militant vegans being a dickhead, I go and eat meat. I'm petty like that. It tastes amazing and it costs so much less than organic quinoa does. I won't feel bad for it. You can't make me feel bad for it. You won't. And I'll speak up if you try to make anyone else feel bad for it because some other people haven't developed the tools necessary to not internalize anon hate. The reason for this is that I love humans more than you love animals. And that makes me a better person than you ever will be. So go ahead and enjoy your cold potatoes smeared in ketchup. I want you to eat whatever you want. But if you don't in return respect the dietary choices or sometimes forced restrictions of us 'carnists' as you so eloquently put it... I sincerely hope that you choke on them. Go fuck yourselves, asshole militant vegans who tell people to kill themselves just because they eat some meat. You're a bunch of bags of dicks, so go eat one.

[hoursandwitheringflowersinspo]

APPLICATION FOR: LILY EVANS, 6TH YEAR GRYFFINDOR

full name: Lily Marie Evans, although her mother was incredibly keen on naming her Lily Kathleen, which her father wasn’t particularly happy about (as he’d had a neighbour called Kathleen growing up, who wasn’t a very nice woman). After a lot of arguing, they settled on Marie, as it was sweet and simple like their oldest daughter’s name: Petunia Jane.

nationality: British.

birthplace: Lily was born in St. Mary’s Hospital, in Manchester, after a 13 hour labor. Unlike most children, who are born before they reach full-term, Lily was born two weeks after her mother’s due date and was actually supposed to have been delivered at home, like her sister had been. Unfortunately, Violet Evans’ midwife was away when the woman went into labor and the safest alternative was to go to the hospital.

resides: Currently, the Evans family lives in Cokeworth, something that Lily absolutely despises because of what happened last year. Knowing that Severus is within walking distance of her is something that makes the ginger uncomfortable, mostly because she can’t bring herself to speak to him anymore, even if she misses the Slytherin more than she’ll ever admit. They resided in Manchester until Lily turned five, after which they moved because of Violet’s job as a primary school teacher.

wand: 10¼” Willow, Phoenix Tail Feather, Swishy, Good for Charms.

“Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn”.

That, to me makes complete sense and I love that Lily’s canon wand wood fits with some of the headcanons I have for her. I absolutely adore the idea that she was this hurricane of a girl but, deep down, it would be illogical to assume that she has no insecurities because here she is, a teenager who has worked her butt off so she could be the best witch she could be, and people around her judge her abilities because of who her parents are. The boy who was supposed to be her best friend insulted her in the worst way possible. So, of course, Lily will have insecurities, and major ones at that, but heaven forbid she voices her concerns — in her mind, Lily needs to set the example and show everyone that she has earned her place in the Wizarding World.

"This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike."

I hope my choice for core doesn’t sound a bit cliché but, again, it fits what I believe to be my Lily beautifully. A girl with a strong personality, the ginger has a tendency to do whatever she very well pleases and generally dislikes it when people don’t do what she expects them to, so how ironic would it be that her wand was just like her? This wasn’t what I’d first envisioned for Lily’s wand core but now I can’t shake off the image of this little ginger trying to transfigure a goblet and her wand not quite seeing eye-to-eye with her, marking the beginning of a very amusing love/hate relationship between miss Evans and her wand.

socioeconomic status: Middle-Class. There were times, however, when life wasn’t all that easy for the Evans’ and that has greatly affected Lily’s views on money and how to properly spend it — Violet worked as a teacher, Harry as a struggling writer and when you have two little girls to feed, money was tight. Having witnessed her parents’ worries, Lily now believes that only the essential should be bought and while she does allow herself to go a little crazy on occasion (birthdays, both hers and her friends’ and Christmas), she most definitely is the type of girl to count her knuts.

        H O G W A R T S

owl results: Charms: O Defence Against the Dark Arts: O Herbology: E Potions: O Transfiguration: E Muggle Studies: O Care of Magical Creatures: E current classes: Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration.

student functions: Charms Club, Prefect, Slug Club.

familiars: When she first visited Diagon Alley, Lily fell in love with an ugly little toad that she very loudly exclaimed was adorable; a frail, ill-looking being, but one she adored regardless. For weeks, the ginger carried the toad, named Rosie, everywhere but a few days before boarding the Hogwarts Express for the first time, Lily got into an argument with Petunia and the poor pet jumped out of the second-floor window (where the bedrooms were located) out of fear of the loud childish squeals on the Evans girls.

Needless to say, it didn’t survive its improvised trip and Lily was absolutely devastated. Seeing their little girl so sad, Harry and Violet offered to buy her something else come next school year. And that’s the story of how Lily Evans owns a moody cat named Lovely, a mix between a Ragdoll and a Somali, whose fur is a strange shade (that some could compare to vomit), eyes are an adorable blue, and who has a terrible tendency to bite anyone whose hair isn’t ginger. Since the animal is half-blind and can’t smell properly, Lily’s bright red hair is the only thing it uses to tell its owner apart.

        P E R S O N A L I T Y

patronus:

Footsteps echoed on the stone floor as she paced back and forth, the silence of the bathroom disturbed only by her movements and her occasional huffs; green eyes glaring at the Willow wand in her hand as if it were an enemy rather than a mere piece of wood. It was the end of her fifth year and Lily Evans had yet to produce a corporeal Patronus. To most, that would have been perfectly fine; they’d get it eventually and, ultimately, there was no point in rushing to master what many deemed a complex charm — in time, they’d get there. To the Gryffindor prefect, however, failure wasn’t an option and she was going to do it. Tonight. There was no doubt about it, she wasn’t simply going to let herself be behind the other people in her year: she was a brilliant, talented witch and there was no reason for her to not be as successful as her classmates.

Of course, hiding out in the prefect bathroom after curfew wasn’t exactly the classiest of options, nor was it the one that made her more comfortable (what would people think if they saw her in the hallways after dark?), but she was desperate. Grumbling to herself, teeth grazing gently over her bottom lip, Lily took the deepest of breaths, so deep that she felt dizzy, and lifted her wand. The tricky bit, she pondered as she gathered the courage to go ahead and cast the charm, was finding a suitable memory.

Life was filled with meaningless seconds, little bits of time that meant nothing, and they often made one forget about the moments that truly counted, the ones that were blissfully perfect. And even though she knew (of thought she knew) herself, Lily had no idea when she’d been her happiest.

Then, thinking back on times before potions, owls and magic, it struck her like lightning; almost forcing the young woman to close her eyes and watch as a scene unravelled behind her eyelids, leaving a taste of sweetness on her tongue and a warmth she’d forgotten she enjoyed inside her chest. Petunia.

Little toddler legs wobbled as she climbed onto a taller bed, gripping bedsheets to pull herself up; red locks of long hair falling over her eyes. A giggle pushed past Lily’s lips while the ginger prepared herself, leaning in to grip her slumbering sister’s shoulders and, fully aware that the older girl wouldn’t be pleased, shake her awake. It was the first hours of morning of December 24th 1964 and, as always, that meant that the Evans girls had an adventure planned: finding the Christmas presents their parents usually wrapped the evening before. Three year old Lily, all chubby arms and gleeful smiles, jumped slowly on her sister’s bed; being pushed down by Petunia whom wanted nothing but a few more minutes of peace, skillfully pinning the electric girl down and pulling her closer to her, forcing the youngest girl to lie her head on the pillow.

Still giggling, Lily turned to bury her face on Petunia’s blonde curls; voice barely a whisper as tiny fingers poked her sister’s stomach, hoping that the tickles would allow her to squirm away and tiptoe her way downstairs. With a loud laugh, the blonde shifted, beginning to tickle Lily and before they knew it, both girls were laughing at the top of their lungs, ignoring the creaking door and the head of auburn hair that peaked in, Violet too grinning at her daughters.

The traditional adventure was forgotten, but it didn’t matter because sleep soon took over the small bedroom; moonlight shining in through the window and casting a silver glow over the pale faces of the two little flowers who slept soundly, curled up in each other’s arms.

"Expectro Patronum!" Her voice was firm, her hand didn’t shake; something inside the young witch was strong, stronger than before, it didn’t matter that the memory left a weight in her chest that she couldn’t ignore — it was what she needed to force the light from the tip of her wand, a doe forming amongst silver smoke, tall and proud. Who would have known that happiness, to Lily, was times she couldn’t get back and a sister that she would always love? But the philosophical discussion that she knew she’d have later, after she went back to her dormitory and everyone slept around her, was quickly cast aside.

The doe had stopped before her, looking at the witch as if she stared in a mirror; something in the silvery animal’s body urged Lily forward, hand stretched out so she could stroke what she had produced. Yet, as pale skin moved to touch what was nothing but light, the doe vanished, leaving nothing but a dark bathroom and an amazed girl who wasn’t sure what to think.

Does are animals of grace and innocence; sweet and poised with big brown eyes that make one wish to approach them and yet it takes time for such an animal to allow you to move towards them. Lily, while she has the heart of a lioness and the fierceness of a mother bear protecting its cubs, is someone whose Patronus would surely be a nearly perfect portrayal of the person holding the wand. With a vague distrust of most individuals — one that comes only from being hurt over and over again by those who she held closest - and a knack for finding herself superior to everyone else, even if subconsciously, the redhead is so much like the female deer that her steps often mimic that light gracefulness that only does possess.

boggart:

All she could do was mentally curse herself, hand wrapped tightly around her wand as she prepared herself for what was to come. Damn her need to be an example, her eagerness to learn, her desire to see new things first hand! Sure, it wasn’t a problem most of the time but here she stood, weak-kneed and trying not to shake, about to come face-to-face (could she even call it that?) with a bloody boggart, having volunteered to go first. Honestly, Lily wasn’t afraid of the shape it would take as she was sure it’d be a giant butterfly or crashing waves – she could deal with that – but what if it were something else? These things were magic and magic wasn’t always predictable; she didn’t know what the outcome would be, had no way of properly controlling it. That thought alone forced Lily to take a deep breath, lips grazing her bottom lip compulsively as her free hand moved up to brush an irritating lock of red hair away from her face. She had to be concentrated, had to be sure of herself. Lily Evans wasn’t about to just embarrass herself in front of her friends and classmates. Not at all.

When the professor asked her if she was ready, all the witch could do was nod, trying to keep panic away from her pale face, clutching her wand tighter, arm already stretched out to immediately cast the charm that would end this experience, one she was ready to end before it’d even begun. The boggart, trapped inside a trunk, was released and suddenly all breath was drawn from her lungs and Lily couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at the shocking image that transformed before her. There stood herself, a perfect copy of herself, or at least something keen to it. This Lily’s eyes were sad yet cold, her body was thin – dangerously so – and around her was nothing unusual. Still, the witch understood what it meant – this Lily wasn’t surrounded by her friends, the look in emerald-green eyes was one of pure and utter loneliness. Boggart Lily had no one. She was alone. And being so had broken something inside her, for she no longer laughed. There was nothing inside her, she was hollow. That was the scariest thing the redhead had ever seen in her sixteen years of life.

But oh, she wasn’t about to just let this image defeat her! Because she wasn’t this strange version of herself, no. She had people who loved her, she loved people, they were always there for her and she was always there for them – this wasn’t real and it would never, ever happen. Lily wouldn’t let it become a reality.

It took all her strength but, after what felt like an eternity, the Gryffindor managed to yell the ‘‘Riddikulus’ charm – voice wavering but wrapped in a sort of ferocity she didn’t know she had in her – watching the boggart transform into a clown version of the Prefect; a silly, amusing sight that managed to draw the softest of chuckles from swelling lips. Someone else, she wasn’t sure whom, took her place and Lily found herself sweating, hands shaking, vision blurry. Suddenly, everything made sense but she couldn’t bring herself to think about it, wishing only to ignore all that had happened. Lily Evans wasn’t alone and she wasn’t weak. She would never become what the boggart had showed her.

And yet the question rose in the back of her mind, nagging and cruel, almost mocking the witch as she asked the professor if she could be excused to use the restroom. What if?

Lily has never feared death as she has always known that pain in all of its many forms is only forced upon the living and she has never feared the departure of others — not truly — because she knows, in her heart, that they would be better off, in a twisted way. What she has always been scared off deep down, one of her biggest shames, is being alone. And that is her Boggart — herself, all alone.

It wasn’t always that, not at all, but after losing some of the people who were supposed to love her and never leave her? After her sister turned her back on her just because she was different? She’s felt loneliness, and it’s not something she wants in her future. It’s unthinkable to the ginger, mostly unknown and uncharted territory. The thought of having to live a life where there is no comfort, no one to lean on, no one to rely on… it terrifies Lily, petrifies her. The fact that she believes it to be a childish fear doesn’t help either, makes her embarrassed for how can someone like her, a good witch and a good person, be so deeply timorous of something that shouldn’t matter.

amortentia:

Lime ▬ for all the times she smelt it in her nan’s home → Johanne Evans passed away years ago but never has her granddaughter been able to erase the light smell of lime that was characteristic to her tiny cottage; a sweet home for a sweet woman who, having been a pediatric nurse for over forty years, had a knack for making children laugh. Always there for her girls no matter what, never once did she judge Lily when she spoke horribly of what James had done by the lake, or when she moaned about cheating during her Transfiguration O.W.L — she never stopped the redhead from complaining about her parents or crying over Petunia. Having been gone for about three years now, Lily can’t seem to shake off the grief and the longing for that very same shoulder she shed tears over so many times. And yet, even after losing her “rock”, her Amortentia is proof that Lily has and will always love the woman who placed her in her mother’s arms.

Basil ▬ for childhood summers spent with hands in dirt → It was never a coincidence that Violet Evans chose to name her daughters Petunia and Lily, she too having been named by her mother, Rose, who in turned was named by her own mother, Poppy. It’s not really known exactly where the tradition started but it always instilled a love for all things botanic in the Morrison family women - a love that was passed onto a certain green-eyed ginger. When she was young and carefree, Lily loved going outside with her mummy and help her take care of the little herb garden on their backyard — the smell of basil, her mum’s favourite, always remaining one she always recalled with a feeling of fondness and melancholy.

Bergamot Orange ▬ for a love that cannot die → Lily always thought of herself as the lesser of the two Evans girls; her big sister was pretty and graceful, quiet and poised while she looked like a joke - all red and green - and, in all honesty, had the posture of an ape. Even as years went by and they grew apart, Petunia out of scorn and the ginger out of sheer acceptance of unfortunate events she could not change, never once did Lily forget how a hug from one of the people she loved most in the whole of existence felt like - warm and loving and with a light smell of bergamot orange, Petunia’s favourite shampoo. To this day, the smell brings tears to her eyes but she cannot make herself not love it as it is branded deeply into her mind.

Pumpkin Juice ▬ for a place she calls her home → Nothing screams Hogwarts to the sixth year like the sweet smell of pumpkin juice, a beverage she took some warming up to, no doubt about it, but that is now one of her favourites. It triggers memories in her mind: laughter and happiness, growing up and learning how to be a better person, becoming the best witch she could be; those moments were lived with a pumpkin juice cup in her hand. During the summer, when she’s stuck at home, trying (and often failing) to not perform even the tiniest of spells, all the girl has to do is find herself a jug of the familiar drink and suddenly she’s back at Hogwarts, where she feels the happiest.

what is your greatest ambition? ”My greatest ambition? You’re asking like that’s the easiest question in the world… Honestly, I don’t know. I mean, I do know, but it’s just a tad bit embarrassing, really, a fantasy more than anything. I think… my greatest ambition is to change the world. Hey, don’t laugh! I told you it wasn’t the brightest answer. With the War beginning to grow? I want to be a part of making a difference, of creating a better tomorrow for children like me. Why should we be judged just because of our blood?

Yeah, I want to be the girl who’s going to chance this, the one to end it. But that’s obviously not going to happen, so I think I’m going to settle for the easiest answer I can give you. My greatest ambition? Not failing Transfiguration. Granted, that was my New Year’s resolution… but I think it still stands. It’s a wonder Professor McGonagall even let me be in her class this year, said that I could be great at it if I applied myself. Wouldn’t want to prove her wrong, even if I don’t really see why transfiguring a rat into a goblet will help me in the future.”

where do you feel most comfortable? “I don’t know, really. I think I could say home but at home there’s Tuney and Severus and no magic… I guess I have to be a walking, talking, teenage witch cliché and say Hogwarts. Because while I love mum and dad, there’s always something missing during the holidays, and I don’t just mean my friends. I’m used to changing staircases and owls and spells and… home is ordinary. Boring, really.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my heritage and I think being muggleborn gives you enough perspective to see the bigger picture in life, but living without magic? I don’t think I could anymore. God, even spending a whole summer without it is torture. So, Hogwarts is where I feel most comfortable these days. I just… don’t know how things will be this year, because of Sev. I mean, Snape. Because of Snape.”

personality description: Those who truly know Lily can tell you that there are many layers to the redhead; some good, some bad and some that one simply gets used to after a while. People who know the witch to a shallower extent are not aware of how complex the girl can be; they see simply a kind, fair young woman who is extremely invested in her education and cannot stand for injustice. In reality, Lily is as intelligent as she is stubborn, as fair as she is curious and as determined as she is hot-tempered,  a temper that matches her fiery hair and passionate views on life. To miss Evans, a bird chirping outside her bedroom window or a sunny day after weeks of rain is not something to be taken lightly; she sees immense beauty in things that most overlook, the tiniest thing can cause her to burst into sincere laughter.

Usually a cheery, electric girl, it does not take much to send her into a fit of rage either and, when she does get upset you might as well run, hide and wait for her to calm down. Her personality is one of extremes, something that she absolutely detests about herself; she loves completely, hates passionately, trusts blindly and, when she gets hurt, the girl suffers like no other — her world seems to crash and crumble, leaving behind but broken promises and shattered dreams. While Lily often overlooks the sad side of life, she sometimes just stops her hectic routine to think about anything and everything; her past, her present, her future and what she feels about those around her. Often do those thoughts bring tears to her emerald eyes, a few melancholic laughs cutting through the thick silence that she submerges herself in — nothing but her own mind to trouble her.

Ultimately, the witch isn’t the easiest person to get along with but, once you do, you’ll be surprised at how loyal she becomes; standing next to those she loves regardless of what she’s told or whom opposes the connection: for years, she dealt with the people closest to her questioning her connection to Severus and she never, not even once, wavered. Why would she? Unless you give her a reason to, Lily will believe in those she loves until the end because, in her opinion, people are made of choices and that’s the only thing you care truly judge: she never cared about Severus’ home life or the house he was sorted into, that didn’t affect how she saw him. She never found it fair to judge a book by its cover and that is exactly what the redhead is: fair. Perhaps one of the reasons that she adores being a Prefect so much is that, between rolling at her eyes at young couples snogging after curfew and catching the Marauders doing something wrong (as usual), she can make a change, even if a small one. For the past years, Lily has tried to ignore the war but now, and especially since she’s sure Severus is bound to join Voldemort’s side, there’s no denying that it’s real and that it’ll just keep getting worse until someone stops it. She might be a mere sixth year, she might not count for much but she’s a muggleborn who was made Prefect, one of the best witches in her year, and if anyone can set the example and try to change something, anything really, that’s her.

Truthfully, to say that the Prefect is a simple little thing would be one of the biggest mistakes of one’s life for the girl is not simple nor little — a strong, independent, defiant woman who is slowly learning not to allow others to walk over her and how to impose the respect that she, with her ego and a feeling selfishness often stirring inside her chest, believes she deserves.  Because no matter what Lily might have said about others (as she usually did, and occasionally still does, about Sirius Black and James Potter) she was always more like them than she thought; her ego might just be larger that James’ and her temper as bad as Sirius’. There’s no denying that another reason she enjoys being a Prefect so much is that she actually got it — there were plenty of students to choose from, some even with magical families and lineages that went back hundreds of years, but instead she was chosen: she, Lily Evans, whose parents are muggles. Not a drop of magical blood in her and, through her own merit only, she was granted such an honour. Ultimately, it was a matter of pride, something of which she has a great deal.

Lily’s quick temper often causes the redhead to make unjustified claims about someone or something, jumping to conclusions without listening to said person’s point of view or explanation and, most specially, believing that she is the one who’s right — for she believes herself to be quite the role model when it comes to most subjects. That does not, however, cause her to follow her own advice because she rarely does so; she might tell you what she thinks you should do, might lecture you for hours about what’s right (not really understanding that “what’s right” is often subjective), but when it’s time to make decisions? She’ll flail and fret as if it were the end of the world, often forgetting that she’s given people advice on to get out of an identical situation. So, slightly hypocritical and unaware of her pretentiousness, Lily does not truly know just how many flaws she has — flaws which, in all honesty — are not enough to erase all the other wonderful traits she possesses.

As far as canon is concerned, we know very little about Lily and, most specifically, who she was as a person. We’re told that she’s kind, talented and brave, that she yelled at James Potter after ‘Snape’s Worst Nightmare’, and that (at least to me) only shows that she had quite the temper. The thing is, characters are more than a couple of traits in a book and I’ve always tried to really develop Lily as a person — she’s this great person, sure, but she’s also a hormonal teenager who, let’s be honest, wasn’t a saint. She laughed and cried and lied and cheated and was, as we all are, a mixture of the good and the bad of the human race.

        H I S T O R Y

parents:

Violet Anne Evans (née Morrison) ▬ 39, born on August 4th 1937. Currently a primary school teacher. A petite redhead with a flair for the dramatic, it’s not hard to see where Lily gets her personality or her looks, for mother and daughter are extremely alike. While they quite enjoy each other’s company, things aren’t exactly the easiest in the Evans household, as similar personalities and stubborn heads often lead to arguments and words better left unsaid but that’s okay. When they need to, mother and daughter can be closer than anything, gossiping about their neighbours (even if Lily denies every doing such a thing) or simply watching the telly, cuddled up with a nice mug of tea. Still, Violet always held a soft spot in her heart for her first born, something that has always made Lily jealous.

Harry William Evans ▬ 38, born on December 19th 1937. Having always been a dreamer, it wasn’t hard for the blonde man to decide that what he wanted to do in life was write. Novels, poems, cake recipes, grocery lists written in rhyme, it never really mattered what he wrote, only that he was doing so. A man of words and other worlds, it wasn’t unusual that he was the exact opposite from his stressed wife: Harry is relaxed and laid back, always with a smile spread on his lips and a horrible joke ready to cheer up even the saddest of souls. Still, his gentle demeanor made him a brilliant father and a wonderful husband, a man ready to jump to his feet at any second to pull the women he loves so dearly apart (which has happened often in the last few years).  When things go south, Harry steps in; it’s always been like that. Unlike his wife, however, Mr. Evans connects better with his youngest child and it’s because of that that, when she needs to, Lily is the first to turn to her dad.

sibling(s):

Petunia Jane Evans ▬ 17, born on June 7th 1958. Currently still a student and working a part-time job as an assistant at Grunnings, a drill firm. As stubborn as her mother and sister, and also just as opinionated, Petunia was never an easy girl to deal with; she was always the sort of person to hold petty grudges and question anything and everything. Through the years, the older girl has tried to make herself as different from her sister as possible — Petunia didn’t need magic powers and pointy hats to be amazing, she had her brains and her skills, that was enough. Still, when combined  with her jealously and aggressiveness towards Lily (not that the ginger is innocent, because she’s just as bitter towards her older sister), it all adds up to the two not getting along in the slightest, ever. There’s love between them, there’s no doubt about it, and they care deeply about each other but being as proud as they are, it’s unlikely that the dynamic between the two will change anytime soon.

other:

Johanne Leena Evans (née Harper) ▬ 76, (January 13th, 1900 – July 4th 1976).  Having worked for most of her life as a pediatric nurse, Lily’s grandmother knew just how to raise children, always loved by every single one of them, her red-haired granddaughter especially. Lily had a passion for the elderly woman, so much like her in so many ways and yet so calm, so experienced, so beautiful – most girls see their mothers as role-models but, for the little witch, Johanne was her biggest one. They got along beautifully, shared secrets and stories, swore to never tell each other’s secrets to anyone else; Lily relied on her nan, trusted her more than she trusted anyone else in the whole wide world. The small house the older woman lived in was heaven, the tiny kitchen where she learn to cook a cloud of happiness and love – everything about Johanne screamed peace, passion, a safe haven like no other. Having died only a few months ago, often does the ginger forget that she’s gone; sometimes starting a letter with the words ‘Dear gran,’ or stopping to think, “I have to tell nan about this”. It pains Lily greatly to not have that shoulder to cry on anymore but she’s learnt to live with the pain, often ignoring the facts and pretending that come the summer of 1977 they’ll meet again.

Remus Lupin ▬ 16, born on Marth 10th 1960. Her fellow Prefect and close friend, Remus is one of Lily’s biggest confidants at Hogwarts: a calm, extremely nice guys, Lily finds him to be amongst the best people to walk aged stone floors. In reality, they’ve been friends ever since first year when Lily, chubby legged and short with a head of extremely curly hair, sat next to the thin, weak-looking boy and they had a very nice conversation about Potions. After that, and while one couldn’t consider them exactly inseparable, they only grew closer and closer – they got along beautifully, their friendship was easy and precious to Lily, who hadn’t been the most sociable of girls back home. On New Year’s eve of their fourth year, when Lily told her parents that she wasn’t a baby anymore and could very well stay at school during the holidays, they found themselves at midnight with no one to kiss and, red-cheeked and embarrassed, the witch pressed a chaste kiss of the boy’s lips (who soon grew red too). He was her first kiss and she was his and, to Lily, that means quite a lot. They moved past it, of course, and it didn’t change a single thing in their friendship but Lily holds that moment, as well as Remus, very close to her heart.

James Potter ▬ 16, born on March 27th 1960. She’ll never forget the first time she properly met James Potter, having been late to Potions and, rushing down the suddenly changing staircase, tripped over her own feet – falling down the last steps, books and quills flying everywhere. The black-haired boy had been late too and helped her up, all hands in his pockets and unruly hair, smiling at her in a way she wasn’t particularly fond of. Still, he was sweet enough and Lily found herself wanting to be her friend – that was, of course, until he hexed her during dinner, after which she poured her glass of pumpkin juice over his head (not knowing that he was allergic, at the time). After that, their relationship was a mixture of sarcastic remarks (hers) and self-centered replies (his), often resulting in Lily wanting to throw herself off of the Astronomy Tower. She never hated him, God no, but she was utterly annoyed at how he was so bloody good at everything – from class, to flying, to the way he looked, James Potter was an example and that made Lily’s skin itch, wanting to be the best at absolutely everything. When he asked her out, a couple of times to Hogsmeade over their fifth year, she figured he was messing with her which only made her even more of a passive-aggressive little thing; full of bitterness and rage. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, never having done anything wrong but she couldn’t quite help it. After what happened last year, however, her yelling at him during the “accident” by the lake, Lily feels ashamed. She should never have done that (even if the bloody prick deserved it) and if she wasn’t so proud, she would probably apologize. The best she could do was, having sat on an empty train compartment, allowing him to sit with her on the ride to Hogwarts. For the first time in six years, the pair actually shared a nice conversation – they talked about his family, her family, what they did during the summer; about anything and everything, like proper friends. While they aren’t that just yet, Lily was left with the impression that maybe, James Potter isn’t half as bad as she’d imagined him to be. Not bad at all.

Severus Snape ▬ 16, born on January 9th 1960. Lily’s oldest and closest friend for what felt like forever, Severus Snape was everything to the redhaired girl. Always gentle and enthusiastic towards her, it was him who told her about the Wizarding World, him to told her about magic and the future she could one day have – the ginger had always been a dreamer but after she met Severus, she learnt that maybe fantasies weren’t so bad, that maybe wishes upon stars actually came true and grown-ups had just lost hope. Together they played all day and together they walked into the Great Hall, both secretly hoping that they’d be sorted into the same House. That wasn’t the case and even though it wasn’t easy being friends with a Slytherin, preconceptions and hypocrisy (or so she thought) making those around her dislike her best friend. Lily often told them off, sticking by Sev’s side as she knew he stuck by hers – sure, it wasn’t easy, but they were friends and nothing would ever change that. That was, of course, until the Dark Arts spoke louder and the boy began to slip from Lily’s grasp. She didn’t realize it soon enough, didn’t pay enough attention to what was going on around her, refused to see the truth in her friend’s actions. When reality hit her like a slap on a sunny afternoon, the word ‘mudblood’ slipping from his lips, it was too late. Suddenly, the people who’d warned her were right and Lily did the only thing she could do: she severed ties with the aspiring Death Eater, turned her back on him like she’d promised to never do so. Now that she doesn’t have him by his side, Lily feels lost – the summer, while pleasant and fun, wasn’t what she’d expected for she truly missed Severus and their conversations; he was one of the people she held closest to her heart and, just as Petunia had done, he’d closed the door between them. Sure, she’d turned the key but this wasn’t her fault. It would never be her fault. All she can do now is turn to the people who are still by her side, Molly, Dorcas and Marlene – her sisters, her friends, her everything now that she’s alone. She’s still very much unsure of what her life will be like from now on but, and even if she feels as if she’ll never recover from the blow to her heart, Lily is sure she’ll find her way, with a little help from her friends.

I was going to write about Molly, Marlene and Dorcas as well, because after reading the bios I thought Lily would have most likely gotten along with them but since I haven’t spoken to the players (or potential players) I wasn’t too comfortable writing something in the app that might not be a reality if I get accepted. I hope that’s alright, but I didn’t find it very respectful for the people who applied for them and chose to leave it like this, touching only a few of the people I felt like I had to write about.

do you have any regrets? “Doesn’t everyone? I never understood the whole ‘I have no regrets’ thing people usually say when asked this. I do have regrets, maybe not a lot and none very serious but yes, I have them. Would I go back and change things if I could… I don’t know. Probably.

I regret not trying harder when it came to Tuney and her dislike for me and all things magical, because I think that maybe if I’d included her more in this fun, new chapter of my life, she wouldn’t have been so bitter. I don’t think we’d ever really get along but I’d like to at least have tried, instead of just ignoring the issues until they slapped me full-force on the face, like I did. It’s hard to see that other people aren’t happy when you’re over the moon, y’know? And it kills me that I just… didn’t bother as much as I should’ve. Petunia’s my sister and I just don’t think things should be like this, that’s not how life should go. And I regret the way things are.

Can’t not regret what happened with Severus, can I? Merlin, I just… when did he get like that? Maybe if I’d paid more attention to him, if I’d driven him away from the people he was getting involved with, maybe he would have understood what he was getting himself into. The ‘what if’ is the hardest part, I think. And that’s the bit I wish I could change, because even if it hurts me (and it does) I don’t regret cutting him from my life. Severus made his choice, one that I don’t agree with, and I know I’m doing the right thing.”

what is your fondest memory? “My fondest memory… Well, that’s difficult. I mean, I’m sixteen, which means I have sixteen years of nice memories I want to remember forever and tell my grandkids about when I’m old so choosing one isn’t the easiest thing in the world. You have a knack for asking tricky questions, has anyone ever told you that before? Merlin. I guess… there was this one time years ago, around Christmas. My sister and I used to have this tradition where we snuck downstairs after our parents were sleeping to see if they’d left any present unwrapped and, when we couldn’t find them, we’d search through the whole house. The first one to find something won and got to pick one of the other’s gifts for herself. It was stupid, really, but we were young and there wasn’t all that much to do. God, I was so small that Tuney had to grip my hand when we went down the stairs. It took us ages to get to the final step, let me tell you, and I think we might have woken mum and dad up about five times, though they never came to ruin our fun.

That night I crawled into bed with Tuney to wake her up and she just started tickling me like crazy, I couldn’t even breathe! She loved doing that, reckon she had a passion for seeing me squirming and begging for mercy, ‘cause she tickled me on a daily basis and I hated it. I don’t really remember much after she started bloody torturing me, but I do know we fell asleep eventually. I… I think about it when things get hard. I don’t know why, but it just makes me proper happy – those were good times, y’know? I was small, she was small… everything was easy and carefree and we had nothing to do but play all day. Guess I miss that. And her. But… life’s life and we can’t cling onto the past, yeah? That isn’t healthy. But yes, that’s my fondest memory. Maybe one day I’ll find one to replace it.”

character’s story: Born in the beginning of 1960, Lily was welcomed into an average muggle family. The girl grew up alongside her big sister, Petunia, her role-model and best friend, for the girls were truly inseparable — always walking hand-in-hand and laughing at jokes that Violet, a primary school teacher, and Harry, a writer, were not allowed to understand.There was never a flower without the other, they were merely an extension of the other, the year of difference they had from each other meant nothing. Petunia and Lily were two of a kind and they loved it.

Enrolled at the school where her mother worked, Lily’s life was a bed of roses — no worries or too much responsibility weighing the child down except for what she was going to play the following morning; a few worksheets worth of homework being the only thing that turned sunny days slightly grey. It was not until Lily was nine years old that she learnt that, perhaps, her life was not as average as it appeared. Ever since she could remember, she had done things that most children couldn’t but she hadn’t paid much attention to it — she couldn’t do a handstand like a girl in her grade, so why should she worry that other little girls did not know how to change the colour of flower petals? A dreamer, she never once questioned her abilities, often being too distracted to even bother to notice them: she’d always been different and being so didn’t scare her – Lily was who she was and as long as she wasn’t deprived of her free afternoons, what was the problem is she could float right off her swing? It didn’t matter. Until one day, as she was playing alone, changing a flower’s appearance, Lily met a black-haired boy named Severus who told her that she was a witch; that the things she could do were not simply skills — they were magic.

As any other little girl, she was ecstatic. Magic. She had always believed in fairies and spells, in the tales her gran had told her about before she merrily drifted off to sleep, but being a witch had not once been something the redhead had considered and yet it made sense. Severus fascinated her, taught her about a world she would someday be a part of, became a shoulder she could lean on and a friend she adored – Petunia was pushed into the background, somewhat forgotten amongst afternoons of listening to the Snape boy talk about spells, charms and potions, of castles and villages filled with wizards. It wasn’t her intention, Lily never wanted to push her sister away, and when Tuney began to grow cold and cruel, bitter even, the ginger didn’t understand nor accept her actions. A stubborn person by nature, Lily too began to treat her sister as she was treated and all Hell broke loose in the Evans household. Suddenly there was yelling and hair-pulling when once there had been laughter and hugging. The girls’ parents didn’t understand. But like many things before, they weren’t meant to.

The red-haired girl received her Hogwarts acceptance letter mere months before her twelfth birthday and she was as excited to learn more about magic as she was to leave home — wanting to get away from Tuney and her unjustified hatred. In her young mind, Lily couldn’t possibly understand why her sister had so quickly grown to despise her and, stubborn as usual, she couldn’t bring herself to even ask why. So, come September 1st, the young miss Evans was sorted into the house of one Godric Gryffindor and she soon forgot all about how great Severus said that Slytherin was.

In Gryffindor, the girl felt at home; like she belonged but even though she made plenty of good friends, never once did she ignore Sev in front of them — he knew her like no one else did. She was always loyal to the core, never wavering, never giving up, even when Severus began getting involved with people she knew were no good, even when his “friends” whispered ‘mudblood’ as she walked by, it didn’t matter because it wasn’t Sev – sure, she would have loved it if he hadn’t joined those aspiring Death Eaters, but she ignored the truth. It was unthinkable for her best friend to be one of them, to want to join Voldemort in his fight for blood purity. It was hard for Lily not to see the best in everyone. And that was her mistake.

Fifth year proved to be a big one for the ginger. She was made Prefect, something that made her as proud as anyone can be – she, a muggleborn, was granted such an honour, one she’d secretly wished for but never really voice out loud. A person fond of fairness and justice, nothing made Lily happier than to be able to do what she believes is right: those who deserved to be punished, the people who insulted her under their breaths when she walked by and tormented first years, mere babies compared to their abusers, were soon given what they deserved; the people who helped the poor, scared children and respected the rules were rewarded, even if only with a warm smile and a nice conversation. Order was always something the witch found most important and now she could make sure it was a constant in the halls of Hogwarts. Of course, she too enjoyed the power that came with it, the feeling that she was important, that she mattered. Insults have a way of sticking with you and while she ignored them, feeling as if she was a valuable asset to the Wizarding World. The world was bright and Lily was over the moon.

Everything changed, however, when called Lily a “mudblood”; showing the redhead just how much he’d changed since they were nine years old, how lost his soul had become. There was no point in forgiving him, no matter how much she wanted to do so, for she knew deep in her heart that he was hopeless – that afternoon, Severus Snape showed her his true colours and Lily? She didn’t like them, not by a long shot. Their friendship ended that day, and her annoyance at the Marauders (a feeling she’d had since stepping into the castle, some five years prior, though never really acted on) grew even more. In the back of her mind, and though she no longer speaks to him, Lily still subconsciously believes that it was because of James and Sirius that she couldn’t save Severus and pull him away from dark magic. It’s a ridiculous thought and one that she regrets for while they are many things, the boys share her views but, as most things in life, it’s hard to admit a mistake. Too proud to admit that she shouldn’t have exploded on James Potter’s face the way she did, Lily can’t help but feel a tad bit guilty. Just a tad bit, of course.

Having had all summer to mule over what happened, the ginger is now determined to stay away from her former friend, though she is still unsure as to how she’ll be able to do that — a person who despises change, it’s difficult for Lily to shake off her want to speak to Severus. But every time she thinks of doing so, she reminds herself that the Slytherin is dedicated to a cause whose purpose is denying people like her their right to having a life in the Wizarding World and forgiveness washes away from her mind. It pains her to leave a friend behind, feeling almost as if she betrayed him and the promises they’d made but, alas, there is no way she can ignore just how deeply Sev has gotten himself into the Dark Arts – he’s chosen his way, she’s chosen hers. There is no point in thinking about what could have been.

This year isn’t going to be easy, not at all, but as long as she stays true to herself (something she too is still trying to figure out), she knows she’ll make it. Now, if only Transfiguration was as easy as making life-changing decisions, she’d be good to go. Lily has yet to understand just how on earth she managed to get an E on her O.W.L, managed to really surprise herself, and she isn’t just going to let Professor McGonagall down – she’s a prefect, she’s smart and by God, she’s going to master all the spells she finds utterly pointless (why would anyone want to transfigure goblets and rats?) if it’s the last thing she does.

        O P T I O N A L  I N F O R M A T I O N

allergies:

CHOCOLATE ▬ At the age of five, Lily would have been more than happy to life off of peas and chocolate cookies. In fact, all things chocolate made the girl squeal in delight; never having been one to ask for dolls or games, if anyone were to give the girl some chocolate, she would have been ecstatic, thanking whomever gave it to her as they quickly became her favourite person. It wasn’t long, however, before she began to have problems breathing, air not filling her lungs properly and driving the child into full-blown panic attacks, the hospital becoming somewhat of a second home for a month. Soon, the answer was given and Lily wasn’t all that pleased. Her asthma attacks were actually an allergic reaction and, after a lot of testing, the doctors proudly told Mrs. and Mr. Evans that their youngest daughter couldn’t eat chocolate.

This pained the girl a great deal but there was nothing she could do, for the heavenly sweet disappeared from her household and, in time, she had to learn to live with the prohibition. When she went to school, things changed drastically and in her carefree mind, a few experiments couldn’t possibly do any harm, eating chocolate behind her parents’ back any chance she got. Like most allergies, it lessened as the years went by, and even though she has yet to cut it from her life, when she eats too much of it the ginger has to deal with another attack, something she can handle perfectly but is extremely uncomfortable.

This is one of the few truly irresponsible acts that Lily allows herself and even though she knows she should keep herself away from cake and hot cocoa, cookies and chocolate frogs, it seems to be most impossible. These days, Lily eats it only when she’s very happy or downright upset, saving the risk for special occasions and trying to not make eating it a routine.

SEAFOOD ▬ Something about food that tastes and smells like the sea has always made Lily feel doubtful, her fear of water not helping in the slightest which is why she was already eight years old when, after a lot of convincing, she finally tasted seafood for the first time. A favourite in the Evans household, it was only a matter of time before Violet placed a plate of shrimp in front of her youngest daughter and waited patiently for her to at least try it. That would soon prove to be a mistake, as everything happened surprisingly quickly after Lily forced herself to take the first bite.

Lightheadedness and a pain in her chest were the first symptoms and she can’t quite say she remembers the rest as, when the swelling began, the redhead was already passed out cold and being driven as quickly as possible to the nearest hospital; a panicking mother, shaking father and crying sister (even if Petunia would never admit it today) in tow. It was a matter of luck and impeccable timing that saved Lily’s life; the anaphylactic shock she suffered was severe and most children with asthma who experienced it often died before anything could be done. The recovery was quick and painless, not remembering what happened making it much easier for the child to embrace the idea that she could have lost her life over a small bite of shrimp, but that doesn’t mean that she wasn’t affected.

To this day, any mentions of seafood make the witch sick and, unlike chocolate, she hasn’t dared touch a bit since; not wanting to risk something that would most likely lead her to the grave.

GRASS ▬ Quite possibly what she deems as the stupidest allergy one could be faced with, Lily was (as she so ironically calls it) blessed with an allergy to grass. Normal, everyday, fluffy green grass. It went unnoticed for years, as kids run around all day and are always bound to be bitten by bugs or spiders; little rashes were never a concern for her parents or Lily. Sure, sometimes after playing all day her legs got incredibly itchy but why would a young girl question that? If she said something, her mum could keep her from rolling around outside and so, with a stubbornness most characteristic, the redhead kept her mouth shut, suffering in silence in fear of the consequences.

That was, of course, until Violet noticed the rash that had taken over Lily’s legs; quickly dragging the whole family to the hospital and very dramatically proclaiming that she didn’t want her baby to lose her legs. As expected, that wasn’t the case for some medicine would fix the problem but the diagnosis was out there: Lily Evans was allergic to grass. Grass! Still, it proved to be an easier problem than chocolate, as years of habit taught the girl how to play and fall and live without ever having bare skin touching the grass. It still is an inconvenient from time to time but Lily has come to terms with the fact that she doesn’t have much choice in the matter, having only to obey what her body demands.

illnesses: Apart from her more serious allergic reactions, Lily has never been one to get ill: she had the chickenpox when she was six and usually has the flu once a year, around December, but other than that she’s quite the healthy girl.

vices:

DRINKING ▬ Never having been one to drink, last summer Lily did some experimenting and has come to the conclusion that if she did drink on a regular basis, she’d probably die at a very, very young age. After what happened with Severus, the witch decided that she’d hang out with the kids back home, finally making more than a couple of friends on her street, accompanying them to parties and gatherings that, as is customary in teenage encounters, were well stocked up on every muggle drink in the book. Some bottles were nicked at the gas station, others stolen from old cabinets that their parents thought safe, or even bought by the eldest of the group – the point is, Lily finally learnt that she enjoyed alcohol and yet couldn’t handle it at all. If she gets distracted, which she normally did, the girl will sip glass after glass without even realizing it but the thing is, her body has no problems with Firewhiskey or muggle drinks like Vodka; she’ll keep drinking and drinking after all others have collapsed. When it comes to traditionally lighter drinks, however, like beer or wine, it only takes a few small glasses for the redhead to claim the floor as her bed, knowing full well she’ll wake up with a terrible headache.

So, to keep things safe, Lily would rather not drink, especially not while at Hogwarts (even if yes, she’ll allow herself a glass or two when the Marauders throw a party), for she is a Prefect and she shouldn’t be doing things that are unsuitable for anyone in her position. Mostly, she simply doesn’t want to make a complete idiot out of herself in front of her whole house like some girls do, preferring sobriety over being inebriated any day.

SMOKING ▬ Lily’s “wild” summer didn’t only make her start enjoying the occasional drink. Most of her newfound friends had been smoking for years, always surrounded by a cloud of smoke anywhere they went; cigarettes dangling off lips and being passed around as if it were nothing. Soon, she too had a fag stuck between her lips and before she could realize it, she had fallen into a routine, lighting cigarette after cigarette as conversations progressed well into the night, sometimes into the first hours of sunshine. It was a habit she took on quickly and has no intention of quitting: it helps her calm down when she’s nervous, she likes the tarry taste it leaves on her lips and something about the grey smoke against a darkened sky makes her smile, the patterns beautiful and haunting. She does know, however, that she can’t do it at Hogwarts which is why (and she does feel quite guilty about it) the witch has been saving packs since July, hiding them in the bottom of her trunk along with a silver lighter she nicked from her dad.

The plan is to find places to smoke her fags in peace and quiet without being caught and while she knows that’s not going to be easy in the slightest, Lily Evans is a woman with a vice and, stubborn as she is, she won’t just quit because society tells her that nice girls should do so – it she ever decides to leave cigarettes behind, it’ll be her own choice, not something imposed to her by a male-dominated society.

fears:

BUTTERFLIES ▬ While she considers it one of the stupidest fears a girl could ever have, Lily is afraid of butterflies. When she was young, her sister trapped one in a jar and the ginger was ecstatic – its wings were beautiful, their patterns colourful and cheery – before running to tell mummy that the insect was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen in her four year old life. That was, of course, until the poor thing died and Tuney found it hilarious to lay in on her sister’s forehead; upon waking up, Lily sat up to find a dead butterfly falling onto her lap, and her screams could be heard three houses down. Some might call it a trauma, others mere idiocy but that doesn’t change the fact that if one of those disgusting beasts (as she kindly refers to “them”) comes anywhere near her, Lily – sweet, caring Lily – won’t hesitate to hit it. Repeatedly. Until it dies.

Not to mention that their faces, with those huge eyes and that strange nose thing, make her skin crawl – she has long stopped noticing the amazing designs on their wings, for now that face is the first thing that comes to mind. That little prank is one of the few things Lily knows she won’t forgive Petunia about and when they get into one of their fights, hot-headed and spewing nonsense, the redhead will most likely mention it bitterly.

WATER ▬ Everyone has some fears that they can’t explain and Lily’s fear of water is just that – inexplicable, something her subconscious never accepted and still doesn’t. When her father told six year old Lily that it was time she learnt to swim, the little ginger wasn’t opposed to the idea: it seemed fun enough and, if daddy was there, completely safe. But the night before their big family trip to her grandmother’s pool, Lily had a nightmare she would never forget, one that’s grown to be recurring over the years. The first time, beach was full of people – families, children laughing – and the girl would take a few steps into the ocean, would feel the sand beneath her feet and the cold water hit her toes; hear the waves crashing. Then, a wave would knock her down and before she knew it, the girl was submerged, struggling to get back on her feet but never quite being able to do so. People would stare down at her, ignore her, pretend she wasn’t there drowning. It faded to black, slowly, and Lily woke up breathless and blue-lipped.

After that, the witch would panic at any mentions of the sea, learning to ignore the way her legs begin to shake when she thinks back on her dream over the years but never truly bringing herself to overcome her dread – the nightmare returns every once in a while and the scenery has always changed, though its ending remains the same. Sometimes it’s daytime, others night, on occasion the beach is empty and cold and others warm and bursting with people. No matter what, it’s terrifying, and Lily is sure it must mean something. What exactly? She has no idea.

habits/quirks:

LIP BITING ▬ It’s rare that one finds Lily Evans thinking without having her bottom lip safely tucked between her lips, tongue running over sensitive skin, often nibbling on her own flesh, deep in thought. It’s a habit she doesn’t quite know when she picked up, but it soon became yet another part of her – it’s a comfort mechanism, like the stuffed animal she stopped totting around years ago, something she uses to soothe herself. When she’s hurt or upset, one is bound to find her teeth grazing her lips, having drawn blood only a few times in her sixteen years of life. Somehow, she can’t keep herself from doing it, her subconscious ordering her to do so before she can stop her body.

It’s not a very scandalous habit, mind you, and often are the times that the redhead ponders on it, thinking that it might maybe make her look mysterious and overall sexy – not that it matters, of course, for she was always the chubby ginger with incredibly curly hair and being attractive was never really an option. And while she isn’t vain, not in the slightest, there’s always that little voice in the back of her head that whispers in her ear every time she finds herself biting her lip – you look good. More often than not, she merely ignores it.

SITTING ▬ For years, Lily hasn’t been able to sit like a lady, with her legs properly down and ankles crossed. Violet always tried to teach their girls to act as a woman should, but only Petunia picked up certain habits for Lily hates the feeling of sitting on a tough wooden chair as one normally would. Instead, she traps a leg beneath the other or pulls them both up, crossing them behind her desk. It was always far more comfortable to sit like that and while her mum nags her when Lily finally goes back home, there’s not fixing something that (according to the redhead) is perfectly fine – why would the way she sits be anyone’s concern apart from her own? There’s no reason for one to be uncomfortable just to fit in with all the other posh women; it makes no sense to her sixteen year old mind.

Even if she’s just relaxing on an armchair or a couch, the witch will pull her legs onto the fabric, shifting them slightly to the side and crossing her feet; a bundle of arms and legs curled up into a ball, a book often resting on her knees. The last thing on her mind is what people might think of her odd position and, if anyone were to comment on it (which they don’t because why would a Prefect’s sitting habits be motive of loud whispers?), she would have loudly proclaimed that it was none of their business.

NAILS ▬ When she doesn’t find herself with her lips between her teeth, it’s because her fingers have replaced it, as Lily has the terrible habit of biting her nails and the skin around them. She adores painting them and having feminine hands but stress and boredom often leads to the witch looking down to find cracked varnish and chipped nails, something that the ginger finds particularly irritating. Still, she can’t really help herself for she feels a need to keep her hands busy – when they aren’t in her mouth, Lily often taps her fingers against tables or gently scratches her thumb with her ring finger, all signs that she is beyond bored.

As most of Lily’s habits, this is a good indicator of what her mood is like that day: she bites her lip when she’s upset or day-dreaming, bites her nails when she’s stressed and scratches her thumb when she’s complete and utterly bored (a habit she surely picked up during History Of Magic, a subject she was never particularly fond of, even though she first found it fascinating). Still, and like everything else, she isn’t harming anyone and when her friends tell her to put her hands down, she’ll merely roll her eyes at them, sticking her tongue out playfully and continuing about her day.

EYE ROLLING ▬ Usually a friendly person, some might feel uncomfortable at Lily’s habit of constantly rolling her eyes at anything and everything. She doesn’t really mean to do so but sometimes her subconscious speaks louder, forcing the girl to show that she honestly doesn’t care about what someone is saying – listening out of politeness or (most of the times) because she knows she might hear some gossip. She doesn’t go around telling people someone else’s secrets, mind you, but she won’t deny that she likes listening to the occasional rumour, whispering to her friends as they try to figure out if it is as true as it’s claimed to be.

When something isn’t of particular interest, however, of when it simply annoys her, Lily will most definitely roll her green eyes at you; a raised eyebrow often following before she goes back to pretending she actually gives a damn. This happens mostly with strangers, people she’s only met once or twice, because when it comes to her friends, they could very well be speaking of the weather or apples and she’d be concentrated on their words, as she nurturer by nature who mothers everyone around her without even realizing it.

hobbies:

COOKING / BAKING ▬ Every child has their chores and, unfortunately, Lily was never fond of those she was assigned with. Be it dusting or doing the dishes, it all sounded horrible to the girl who always tried to trade with Petunia – why did she have to be stuck with such boring tasks? She’s much rather clean the floor or fold clothes, something other than the bloody dishes. That was, of course, until she went to spend a few weeks with her maternal grandmother and the elderly lady introduced her to cooking. After that, there was no going back. Something about being in the kitchen warms Lily’s heart; she spent years learning how to make anything and everything, soon pushing her mum away and trying to cook dinner alone (which ended in a few accidents, such as a couple of bad cuts or a flaming frying pan). It was just for fun at first but as time went by, there was no denying that Lily had a knack for metaphorically flying around the kitchen, wooden spoon in one hand and an ingredient in the other.

More than a hobby, cooking turned into something that she finds therapeutic; the one thing that keeps her busy enough when the rest of the world crumbles around her. Last year, after she parted ways with Severus, the redhead decided that simply making lunch and dinner was enough, taking her first steps into baking – for days, it was all she did, batches and batches of cookies on the counters until she managed to make the perfect ones; cakes of various kinds left on tables. She quickly learnt that there was nothing better to cure a broken heart than a full oven, nothing that smelt more of home and comfort than a freshly baked scone. Slowly but surely, Lily has found one of the greatest passions in her life and, if all goes well, she would love to own a restaurant one day. Or maybe a bakery. Or both! She isn’t sure yet.

GARDENING ▬ Gardening was never Lily’s greatest talent but from a young age, she could be found alongside her mother and sister, trying to help mummy in any way she could, often doing more harm than good. Still, Violet Evans taught their girls everything that had been passed down to her by her own mother, who’d learnt from her mother, and so on – working with flowers, helping them grow into their beauty, was always a Morrison women tradition and marriage didn’t change that. Lily grew up seeing her mother with her hands in the dirt and, to this day, plants remind her of home – something about gardening makes her feel warm inside and it is what she do finds herself doing when she’s at home, calm and relaxed, often before she’s spent any large amount of time with Petunia.

In all honesty, most of what the witch tries to grow on her own withers and dies but that doesn’t keep her from trying; a persistent being who doesn’t take no for an answer, Lily will persevere. Still, more than doing her own gardening, the redhead still always prefers to help her mum when she’s at home as it is a way of her feeling better – she has never felt guilty about being at Hogwarts but she can’t shake off the feeling that she hasn’t been there for Violet, hasn’t been a good daughter, like Petunia. So, this also works as her way of trying to make up for time lost; not much, she knows, but it’s one of the few things Lily can do with her mum without them ending up yelling at each other.

PHOTOGRAPHY ▬ An emotional person who cherishes even the smallest of memories, it wasn’t surprising that Lily found photography to be one of her favourite things to do, even if she isn’t particularly good at it. Be it the sun rise or the sunset, a friend or a bird, the clouds or a rainy field, the witch will use her new Polaroid camera to take a picture; often blurry images that are far too bright or far too dark but still make the redhead feel proud, for she will never forget that moment, even after she’s old and her memory fails her. She finds it that even the most common of pictures can be breathtaking if one sees the hidden beauty in it, knows that it might tell a story we aren’t aware of, or inspire artists and poets.

While baking and gardening hold emotional value to the Gryffindor, photography is just something she enjoys doing – simple, fun, carefree; it doesn’t remind her of years lost or heartbreak past, doesn’t make her feel melancholic in the slightest, which is why the witch tots that camera everywhere; constantly taking pictures of anything, everything and everyone. Over the years, she’s put together a rather heavy scrapbook that she will show her friends come Seventh Year, a goodbye present she hopes they’ll treasure as much as she does.

FLYING ▬ For years, when she was a little girl, Lily used to pretend she could fly like the birds above; she’d stretch out her arms and try her hardest, sometimes hovering a little over the ground, yes, but never floating away, free and beautiful. She soon came to terms with the fact that she’d never grow a pair of wings and fly away but, when Severus began to tell her about the fairytale-like Wizarding World, a spark of hope shun in the horizon as witches had broomsticks. And broomsticks could fly. It was a childish dream, of course, riding a broom across the open air but Lily never stopped thinking about it.

When the first years took their first flying lesson, however, the redhead froze, suddenly afraid that she’d fall or embarrass herself – most of the students knew all about this or at least a little, while the only mean of transportation she was familiar with was her bike or dad’s car. The notion of climbing onto that damned broomstick seemed preposterous and so she pretended she couldn’t even raise it off the ground, not even trying to do so. Somewhere along the years, however, Lily found ways to borrow a broomstick here and there, slowly teaching herself to fly without having anyone there to laugh at her. As expected, it became one of her favourite things to do and while she isn’t anywhere as good as anyone on the Quidditch teams, she does finds herself to be quite decent.

sleeping habits: Lily’s sleeping habits change quite regularly over the years, for different circumstances and different places affect the girl in many ways and sleep (especially sleeping patterns) is definitely the part of her that is most influenced by that. When she’s at home during the holidays, she can’t help but curl herself into a ball, clutching her pillow and sleeping with her head on the hard mattress, needing to hold something for comfort. When she was a child, she had a stuffed bunny she absolutely adored and couldn’t fall asleep without, always hugging him so he wouldn’t be afraid of the dark like she (even if she never spoke of it out loud, not wanting to sound like a baby) was. Old habits are hard to break, her childhood bedroom always reminding her of Pig, her pillow a substitute for the toy that was lost in the summer of 1968.

When she’s at Hogwarts, however, she prefers to sleep on her stomach, a leg pulled up over the bed covers and an arm safety under her head; resting on it rather than on the fluffy pillow she’s gotten used to over the years. Something about sharing a room with a handful of other girls comforts Lily which is why, even when everyone else is already sound asleep, she has no problem walking around and grumbling over whatever happened that day, not afraid of the shadows and what hides in them. Truthfully, Lily has overgrown her fear of the dark but it she still finds it eerie, preferring to stay in a place where there’s light and she can see her surroundings perfectly. That’s also why the witch can’t sleep without a window wide open, allowing moonlight to shine into the bedroom – she needs to be able to see where she is and what’s happening around her, or sleep takes hours to settle in. She’s practically soundless while sleeping, but there isn’t a night where Lily doesn’t wake up with drool on her arm and the covers on the floor, having tossed and turned around enough to sometimes even wake up with her feet on her pillow.

As far as sleeping patterns are concerned, that’s where things change. When she’s happy and at peace with herself and others, Lily has no problem merrily drifting off; succumbing to exhaustion the second she lays down, sometimes even feeling the need to take a nap during the day. When she’s stressed, however, and no matter how hard she tries, the redhead will take hours to fall asleep, sometimes staying up until dawn and spending the remainder of the week yawning into her pumpkin juice, thoughts and concerns swimming in her mind, haunting her and leaving her to try and find solutions to her problems, solutions that rarely make sense. It is, all in all, something she now sees as routine – during her O.W.Ls, the witch spent days on end without sleep, what happened with Severus pushing her off the edge as pulling all-nighter after all-nighter didn’t quite help her already fiery temper.  Long story short, when she isn’t at the top of her game, Lily stops sleeping. When Lily stops sleeping, she gets rather jumpy. When she gets jumpy, she yells. And after she yells at someone, she gets even more stressed, not being able to sleep for the following night and thus creating a vicious cycle she should know better than to get herself into.

Still, the summer months spent away from school and Severus helped the witch calm down and re-evaluate her life, so much so that she has started dreaming again, something she stopped doing towards the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts. Now, nights are peaceful and quiet, and she can only hope they stay the same for the rest of the school year, for she is actually quite ashamed at how she blew up in Potter’s face and would rather that experience didn’t have any repeats.

eating habits: If you ask her, Lily will surely tell you that she has the eating habits of any girl her age but, in reality, she eats as much as any sixteen year old boy. A lover of all sorts of food, from grilled fish to a nice, big steak, the redhead isn’t exactly picky, which is why she spent the last seven years of her life being considered a chubby little thing – short in height, any weight she put on was immediately noticeable and even if she didn’t really care about it, there was no denying that she ate enough for two, something she stopped doing over the summer. Running around with newfound friends and stopping only to grab a sandwich or an apple, as well as having grown some inches (only three, but that’s more than enough for Lily), caused the girl to lose quite a bit of weight, something she hasn’t really stopped to notice yet. One thing’s for sure, her appetite has gone down tremendously, but that doesn’t stop her from stuffing her face every now and then.

Peas remain Lily’s favourite thing in the whole wide world; those little green balls fascinated her when she was younger and the fixation stuck, for be them in rice, in pasta or just boiled in a bowl, the ginger will devour them, having developed the habit of force feeding them to her friends when they wrinkle her nose at her. Another food she’s very fond of is tuna pasta, something that she eats when she doesn’t feel too good, like some girls who eat ice-cream or chocolate. A nice, warm plate of pasta does it for her, the best comfort food anyone could ever have thought about. Food, for Lily, is more than just food – it’s art, it’s life, it’s something to be appreciated and cherished, not just eaten as an obligation.

Still, some traditions must be kept and while she loves a full dish, it’s rare that Lily mixes her food – she eats it all in order, one picked when she finishes serving. It might touch, that’s absolutely fine, but she can’t really eat meat, rice and salad in one bite: they must be eaten separately. A slow eater who stops to chat every five seconds, Lily’s plate might be half-empty after an hour, but her drink will be left untouched – that, as everything else, has an order – until she’s properly finished.

how do they behave under pressure? To say that Lily does well under pressure is an understatement, as the girl functions like a well oiled machine – sure, she might hold off on sleep for a few days (until she passes out on her bed fully clothed) but for the most part, the redhead will surely be running around, getting everything she needs done and on time; everything else but the task at hand forgotten, pushed to the back of her mind until she can go back to relaxing. This doesn’t mean that Lily enjoys pressure, Merlin no, but at least she knows that if she has to be faced with it, she won’t crash and burn like so many of her classmates – getting essays done? Easy. Studying for her O.W.Ls? Sure, no problem. But when it comes to pressure within her family circle? That’s when things get trickier, for while school isn’t all that hard for Lily, when it comes to the social dynamic in her family she is often unsure of what to say or how to act, looking like a fish out of water.

Perhaps it was the years she has spent at Hogwarts, maybe the new culture she now finds herself submerged in or the difference between the people she deals with on a daily basis and the people who share her blood, but one thing is certain: when it comes to holidays, family dinners or even small situations, like meeting Petunia’s brand new boyfriend, Lily is clueless. She’ll feel awkward, with her curly red hair and nails tapping on wooden tables, not knowing what to say or do – a word out of place and she could let it slip that she’s a witch. So, all in all, the girl is amazing under pressure, unless it comes from her family. Then, she might just spend hours eating, not speaking as she fears her comments might embarrass those around her.

how do they express their emotions? While the Evans were a warm family, affection was never shown through touching; words, kind gestures and her parents’ constant fussing over both her and Petunia were what showed Lily she wasn’t alone and that she was loved. That, however, wasn’t satisfying for the girl who was always snuggled up against her mum or constantly hugging her dad. From a very young age, Lily proved to be an extremely tactile individual and that only grew with age: when she loves and trusts someone, the ginger touches them. Any sort of physical contact comes naturally to her, be it a gentle nudge with her hip or a kiss on the cheek, holding hands with her friends or crawling into bed with them, Lily can’t help herself – to her, one must show people that they were loved and, in a time where people just aren’t kind enough, a soft touch seems comforting. Perhaps she was just born to mother everyone, wanting the people around her to be at their best, but she just can’t help but touch the people she cares about.

Still, Lily is a person of extremes and while she can be the gentlest of girls at times, when she’s angry she is definitely not someone you would want as an enemy. The witch’s temper is as fiery as her hair, and once she gets upset you might as well run, hide and wait for her to calm down. It takes quite a while for someone to get Lily completely furious, very few ever driving her to the breaking point, but when she does, things will fly, cities will burn, empires will crumble and you will hear cats hissing for hours like in comedy TV shows. Those closest to her aren’t safe from being hit on the back of the head or slapped across the arm, for her being tactile goes both ways and she is most definitely not afraid to hit people when they deserve it. After all, she’s not that strong… ish.

Ultimately, Lily tries to show her love to those she cares about in any way she can, be it by listening to them when they need someone, giving them advice even if it’s harsh and cold, hugging them when they need a shoulder and hitting them when they’re behaving like idiots – love, she has come to realize, comes in many ways and if one must be cruel in order to guide someone in the right direction then so be it. Lily isn’t afraid of calling things by their proper names; if people dislike her for that, so be it. At least she knows she’s doing the right thing and helping the people she holds closest to her heart, even if they don’t notice it straight away. Of course, most of this is the redhead believing that she knows better than most but that has never stopped her from doing what she believes she should do. And, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

        O U T  O F  C H A R A C T E R

name: Oswin age: 18 timezone: GMT contact information: You can find me on greeneyedwriting, my personal Tumblr blog where I’m on at least once a day, on Skype as deathatwinterquay and/or on KIK as somebodysaylily. pronouns: She / Her

Hello, there! I didn’t know where to add this so I’ll just mention it here. While Eleanor is absolutely beautiful, I can’t really say she’s my vision of Lily and that makes me a little uncomfortable, which is why I wish to request a change to Jenna Thiam, a French actress you can find here [ x , x , x ]. She, along with Karen Gillan, are two faceclaims I particularly enjoy for Lily and Jenna, with her curly dark red hair, is exactly what I envisioned while writing the app. Thank you so much!