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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years ago

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Miami Nights (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW.

Summary: While in Miami to celebrate their upcoming wedding, Ethan and Naomi sneak away from the festivities to have their own celebration.

A/N: Like all of my NSFW fics, this was 100% self indulgent and written with only me in mind.

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And if your tags do not work, I’m sorry, and blame Tumblr. ~v~ In a perfect world, Ethan Ramsey would be at home, on his couch, a good book in one hand and a tumbler of scotch in the other. The last place he necessarily wants to be is in the crowded bar of a Miami hotel, sandwiched between a 21 year old girl and her friends, and some guy crying into his pint of beer.

The things Ethan does for love.

Coming to Miami was Naomi’s idea. She wanted a fun weekend away for their bachelor and bachelorette parties, and Miami was the only place she even considered going. What better way to celebrate their upcoming nuptials than to go to the city, specifically the hotel that started it all?

He hasn’t seen her all day, her friends kidnapping her as soon as their plane touched down. He misses her. They’ve been attached at the hip ever since they began dating, even more so after she moved into his condo, and being without her feels strange, even if it’s only for a night. And while he’s grown fond of Naomi’s merry band of misfits, spending the entire night with Bryce, Elijah, and Rafael requires more patience than he has.

He’s spent the entire day with them, and his capacity to be around other people has reached its limit. So while the guys were making plans of going to a strip club, Ethan left altogether, quietly slipping out of their room.

Ethan feels a tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere, the slight drawl of Naomi’s accent when she has to pronounce certain words. Once he’s turned around, all thoughts of what he could possibly say are gone.

After two years together, Naomi’s beauty shouldn’t stun him anymore, but she still manages to render him speechless.

“Wow,” is the word his brain finally settles on.

Forever the drama queen, Naomi twirls around so her fiancé can get a full look at the sparkly dress she’s wearing. “I take it you like the dress?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes sweep over Ethan, taking him in. He’s not doing anything in particular, but his presence is still commanding and magnetic. “You look pretty handsome yourself. Now, do you care to tell me why you’re missing your bachelor party?”

“I didn’t want to go to a strip club,” Ethan says simply. “And Lahela kept referring to us in third person, calling us ‘The Boys’ all night. It was becoming tiresome, so I left.”

“You can’t leave your own bachelor party.”

“Says the woman who ditched her bachelorette party,” Ethan shoots back.

Naomi rolls her eyes. “I only left my bachelorette party because you texted me to meet you down here.”

“I was simply over the night,” he says with a shrug. “We did a bit of gambling, we went to a cigar lounge, we got dinner. That’s more than enough entertainment for me. The other guys will be fine for the rest of the night if I’m not there.”

“Well if you’re checking out for the night, so am I.”

“No, you can still enjoy the festivities with your friends.”

Naomi shrugs. “Kyra and Sienna went too hard on the tequila shots at the club, and they’re currently passed out. Aurora, Jackie, and I were just in their room talking.”

“About anything in particular?”

“Mostly hospital gossip, nothing major.” Naomi takes a step forward and wraps her arms around Ethan’s neck. “Take me to our room, we can order room service and have our own celebration.”

One of Ethan’s eyebrows raises at the command. His hand travels to his fiancée’s hip, squeezing roughly. “Oh yeah? What kind of celebration?”

“I don’t know,” Naomi says, playing coy. “But I’m sure you can come up with something, doctor.”

~v~

They manage to get to their floor in record time, after Ethan requests that a bottle of wine get sent up to their room, which is a miracle because they spend entirely too much time stumbling through the halls, stealing kisses and touching each other.

Because they got separated early in the day, Naomi didn’t get a chance to see the room she and Ethan would be staying in for the weekend. As soon as he slides the key card through the door and pushes it open, Naomi just knows.

It’s the same suite she and Ethan shared the first time they visited The Celestial. “Ethan, this is...wow.”

“I take it you’re surprised?”

“I’m more than surprised.”

Naomi wanders around the room, her fingers lightly touching all of the fixtures. The bedding is still the same, white and lavender, the room open and light. It even smells the same, and suddenly she’s transported back in time, 3 years ago.

Leaving Ethan where he’s standing, Naomi heads to the balcony, throwing open the sliding glass door. Everything is so still, weird for a city like Miami that’s constantly buzzing with energy. She doesn’t notice Ethan step out a minute later, a chilled bottle of merlot and two glasses in his hand.

He pops open the bottle and pours them both a glass, handing one to her. “Would you like to toast?”

“Sure.” Naomi raises her glass. “Here’s to us, our upcoming nuptials, and the best marriage the world has ever seen.”

“That’s a bold toast.” Ethan gently clinks his glass against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

Naomi takes a hearty sip, ignoring all of the tips a sommelier usually gives on how to drink, the fruitiness of the wine taking over. She watches as Ethan heads to the railing, his own glass less than full.

“I still can’t believe you managed to get this room,” she says, sighing wistfully, overlooking the ocean from her vantage point. “How did you pull it off?”

“Everyone has a price. I said money was no object, and when I told them it was a surprise for my fiancée, they were a bit more inclined to help.”

“Really?” Ethan hums and nods in response.

“I told them the room has sentimental value to me,” he explains further. “It’s the room where I realized I was utterly helpless against your charms.”

“Ethan Ramsey, you’re truly a romantic at heart.”

He’ll never get used to hearing her praise him so openly. Ethan ducks his head down so Naomi can’t see the flush creeping up his neck at the compliment. “You bring out this romantic side of me.”

She goes to join him at the railing. He doesn’t say anything, but he slips his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Butterflies bloom in her stomach at his words. It’s nice to know that their first trip to Miami means so much to him, because it was an absolute game changer for her.

“I remember everything about that night so vividly,” Naomi says, her voice almost a whisper.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Losing to Declan in that poker match, coming out here, sharing a bottle of pinot noir, and talking about Naveen and my dreams for the type of doctor I want to be. I remember it all.”

“And then we kissed,” Ethan adds.

“Oh yeah, we did kiss, huh? I can’t believe I almost forgot that.”

“Ha ha, Rookie.”

“You know I’m just kidding. Of course I remember that kiss. It was the start of quite the journey for us.” A pained look flashed across Ethan’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I kissed you and then I immediately reneged. I started us on that ridiculous journey and wasted so much precious time because I didn’t want to admit that I was falling for you.”

“Hey.” Naomi grabs Ethan’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, and look at where we are right now. We’re getting married next week, we’re starting the rest of our lives together. Yes, the journey took a bit longer than I had hoped, but I don’t think I’d change anything in our past. It’s led us to this moment right here.”

“How are you so much more...wise and articulate than me?”

Naomi shrugs. “It’s a gift. Not everyone is privileged to possess it.”

“You remember all of the broad strokes of that night in Miami, but I’m more fond of the tiny details.”

“Like what?”

“I remember your blue dress and how it matched my eyes,” he starts. “I remember the sweet smell of your perfume, jasmine. I remember your coconut shampoo. I remember the way your pupils dilated when you saw me step out of the shower.” Ethan pulls Naomi closer to him and one of his hands gently cups her face. “It’s the same look you gave me when you realized that I threw that poker game for Naveen’s benefit, one of pure awe.”

“Your skin was incredibly soft,” Ethan continues, his finger tracing a nonsensical pattern on her collarbone. “Like silk. And it still is. But you want to know my favorite memory of that night?”

“Wh-what?”

A hand underneath her chin, Ethan tilts Naomi’s head up, their lips dangerously close. If she moves just a hair closer, they’ll be kissing. She’s tempted to just take the plunge, but she’s frozen, trapped under a spell of his.

With that, Ethan’s mouth descends on hers, pulling Naomi into a kiss with a ferocity she wasn’t expecting. She melts into it immediately, moaning, her hand flying to the back of his neck, getting tangled in the hair at the nape. She can taste the wine of him, the sweet taste of cherries as tongue slips into her mouth, deepening the kiss.

Ethan pulls away only to nip at the corner of her mouth. “That fucking moan of yours. The tiny little noise you make at the back of your throat whenever you’re aroused. It’s been playing in my head on a loop ever since.”

His beard scratches a path down Naomi’s neck and shoulder as he kisses her.

“You want to make that sound for me again?” Naomi nods frantically, desperate for whatever is about to come her way. “Good girl.”

Taking her hand, Ethan pulls her away from the railing. Instead of heading back into their suite, he presses her into the tall pillar next to them, barely giving her enough time to put down her wine glass. The exposed skin of her back collides into the pillar with a soft thud.

“Out here?” She asks with a squeak as Ethan tugs at her dress.

Ethan shrugs. “Why not?”

His lips are on her neck again in an instant, clouding her judgment and making it harder to respond. “Someone can–” she dissolved into a fit of moans at Ethan’s ministrations. “Someone can see us.”

“We’re thirty floors up,” Ethan deadpans. “And it’s pitch black out here, no one will see us.” He grabs her hips, pulling her flush against him, and Naomi gasps at how hard he is. “Now hearing you, that’s another story. You’re loud and I have every intention to make you scream.”

If he wasn’t holding onto her, Naomi is sure she would’ve fallen over at his words. Ethan’s cockiness is on full display, and arrogant Ethan was definitely one of her favorite versions of him.

Ethan pulls away, giving Naomi a bit of breathing room so she can properly think again. “Does that sound like a plan, Valentine? Me having my way with you right here on this balcony?”

“God, yes.” She ignores the way he smirks at her unbridled eagerness. Ethan has a healthy enough ego without her stroking it.

“Correct answer, Rookie.”

Ethan’s hand wraps around the silky material at the top of Naomi’s dress and yanks it down. Naomi hears the ripping of the material and her eyes fly open in shock at the cool Miami air hitting her exposed chest.

“We’re going to have to talk about the serious lack of respect you have for my clothing.”

“You told me you got this dress because someone you called a “Pictagram influencer” advertised it and had a coupon code making it 70% cheaper,” Ethan counters.

“Yes, the dress was cheap, but you have to stop ripping all of my clothes.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“With a new dress?”

Ethan rolls his eyes at his fiancée’s quip, but he ignores it. “Something better.” He kisses down her neck and chest, stopping to wrap his lips around her nipple, biting down gently.

It takes a second for Naomi to register that the source of the unladylike growl filling the air is her. She grips Ethan’s shoulder to steady herself, her nails digging through his shirt, and her head falls forward at the sensation.

“You’re always so responsive to me,” Ethan murmurs softly. His mouth descends on her other nipple, his tongue flattening over the pebbled bit of flesh. “And I don’t even have to do anything to you.”

“Well, can you do something to me?”

“You young people have no patience,” Ethan clicks his tongue teasingly. Slowly, he sinks down to his knees in front of Naomi, tugging her dress down with him. He’s already ripped it, there’s no use in exercising any more care. The sparkly dress pools at Naomi’s feet and she kicks it away.

“You old people move too slow–”

The words die on her throat as Ethan hooks a finger into the band of underwear and tugs them down at a frenzied pace. His calloused fingers dig into her hips, hard enough to bruise. She always calls him old, teasing him into accepting whatever challenge she’s thrown his way. “I’ll show you old, Rookie.”

Leaving her hip, one of Ethan’s hands travels to her knee, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He hooks her leg over his shoulder, giving him more leverage.

She can feel his breath, warm and tickling on the inside of her thigh, so close, yet so far away from where she actually needs him to be. Her hips fly forward, a silent plea for him to continue this little game they’re playing. Thankfully Ethan doesn’t tease her any further as his tongue flies out, licking at her folds.

Naomi inhales sharply and she nearly hikes up the wall at the sensation. “Oh, God.”

“You’re so wet for me, Naomi,” Ethan whispers against the overly sensitive flesh.

He dives back in, moaning against her and Naomi throws her head back at the vibration. “Always for you.”

She can tell by the way his blue eyes sparkle as they lock eyes that he’s smirking. But Naomi doesn’t have time to care about that because his lips wrap around her clit and he sucks hard. Naomi cards her fingers through his hair, tugging at him roughly, like she will die if he doesn’t keep his attention right where it is.

It doesn’t last long though, and with ridiculous strength and skill, Ethan manages to grab her wrists in one hand, and keeps her hips planted against the pole with the other. Naomi receives the message loud and clear: he’s in control here, unequivocally.

Secure in the fact that she won’t be doing too much moving, Ethan doubles down, his tongue lapping at her. The familiar scratch of his beard against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh only makes her more delirious with lust.

Molten core levels of heat prick at every bit of her skin, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Her stomach tightens and there’s a tingle at the base of her spine. She’s close and it’s not fair that he can make her come this quick, and she’s not sure if she hates it or loves it. “I’m gonna–”

“I know.”

Ethan pulls away slightly, but Naomi doesn’t get the chance to whine about it. In an instant, he’s slipped a finger inside of her, earning a groan. He is just so...relentless in his goal, and Naomi barely has a chance to breathe before she’s keening (something so dramatic and unlike her. Ethan will never let her live it down). Her orgasm is swift, crashing into her like a tidal wave, knocking her off kilter almost instantly. Ethan doesn’t back away, his mouth still on her, working her through the release.

Her entire body is buzzing, still wracked with aftershocks when Ethan finally stands up. His eyes are dark, no longer the ocean blue they usually are, now taking on something closer to the midnight sky, fully dilated and hooded. His mouth is wet, slick with...well her, and Naomi has never wanted to kiss him more.

“That was a promising start,” Ethan says. “But it’s just that: a start. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

A start? If Naomi had the energy to do so, she would laugh at him, but one look in Ethan’s eyes lets her know that he’s being serious. She gulps audibly. She’s a shaky puddle of goo right now, and that was only the beginning?

“Turn around, hands against the pillar,” Ethan commands.

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Naomi. Hands out, ass up.”

He’s using his commanding doctor voice on her, and she loves it. Naomi does what she’s told, palms flat against the pillar holding up the balcony.

She hears rustling from behind, and she’s sure he’s undressing. Now she’s extremely aware of their power imbalance: she’s stark naked, save for a pair of high heels, while he’s still fully dressed. It’s not fair. Shifting slightly, Naomi lifts a foot and shakes it, hoping to get the shoe off in one fell swoop.

She’s stopped short of her plan as a sharp smack is delivered to her ass. She’s unable to contain the expletive in her throat, a loud, “Fuck!” drifting into the Miami air.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ethan asks.

“Taking off these heels.”

He tsks at her, as if the answer isn’t good enough. “I don’t remember giving you permission to do so.”

The authoritative tone zips straight through her, and Naomi turns to face him, putting on her best doe eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Christ.” Naomi didn’t know it was possible, but Ethan’s eyes darken even further at the word. He doesn’t bother stripping out the rest of his clothes, just quickly undoing his belt and pushing his pants down until they pool at his ankles. Without warning, Ethan wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Naomi’s back collides with his chest with a hard thud. “Kiss me.”

That’s not a command that needs repeating. Naomi tilts her head back in an attempt to kiss him, but their vast height difference and Ethan’s death grip on her make it a challenge. She just barely manages to capture the corner of his mouth before Ethan growls impatiently, and grabs her neck, forcing her head back to deepen the kiss.

It’s overwhelming and heady, and she’s so caught up in it, she doesn’t even realize his cock, hard and pulsing, is poised at the entrance until he plunges into her in one smooth thrust.

If he wanted her loud, he got what he asked for, because Naomi breaks their kiss in order to scream at the welcome intrusion. The air rushes from her lungs, and she can’t even begin to breathe again before Ethan pulls out and enters her again with just as much intensity as before.

She feels delirious, and she can’t pinpoint why. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re 400 feet above solid ground, and one look down makes her head spin. Maybe it’s the fact that someone, somewhere in this hotel knows exactly what they’re doing. Maybe it’s the fact that every inch of her skin burns deliciously as Ethan has her stretched at full fucking capacity, and she has nowhere to run or hide. There’s no sheets she can pull, no pillows to muffle her moans, nothing she can grab onto to anchor herself to reality. She’s suspended in this moment, and she can’t do anything but simply take it as Ethan fucks into her like a madman.

The noises she’s making along with the sound of their skin slapping together is wildly obscene, and it only spurs Ethan on. Abandoning her throat, his hand travels down to her chest, his forefinger and thumb pinching her nipple, bringing the tiny nub to an almost painfully hard peak. He makes sure to give the same level of attention to the other nipple, torturing his fiancée until she’s whining unintelligibly.

His lips find her earlobe and he bites down. “Are you close again?”

“Yes,” Naomi answers.

Instead of speeding up, Ethan slows down, his thrusts slowing down to an agonizingly deep pace, fully pulling out of her and thrusting in again at a leisurely pace, the sole intent of driving her insane.

“Ethan,” she whines. She’s a shaking mess, unable to do much else besides cry out and occasionally moan his name. Her spine curves, back arching and her head falls against his shoulder. “Fuck! Ethan, please.”

“Please, what?”

Despite his teasing, Naomi can tell he’s just as desperate as she is. His breath is coming out in ragged and uneven pants, there’s a thin layer of sweat, slick and coating his chest, and she can feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic against her back. He’s just as tortured as she is.

In a Hail Mary attempt to get what she wants, her inner muscles clench down on him, stopping him mid-thrust. Ethan’s knees buckle, the move unexpected and throwing him off-kilter.

“Shit, Naomi,” he manages to rasp out. “You don’t play fair.”

Being fair has no place in this, she plays to win, but she has no time to throw it back in his face as he presses into her clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her yelp.

If her last climax felt like getting slammed with a tidal wave, this one feels like floating down a river: languid and unrelenting, refusing to stop. It consumes her entire body, engulfing her in pleasure so white hot and intense, she’s sure stars are popping behind her eyelids as every bit of pleasure is wrung out of her body until there’s nothing left to give.

Ethan’s thrusts speed up again, messy and spasmodic, all rhythm gone. His hips snap against hers before she feels him coming, his entire body going rigid.

Thankfully, Ethan has enough energy left to pull them into a chair because Naomi was more than willing to simply collapse onto the concrete and stay there. She curls into his side, her face finding a spot in the crook of his neck.

They don’t speak for what feels like forever, both just trying to regulate their breathing and return back to normal.

Ethan breaks the comfortable silence, but Naomi barely realizes he’s talking before it’s too late to fully listen. She tilts her head back so they can lock eyes. “What?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” Ethan says.

“I can’t feel my legs,” is all Naomi manages to say. Ethan chuckles and reaches forward, slipping Naomi’s heels off, the relief pretty much instant.

“Better?”

“Much.” She sighs sleepily, her eyelids growing heavy. She burrows deeper into his side, Ethan’s body heat lulling her to sleep. “This was much better than staying in the girls’ room.”

“And it was much better than going to a strip club with your friends,” Ethan adds.

“You like them. They’re your friends too, don’t deny it.” Ethan doesn’t outright confirm or deny anything, which is all the confirmation Naomi needs. “Told you so.”

“How about a shower, Miss Know-It-All?”

“Sounds great,” Naomi huffs, but she makes no effort to move.

“This is doing more for my ego than you’ll ever know.” Ethan is careful, extracting himself from Naomi’s grip in order to get up. He then hooks his arms underneath her, lifting her up bridal style to carry her back into their suite.

Naomi might as well be unconscious because she’s dead weight in his arms as he maneuvers his way to the en-suite. Thankfully the shower isn’t complicated and all Ethan has to do is turn a few knobs for it to turn on. He waits a few seconds to make sure the water is the perfect temperature, before pulling Naomi in with him.

They don’t spend too much time in the marble and glass box, as Ethan can see Naomi is probably seconds from passing out. The shower is over almost as quickly as it began. Both wrapped in large hotel robes, Ethan nudges Naomi back to the bedroom where she collapses face down onto their bed.

Once Ethan is in bed with her, Naomi rolls over, her face firmly planted on his chest. Upon making contact, Naomi sighs.

Ethan kisses the top of her head. “I can practically hear your thoughts. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Naomi assures him. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“It just feels...surreal, being back in Miami, being back in this room,” Naomi explains. “We’re getting married next weekend.”

Ethan lifts Naomi’s left hand, her engagement ring sparkling in the moonlight. “It does feel surreal.”

“I think we should make it a tradition, coming out here.” Ethan looks down at her, a curious eyebrow raised. Naomi feels the need to explain herself, the words rushing out of her mouth. “It doesn’t have to be annual or anything, but I want this to be our special place.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Ethan says. The next they come to Miami, she’s going to be his wife, and the thought spends a thrill down his spine.

“And we have to have sex on the balcony. It’s tradition now.”

“I’m starting to think you only want me for my body.”

“Of course not,” Naomi argues. “I’m in it for your money, too.” Ethan pinches her leg for the teasing, and she squirms away from him, laughing.

“When I die, I’m bequeathing all of my money to Jenner.”

“He’s a good boy, he’d share with me.”

Ethan rolls his eyes and pulls Naomi in for another kiss. They don’t make it very far though, as the sound of a cell phone pierces through the air, making them spring apart.

“Yours or mine?” Ethan asks, eyes scanning the room for the source of the noise.

Naomi bends over and sees her cell phone on the floor by their bed, and not on the nightstand.

Weird. She picks it up, and her eyes widen at the amount of texts she’s received in the past minute, the vibration so strong, it knocked the phone off of the table. “It’s mine.”

Bryce L: DUDE!!!

Bryce L: Where the duck r u?

Bryce L: ????????????????????????????????

Bryce L: Srsly not funny, did u run away from ur own bachelor party?

Bryce L: Pick up fone. Nay will murder us for losing u.

Bryce L: But I will murder fist, 4 running away

Bryce L: Oh shut. Naomi, ignore this!!!

Bryce L: JK, false alarm

Bryce L: Ethan is fine, picky promise!

Between the misspelled words and strings of emojis, Naomi can tell that her surgeon friend is completely drunk, but she manages to figure out what he’s saying. “So Bryce is having a meltdown because he lost you.” Taking the phone from Naomi’s hand, Ethan holds it up to his face, squinting as he reads. “And he thinks he was texting you, when he really just texted me.”

Ethan chuckles slightly, and mere seconds later, his own cell phone rings ‘Dr. Bryce Lahela’ flashing across the screen. “He’s figured it out, and he’s calling me now. Should I answer?”

“No. Let them have their Hangover moment.”

“Their what?”

“From The Hangover. The movie with Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, Zack Galifiniakis where they get totally shitfaced and lose their best friend a day before his wedding,” Naomi explains. Ethan just stares at her blankly. “Oh my gosh, you’ve never seen it?”

“How does this come as a shock to you, Rookie?”

“Well, we can't get married until you’ve seen the entire trilogy.”

That makes Ethan’s brows fly up. “There’s 3 of those movies that you want me to sit through?”

“God Grandpa, you’re so lame,” Naomi groans and her hand reaches out onto the nightstand, grabbing the remote control. She points to the large flatscreen tv in front of them. “Hopefully we can order movies on this. If not, I brought my laptop so–” Ethan plucks the remote from her hand, and tosses it to the edge of the king sized bed. It lands softly. “Hey!”

“I don’t care about some stupid movie.”

“It’s not stu–” He tugs at the knot holding her robe together until it falls open. “Ethan…”

“You have options, soon to be Missus Ramsey,” Ethan starts. He rolls over until he’s on top of Naomi, his arms bracing either side of her cage, caging her underneath him. “We can watch that movie, or we can pick up where we left off on the balcony. Which choice do you prefer?”

“The movie,” Naomi quips back with a smirk.

She laughs at her own joke and Ethan’s eyes darken mischievously, taking on the challenge. “Just for that, I’m going to guarantee that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

#ns*fw #playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #open heart 2 #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #pixelberry

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lostinfic · 4 years ago

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Christmas Eve (stuck) in the Lab

Chapter 12/12 *complete*

Summary: Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler both work at the Natural History Museum in London, he’s a scientist and she works in the gift shop. They are only friends, but the upcoming staff Christmas party promises developments they’ve both been longing for. However, John and Rose end up stuck with Martha, Donna and Jack in the laboratory, and shenanigans ensue: decontamination showers, cocktails in beakers, a game of truth-or-dare and a Secret Santa rigged by meddling friends.

Tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff with light angst, found family

Rating: Teen (for now) | Words:11556

@doctorroseprompts

Ao3

The click of doors unlocking interrupted their celebration and made everyone run to the railing to watch the entrance below. Kate Stewart entered the laboratory. She wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit, which must mean….

“You’re safe,” she declared.

Palpable relief washed over the group.

Rose’s stomach untangled. She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing shakily. She had to call her mum.

She turned to John, he was all loud cheers and big grin. He grabbed Rose around the waist in a hug that lifted her off the floor.

When he put her back down, his hands lingered at her waist, and hers on his shoulders.

Kate joined them up in the gallery.

She gave some scientific information they all seemed to understand except Rose. She gathered the substance was not harmful to humans.

Kate handed them an information sheet. “Just in case, be on the lookout for symptoms on this list. Call the number at the bottom if you have any concerns.”

Jack was out the door before she’d even finished talking. Martha, Donna and John left in different directions, to call relatives or pick up their coats and keys.

Rose should have hurried outside too, but she dawdled, feeling oddly nostalgic. She shut down the monitor and covered the leftover food with plastic wrap.

She was aware of John’s spearhead left on the corner of the table, but couldn’t look at it.

She felt bad for disliking it. She appreciated its monetary value, if not its sentimental one. She wished he hadn’t just picked something off his shelf; her gift dealt with in an efficient manner, then dismissed.

Donna carried Rose’s backpack from her office and up the stairs. She had something else in her hand, too.

“I thought you should know, this is what John was going to give you.”

Donna unrolled a poster with a beautiful map of the world in neon colours. She explained how he’d made it using UV light and special proteins.

It was perfect, bright and creative and just so special. Yet it only added to Rose’s frustration.

“I don’t know why he changed his mind. He really likes you, Rose.”

“But not enough to tell me himself.”

“Or so much it scares him.”

“Well, he knows where to find me if he needs help with that too.” She sighed, regretting her snark. She was tired. “I suppose it’s because of what happened to his parents.”

“What about them?”

He hadn’t confided in Donna, but he had in her. Maybe that meant something. And yet, Rose couldn’t help but remember once again how she’d fooled herself into believing Jimmy’s behaviour meant more than it did.

From the gallery, Rose could see across the lab, down into John’s office. He was still there, talking on the phone.

Her heart softened for him, as it always did.

Perhaps, for once, she should be the one going to him. In her determination to not misread any signals, she’d forgotten to send out her own.

---

As she approached the Doctor’s office, she overheard his conversation with the airline.

“Were you able to book another flight?” she asked after he’d hung up.

“Yes. Later tonight.” He hesitated. “The Mendoza team is counting on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I go out of my way to avoid the street where my dad was killed.”

He nodded and offered a sympathetic smile.

“It’s important work I’m doing every year. I’m helping out labs with less means to preserve their own history.”

“I believe you. I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Drop by the shop as soon as you can. I fully expect you to use those vouchers.”

“I don’t know,” he joked, “maybe if you sweeten the deal with your employee discount.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

“Good. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

Rose shuffled her feet and wrung her hands. John rearranged random items on his messy desk.

“I think I need your help,” she stammered.

“Yes, of course! What do you need? What can I do?”

“I’m not quite sure how to get money out of this.” She held out the spearhead.

John sprang to action. He sent her links to trusted auction sites, wrote a description of the item for her and hunted down the original authenticity certificate.

She had to stop him when he got trapped, elbow-deep in a filing cabinet.

“It’s okay. It can wait.”

“But if you get the money now, you might be able to enroll in time for the winter semester.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did you listen to my conversation with Martha?”

“Er, well, I wasn’t listening so much as voices accidentally reached my ears.”

“Right.”

He sat on the edge of his desk, his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” he added.

“S’alright. Explains a lot actually.”

“Listen, I know some professors and uni administrators and how to get financial aid.”

“You would help me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And if university isn’t what I want? I mean, I haven’t even got my A-levels.”

He shrugged. “You deserve all your dreams to come true, whatever they are. You’re brilliant, Rose.”

No one had ever said that to her. Not this earnestly.

A lump rose in her throat.

Before she’d found something to say, he offered to walk her home.

“I live in Peckham. That’d be quite a walk.”

“Don’t care.”

---

Fresh air welcomed them outside the Museum. It felt like they’d been trapped inside for years. Early dusk painted the sky a soft lavender, and fluffy snowflakes drifted down over them.

After a few steps, John took Rose’s gloved hand. She smiled and tightened her fingers over his. They laughed shyly for no other reason than the sheer pleasure of having their affection reciprocated.

In front of the Museum’s ice rink, John babbled on about bronze-age skates made from animal shins and references to skiing found in writings of the Han dynasty, in China. Joined hands swinging between them, they laughed more than the fun facts warranted. Their hearts felt as light as the snowflakes floating down from the sky. Simply put, they were utterly giddy.

They strolled down a quiet street. Decorations twinkled in windows and relatives greeted each other at the door.

John’s pace slowed down, his gaze turned inward and unfocused.

“I think I might call my former foster family,” he said at last, glancing at Rose for approval.

“Sounds like a great idea. You were close to them?”

He nodded. “The last ones I lived with, they really encouraged me to study. I even had a sister, of sort, Sarah Jane.” He smiled at the memory. “She was a Smith too. We used to pretend we were real siblings… I should’ve kept in touch.”

“Never too late for that.”

They passed by a tube station without stopping. Street lights switched on one after the other, as if only for them. They would have to part ways soon. It was a long ride to cousin Mo’s house, and he had a flight to catch.

At the gate of a quiet garden square, Rose stopped walking. They still held hands, and she fiddled with the cuff of his jacket.

“You remembered Jack’s dare, didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Uh, vaguely. Well, most of it. Where was he keeping that mistletoe?”

Rose waited a beat, but he didn’t say anything else.

“John, you know what you were saying about helping make my dreams come true?”

“Yeah?”

He stepped closer. Her breath quickened. She licked her lips, and his gaze flicked to her mouth.

“Well, maybe there’s a dream you, uh, you could…”

“What?” His face split into a grin. He clicked his jaw. He knew full well what she was trying to say.

“You could kiss me. Shut up.”

She looked away, but John’s hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to him. He opened his mouth, probably to say something smart-arse again. Instead, Rose grabbed his scarf and pulled him down to her. Cold nose tips met pink cheeks. He laughed against her lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, bringing their bodies together, as close as their winter coats allowed.

Rose forgot the cold and the passersby, she forgot it was Christmas Eve. Her hand in his hair knocked off his beanie. A tiny whimper came from the back of his throat, and she found herself with her back to the garden gate being thoroughly kissed. It was probably a good thing they were wearing so many layers.

When they broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on hers. The clouds on their breath mingled.

“Now I regret booking another flight,” John whispered.

“You’d better not forget me whilst you’re gone, mister.” She poked him in the chest playfully.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met— I doubt I will after that kiss.”

“Let’s give you plenty to think about, then.”

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him again. An unforgettable kiss.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #doctor x rose #Christmas fluff #finished but stay tuned for a bonus smutty chapter #lostinfic writes stuff

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rpmemesbyarat · 4 years ago

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RP Meme from "Chapter One: Caliah (Lore)" in the Bastet breedbook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse"

Once there was a cat who dreamed he was a man.

Like the morning mist, she appeared from nowhere, or so it seemed.

The winds have spoken of your dilemma and I have come to show you the way home.

Why do you call me brother?

We are family.

We have different parents but share the same blood.

You need to meet your people

You are my sister

I have no other family. Don’t leave me!

We all have family

What are the dreams of a cat?

Let us welcome each other and speak of hidden things.

If they come in peace, we welcome them.

I’m just a mutt.

Listen up and listen close, ‘cause this isn’t stuff you’ll hear from any old place.

I’ve got friends with friends, if y’know what I mean, and this is good stuff.

They don’t get along, y’know.

A good lorespeaker tells different stories every time, and she makes ‘em as cool as possible.

Sound like anyone we know? Nah! Couldn’t be!

So how do you trade secrets, anyway? After all, isn’t a secret shared a secret lost?

If you don’t play the game, you don’t learn a thing.

Each element of the message becomes a metaphor, and the message becomes a story.

Florid? Hell yeah! But ya gotta admit it’s more graceful — and exposes a hell of a lot less — than blurting out the truth.

You might say, “I heard a story about so-and-so” but you’d never say “I did so-and-so.” If your audience has a clue, they’ll catch on.

Everything’s told in metaphors.

A good obtuse metaphor makes you look imaginative if someone gets it, really stupid otherwise.

Everything is larger than life. People don’t just cry, they “explode in showers like the sea.” Folks don’t just get mad, they “turn into coals that burn through the floor.”

If what you’re saying is important, bigger is better.

Simple? Not if you don’t get the lingo.

A wounded cat can surrender without disgrace.

Not enough to go around.

Hey, don’t let on you know what I told you, huh?

It was a time before life, a longing when the dream of birth was yet to be.

This marked the end of peace and the beginning of struggle.

Such promises are soon broken.

Why does even the skin of my daughter flee from my hands?

Why must I always be alone?

Master, what would you have of us?

Nothing exists for him but annihilation.

Go across the world

Let that which is pure stand whole, but erode that which is impure from within.

He tells many tales, but all of them are lies. He is rage made manifest, and he coils within us all.

There was no want, no war, no anguish, and all living things gave of themselves to help others exist.

Until some cataclysm happened, everything lived in peace and plenty.

Life has ever been a struggle, my brothers and sisters. Life has always meant that some may die for others’ pleasure.

That pleasure may be as necessary as hunger or as frivolous as sport, but it has always been fatal and always will be.

Only through struggle can we progress.

Only through sacrifice can we succeed.

We were born from conflict and we grow through adversity. Our ancestors are predators, great cats and human hunters who rose above their surroundings and mastered them.

We know our place in the Great Order, and it is not passive.

Like the moon, our world waxes and wanes.

Each era glows brightly, then fades into night before rising again as some new age.

As creatures of light, dark and twilight all, we are not moved much by the vagaries of fortune.

Each tribe has its creation story, and they differ in many ways.

I have my own ideas.

We are a breed eternally apart, and we are rare.

Water runs silent, yet crushes with the power of an elephant.

Its depths hold secrets that only the brave can find.

The first of our kind were nearly the last.

Those it caught were devoured.

Let this be your legacy

My tears, shed for you, will boil in your veins.

All people will fear you, and all animals, too.

Begone and tend the flocks that need killing.

I banish you from sight!

They still live on in us, and we carry their curse to this day.

As the humans prospered, they grew quickly out of hand.

It was a bloody, useless time, and we fractured as a people.

Secrets became the only thing to bind us.

It’s hard to forgive these raging bastards.

Very territorial, and I know how that feels.

There are enough horrors in the night already.

Corruption has a million voices; sometimes they drown out the song of the moon and lead us over cliffs.

That song wails from nightclubs, boom boxes and televisions every day.

Stop up your ears, my friend and listen to the wind.

Those secrets led the wolves to our door — literally.

Gods damn the dogs for that!

Their misbegotten crusade killed hundreds of our Kind and Kin.

She mated with serpents, wolves and great cats in an effort to become like them, but gave birth to monsters instead.

Some legends portray her as one of our kind, but we know this isn’t so.

If the tales I’ve heard are any measure, they have no pity for us at all.

We are where we are born.

I think our unique insights show us that humanity is a mixed blessing — especially where the earth and the wild are concerned.

Men are the cleverest monkeys, no doubt, but they don’t have much sense of self-preservation.

Our forebears fought to let humanity prosper.

We have an amazing world at our fingertips, but it’s filled with poisons and lies.

Honor seems to be a fading dream in lands where the rich starve their people and the poor kill each other.

We hold magic within ourselves, within our hearts and minds and spirits. To dishonor ourselves is to disperse that magic and scatter our souls.

It’s acceptable to lie to other creatures; they’re not of our blood and not bound by our laws.

We will flee to survive a fight, but will not run when others depend on our strength.

We must make restitution to those we deceive, in deeds, trade or money.

We may be exiled or branded.

Our weapons are many — secrets, claws, teeth and allies — and we will not hesitate to employ them for our world’s

survival.

Our people have walked too close to extinction for us to take such matters lightly.

We will not ally ourselves with shadow powers or drink corrupted wisdom.

We do not fail our Earth and mother. That path leads to death.

We are the keepers of secrets, and our fates depend on silence.

Each of us bears the hidden doom of our own people, and we know the cost of betraying that trust.

We also know that we have what others want — or what they think they want — and it amuses us to make them squirm.

Our knowledge is our concern.

We will not share it unless we wish to.

We will hide ourselves from outsiders; they will think they know us, but we will delude them.

We will wrap our lore in riddles and tales; let the clever ones puzzle out their meaning.

We will act as if we know even more than we do, for it keeps outsiders guessing.

Let them wonder at our insight; they value us more highly when they do.

We will cover our tracks with misdirection, pretend to be other than what we are, fill the air with idle rumors and hide messages in code.

There is no forgiveness for this crime.

Well, let’s just say I know what I’ve seen. And I’ve seen a lot.

His eyes were so filled with pain that I decided to help out.

I’d swear he was grinning as the semi ran him down.

That felt good.

Guess they’ve gotta live here, too.

I say they’re not as smart as they might think.

Maybe I’m the one who’s being fooled.

I could tell you stories all night, all week, all month and more.

As the temples rose and the hordes crossed through, our parents sat on the sidelines of history and observed the passing of kings.

The cultures we witnessed shaped our own ways.

Cities rose, each with secrets too tempting to ignore.

For a long time — 4,000 years — there was all the room in the world for us, and no lack of secrets to keep us entertained.

We should have seen the signs in the Classical Age, when armies swept across the land in the names of gods, kings and conquerors.

We should have met en masse when trade and crusades brought East and West together.

I will not belabor the point. We know what happened.

Explorers, slavers and great white hunters bounded into the wilderness and cast a chain around our kind.

Suddenly, we went from having all space to having little.

I can’t say I don’t share the sentiment just a bit.

We didn’t stop until a greater evil forced us to align, but that’s another story.

It’s a wonder anyone survived.

We studied their secrets, but could learn nothing from them.

We have no one to blame but ourselves.

For all our vaunted sight, we’re blind. For all our gathered lore, we’re stupid.

The world is falling apart.

I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but we are living in interesting times!

We must pool our secrets, combine our efforts, and bring the world’s secrets to light.

We must act on what we discover and disperse what we learn.

Do I lose my cool?

The modern age is the greatest puzzle we could want endless streams of secrets, enigmas, wonders and dazzles, wrapped up in an explosive package that could blow us all to hell.

Anywhere, at any time, the whole ride could fly off the rails.

Those who ignore the warning feed the vultures the next morning.

I’ll simply say the tigers are not where you’d expect.

People have begun to open their eyes, but they still need your counsel to see the cliff’s edge before falling off

Those stories are true — violently true — and they add up to an appalling picture if you string them all together.

They get an idea, work on it a bit, and try to rule the world. Typical. We’ve seen their kind before.

Look around you if you doubt it.

Surely the secrets you’ve uncovered have given you the idea that maybe, just maybe, something’s going on, something bigger than another plunder, another invasion, another city that falls to ruin in a century.

Discover what you can, but bury your tracks well.

We’re strangers to each other for most of our lives, and we like it that way — a few careful gatherings are all we

can stand.

The moon is our patron, but the shadows are our father too, and they call to us at our weaker moments.

Most of us dance on the edge, though, and that’s where we like to be!

Despite our pains, we’re spirited and wild, inquisitive yet careful, sensual yet refined.

Our beauty is our greatest pride, and our wits are second to none.

We know what we are.

To hell with them all!

Still, we cannot let pride blind us to the facts.

The morning it foretells is up to us.

We must come together, yet retain our pride.

We are the keepers of secrets.

Perhaps it’s time those secrets were revealed.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #bastet #werecats #werewolf the apocalypse #world of darkness #owod

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digitalworldbound · 4 years ago

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Takari Week, Day Two: First Kiss

Hello, again! This was the first fanfiction I ever wrote in middle school, around the age of thirteen (eight years ago!). I found it the other day, and thought it would be cute to post. It’s not the best, but has a cute sentiment . @takariweek 💖

Title: First Kiss

Characters: Takeru x Hikari

We arrived at Daisuke’s house when the party was in full swing. From the overflow of cars in the driveway, it appeared that everybody from the soccer team, dance squad, and student council were there.

“Hey, Takaishi-san!” Daisuke sauntered over and did that guy hand-slap/chest-bump combination that he must have picked up from my brother. “Welcome, welcome, all!” He looked me up and down, and I gave him the stare that made it clear I wasn’t the least bit interested in anything he was looking for. Not all men mature after middle school.

“Hey, man.” Saeki, my boyfriend, said. He side stepped me, putting his body between Daisuke and myself. “Thanks for the invite.” Daisuke grinned wider, sizing Saeki up. Both boys had a competitive streak, something that I wished they left on the soccer field.

“Oh, right, you two are together. See, I keep forgetting that since she’s always with him.” He pointed a grimy finger to a clearly annoyed Takeru.

“Daisuke-san, I don’t believe that you’ve met Nagai-san yet.” Takeru gestured in his girlfriend’s direction. Her glittery eyes popped underneath her smoky eyeshadow, and I absentmindedly wished I had taken the time to apply some.

Our whole lives, people always assumed that Takeru and I were an item. In their defense, most of our time was spent together, and we even had this weird twin-telepathy thing that let us know how the other one was feeling. It wasn’t until high school arrived that our close bond was placed underneath scrutiny.

For whatever reason, Daisuke laughed. “Okay, I get it, I get it.” He reached into a cooler and pulled out some cans of soda. “I’d say go long, Takaishi-san, but I don’t think my mom would appreciate getting soda on the carpet.” He laughed. I quirked an eyebrow at his jab. “Wow, Daisuke-san, that’s fresh coming from the kid that wore a pair of hand-me-down goggles for over half of his life.”

Saeki stifled a laugh at my outburst, but Takeru remained stoic. The four of us each took a can and made our way over to the corner of the kitchen.

“Don’t let him get to you.” I said to Takeru.

“But he’s right. I can’t seem to catch anything… except grief.” He shook his head. With the basketball season starting up, Takeru hadn’t had as much time to practice as he did in years previous. He game had gotten weaker; a detail that hadn’t slipped even Daisuke’s notice.

I turned my back to Nagai and Saeki. I knew how embarrassed Takeru could get about his skills. He always valued the opinions of others more than his own. “You’re getting much better. The other day, Nii-chan was telling me you catch a ball nearly half-way down the court.”

“I guess.” His voice was faint. “But it is so humiliating sitting on the bench every game.”

“I thought you only wanted to play basketball to make friends and to fit in. Remember? You said that you were more focused on becoming a writer.”

He shrugged. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to play.”

“I know but look around. You’re at a party and Daisuke-san of all people invited you.”

“He invited everybody.” Takeru’s huff of annoyance ruffled his golden locks, and I pretended that the movement didn’t distract me.

“But at least you’re here. And he’s making fun of you. Isn’t that ‘the bro’ way of being friendly?”

“’The bro way.’” He laughed.

“You know, how guys show affection. Or mark their turf. Kind of like how my cat Miko pees on something to let you know it’s hers.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?” A grin teased its way onto his face, and I silently rejoiced at the small victory.

“Of course not,” I admitted. “But does it at least make you feel a little bit better?”

“Yeah, just a little.”

I elbowed him playfully. “Well, that will not do. Clearly my job here is not done. Let me count the ways you are a stud.”

“Wait, wait.” Takeru laughed and pulled out his phone. “I need to record this. I may even make it my new ringtone.” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

I grabbed his phone and spoke directly into the mic. “I, Yagami Hikari, do hereby swear the Takaishi Takeru is a total manly man, the ultimate bro. Reason number one, he can quote the entire My Neighbor Totoro movie at the drop of a hat. Reason number two, he knows to always compliment a lady’s photography skills. Um, reason number three. Um…”

“Nice,” he grabbed his phone back. “You can’t even come up with three reasons?”

“See, there are just too many reasons, my poor brain is on overload.”

“Good save.”

“Phew!” I wiped my brow dramatically.

“Hey!” Miyako approached us. “I didn’t see you guys come in. But then I saw your dates outside and figured you were doing that thing you do.” I almost didn’t recognize her with her long hair pulled all the way back. Her face looked more angular, more grown-up.

The best part about Miyako, however, was that she could read the nonverbal exchange Takeru and I shared. “Let me guess. You didn’t realize your dates left.”

I grimaced.

She shook her head, shiny purple hair flowing behind her. “You guys are too much.”

“Clearly,” Takeru and I said in unison.

“Well, may I suggest that you take your party outside and keep your dates company?”

“Thank you so much!” I gave Miyako a quick hug before she returned to her student council friends.

Takeru and I went to the glass patio door and saw Nagai and Saeki leaning against the deck railing. Saeki, all cheekbones and full lips, was telling some story that made Nagai giggle like a little schoolgirl. Her cheeks were rosy against her white camisole, short cropped hair caught on a breeze. ‘Takeru-kun looks at that every day.’ I shut down that train of thought as soon as it arrived. Now was not the time to be jealous.

“Well, at least they’re having a good time.” Takeru remarked. “In fact, it looks like they’re having a better time now than they have all night.”

“Takeru-kun,” I stopped his hand from opening up the door. “I think that maybe it’s not the best idea for us to go on double dates.”

He nodded, letting his palm linger a second too long. “I know. It’s just hard to throw anybody into our mix. I really don’t want to mess things up with Nagai-san.”

“You and I will still hang out; you’re bound to me by the laws of friendship. I’m only saying that maybe date night should just be date night. No forcing our dates to put up with the two of us.”

Takeru’s gaze was fixed straight ahead. His jaw was tightly clenched, blue eyes narrowed to fine points.

“Takeru-kun?” When he didn’t respond, I followed his stare. Saeki moved closer to Nagai and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed further but leaned into him. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer. His jacket dangled from her shoulders as Nagai tucked herself into the warmth.

“Are they flirting?” I gasped out. There was no way this was happening.

Takeru and I remained frozen in place as we watched Saeki and Nagai lean in closer and closer. He said something else that made her laugh. Her giggles bounded off the glass door and shot straight into my heart. She twirled a piece of auburn hair around her finger, the action enticing Saeki lean even further into her. Her smile dropped. They were studying each other. Intensely.

I recognized the look on Saeki’s face. He tilted his head and put his index finger up to her chin. This was not happening.

“I can’t…” The pain etched in Takeru’s voice snapped me into action.

“How could you?” I found myself in front of Nagai. I know I should have been more upset with Saeki, but at that moment I was furious with the green-eyed beauty. Takeru had been on a few dates with her, he’d even asked her to come hang out with his friends and go to a party he was invited to, and this is how she repaid him?

Nagai shrank away from me, but Saeki stepped closer. “Are you being serious right now?” I’d never seen him so mad before. His hands, clenched into fists at his side, were trembling.

“Are you being serious right now?” I threw back.

He looked at me with disgust. “Do you realize how messed up this is? You’re mad at Nagai-san? Do you even care about me? You know what – you don’t even need to answer that. It’s clear that your only concern is Takaishi-san, not your boyfriend. No, wait, your former boyfriend.”

“Let me make sure I’m getting this straight.” My mind was trying to keep pup with every that had happened in the past few minutes. “You were flirting with another girl. If I hadn’t stepped in, you were probably going to kiss another girl. You were going to cheat on me. Yet you’re mad at me? And you’re breaking up with me?”

“Do you have any idea how much this hurts me?” Saeki’s voice cracked, and I could tell it was completely genuine. I felt awful; maybe I had hurt him. But I certainly knew I didn’t do anything that justified cheating.

“How are you putting this on me?” Confusion swirled around in my head. Saeki and I had never fought; not once. We were talking about traveling to Kyoto for our one-year anniversary. And now he was breaking up with me? “Have you been drinking?”

“You know I don’t drink.” He snapped at me. “Maybe I did this on purpose, for you to see what it’s like to have your boyfriend give another girl all your attention. I really like you, Hikari-chan, but I can’t sit here and play second best to Takaishi-san anymore.”

“You wouldn’t think any of this if he were a girl.” Tears trailed down my cheeks, but I let them fall. I wanted him to see the pain he was causing me.

“But he’s not, and that’s the problem. Why don’t you two just go out already?”

That is what it always came down to. The perception that there was no way Takeru and I could be legitimately best friends and only friends. Nobody seemed to understand it. Mostly because those people never had a best friend of the opposite sex.

Or maybe it was more appropriate to say that none of them have had Takeru as a best friend.

“If you’ve had such a problem with it, why are you only saying something now?”

He groaned. “Because I figured the closer you and I got, the less I would have to deal with him?”

“Deal with him?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Takeru’s voice say, “I’m so sorry.” I had forgotten that he and Nagai were there. In fact, a whole crowd had started gathering around the door.

Nagai was hunched over in the corner in an attempt to disappear. “I should go,” she said quietly.

“I’ll drive you home.” Saeki walked into the group of observers while Nagai following close behind him.

I heard some clapping. “Dudes,” Daisuke called out, emerging from the crowd. “I know I can always count on you two to bring the entertainment. If only I had some popcorn! That was insane.”

“Really, Motimiya-san?” I asked. Something in my voice must have stopped him.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry, Hikari-chan.”

I stood there waiting for him to make a sarcastic follow up comment, but he had a look of actual sympathy on his face. It made me feel even worse. If Daisuke felt bad for you, you knew your life must be pathetic.

“Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed Takeru by the arm and led us out of the crowded house.

“Um, our ride left,” Takeru said with quiet resignation.

“We’ll figure something out.” I opened the front door and started walking. “I think the fresh air might do us some good.”

Takeru stayed uncharacteristically silent for several minutes. I left him alone with is thoughts, as I had a plethora of my own to muddle through. Mostly, what had just happened? Maybe I was missing some signals. I racked my brain for signs that Saeki had been unhappy. He’d made lots of jabs at how much time I spent with Takeru and usually pretended to gag whenever I would talk about him. But he was a guy. I’d thought he was teasing me.

Regardless of what I’d done, it didn’t give him any excuse to flirt the second my back was turned. But what made me the most upset was that it had been Takeru’s girlfriend. I would have thought Saeki, of all people, would’ve wanted Takeru to have a girlfriend.

“Is any of this making sense to you?” I asked Takeru. The night air caressed his cheeks, coloring them the shade of rose petals. He shook his head and kept walking. This was bad.

We found ourselves walking to the same place. We didn’t discuss our destination; we just lead each other to the shores of Odaiba Beach. Silently, we strolled towards the abandoned swing set. Carefully, I sat in the middle swing while Takeru occupied the swing to my left. This is how we always sat on the way home in middle school, back when growing up wasn’t so messy.

I started rocking my swing back and forth.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Takeru announced, remaining motionless in his swing. “I think you’re right. We shouldn’t go on anymore double dates.”

I looked over and saw a slight smile pulling at the edges of his lips. “Are you making a joke?”

“Well, it’s either that, or accept the fact that I’ve been cheated on twice.” He was referring to his girlfriend from middle school. At the girl’s New Year’s Eve party, she snuck away to make out with Daisuke while Takeru was visiting his family in France. I was the one that found them in a tangle of limbs on a butterfly comforter. I was also the one that had to break the news to my best friend when he got off the plane six days later.

“Well, if it helps, Nagai-san didn’t technically cheat.”

He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, only because you stopped it.”

“We don’t know what was going to happen.” Truthfully, I didn’t believe the words as they came out of my mouth. I tried to lighten the mood. “I guess I really need to stop going to parties where your girlfriends are. And where there are doors.”

“Tell me about it.” He got up and went behind to push me. I closed my eyes and let the swing take me higher and higher. His hands pressed lightly on my back, and I relished in the comfort while it lasted.

We stayed like that for nearly an hour before I glanced down at my watch. “We either need to start walking home or call one of our parents.”

We decided that it was best to call Takeru’s mom for a ride. My father and Onii-chan were very protective of me, so I didn’t think they would take it lightly that I’d been essentially abandoned at a party. Although I was with Takeru, which would have made them both feel a bit better. They both really liked Saeki, so I knew they’d be disappointed to hear that it was over.

Over. It was so strange to think about it.

Takeru and I sat on the curb while we waited on his mother to pick us up. He averted his eyes, picking at the toe of his sneaker.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Not really.” He wrapped his arms around his legs. “I don’t know, I’m wondering if there is something wrong with me.” A cheek was pressed against his knee, facing in my direction.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I assured him. His eyes, a stormy gray, refused to meet mine.

“But why do girls keep cheating on me?”

“You’ve had one girl cheat on you, and another to make a bad decision.”

He sighed, his breath shakily blowing his hair out of his eyes. “Maybe I’m a bad kisser.”

“I’m sure it’s not that.”

“How would you know?” He got me there. “Let’s think about it. My first girlfriend was away from me for ten days and sucking face with a guy who was supposed to be my friend the second she was alone with him. Tonight, my girlfriend was away from me for like two seconds before she about to make out with a guy that was already taken. The problem is clearly me.”

“You’re being silly.” I insisted. It hurt me to think that my best friend thought so lowly of himself. He was loyal, kind, and everything a girl could ever need.

“I don’t think I am.” That was all it took for Takeru to become opposite of silent. He spent the next five minutes battling the crickets for his voice to be heard. He went on and on about how it must be that he was a terrible kisser and that he would never be able to keep a girlfriend because of how lousy of a person he was. How he was never going to date another girl because he wouldn’t be able to trust them. How pathetic he must be that every girl jumped at the chance to be with someone the second his back was turned.

It was grinding on my last nerve.

Takeru was usually pretty laid back about most things, so I wasn’t accustomed to him being so hard on himself about some girl.

I kept trying to tell him that it wasn’t about him. It was about how the first girlfriend likes to flirt and couldn’t be “girlfriend material” with how she preferred to play the field. And who knew about Nagai? She was younger than we were. She had made a mistake.

But that wasn’t enough. I was getting so frustrated with Takeru. Part of me wanted to smack him, but I knew he would only keep complaining.

“Nope, that’s it. I’m a horrible kisser. And it’s going to spread around the school and no girl will ever give me a chance.”

“For the love of the gods, Takeru-kun!”

And before I really could register what I was doing, I grabbed his cheeks and pulled his lips to mine. The chilly air had chapped them, and but his face was warm underneath my hands. He was tense, probably from shock, but I forced my eyes shut so that I wouldn’t see any looks of disgust he could give me. I tried to ingrain the scent of the sea and sandalwood and something uniquely him. Then, his shoulders loosened. His arms wrapped around my middle as he eased his body into mine. My fingers twitched, threatening to caress his hair.

I pulled away and Takeru struggled for breath. “Wh-wh-what …” He stammered, ears pink from excitement.

Ignoring my own rapid heartrate, I discretely tried to catch my breath. “You’re fine. You are not a bad kisser. It has been verified. Moving on.”

His eyes were shiny and wide, mouth agape and speechless. For the first, I cursed myself for leaving my camera at home.

I loved that he was so flustered. The fact that I could have that effect on him was exhilarating.

From across the street, we could see his mom’s headlights approaching. I stood up while he remained seated on the curb. I reached out my hand to help him up, but it took him a second to process it. He got up on his feet, completely stunned.

“So, that’s one thing that I have on all of your basketball friends and your other ‘bros’” I said to him, flashing him the smile I reserved for quiet moments like these. He returned a blank stare.

I laughed and playfully punched him in the shoulder. “I don’t think any of them would’ve had the nerve to prove to you that you’re not a bad kisser. You’re welcome, by the way.”

He stayed mostly silent on the ride back to my house. Every so often, his finger would reach up to brush across his lips, and I had to stop myself from doing the same. ‘Remember, you’re better off as friends.’

I laughed silently to myself while my thigh was pressed against his in the backseat. All it really takes to fluster a guy is a simple kiss.

#takari week #takari #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami

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sokkathebluewolf · 4 years ago

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A review Why you do that? Making Sokka mention 28 in his vows now everyone think he slept around after the best time of his life? They both dont deserve this June slaves Hina Tylee now this Please don't make more girls fall for him involve with him feels like the whole fic turned around this Haru deserves better Tylee is flirting around

Don't get me wrong This is your fic and you can do anything you feel fit I'm merely giving an opinion ''cause Gladiator has things which you handled the best There is a Reason for this success I just hope this plus 1 girl thing in Sokkla relationship Stops But I always respect you with your great work(:

You do realize how utterly laughable it is to tell me “DON’T MAKE MORE GIRLS FALL FOR HIM IT FEELS LIKE THE WHOLE FIC IS TURNING AROUND” and then say “you can do anything you feel fit, I respect your work (:”, right?

This is not respect. This is not “constructive criticism”. This is not an opinion so important and valuable that it warrants being repeated about a million times across A YEAR. Most people? They give out their opinions, negative or positive, ONE TIME, and leave it be, because what matters to them is CONVEYING how they feel, not forcing a writer to constantly explain themselves or write whatever they would be comfortable with. Actually? Most people who have given me negative opinions so far have been like that, except one guy who was outright flaming my story because he wanted to wank to it, and he couldn’t believe he had to read 97 chapters to finally reach the smut. That I’m comparing you to this reader and reviewer is PROBABLY a bad sign, don’t you think?

Sokka didn’t MENTION 28: Sokka acknowledged his past mistakes because he’s a grown man who knows to feel remorse when he hurts people he loves. That he brings up having hurt her, to this day, isn’t in the purpose of going “HEY HEY AZULA REMEMBER WHEN I BROKE YOUR HEART LOL”, it’s in the purpose of saying: “I’ve learned from my mistakes and, as it has been for YEARS, I will devote myself to NEVER hurting you again”. That, anon, is a PERFECTLY VALID SENTIMENT for a wedding vow, and one that requires far more character growth and complexity than “Lol I’m so happy we were both virgins because that is the only kind of pure love that has ever been valid in the universe, anything else doesn’t count”.

Hell, you’ve literally made me go right back to the chapter to look at what he says, exactly: “I messed things up between us over my damn stupidity”, he... is literally beating himself up about this. To this day. He’s not talking about it proudly. And yet you’re here complaining as though he were?

SPOILER: More people will have feelings for Sokka in future chapters. In fact, I want to make it even MORE people than I’d originally planned after receiving all these asks. I’d rather derail my story into something you can’t stomach reading than cater to you. Azula will outright JOKE about being “jealous” in a future chapter, and Sokka will know it’s a joke! :D And I’m NOT lying about this to mess with you, it IS going to happen and your persistent asks absolutely WON’T make me alter my content. And why is it going to happen, you’ll ask? Why, because nice, charming, charismatic guys like Sokka attract people whether they want to or not. It’s what they DO about attracting others what matters to me! :’) And that Sokka rejects other people who attempt to be with him should be, I think, a much more important message about loyalty to someone you love than “I ONLY EVER ATTRACTED ONE PERSON IN MY LIFE AND MARRIED THEM”. Because I know that’s virtually the only thing you appear willing to accept, going by the first ask.

And holy crap, Ty Lee is... flirting around? Flirting around... with Haru. The guy she’s in a committed relationship with, whom she’s going to marry. The whole situation is meant to be insanely ironic considering Ty Lee is with the guy she SHOULD be with but it looks like it’s something else? (Hell, nobody even KNOWS it was Ty Lee, Mei Xun didn’t stick around long enough to discover the woman’s identity, so her reputation’s actually safe?) But you’re just so emotionally compromised by anything regarding Sokka being with anyone else, even if it’s 1. not true because he’s MILES away, with Azula 2. a joke 3. a plot device for a FUTURE EVENT, that you just can’t grasp this irony at all?

Ty Lee, by design in this story, has ALWAYS been pretty damn liberal about flirting and relationships. Despite we’ve mainly just heard such relationships mentioned on the side, rather than witnessing them directly, she is objectively the cast member who’s had the most relationships, whether serious or casual or just occasional, with other people. And even then, she’s getting married. Even when she’s had so many people in her past, she’s settling down with Haru for good. And Haru? Haru is THRILLED. Because he loves her. Because she loves him. Because HER past does NOT have a single thing to do with THEIR future. And yet you seriously read these chapters, where Ty Lee is having a lot of fun with her fiancé, and your brain just translated this as “OMG TY LEE IS A SLUT HARU DESERVES BETTER!”? Seriously?

I feel like I’m getting asks from a childish version of Drax from Guardians of the Galaxy. Everything that isn’t straightforward needs to be explained point by point, apparently, and even then, you don’t get it. I literally went to literature school and was told to write intelligent fiction so readers would feel compelled to unravel its complexities themselves... apparently that was a big fat lie? :’) Your persistence actually has convinced me that it is.

Oh and, for future reference (because I KNOW you’ll come back, that’s all you ever do): not because you throw compliments at me later to “cushion” your complaint does it mean you’re respecting me and my story. You can’t slap someone in the face and then go “Oh your cheeks are so plump that I bet it doesn’t hurt”. You can’t just disregard my request that you keep these sorts of questions to my PERSONAL blog rather than the fic’s blog, and pretend you respect me. You can’t come to me time after time with the same complaints and attitude, watch how I’ve basically gone from initially responding with discomfort (because, in my personal blog, there are MANY asks that predate yours, where I’d already explained my reasoning to someone else who apparently didn’t get it, which means the subject wears me out, A LOT), then seeing that I started ignoring your asks, then seeing I closed the inbox so I could regain some sense of normalcy in my life that you refused to let me reclaim, and then seeing that I’m answering with outright hostility, and pretend that it’s ME who has a problem.

If someone I respected responded in any similar manner to ANYTHING I said to them, I’d basically feel like shit and never talk to them again because I don’t want to be a burden or a problem for someone whom I value in any way. You, apparently, would rather be a problem, and to no avail, because all you’re achieving so far is convincing me to continue writing things that will make you riot until you stop reading my story. If you CAN’T stop reading regardless of the horrifying, amoral, dreadful decisions I’ve made? Congratulations: you still don’t have the right to tell me what to do with my story. And until you GENUINELY understand that, your compliments don’t mean anything to me. I have readers I value who have conveyed complaints, MANY TIMES, in an actual respectful manner. Readers who are even bothered by the same thing you are. And yet I’m even FRIENDS with them. Imagine that :’) It’s almost like the problem isn’t having whatever opinion you do... but rather, the intent of IMPOSING your opinion constantly and persistently until you’ve driven me to lash out as bluntly and cruelly as I may! To the point I’m outright saying I’m going to rewrite my story into becoming EVERYTHING you don’t want it to be so you leave me alone!

And if you’re not the one who’s been here for a year, and this is not really an echo chamber (despite all of these messages have the same complaints, wording, tone, format, style, punctuation and grammar mistakes), yet you SAW that other people have been doing this for a long time, and thought it was PERFECTLY FINE to join the party? You’re no less of an asshole than the rest of them. No matter if it’s your first time voicing your “opinion”. Because it’s NOT about what you’re saying: it’s about HOW you’re saying it. It’s about trying to guilt trip me into writing whatever you want and claiming the story is going off the rails because something makes you personally uncomfortable. This is NOT objective criticism. This is SUBJECTIVE, ENTIRELY. This isn’t a real problem in storytelling, it’s a personal problem for you because it clashes with your moral values. And NO ONE is forcing you to continue consuming content that goes against your moral values, you’re choosing to do that yourself.

If you’re to live by any of the words you said in these two asks, make it “This is your fic and you can do anything you feel fit”. Because that’s literally what I’m going to do. It’s what I’ve done over EVERY complaint in poor faith I’ve gotten, ranging from “quit writing so much happiness it’s boring” to “where’s the sex you prude”. And it’s what I intend to continue doing. What kind of criticism do I value? “This particular scene features a factually contradictory line with a previous event”, such as Zuko claiming he never went to Sokka’s house when he in fact did, and I plain and simple FORGOT about it. What more kinds of criticism do I value? “You need to work out the Gladiator League’s system better because it’s not a solid business venture”, and this one was right? And yet it was too late to fix it, despite it’s 100% spot-on and I should’ve worked it out way better than I did. Another? “Sokka may have gotten over the fact that Azula captured him and tossed him in a slave market too easily”, because? It’s a perfectly valid sentiment? I disagree because Sokka is canonically shown to get over grudges relatively quickly, and yet I CAN see why it seems too fast for some people. What else do I value? Maybe suggestions on wording problems! I’ve made a lot of stupid wording mistakes, in virtue of being a non-native speaker. I’ve done my best to amend those, but it’s a work in progress even now.

Point and case being: in literature, and thus, in fanfiction? Constructive criticism isn’t “WRITE WHAT I WANT TO READ BECAUSE I WANT TO BE PERFECTLY COMFORTABLE WITH ALL I CONSUME”. Constructive criticism is given by people who KNOW storytelling. So I’d only consider it constructive criticism if it’s given by people who can read those chapters and see that the ENTIRE purpose of that conflict is to trigger growth and development as both Sokka and Azula realize their own mistakes and shortcomings with each other. So, someone who’s giving actual constructive criticism wouldn’t come to my inbox a million times with the same complaint... someone who’s giving constructive criticism would come to my inbox, ONE TIME, and say “Hey, maybe this alternative to conveying Azula is instinctively jealous over her canonical insecurities about being a monster and earning people’s love and loyalties COULD have been preferable, despite I know you can’t change that anymore as it’s fundamental for your story”, or “Hey, I thought of another way for Sokka to convey that he realized their interest in each other could result in something TERRIBLE if they ever acted on their feelings, a way for him to not act on that specific impulse to flirt with Suki to push away Azula, but to act on ANOTHER, believable, IC Sokka-compliant impulse that might still convey exactly what you needed to”. But again, even if it were complaints like THESE? I can’t change anything anymore. It’s TOO LATE. If I think it’s too late to fix Zuko saying “lol I never went to Sokka’s house” when it’s not true? It’s WAY TOO LATE to rewrite chapters that are over SEVEN years old, and I don’t even want to do it to begin with. But I WOULD concede these criticisms. I would accept them. I wouldn’t consider them offensive to me, or my work, or disrespectful in any way.

Constructive criticism is NOT about forcing an author to agree with you, or to do whatever you ask them to. Constructive criticism is about helping an author convey what they were conveying in a better, smoother way. If you CAN’T understand what the author was conveying? You don’t qualify for offering constructive criticism. If you need explanations as to why the author did anything they did? You’re, again, not qualified to offer constructive criticism. Your criticism, in any such cases, is NOT constructive, no matter what you’re telling yourself. This is a VERY important distinction, and one you can’t pretend isn’t valid just by throwing a bunch of compliments at me after telling me I’m ruining my story.

Until the day you DO understand the difference between constructive criticism, and subjective complaints? Your opinions will not be considered valuable enough to affect my story in a positive way. And the more disrespectful you show yourself, by continuing to disregard my DIRECT request for you to stop coming back with these complaints, as well as the direct request to stop sending these questions to this blog? The less your opinions will count for me. I don’t bend over backwards for anyone. And I’m definitely not going to do it for you.

#anon #ask #how long will it be this time #before you return?#I should hold a betting poll #I might actually become rich #that'd be the only silver lining for all the crap you've given me for a year

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rhyslucia · 4 years ago

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If you're pro-military, you shouldn't vote for trump

"Some 489 national security experts — including 22 four-star officers — have endorsed Joe Biden for president.

'I believe the current administration is a real threat to the republic,' says Gen. Peter Chiarelli, who served as the Army's No. 2 officer before retiring in 2012. 'I had to stand up and be counted.'"

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If you're Christian, you shouldn't vote for trump

"While the president has delivered on some issues of concern to us, such as economic reforms and trade deals, his immigration policies are cruel, undermining his pledges to life and religious freedom. For instance, while we cherish unborn lives, we also value the lives of thousands of children who were separated from their mothers or fathers by the "zero tolerance" policies of the administration at the Mexican border in 2018.

Our commitment to life also compels us to do everything that we can to end human trafficking. The administration has decided to suspend the life saving elements of the Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act, the passage of which evangelical Christians proudly championed under George Bush and the flouting of which evangelical ministries like World Vision and International Justice Mission have decried.

Our convictions on life also are why we strongly believe the United States should continue to be, in the famous words of George Washington, "a safe and agreeable asylum to the virtuous and persecuted part of mankind, to whatever nation they might belong." Rather than continue the life saving tradition of asylum and resettlement of refugees, the administration has shut out persecuted refugees with its immigration policies."

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If you value American lives, you shouldn't vote for trump

“You just breathe the air and that’s how it’s passed,” he said in a Feb. 7 call with journalist Bob Woodward. “And so that’s a very tricky one. That’s a very delicate one. It’s also more deadly than even your strenuous flus.”

“This is deadly stuff,” he said.

At the time, Trump was telling Americans that the U.S. was in little danger and that the outbreak would soon go away on its own.

Asked about those statements in March, Trump said he wanted to downplay the threat. "I wanted to always play it down," Trump told Woodward. "I still like playing it down, because I don't want to create a panic."

In the same interview, he went on to acknowledge the gravity of the threat facing even young adults. "Just today and yesterday, some startling facts came out. It's not just old, older. Young people too, plenty of young people," Trump said.

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Are you, or have you ever met a woman? If so, you shouldn't vote for trump

Donald Trump, current president of the United States, has been accused of rape, sexual assault, and sexual harassment, including non-consensual kissing or groping, by at least 25 women since the 1970s.[1][2] The accusations have resulted in three much reported instances of litigation: his then-wife Ivana made a rape claim during their 1989 divorce litigation but later recanted that claim;[3] businesswoman Jill Harth sued Trump in 1997 alleging breach of contract while also suing for nonviolent sexual harassment but withdrew the latter suit as part of a settlement for relating to the former suit; and, in 2017, former The Apprentice contestant Summer Zervos filed a defamation lawsuit after Trump called her a liar.[4]

Trump in 2017

Two of the allegations (by Ivana Trump and Jill Harth) became public before Trump's candidacy for president, but the rest arose after a 2005 audio recording was leaked during the 2016 presidential campaign. Trump was recorded bragging that a celebrity like himself "can do anything" to women, including "just start kissing them ... I don't even wait" and "grab 'em by the pussy". Trump subsequently characterized those comments as "locker room talk" and denied actually behaving that way toward women, and he also apologized for the crude language. Many of his accusers stated that Trump's denials provoked them into going public with their allegations.

Another type of accusation was made, primarily after the audio recording surfaced, by several former Miss USA and Miss Teen USA contestants, who accused Trump of entering the dressing rooms of beauty pageant contestants. Trump, who owned the Miss Universe franchise, which includes both pageants, was accused of going into dressing rooms in 1997, 2000, 2001, and 2006, while contestants were in various stages of undress. Trump had already referred to this practice during a 2005 interview on The Howard Stern Show, saying he could "get away with things like that" because he owned the beauty pageants the women and girls were competing in.

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Do you support racism? If not, you shouldn't vote for trump

In unguarded moments with senior aides, President Trump has maintained that Black Americans have mainly themselves to blame in their struggle for equality, hindered more by lack of initiative than societal impediments, according to current and former U.S. officials.

After phone calls with Jewish lawmakers, Trump has muttered that Jews “are only in it for themselves” and “stick together” in an ethnic allegiance that exceeds other loyalties, officials said.

Trump’s private musings about Hispanics match the vitriol he has displayed in public, and his antipathy to Africa is so ingrained that when first lady Melania Trump planned a 2018 trip to that continent he railed that he “could never understand why she would want to go there.”

When challenged on these views by subordinates, Trump has invariably responded with indignation. “He would say, ‘No one loves Black people more than me,’ ” a former senior White House official said. The protests rang hollow because if the president were truly guided by such sentiments he “wouldn’t need to say it,” the official said. “You let your actions speak.”

In Trump’s case, there is now a substantial record of his actions as president that have compounded the perceptions of racism created by his words

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Do you enjoy advances made by science? If so, you shouldn't vote for trump

The Trump administration and 115th Congress have been actively dismantling science-based health and safety protections, sidelining scientific evidence, and undoing recent progress on scientific integrity.

Below is a running list of attacks on science—disappearing data, silenced scientists, and other assaults on scientific integrity and science-based policy. The list provides a representative sample of threats to the federal scientific enterprise.

FDA Now Lacks Authority to Halt Use of Inaccurate Coronavirus Tests

In a move strongly opposed by FDA officials, the agency will no longer use science-based checks to regulate a broad swathe of laboratory tests, including coronavirus tests.

CDC Coronavirus Testing Guidelines Were Modified by Political Officials to be Less Scientific

The White House’s Coronavirus Task Force and HHS changed the novel coronavirus testing guidelines on the CDC website to fall out of line with the best available science.

EPA Refuses to Regulate Rocket Fuel Chemical in Drinking Water

The EPA has officially announced that it will not regulate perchlorate, a common ingredient of explosives and rocket fuel, in the nation’s drinking water supplies.

Fetal Tissue Research Blocked by a Biased Advisory Committee

13 out of 14 NIH grants submitted since September 2019 that involve fetal tissue are likely to be rejected based solely on the recommendations of the Human Fetal Tissue Research Ethics Advisory Board at the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS).

White House Demands Rewriting of CDC’s COVID-19 Guidelines for Schools

Vice President Mike Pence ordered the CDC to rewrite their school opening guidelines for reasons that appeared to be primarily political.

Trump Administration Takes Away Hospitalization Data From the CDC

The Administration mandated that hospitals bypass the CDC and send data on COVID-19 hospitalizations, to a private third party.

Trump Administration Endangered People Evacuating From Coronavirus-Infected Cruise Ship

State Department officials overrode science-based concerns of CDC officials and allowed 14 infected people to board an airplane with over 300 non-infected people

White House Hides Economic Analysis Showing COVID-19 Downturns

The White House will forego the publication of an economic analysis on budget projections in the summer of 2020.

NOAA Fisheries is Restricting the Use of the Words “COVID-19” and “Pandemic”

An official memo, issued by NOAA, stated that the agency’s “preferred approach” is making “no reference to anything COVID related” in public-facing documents.

Trump Administration Buries COVID-19 Information For Religious Communities

White House officials instructed the CDC to delete certain sections of a COVID-19 guidance measure for communities of faith

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Sorry I forgot to copy over my sources, but it's very easy to Google and find, just, all the reasons to not vote for trump. If you're feeling apathetic or like your vote doesn't matter, it does. If nothing else your vote will stick it to the egotistical, thin skinned, racist, misogynistic, hateful, lying, fascist ass-hat. If not for love of the country or hope for the future, get out and vote out of hate of who trump is and what he stands for. #VoteHimOut

#votehimout #vote him the fuck out #2020 election #votevotevote #trump2020 #president trump #biden2020

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silverlysilence · 5 years ago

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The Thief that Stole a Death

Inspired by @fabllama02 and @spyritevesta

For some reason, my brain took their Pirate!AU and thought, hey, pirates steal, thieves also steal, let’s roll. This is what came out.

Hiccup stared down at the photograph. There was nothing interesting about the composition or the lighting of it that should have held a person’s attention so fiercely. Nothing like the beautiful winter landscape photographs blown up and proudly displayed in various frames around his office. No, this was a plain picture of a white pedestal against a white background. The only splash of color was the black vase with gold inlay sitting on the pedestal. It looked awful, just like a police photograph.

But that was what it was after all. A police photograph of what could very well be the next target in a string of robberies. If his hunch turned out to be correct. It was hard-pressed to be certain with the string of robberies spanning over five years at the least since they still weren’t certain if some of the thefts could be attributed to the thief or not. Whoever they were, they left no calling cards or an identifiable pattern to follow. They were a ghost for all intents and purposes.

Save for one blurry picture.

Glancing up, vivid green eyes stared at the 5x8 that hung dead center in the pegboard surrounded by far too many newspaper clippings and photographs. It was far more gruesome than the photo he held in his hand despite the grainy image. Two bodies sprawled across the ground, blood pooling around each in what would be a death sentence if not for the hooded figure kneeling in front of the first body. Even if the camera only caught the back of the figure, it was easy to see the person was applying pressure to the victim’s chest.

Subconsciously, Hiccup reached up and ran his hand over where the scars of the bullet wounds marred flesh beneath his shirt. A phantom pain pulling a grimace across chapped lips. He didn’t remember much about that night. There were fragments. The sound of gunfire, followed by a canine yelp and the pain of armor-piercing rounds ripping through his flat jacket. There was the heavy metallic smell of blood lingering as tires squealed and a sickening crunch as pure agony radiated from his left leg, causing him to blackout.

Then, there was the cussing and irate voice hissing at him to hold on as a weight settled on his chest. If he really thought about it, he swore he’d opened his eyes a sliver and saw a halo of white. However, he couldn’t be sure if the pain hadn’t distorted his recollection, which was what he told his captain when he came to in the hospital, and only after the man assured him his K-9 partner made it through his own surgery as well.

At the time, he thought Captain Grimmel wanted a description of his savior to commend the good Samaritan. It was only months later he came to find out that the good Samaritan who had worked to save both his and Toothless’s lives just happened to have robbed a jeweler a street over at the same time the drug bust had gone down. In their hast to flee when the ambulance finally showed up, the stolen Fabergé egg was found clenched in Hiccup’s bloody hands.

Hiccup could have just left it at that. However, something was just a little off. Why would a thief who’d just stolen a Fabergé egg worth a couple of million easily stop and help him? A cop of all things. A little digging into the stolen Fabergé egg turned up that it had been stolen three years prior. Moreover, the name on file as the owner of the Fabergé egg in jeweler’s ledger was fake and the information led to a dead end.

Hiccup had been given a commendation for the retrieval of the Fabergé egg when all of it had come out into the open. He didn’t feel like he’d earn the commendation. If things had ended there, he might have let it go. However, on his first day back on the job—simple desk duty due to the loss of his foot—there was a box waiting in his new office with a clipping of the newspaper article showing him personally handing the Fabergé egg back to the rightful owner.

He hadn’t known what to think of it at the time. Maybe a gift from his fellow cops as a welcome back present but once he opened it that was the last thing on his mind. For there, inside the velvet-lined case, was a delicate crystal figurine with the famous missing cat-eye emeralds for eyes. The first of many valuable lost treasures to appear in his mail, on his desk, and one memorable time, in his freezer.

“Hic, are you in here again?” a silvery voice had the lead detective of the white-collar department looking up to see concerned amber eyes staring at him. Walking into the small office, the brunet paused to trail his fingers against the 5x8 photo, lingering for just a moment. “Searching for your Guardian Ghost Thief again?”

“Jackson, I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Hiccup sighed as he set the photo down and began replacing the various documents back into the open file with the only picture they had of the Black Jade vase.

Feeling warm arms wrapped around his neck from behind, he relaxed back into the chair as Jackson propped his chin on top of auburn hair. “What else am I supposed to call him? You’ve already nixed Guardian Angel, Swiper No Swiping, and my favorite, Cupid.”

“This is the reason you’re naming privileges have been revoked.”

“I still stand behind my reasoning. If this mysterious thief hadn’t saved you that night, you would have never accidentally photo-bombed by picture and we would have never met,” Jackson hummed, causing vivid green eyes to slid over towards said framed photo of him and Toothless walking through perfectly pristine snow. It was breathtaking in its simplicity but that was probably more the sentimental value speaking.

“While true, we are still not calling him Cupid. We don’t even know if he is a him anyways,” the detective sighed.

“Oh, all right, have it your way,” the brunet laughed, kissing him on the temple before pulling again. “I just came to tell you I’m heading out for my run and I should be back in an hour or so. Depends where my legs take me or if I find some inspiration. Don’t stay in here too much longer, Toothless will want his nightly walk soon.”

“Can’t you just take him on your run? He likes you and I’d feel safer if you weren’t running around alone in the dark.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself,” Jackson grinned as he headed for the door. “Besides, I wasn’t going to stick to running, there’s this new parkour move I saw online I wanted to try for myself.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Hiccup relented. “Fine, just be careful and take your phone with you.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No.”

“Lies! I do too.”

“You just forget to charge it. That’s the same thing.”

“Why did I marry you again?”

“Because of my charming good looks?”

Jackson stopped at the door and looked at him with a critical eye. “No, I’m pretty sure I married you out of love. For Toothless. You two just came as a package deal.”

“Ouch, I know where I stand in this relationship,” Hiccup attempted to pout, but his lips kept twitching upwards in amusement.

“Well, I’m sure we can reevaluate your current standing after I’ve had my run. Maybe move it up a few notches. Say, in bed?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I can’t wait,” Jackson came back to leave a taste of what was to come later in the night, leaving Hiccup breathless as soft lips pulled away. “Love ya, Hiccup.”

“Love you too; be safe.”

Jackson just laughed as he slipped through the door and headed for the front door, grabbing his phone and keys on the way out. Humming, the brunet started at a slow pace, steadily increasing his speed so by the time he veered off into a dark alley, he had enough speed to make it a good five steps up the wall to grab the fire escape ladder. Swinging himself up, he vaulted off the rail and grab hold of the drainpipe which he took to the roof.

Heading for the HVAC system, he pulled a panel off the side and collected the duffel bag from within. From there, he quickly changed into the clothes waiting for him and made sure to place all his personal belongings, especially his phone, into the bag. The blue-tinted contacts were a bit harder to put on without a mirror, but once they were in place, the darkness of the night vanished with the night-vision lenses.

Removing his Airpods, he replaced them with two odd-looking electronic pieces that wrapped around the shell of his ears and were virtually unnoticeable. Tapping the right one twice, he felt more than heard the pieces humming to life and knew his hair had lost all color as a few strands of white hair fell in his eyes. It was a weird glitch in the system that had presented in the prototype when the prototype was nothing more than a bulky laurel crown. He hadn’t minded and, in fact, insisted the upgraded version did the same as a disguise.

“Hello, Guardians. I’ve got our new mission,” Jack Frost, elusive thief, head up the police photo of the Black Jade vase he’d slipped from Hiccup’s file while he was preoccupied with their goodbye kiss. Even though he couldn’t feel it, he knew the contacts were active and transmitting the video feed. “It’ll be the perfect anniversary present for my hubby.”

“I am pretty sure your anniversary isn’t for another three months,” the delicate, feminine tones of the Tooth Fairy, the notorious White Hat Hacker, chirped over the comms.

“That’s my wedding anniversary. I’m talking about the night we liberated one of the Easter Bunny’s lost eggs.”

I have a weakness for the Good Thief. So yeah, this is what I did yet again instead of writing on HoaDS. Opps.

#Cop!Hiccup #K-9!Toothless #One-shot #Jackson Overland #Jack Frost #Hiccup Haddock #Toothless #SilverlySilence's Fanfics #FanFic

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chippedteakettle · 6 years ago

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GOT rant

I think the most wildly frustrating thing about this ENTIRE game of thrones debacle is that I can’t even remember the last time I felt this thoroughly invalidated about the way I feel.

I am a writer and I love stories, but most of all I love CHARACTERS. I have a passion for editing stories and smoothing things out to make character arcs feel believable and like the dialogue and choices ring true and feel as natural them as possible. And as such, I feel like I have a good eye and solid intuition about when things feel a bit off the rails, but every single time I have spoken up about the dissonance within season 8, I have been hushed.

I have been told that I can’t say the show is making incorrect or “wrong” choices because it’s not my creation- that I therefore am being unreasonable in my own right if I critique the writing or say it seems lazy or poorly fleshed out or straight up bizarre. That I am a hater for using my ability to employ critical thinking.I have been tossed the age old insult that I am both too invested and also somehow clearly missing things. I have been told that others are “even more on dany’s side than me” or that they “love her just as much as me, but this was the only obvious outcome and it’s clear through the entire series.” Wanting something that simply made sense means I am being an ignorant thrones fan who just wants a “happy ending.” “BS. If everyone including dany dies in the end for a justifiable, believable reason and its how the entire show ends, I wouldn’t enjoy it but I could understand it and that’s truly all I’m asking for. I am so sick of being shushed and silenced....

And it’s ALL by my peers who are MALE fans of the show. Every woman I know who loves this franchise LOVES the dimension of dany and feels robbed. But every man I’ve spoken to personally in my small corner of the world is perfectly content with the crazy ex girlfriend logic being implemented in this show and I find it both invalidating and absolutely bonkers. To have my sound logic rebutted with flat, non dimensional absolutes that dany is just an angry emotional woman who’s lost everything and this was unavoidable because of her Targaryen blood is absolutely staggering. I have never been so heartbroken- not only for her, but for myself and the women I love that this is readily acceptable. Like what the actual heck?

And I am sick and tired of being told over and over and over again that this seasons ONLY issue was being rushed. I am completely over some of the smartest people I know repeating the rationale they were spoonfed by D&D as if they are valid factors behind the character’s choices and motivations. I am BEYOND baffled by the amount of smart, intellectual men that I have seen who fully accept this atrocity of a season at face value and BELIEVE that every choice Danaerys made in the last two episodes was fully validated, justified and foreshadowed and made apparent in a clear, obvious way throughout the entire series. That is garbage.

What was FORESHADOWED was the battle against the dead. What was FORESHADOWED was the power of the three eyed raven. What was FORESHADOWED was the prince who was promised and the intervention of the lord of light. What was FORESHADOWED was Jon’s Targaryen lineage and ultimate legitimacy and how it would eventually affect him.

And all of these legitimately foreshadowed things were all chucked out with the rubbish to pick up these random threads that they tried to weave into something that ultimately fell apart.... now I will concede that Dany was made increasingly cold and absolute in both her decision making and emotions approaching season 8. Dany is depicted as ruthless when exacting justice with the potential to go too far. That is very valid. There are hints of her potentially going too far and it having dire ramifications and potentially little remorse. I did not like this choice but it IS plausible. But what she does to Kings landing and the scale in which she does it has nothing to do with vengeance , retribution or justice- It’s just illogical. And that’s why it doesn’t fit....

a monarch who intends to protect the downtrodden suddenly becoming an intentional blind mass murderer of innocents who have already surrendered to her because her council betrays her and she decides to rule a dead city by fear MAKES NO SENSE! call it foreshadowing all you want but it’s an inconsistent plot point within a well established character.

A character having the potential for a poor decision based on their flaws is NOT the same thing as telling us it was the unavoidable conclusion to her tale. You cannot make a human character without giving them flaws. The existence of those flaws is not proof that the flaws will inevitably undo them. It only shows that there is a chance for something to happens.... not a direct indicator. The characters code of ethics, core beliefs, and level of self awareness still dictate how much power their shortcomings will have over them and how much they will indulge in their weakness. And with danaerys, despite her temper and despite her “divine right of kings” mentality that the iron throne should belong to a a Targaryen, there is SO MUCH MORE EVIDENCE to the validity of her good nature overruling her darker inclinations. At this point, she has been failed by her advisors, but she still wishes to make Westeros a better safer place, take back her birthright, avenge her fallen children and friends and be a better Targaryen than those before her. So it makes no sense for her to hurt civilians....Because Danaerys above all, wants to be a good ruler. She wants to be ruler who inspires love and deserves it. This is clear when she told Jon point blank in season 7 that she hopes she deserves the gift of both his faith in her and the faith of the north backing her. She makes this incredibly genuine confession even in the wake of handling the heart crushing loss of her first dragon and child. This is something that would typically consume her with grief, but she is instead concerned with the world at large and hoping she is worthy of the trust bestowed upon her.

This is not the sentiment of a cruel unreasonable tyrant. It is the true heart of Danaerys Targaryen. It is an indicator of humility, objectivity and positive potential. It is an indicator of the fact that she DOES deserve love and loyalty. That caring about whether or not she deserves the sacrifices others make for her will drive her to make wise, good choices that benefit those who support her and ultimately benefit the world at large because she considers the ramifications of her actions and how they affect the people while none of the other rulers of Westeros have.

The complete abandonment of her prior sense of justice and self awareness in her dialogue in the throne room in episode 6 is inconsistent with a ruler who never wanted to be her father. Her logic is tyrannical then and *out of character*- then she dips back into being madly in love with Jon : not because she is crazy but because this monologue is incohesive and needs revision!

As a woman who has been sweet and soft her entire life, I am so done with being trampled on by boys and their incoherent rhetoric. I was abused my entire life and sexually taken advantage of by a man I called my husband at the time. I am not as sweet and delicate as I used to be prior to that. I’ve had seasons where I lost absolutely everything and it devastated me. And at my core I am the same girl, but I have more grit now. I stand up for myself and I have more strength to assert myself and stand up for those around me. Not because of my abuse (Sansa), but in spite of it. I get walked over less and am honest and driven while still being idealistic...But none of that makes me ”MAD”. Those are not symptoms of insanity or depravity. Nor are they evidence that should I systematically lose everything all over again that I would commit mass murder. No, Madness is not what danaerys suffers from. Danaerys suffered from being written in a short sighted, poorly plotted way that was inconsistent with her heart and narrative.

Danaerys was being tipped in a direction that certainly contained much more chilling absoluteness, but that DOES NOT justify ANYTHING. If that is the rationale alone, then Sansa is the same character! Other characters, including female characters in this show, have done heinous things but there is NO other character who was labeled as entirely beyond salvation after a *single* choice. And that is another nail in the coffin of this backwards logic!!

Tyrion betrayed her and undermined and redirected her so many times but still lived to tell jon to kill her BECAUSE SHE WAS LOYAL ENOUGH TO HIM TO LET HIM LIVE EVEN AFTER TELLING HIM HIS NEXT BETRAYAL WOULD BE HIS LAST! if dany is truly “mad,” then there should be nothing at all holding her back from slaughtering him where he stands on the stone steps of kings landing when he insults and disrespects her in front of her entire army-but she doesn’t! She civiliy has him removed and chained and allows him visitors!!!! Yeah, what a completely irrational despot.

And even if she DID kill him, it would be because it was EARNED! He committed treason more than once and prioritized her enemies over her despite being HER hand. This was the FIRST Thing she does that is out of whack and they suddenly think she’s going to murder Jon snow because of a fear of his legitimacy? She’s never so much as raised her voice at him! So why in God’s name would she kills him?

She’s begged him, she’s shown him her desperation and vulnerability and fear and desire to connect with him, and shown him in every way she can that SHE is still on HIS side but after a single (albeit brutal) action, she is only bad and purely unsalvagable? What? Even Theon Greyjoy got a better redemption arc than that and he literally burned two little boys to death!

Can we also address the fact that Dany knew of John’s bloodline for nearly the ENTIRE season and does not breathe a word of it to anyone, even when her back is against the wall at dragonstone and everyone she trusts has failed her. It has not even occurred to her to betray him because regardless of what anyone else may say or think, danaerys is LOYAL, almost to a fault. She never treats John any differently outside of being shocked the moment it’s revealed and still continues to love and seek him out, desiring closeness with him as he pushes her out, because she still wishes to be with him regardless. Because she is not petty or terrified that he will steal people’s love from her. Even if she realizes she is out of place in the north, it never occurs to her to betray his confidence.

While goddang Sansa can’t even keep her petty sharp tongued mouth shut for a whole thirty minutes before she rats out his secret for her own short sighted benefit because she’s what?jealous of danaerys and thinks she’s smarter than John?

But sansa is openly praised in the aftermath of this series as our queen in the north !? For what? For being a snake? For ruining John’s life and getting the brother she wished to hold close exiled beyond the wall and suddenly being unable to form a single word to defend him in that council when she knows good and well that she started this and it’s her fault but she’s articulate enough not one breath later to ask for the north’s independence???? For seceding from Westeros when her own brother is king just so the whole world knows for sure just how racist and xenophobic the north is- not by tradition but by choice? For being an unoriginal, unclever mean girl who hates danaerys because she’s different and is jealous that she’s a queen and then Sansa gets her way and ruins her in the least strategic, most sloppy, pettiness fueled way ever? But Sansa is considered a beloved character by most men in the end while Dany is fed to the absolute wolves???? What?!

Danaerys has never lied or betrayed her word. She has always had a reason for every action she did. And in the world of game of thrones, she is not surrounded by innocent lambs. Tyrion is a murderer who’s gone free more than once. Jon broke his vows to the nights watch. Varys has hatched more murderous plots than can be counted- including plots aimed at Dany’s own life. Sansa was stone faced as she watched Ramsay die just as dany was at the death of Viserys. Arya has murders countless people- even to the depravity of feeding someone their own children in a pie. Tywin Lannister was calculating, cruel, vicious and treacherous and was a part of countless battles, rebellions and murders- including the red wedding. JAMIE LANNISTER PUSHED A SMALL CHILD OUT A GODDANG WINDOW AND CRIPPLED HIM FOR LIFE just so he could go back to rutting into his own sister in peace. Excuse me? what?? But none of these characters were killed after their FIRST offense. None of them had their internal motivations chocked up to a lazy shoulder shrug of “eh, grief, man. Never know what a woman will do. B*tches be crazy man. Guess I should’ve seen it coming. Signs were probably there all along-she did kill all those evil men tho.” Nor were ANY- not a single one of them- labeled “mad.”

“Mad” is someone like Craster who was beyond all morality and consistently showed a horrific lack of care for human life. “Mad” is someone like Ramsay Bolton who caused dismemberment, torture and rape for FUN. Danaerys Targaryen is not even close to being in this eschalon for a single choice. “Madness” in this particular universe is based on a series of repetitive, consistent patterns that continually choose the inhumane option because of no justifiable reason other than “because they want to”, and that’s just not what we’re working with here.

Dany has a temper. Dany can threaten fire and blood all she wants, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t blindly swing her axe. She is strategic and intentional. And above all else, she does not want to be queen of the ashes- she does not wish to be the next Targaryen to perpetuate crimes of cruelty. She’s already lived with an abusive brother and been haunted by the stories of her seemingly unhinged, possibly schizophrenic father. She shapes each choice she makes to help her become a ruler who only encites fear in the heart of those who wish to do evil, not in the common man. She wishes to liberate and free those who have been oppressed like her- like she is still being crushed, misused and mistreated by the people around her in season 8, episode 5.

So for her to suddenly snap and just take the choice of life away from thousands of innocent people and children in an instant to prove that what- she can if she wants to? MAKES NO SENSE. She wouldn’t harm innocents ESPECIALLY WHEN IT IS AVOIDABLE AND SERVES NO PURPOSE!!! how does she risk everything she’s worked for to save all of humanity only to decimate the entire city she wishes to rule from in the span of 2 episodes??? Because what? she’s pouty that John won’t kiss her back? THAT IS NONSENSE. And it doesn’t even touch on the fact that CERSEI IS STILL IN THE CASTLE ! So if rage and grief are the “motivators” then why in the heck would she burn down the civilians of the city she wishes to rule and the leave the red keep virtually untouched while woman responsible for murdering missandei is still inside if vengeance is her game at this point? TELL ME HOW THAT MAKES SENSE. Oh you can’t? You know why? Because it doesn’t!

Either you make her full tilt crazy or let her be Dany, but don’t you dare mix the two and tell me it made a lick of sense. Or tell me that I’m being unreasonable just because I’m a girl who related to dany’s original arc. That’s nonsense. If this is a case of hereditary mental instability then where the heck are the signs?? Because even her fathers descent into madness was GRADUAL. He didn’t just wake up one day and light half the city on fire because he felt consumed by a certain mood- even psychotic breaks don’t work that way. If we’re looking at facts like they keep asking me to, targaryen madness was a long, grueling, arduous descent into chaos that broke Jamie Lannisters heart to watch.

So don’t you dare turn around and suddenly make Tyrion instigate her death just so you can a shitty parallel of both Targaryen monarchs being taken out by Lannisters they trusted or try to tell me that Dany being stabbed in a way she wasn’t suspecting by someone she loved is some kind of Targaryen poetic justice allusion to her father being run through the back when his chaos had reached its apex. Don’t you dare make me look her in the eye while her loving gaze collapses into confusion, hurt and disbelief as John plunges that stupid dishonorable knife in her. That was wrong. Just plain wrong. And none of us should have had to see it.

The “turn” of danaerys Targaryen was unfounded, unwarranted and sloppily executed, and I am tired of being spoken down to like I’m a dumb little girl for believing in this character and despising where they took her and how she got there.

Mic drop

#chippedteakettlerants #game of thrones #got #danereys targaryen #jon snow #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #jonerys #tywin lannister #d&d

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smartmouthscientist · 5 years ago

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T.R.A.I.N.

In my Psychology 101 class, we were assigned to bring an item that reminds us of our childhoods. Meeting time came and I had nothing to show, but fortunately, my seatmate had brought a book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, the UK edition with the cover showing Harry and the Hogwarts Express. In an inspired fit, I thickened my face and asked to borrow her book right after she finished as it was my turn next. Having made the prior confession to the class bashfully, by way of introduction, that since I live in Bicol and stayed in a dormitory, I couldn’t afford to lug around stuff purely out of sentimental value, I then began to talk about the train on the cover. (I hoped the class would appreciate the joke and my clutch whimsy, as I’m really proud of pulling that one off.)

I told them that a train set was the first toy I ever loved. As birthdays and holidays rolled around, I would invariably ask for another train set on my wish list. In my grandparents’ house, nestled among the encyclopedia volume collection, was a book dedicated to mass transport, and the section on trains was the one I pored over most. I marveled at the sheer length of the trains in the pictures and daydreamed of riding the Japanese bullet train. To wrap up, I rather wistfully said to the class that now I couldn’t help riding the MRT and LRTs without a tinge of nostalgia, lamenting the state of mass transport in Metro Manila and the collision of reality into boyhood fantasies.

However, I had neglected to narrate to them the most meaningful detail, and this I still very much regret and now seek to assuage somewhat by writing it down. That same grandparents’ house was my father’s family home—along the riles. When we were packed off there for the weekend, one of my favorite parts was hearing the authoritative blast of the horn pierce the air, and the staccato rumbling on the tracks growing nearer and nearer. My sisters and I would rush out, and with almost deep reverence, carefully keeping our distance, watch the length of that great steel beast lumber along. I knew even then that these trains were Japanese hand-me-downs, of post–World War II to pre–Martial Law provenance, but their patina of reliability was undiminished.

The Bicol Express was also my maternal grandparents’ favored mode of transportation, whenever we would venture out into Metro Manila. How pleasing it was, to sit there on the train knowing the risk of a traffic accident had been minimized, knowing we could not but get to our destination, counting down the hours, counting on the train to get us there like clockwork. Standing in the city streets, the LRT’s flickering window lights was as glamorous to me as the flash of high-rises and neon.

The last long-distance train trip I took was in December 2011. Mama took us kids on a Christmas vacation to Manila, while Papa opted to stay behind. On the trip back home to Bicol, our train stopped dead in its tracks. We could hear the conductors shouting instructions to each other, all the while conversing about how the man must have been stone-cold drunk to be lying on the tracks like that. They said he had lost his head, sliced off cleanly on the rail. Though delayed, we got home safely. Papa was just as happy to see us back as we were to see him again. He had missed us, though he wouldn’t say it; he had not joined us out of a tantrum, because he and Mama had fought before we left.

Less than two months later, on 9 January 2012, Papa decided against taking his motorcycle to work on account of the rain and because he knew that he would be drinking at a friend’s birthday party. Papa was a cheap date, and when he was positively tipsy, his police officer friend insisted on hitching him to the back of the police officer’s motorcycle to take him home from the provincial capitol, where Papa worked as a sheriff for the regional trial court. Even when he had imbibed, Papa was always a careful driver: sometimes he would pull over at a waiting shed or under a tree on the side of the road to doze off the hangover. But on that day, Papa was the back-rider who got thrown off the motorcycle and ran over by a bus in a freak accident on the national highway, only two hundred meters away from our house. The regional trial court recently dismissed our civil claim for damages against the bus company and the motion for reconsideration, more than seven years to the day. In the course of that protracted litigation, the bus driver was debilitated by a stroke and has had to stop working.

We still get shipped off to Mama Lola’s railroad-side house occasionally, but the trains no longer pass by regularly. The trains finally showed their age and could no longer take care not to derail on the equally rusted tracks. The renovation and modernization of the train lines proceed in fits and starts; the train we rode in 2011 was the first time the Bicol Express had reopened in years, before they suspended commuter trips again. The daily agony of commuters on the MRT and LRT is well-documented, but not any less rueful for it. The months in which the MRT doesn’t suffer a breakdown at all on any given day are far and few between, and closely remarked upon and tallied by the media. Just last month, the LRT2—my favorite line for being the most capacious, underriden, and newest of the three—had an electrical mishap which crippled the Katipunan station, to exasperation from me and other university students that it services, and the two stations sandwiching it. The estimated time for repairs was initially a frustrating nine months, whittled down to an impatient three. Rodrigo Duterte’s ambitious “Build, Build, Build” infrastructure project is secured by Chinese capital—which also fuels China’s massive infrastructure expansion in the disputed West Philippine Sea—and ultimately premised on the Omelasian death of thousands in the drug war, the election promise which catapulted Duterte into the presidency.

The old canard about Benito Mussolini’s fascist Italy was that he made the trains run on time. How much worse can a life under Philippine fascism be when the trains no longer run at all?

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fireintheforest · 5 years ago

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Behind the Blue: chapter 3

A “seedy, slightly grotty, dirty establishment, down deep among the roots of the city, away from any proper law enforcement”* had been how Lillandril had described the Den a long while ago, back when Saufinril’s hair only reached past the back of his neck, his body missed most of the scars he now had and he was two centuries or so younger. And to be honest, he was kind of right. Gambling, card games, liquor, laughter, skeever races, food, people, money, roulettes, chatter, entertainment, smoke, music and seduction was the everyday bread in there. This place felt like home whenever Saufinril travelled from wherever he was living or visiting. Of course, the Whiterun store held another home, and one with heavy sentimental value too. But the Den, where he was at the moment, was something else.

“Three jaggas!” a shrill voice announced the presence of the tiny waitress at the bar, over the noise of patrons, workers and the music being played onstage for the fire dancers.

“Coming up!” Saufinrill grabbed three glasses and placed them at the bar, serving them with the potent liquor and passing each filled one to the waitress that had ordered them.

If it hadn’t been for Lillandril waking him up, he would’ve stayed asleep in the floor next to Rialas, both basked in the golden light of the sun filtering into the apartment, neither noticing when the time progressed to noon. He walked down the stairs, passing his fishtail braid to the front instead of leaving it hanging behind his back, until he was at the first floor of the Den. Once again was the bustle of men and women of all races of Tamriel getting ready. Huuhna with her hair, Amara putting her jewelry-

“Saufinril?”

Saufinril turned, scanning to see who had said his name. When the face dotted with beauty marks and wavy black hair stepped forward to him, his own eyes widened.

“Eramon?” he asked as he stepped closer, switching to Altmeris, “What are you doing here?”

“You told me the closest place to go was Elden Root, remember?”

“One did.” Saufinril cracked up a small smile, “One just…wasn’t expecting…didn’t think…you did say you preferred the road.”

“Yeah well,” Eramon rested a hand on the wall, “I decided to switch up the routine. Otherwise I would’ve left for Kvatch already and well, this pretty encounter would’ve never happened.” He gave Saufinril an easy smile, “Let me buy you something to drink, huh?”

Saufinril blinked fast, an imperceptible gesture as he watched the waitress leave, weaving herself amidst the tables and seats while he took a cloth and wiped some spills of liquid in the bar. The fire dancers got the cheering and whistling of the audience when their number ended, giving graceful bows to the public. The people at the bar either watched the show, focused on their drink, conversed with their companion or in the case of the Bosmer that was burying his face on the fluff of hair of a Khajiit’s chest, were doing…well…that.

It was his first time at The Crown. At their right, the stage had the white-haired Bosmer singing the ballad with her own shrill yet melodic voice, her movements gentle and feminine. Since most of the lights fell on her, the corner where Eramon and Saufinril were huddled in was almost dark. Only a portion of light fell on the others’ faces, highlighting both of their natural skin.

“Hey, I was thinking…” Eramon’s voice lowered as Saufinril felt him grab his hand. He didn’t need light to feel it, but he sure hoped the drums that accompanied the singer could cover up his own hard-beating heart, “after I finish this number I got the night free.” Saufinril arched his eyebrow, so Eramon went on, “I don’t know the city, but I could use a guide.” He stepped closer, and Saufinril let him, “We could continue the conversation we left back at Lympar March. You know, just like that night. Just us, the jagga, one room. We’ll just see where it ends.”

“Just see where it ends?” Saufinril repeated, an amused smile creeping on his lips. A round of applause rose from the public, the Bosmer giving a pearly grin and bowing.

“I mean,” Eramon gave him a cocky smile and leaned forward, his lips close to Saufinril’s ear as his hand slid to Saufinril’s lower back, caressing it with his thumb. Saufinril turned his ear to listen to what Eramon would say while trying to control the shiver that the hand caused, “I think I know where it’d end, if you’re down for it too. I really enjoyed the last time.” He pulled Saufinril closer. Eramon looked at Saufinril for his answer.

“Tempting as it is,” this time it was Saufinril who leaned to Eramon’s ear to talk to him, “one bartends all night. One won’t be able to repeat that night, as good as it was.”

“Well, it can be the morning.”

“Or the morning.”

“You got something else to do in the morning?”

“Sleep, maybe? And one can’t do that with you poking one’s back all day long.” Saufinril (reluctantly, to be fair) stepped back. Eramon let him, but still kept his hand on Saufinril’s back. The back’s owner had no complains about this.

“Well you flatter my stamina- hey where’re you going?” Saufinril had begun to walk to the bar, but Eramon caught him by the hand, “Didn’t you tell me again and again you’d give me your time if we saw each other again?”

Saufinril turned to him, “One said one might give you more time if we saw each other again.”

“Well, are we?”

Saufinril gave him a small smile, “Maybe.”

“Five fish rotmeths.” The waiter said, getting in front of Saufinril. Saufinril at once pulled the glasses and started to serve, taking a deep breath to lower the knot in his throat. The ambience of the Den had changed, from the alluring amazement of the fire dancers to the comedic value of three mini mammoths being paraded around the stage by their handler, who was guiding them into playing ball with each other. The roar of laughter came whenever a mini mammoth did a trick with the ball or, invariably, when they stepped on their trainer’s foot. Saufinril took another deep breath to ground himself in here. He really didn’t need to miss him now. Saufinril slid the drinks one past the other to the waiter, but after the Bosmer caught the fourth, he narrowed his eyes and looked at the Altmer.

“Why the face?” he asked with his nasal voice.

“Headache.” Saufinril replied automatically. The waiter nodded, understanding etched on his face.

“Yeah, I could tell there was something haunting you. And you got that face you have when you have a headache.”

Saufinril turned to him, tilting his head. That’s a new one.

“What? One doesn’t make faces when one gets a headache.”

“Sure you do! You go like,” and the waiter narrowed his eyes and made a grimace-sort of twist with his lips. Saufinril stared back.

“Get your damn rotmeth and get out of here.” He replied, handing the waiter the drink, who laughed and took it. He walked away, heading to the table that was on the further left side of the Den, the one partaking in a dice game and Amara’s services. Another customer, a man with the longest beard Saufinril had ever seen (it was draped over his shoulders and around his back and neck like a shawl- three times) hobbled over to the bar and ordered a jagga, clutching the surface to keep from falling. Saufinril served it-

“Aww look at you.” Saufinril cooed, straddling Eramon and holding his face between his hands until Eramon’s cheeks squished out, both still in the same bed they’d made love to last night. The sheets still trapped that gentle warmth that beds retained all night. Eramon grinned, the early morning light that came from the window on their left touching the sheets, Saufinril’s hands and arms, Eramon’s naked torso and his face. Soft gold touching soft gold. Pastel orange hues versus the baby blue shadows of the white sheets. And those twinkling caramel eyes. Saufinril pinched the cheeks gently, “Squish.”

“What are you doing?” Eramon laughed, making Saufinril’s heart melt with it.

“Who’d know you have so much cheek in there? It’s hardly noticeable.” Eramon took Saufinril’s hands and kissed his palms, then each finger one by one before looking back at him and putting Saufinril’s hands on his chest, his own hands on top of his lover’s.

“I love you.” Eramon whispered. Saufinril leaned and kissed Eramon.

“I love you too.”

“Fuck.” Saufinril muttered, rubbing his temple. The drums, more than mark a beat for the professional mini mammoths, felt like they were hammers slamming his head. He served the jagga to the customer (who drank it at once and fell on his own arse immediately) and just as swiftly set the bottle aside before telling the other bartender to his right, “One is going on break.” The music went on, the customers drank, the Bosmer dug his face on the Khajiit’s fluff, but it all faded away gradually as Saufinril walked to one of the back exits. He couldn’t even listen to his own thoughts, but at the same time the noise was overwhelming.

The door opened to the cool air of the night, the narrow paths between the roots of the Elden Root and the relative silence that the muffled noise and music of the Den and its neighboring businesses could give. Instantly he took a big inhale, as if trying to absorb all the welcoming chilliness, closing the door of the emergency exit behind himself. And just like the others, an unwelcome memory came.

They’d stayed in silence, both watching over the railing at the branch level of Elden Root at all the other houses, businesses and people walking to and fro, the bird-like chirping of Bosmeris. A mere hour ago the rain had dropped down in warm and fat droplets, cooling the heat that the summer in Valenwood often brought, but this meant that the condensation of the water in the soil made the air humid and the water droplets form a mist-like scenery when observing the horizon. It reminded Saufinril of the fog in Lynpar March, the first morning after he met up with Eramon the first time.

“I’m sorry.”

Saufinril, whose gaze had been lost ahead on the treetops while waiting for Eramon to talk, turned to him, “For what?”

“This…” Eramon motioned the air vaguely. He hadn’t turned to look at Saufinril yet, but something in his eyes looked sad, “Everything. I had a big share of blame.”

Saufinril felt a pang of guilt, so he inched closer to Eramon and rested a hand on his ex’s forearm. This was what made Eramon turn to look at him, “It’s not your fault-”

“You’re being too nice, you know it was. I was an idiot and I let you get hurt and then I just kicked you away, but I promise-” Eramon turned to Saufinril fully, looking at him in the eyes and grabbing Saufinril’s hands, “Listen, I have some nerve asking you this. But I, I really love you. I love you so much and I miss you. And if you take me back, I promise I’m going to change. I promise this will be the last time you have to worry about it. It’ll be different.”

“Eramon, I don’t know…”

“It’ll be all the things you love minus all the things that bother you. I had to live for months without you and it was not something I want. You’re the one that makes it all better and without you…I don’t want to go back to that.” Eramon peered at him, “Can you forgive me?

He wanted Eramon to appear again and beg him to take him back. He wanted to go back to Kvatch and say he was sorry, that Eramon was right and he’d been selfish. He also wanted to go back in time and push Eramon down the railing. All he could do was sigh and lean his back and head against the wall. Then he closed his eyes.

“There you are.”

Saufinril opened his eyes and focused them on the root pathway ahead of him, immediately summoning magic. Someone was coming. It took him a second to recognize him (and in that second he’d already thought a million possibilities of who this guy was), but when he did, he breathed out. The black hair reaching his shoulders and tied back in a half ponytail, sharp and slanted red eyes, scar from the side of his jaw to the collarbone.

“Long time no see, Toivon.” Saufinril said as Toivon, a Den regular he’d seen around for the last six or seven years, approached.

“What do you mean? I’ve been here the whole time.” Because that’s not creepy, “You think I can borrow you for a second?”

Saufinril let out a small huff of amusement and annoyance, “In one’s break? Well, one only has ten minutes.”

“Then let me get straight to the point. I got a job I’m excited and serious about. I already enlisted Marcello into this, he’s pretty thrilled as well.”

Saufinril nodded, arching his eyebrows. “Good! Good for you.” He congratulated. Out of politeness, of course. What does this have to do with him?

“Thanks, but I can’t do this by myself. Which is where you come in, because I need your help.” Saufinril blinked.

“One?” he asked

“Yes. I need to ask you the favor of travelling with us to High Rock and attend this high-class party as a guest. That’s it, your job is to attend a party, be pretty, strut your stuff around the room, basically grab as much attention of the people as you can. That’s it. What do you say?”

Saufinril gave another huff, this time of disbelief, “One is sorry but you got the wrong mer. If you want someone to gather a lot of attention, you best ask Rialas.”

“Who’s Rialas?”

“You’ve been to the Den nonstop for the past, what, six or seven years, we’ve spoken all this time, and you don’t know who Rialas is?”

“Should I be bothered? Is he important?”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Saufinril looked around the deserted back alley. Both the moonlight and the lamps lit with magic illuminated the alley, making some shadows lurk in corners.

“Come with one.” he opened the door and entered the Den again, heading upstairs with the Dunmer behind him. The music, now a sensual song, wrapped around him again the second he stepped in, and judging by it and the amount of people with their jaws on the ground, Rialas was on the silks. They kept going up the stairs until they were on the second floor, with the lights dim to give a more intimate ambience. Doors could either be open and empty or closed, letting them imagine what happened behind with the moans they gave. Scents of candles and sandalwood, the soft tinging of mini gongs, laughter, whispers, two to more in each room. A door opened to their right and two Argonians, a Nord, a Khajiit and three Orsimer came out. Some talked to each other, others were more focused on the way down. Adriana, an Imperial woman, walked out after the group as she put back on her earrings, arching her eyebrows at Saufinril and the Dunmer behind him. Saufinril went on, ignoring it. Toivon looked back at her but kept following Saufinril. Finally, Saufinril rested against the railing that gave way to a view down the first floor and motioned towards the Bosmer. Toivon looked at where Saufinril had motioned. His gaze landed on the Bosmer with wild red, curly hair that was swinging on silks like smoke amidst trees, like killing intent behind sweet smiles. Saufinril looked at Toivon again, who was eyeing the sultry, erotic number with mouth slightly agape, just like many of the patrons in the Den, regardless of gender, age, size, race or shape.

“Oh he is Rialas, alright. I’d seen him around but never really knew what his name was.” He said, sight lingering on Rialas before turning back to Saufinril (almost reluctantly), “You’re right. That’s just what we need and it’s just what they got. Only one issue: he’s a Bosmer.”

“And?” Saufinril asked, arching his eyebrow, “You said it yourself, he’s got what you need. What does it matter that he’s a Bosmer? Where are you going to find someone better for it?”

“We’re going to High Rock, of all places. Mecca of the Altmer ass-kissing, no offense. He’s got it, but if we’re to catch their eye and have them coddle around someone so nobody’s looking away, it’s got to be an Altmer.”

“It doesn’t have to!” Saufinril frowned

“I don’t make the rules. Bretons have a thing for Altmers. He’s great, he’s fantastic, in any other situation I’d ask him, sadly this is not the case.”

“Well, if it’s like that and Rialas is off the table, Lillandril is another choice.”

“And Lillandril is…”

“Rialas’s husband. One’s patron. An Altmer of high caste back in the Isles, who knows art and high society very well. You want refinement, you want discretion, you want someone that blends in while commanding attention? Lillandril.”

“Where’s he?” Toivon asked. Saufinril peered over the railing, and this time it took him a little longer to find his target. Once he did, however, he motioned to him discreetly with his hand, “Right…there. Shaved head, scar on his eye, looks like he’s having the time of his life? That’s Lillandril.”

Toivon observed the Altmer for as long as needed, with Saufinril observing him back.

“Won’t do either.” came Toivon’s veredict.

“Illustrate one. Why not?”

“Too old.”

“What?” Saufinril peered back at his patron for a second gaze, “Come on, he’s-alright he’s had his years but he’s also had experience. Lots of experience in the field. One can tell you that straight up, firsthand.”

“Would he be up for the job?”

“It’s just going to a party and being the center of attention, you said so yourself! He’s done harder things! It’s a piece of cake. And since you won’t go to Rialas, Lillandril would be perfect. He knows this ambience better than anyone, he’s an Altmer, he can perfectly do something to command attention and help you seize the chance.”

“How do I put this gently…” Toivon put his hands together and in front of his face, letting them tap his chin as his gaze stayed below at the audience gasping and cheering the Bosmer dancer, “People react more positively to youth and beauty. People keep their gazes longer on someone beautiful, and there’s a higher amount of people who will think someone young as someone beautiful, as stupid as it is. Especially the Breton, who spend blasphemous amounts of money on rejuvenating potions that, shockingly, don’t work.”

“You want beauty and youth to command attention, there’s Rialas.” Saufinril extended his hand to the Bosmer that was making an acrobacy where he ended upside down on the silks while people below hollered and hooted at him, “You want an Altmer with discretion and experience, there’s Lillandril. One is not cut for the job. Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m sure they are wonderful, but I need a young Altmer that can flounce in there, be pretty and have a good time while I go get one damned sapphire. And you,” Toivon motioned to Saufinril, turning back to him, “Are the only young Altmer I know. Seriously. All the other members of your race that I’ve ever met or seen are older than you. That makes you a damn unicorn, which is another reason to catch their eye. It’s the simplest job ever, we literally do the dirty work and look at it this way: if you can’t catch their eye being the soul of the party, you can always cause a scene and it’ll work either way. You’ll be paid and it’ll just be one night, so spare me the ‘introspection days’ and just say yes.”

Saufinril’s gaze went down and to the left, then back to the Dunmer as he asked, “How much is the pay?”

“4000 Septims.” Saufinril’s eyes widened slightly, “Oh yeah. They really want this damned kidney rock.”

“Total?”

“No, that’s your part.” Saufinril’s eyes lowered. That was so much money, “I don’t buy their claims that ‘he ruined them’, in rich people language that just means they’re not as wealthy as they used to be but they still have luxuries, just not as many as they want. But hey, I’m not going to protest about gifts.”

“This doesn’t sound right.” Saufinril blurted out. Toivon cocked his head to the side. Saufinril was half expecting him to say he was crazy or ask what he was talking about or say he was being pessimistic, but Toivon just stayed silent, waiting for Saufinril to go on, so he did, “It’s too much money just to be a distraction. What’s the catch?”

Toivon turned back to watching Rialas, who had now sauntered to Lillandril and had his arms around him. Saufinril’s questions had crossed his mind, of course, but not only did he not usually get too deep in the whys of his job, to be honest that was the money Mme. Ferchand had offered straight up and then agreed on paying when Toivon had asked her for more. Saufinril was smart, if his hesitance in the face of so much money told him anything. You’d think it was common sense, but he knew more than one inexperienced crook who, blinded by the greed, had gotten themselves scammed, hurt, arrested, and even killed. Saufinril had caution, this was always good.

“You think this is a trap.”

“Can you blame one? That much money to just go to a party, help you steal something? Do you even know if the client will pay it all? Maybe it’s not a trap but at the very least, it’s too good to be true.”

“She will pay.” This guy is too cautious, though. Blind reassurance and pressuring him would only drive him away, and Toivon was dead set on having him in the group within possibility, “The money is this high because what we’re after is highly valuable, it’ll be taken in the middle of a party and it’s within a high sphere of Breton society. I don’t blame you being careful. Look, I’m leaving tomorrow, and we could use someone like you. If you want to join us, we’ll wait for you ten minutes at the north exit of Elden Root at midday. If you decide to sit this one out, no hard feelings. I’ll find someone else.”

Saufinril gave a small nod. “Fair enough.” That was some relief, “If one were to join in, hypothetically speaking of course, how would one blend in as a party guest?”

“You’d be entering their house pretending to be someone important or a least high society guest or something. Safest route is to go as some sort of artist. I asked some people of the Guild that have been to Evermor and Hawkcroft’s daughter invited as many artists as she could, apparently she has a fondness for art.”

“But one is not an artist.”

“Didn’t you just say your patron is a member of high society or something? Didn’t he teach you artsy things?”

“He tried. One is decent at dancing but not enough to call oneself an artist.”

“These people are Breton, what do they know of Altmeri art? You could piss on a pot and they’d cheer you on.”

“Well, it’s a hypothetical question anyways.”

“Sure. One last thing: this is of utmost secrecy. Not a thing to anyone else.”

“You can count on one to be discreet, nobody will know.”

Toivon gave him a nod, “Good.” He pulled out a coin purse and handed it to Saufinril, “North exit, midday tomorrow. Good night.” He began to walk out but Saufinril, confused, put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wh-what’s this about?” he asked. Toivon looked at him as if he’d just asked him what water was, and replied, “For your time.”

“What do you m-” his name being called below made him look down the railing, to Amara, who motioned him to come down. The stage was now being occupied by a Bosmeri dancer with a pair of huge feather fans, dancing provocatively to a lively melody. Toivon seized the moment to head out. That was odd, he mused. What kind of courtesan found it strange to be paid for their time? He wasn’t going to talk to him in his break and then pretend he didn’t have to pay him. There was hustle involved. Maybe Saufinril was new in this business. Or maybe it was done differently in the Isles. He just knew he didn’t want Saufinril’s patron to go after him for not paying one of his workers.

Saufinril, meanwhile, had signaled to Amara that he’d be right down with her, then turned to Toivon only to discover he was nowhere in sight. Kind of creepy, now that he thought of it. He looked down at the pouch and opened it, counting around 30 or 40 Septims with his eyes. For his time? What did he mean? He knew he’d told him he was on a break…he’d told him, right? He couldn’t remember. He better go downstairs and see what Amara wanted.

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

*This is from one of the asks that @thatoneshadyshop was asked regarding the Den. I lost the link like a pro but if you look in his tag “gambling den” you can find all the asks and things regarding the establishment.

#Behind the blue #btb #now with beta reader's edit #so this is why my writing has improved #thank sonofqueen for that #I even added an asterisk to cite my sources #well sort of #I gave you guys the author and the general area where to find the quote #let no one say I steal intellectual property #next time I'm gonna put the APA citations #tes #tesblr

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ikonislife · 6 years ago

Text

Home.

-Hoseok (J-hope) x female reader

-Friends to Lovers softness

-“How could I fucking hate home when to me, you’re home!”

“I like you.” There was an ease in the way he sighed so contently that sentence as if matter of the heart had always been weightless. It was as if all the pain of unrequited love, all the sorrow of heartache since the beginning of mankind had always been effortless and thoughtless as a breath. It was almost beautiful… Almost. As you stared up above, leaning back in the patio chair with your feet up on the railing of your apartment’s balcony, the sky had been inky and far too bright for the heaven to shine through, your eyes glossed over with, hell, you didn’t even know what it was. Nonchalant, unimpressed, light? For so long you’ve harbored feeling for Jung Hoseok, the man so beautiful in all of his duality that had left you breathless since you were both learning the alphabet. To you, he was Hobi, bright as the sun and happier than a field of sunflowers in full bloom. No honey in this world could compare to his sweetness, how caring he had always been and how beautiful his soul will always be.

“Good one, Hobi.” You bit out in a near mirthless chuckle, “Say it a few more time and I might actually believe you.”

A sip of green tea to calm your soul, though no longer piping hot as the moment Hoseok had handed to you, warm enough to keep your blood running. You’ve never believed it, your Hobi, sweet and lovely, the kind of man you bring home to your parents could be anything else but that. His reputation preceded him, and it too made it back to your little neighborhood, one he had left in pursuit of the bigger and better. His kid brother raved about the amazing life he had led, the people he made friends with, and the girls… You felt your heart clenched as Chanwoo words flourished with excitement of the amazing dates, how beautiful the girls were, and the fun they had. Your little naive heart could never, didn’t dared dream to compete with. You couldn’t believe the preposterous stories but now, you wondered if you had simply refused to open your eyes to the new world, a world you had lost your Hobi to, all because you couldn’t deal with the fact that he had changed.

You never spoke a word of it, not during the many phone calls you shared, not even when he came home to visit. Gone were the leather jacket and styled hair Chanwoo and Hoseok’s friends had spoken so fondly of, gone too was the many terms and slangs hopelessly lost on your foolish self they had used to describe a much cooler version of your childhood friend. He came home the dorky Hobi you remembered with stars lighting his eyes and a warm fire in his soul. He reminded you of freshly baked apple pie on a cool autumn night, cuddling up beside the glowing ember of the fire place and hot cocoas. Your heart thrown for a loop and for the first time in your life, his hug felt like a lie.

You spent that week doing a song and dance about your daily life, all in a big effort to avoid him, doing your best to feel a bit of normalcy with the storm brewing in your heart. Did your best too, to stay out of his way once your company had decided you outgrown the little niche this corner of the world and sent you right into the vibrant life of the big city, his city. Millions of places life could’ve sent you but life’s funny in its own twisted sense of humor, it likes to watch people suffer and life had never taken a favor with you. Nothing could’ve prepare you for the day your company had placed you right into the lap of Jung Hoseok, an apartment all paid for just one floor away - you were F103 and he, F203. Funny thing too, apartments are, it was nothing more than a bigger, better, glorified version of your old bedroom. Sure the space was yours, sure the freedom was there once that front door close but deep down, it truly never was, will never be. Fact of the matter was you shared a roof with hundreds other tenants just as you had shared a roof with your siblings. One major difference, you had traded your annoying brother stomping away at your ceiling for Hoseok and his morning stomp from being late for work was the very least of your concerns. Every late night private party, every morning fuck, every single time he forgotten to close his window (a nasty habit he got since he was a mere baby, gotten sick countless time yet lesson never learned), you were suddenly reminded of how little you really know the man you thought was your best friend, just how much lied he had fed you every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, and just how little you mattered to him.

“I’m so into you, it scares me a little.” The words vibrating through that alluringly deep voice, yet it did nothing to comfort the turmoil in your heart. Your dress swayed in the soft breeze of a mild autumn night, a year now since you’ve learned to live with the baggage that come with Jung Hoseok. Though the soft moans and creaks of bed haunting your nightmare no longer manifest often, courtesy of a very very awkward conversation, the damage was done. You’ve learned to accept, and you’ve adapted even if the progress made barely considerable.

“Alright cut it out. I know you’re into mocking me and all but. What do you think you’re doing?” But you weren’t a fool. You too a different woman than the innocent childhood best friend Hoseok left behind for the glamour and felt the need to put up a facade for, to lie to. You’ve been duped for far too long to take anything Hoseok say at face value. You’ve dreamt of the day you hear those words, the fanfare and lightness left from the dissolving of all the suffering through years of unrequited love. But this moment, hearing the little confession, it brought nothing but the fire of hell upon your soul, souring your inside, and searing your skin with disgust.

“Well you say if I say it a few more time you’ll believe me.” Perhaps the sentiment was earnest, as earnest as fuckboy Jung Hoseok could manage… God, you hated that word. Fuckboy… or rather, you hated that your dear best friend had gotten boiled down to how smooth his lines was and how amazing the heaven his tongue provided could be. His beautiful soul withered away with pointless small talk and his wonderful, magnificent mind lost to the moans of momentarily gratification.

“Might. I said might.” You corrected, half way hopped out of your chair before facing him with a grimace, a sharp pain in your chest. “And are you insane? You can’t just casually say something like that and expect me to… to what? fall to my knee? willingly add my name to your long laundry list? suck your dick? let you fuck me till I can’t distinguish up from down?” Your chest puffed up, eyes redden and for the first time in a long time, Hoseok was scare. He was truly fearful because the last time anguish had flashed so painfully in your eyes despite your best effort of hiding it behind anger, he had told you of his plan to move away.

“Jesus, Y/n. Is that how you fucking think of me?” His hand reluctantly reaching forward yet before it could sooth your raging soul, you had slapped it away in complete disbelief. “Is that all I am to you? A loser that will do anything to get in your pants?” There was no denying the hurt spreading through his veins like wild fire, searing every bit of his skin with disappointment… Disappointment that he was no longer Hobi in your heart.

“What do you want from me, Hoseok? You can’t really expect me to still be that gullible girl patiently waiting for every phone call, bated breaths and anxious heart counting down the day until you come home? You’ve lied to me for so long so why should I believe anything you have to say. I don’t even know who you are anymore, Hoseok.”

You bit out bitterly and Hoseok remained silent, what could he say when every word that came out of your mouth was true. He loved having your attention, craved it to a point where he was willing to make a fool out of you fearing that the new him would drive you into the arms of someone else. He was selfish, yes, so incredibly selfish but it was all because he wanted you all to himself. But at the same time, he loved the new him, stains and all its hell fire glory. The party made him feel alive and for once, he wasn’t nerdy Hoseok waiting for his best friend and her fiery soul to come rescue him from the playground’s bully. People paid attention to him because he was Jung Hoseok, not because he was Y/n’s best friend, Y/n’s little pet, Y/n’s boy toy or whatever else jealousy had conjured up. He was cool, he made women swoon and men envious. With a well-placed smirk and a few charming words in that sultrily deep voice, the world was at his feet. For once he was the man. He knew lying was wrong, but he wasn’t ready for you to learn of the new him. Fearful that disgust would replace the love you had for him twinkling in your lovely eyes.

“No… Don’t say that, please. You know me, I’m me, I’m Hobi.” Oh the desperation in his heart, if he could tear it out of his chest right moment and present you with the truth, he would. But ripping his heart out would also mean ripping you out of his soul because truly, you own his heart. He clutched your hands in his trembling ones, tear had begun to dot the length of his lashes. “Hmm? Y/n… It’s Hobi.” He pressed your palm to his cheek, nuzzling in close as he always did but this time, desperation drawn out a small kiss and placed it delicately on your wrist over your tiny bee tattoo. He had nearly forgotten how much trouble you had gotten into, drunk out of your mind, paired with the foolishness of 16 years olds agreeing to get a matching tattoo with him. He’d have a sunflower and you’d have a tiny bee. You had insisted that he was as bright as the sunflower and you, nothing but a small bee lingering, drawing from her flower friend’s brightness and strength. If Hoseok really did have his way that night, you would have the sun dainty on your wrist and he, the humble Earth. You were his sun, his warmth, and his everything.

“Stop, Hoseok. I know you hate being Y/n’s dorky best friend Hobi, just as certain as I know you hate home.” You voice wavered at the sentence you’ve for so long despised, denied, and suppressed even if you knew it was the truth. You knew home was always too small for Jung Hoseok and he deserved the world, but you didn’t let yourself believe it. Because for Jung Hoseok to conquer the world, it would’ve meant he left you behind.

“How could I hate home, hmm, Y/n? How could you even say that?” You couldn’t remember the last time you had saw him cry… The tear streaming down his cheeks and how his hands still clutching so tightly on yours as if fearful you’ll dissipate the second he let go. “How could I when… When…” The word choked in his throat, a ragged gasp was all that escaped when he truly realized just how angry you were. Never before had he seen the light behind those beautiful eyes darken so, and to be here, to know he was the reason, he dimmed out the universe inside your soul, it was terrifying.

“When what? When what, Hoseok? Spit it out!” Your feeble little heart no longer able to contain the surge of emotion rising at an exponential rate. It exploded with the vigor of watching him laughing away with his exes, of hearing those vulgar words fallen from his lips, of crying yourself to sleep to the moans of faceless and nameless, of realizing that after all these years… You still love him.

“You’re home, Y/l/n Y/n. How could I fucking hate home when to me, you’re home! I fucking love you, what about that is so hard to understand?”

The very next second your lips were on his and the world melted away. The distant between home and this new hectic life of yours no longer exist, line blurred between Hoseok and Hobi, and suddenly, ceased to exist too was the anger in your heart. Hoseok stiffen under your unexpected touch but soon melt into the way your lips desperately moulding against his, gentle fingers dancing across his chest and rest against the sharpness of his jawline. He stilled himself, reveled in the delightful taste of your lips - bitter of the tea mingling with the faded sweetness of your chapstick.

“Then why did you left me…” Forehead resting against his, your eyes fluttered shut as tears of sorrow hot against your cheeks. Your hands still flushed against his skin and soft kisses bloomed on his lips. “Why did you lie?”

“I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to take you with me but this city life, it changed me. And before I could catch my breath, I had turned into this person that I wasn’t sure myself if I could still be love.” Though tears no longer raining down those beautiful features, his voice trembled under the insane rollercoaster of the last few minutes. “I wanted to change so badly, want to be a better man, a more befitting man for you… But all this, I fell in love with the party, the loud nights, and the clothes but I never once wanted to be known for my laundry list. I just wanted you but before I know it, I could see the confusion, the disappointment in your eyes.”

“I would’ve love you no matter what. I’m angry because you felt like you had to lie to me, as if we hadn’t shared most of our lives together. Am I that, that…” You wanted to ask all those questions lodged in your heart from hearing those words being spoken about your Hobi, and if you had truly been such a horrible friend, he thought you’d judge the new him.

“Shh, no, baby. Don’t. Don’t blame yourself for what I did.” All the self-doubt, all the self-pity, the confusion harbored, festered in your heart hushed out, washed away with the moment his lips returned to yours. “I just thought, if I act and make myself look like the way I used to, that I could somehow convinced you that I’m the same person. That was the only reason why I lied, I just wanted you to look at me the way you used to.” He reveled in the way you leaned in so close, body heat warming, dispelling the shiver running down his spine and let his arms snaked around your waist.

“Hoseok, there’s nothing wrong with changing and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel judged for being yourself. Everyone has to grow up someday. I changed, even though I insisted upon being the same boring person all these years. To me you’re Hobi, no matter what. I don’t care if you change your hair, your clothes, your face, deep down you’re still my sunshine. Nothing will ever change that, nothing will truly change who you are inside. I just wish you had been honest with me.” You let your hands rested at the nape of his neck, fearing that the second you let go, he’d just disappeared into the late night moans and the cold sent off the next morning as his late nights do their walk of shame. “I loved you for so long and I thought coming here, giving into my hate for this new you would finally let me move on but…” You word trailed off, the thought of him fucking another girl, of the bliss on her features as he worships her body, and the way she gets to touch him… It lit a fire in your heart and not in the way you wanted it to. Then you thought too of how much these girls that had thought they got the best of him, went on living their days not knowing just how amazing it would be if Hoseok had decided to worship their heart and soul the way he did their body.

“I don’t think I can ever make up for what I put you through. Just thinking of you and another guy…” Breath hitching, his jaw clenching tightly as the ball of anger in his chest unravelling picturing you under a faceless, nameless guy. “Let alone hearing, knowing…”

“But you know what the funny thing is?” Your question dispelled the jealousy and envy in his eyes as they soften at the sound of your voice, once more lingering on your soft smile. “Hearing you… Them, made me realized just how fucking jealous I was. It forced this part of me that wanted so desperately to hate you into defeat and I just, I want to be them, I want to be the one that make you moan, make you smile. It forced me to come to term with just how fucking hopelessly in love I still am with you.” Thumb petting over the soft skin of his cheek, you let yourself relearning the sharp features and soft, plush lips of the man you were still desperately in love with, the man that you now knew in love with you.

“So, what does this mean for us now?” He sighed, heart finally content, soul basking in the solace it deserved.

“Well, we have a lot of catching up to do, and all the missing time to make up for… I suppose you’ll have to spend the night, maybe the weekend too seeing how it’s Friday night.” Idly drawing circles atop his tone pecs, you mulled over the plan for the weekend and how suddenly none of your plan seemed to matter anymore. Everything seemed so pale in comparison now that the possibility of lazing in bed with Hoseok, morning breath and bed head and all, was possible.

“Oh, can we do those brunch things with like alcohol and like eggs and bacons too? I’ve always wanted to do it!” For a split second, it was as if you were both 17 once more, hanging out on a Friday night trying to figure out where the weekend will be spent now that Hoseok officially had his license. The pure excitement in his eyes and the way his smile beaming so brightly, it made you wonder if there really ever was another version of Hobi.

“Okay, when they say alcohol, you know they meant like mimosa right… Not tryna get drunk at 10 in the morning here.” You heed a warning, knowing full well just how drunk your sunshine could get when he really wanted to.

“I know, just excited. I always wanted to do this with my girlfriend.” A kiss placed delicately on your nose, Hoseok couldn’t stop the smile blooming on his lips, overjoyed that one was mirroring on yours too.

“Girlfriend? I- Wow…” You sighed dumbly, repeating the word you had only dreamt of. The reality of the last mere half hour hadn’t yet settled in your erratic heart. Who would’ve thought when Jung Hoseok called you up for a Friday hang out to reminisce the past that you would’ve ended the night kissing the man you’ve been dreaming of. Now that his little confession had been made, it wasn’t so strange after all that someone as popular as he was would be bored on a Friday night, calling up his childhood friend.

“Yes, you’re my girlfriend. I’m your boyfriend.” He said matter of fact-ly, tugging you closer into his embrace as the piercing wind of the night began to pick up. For a second, neither of you said much, letting the content soft breaths warming each other to echo through the night lit with sight assaulting neon signs. You both were so far from the moonlit nights of the small town you’ve fallen in love with one another in. Yet the longer you remained in each other arms, even as he led you back inside to the warmth of your bed awaiting, the realization that the place and time matter not for as long as you got love for each other finally settled in your heart. It’d be a long way till all those lonely nights, painful nights could truly be forgotten but you had an inkling that with Hoseok by your side, healing will too be effortless.

#bts #bts scenarios #jhope #jhope scenarios #jung hoseok #hoseok scenarios #j-hope scenarios #j hope #j hope scenarios

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minijenn · 7 years ago

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Universe Falls Chapter 51

SURPRISE BITCHES!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAH GUESS WHO WROTE AN ENTIRE ORIGINAL CHAPTER OF UNIVERSE FALLS PRETTY MUCH ENTIRELY UNDER WRAPS! YEAH THAT”S RIGHT FUCKIN ME! AND WOOO BOY IS THIS ONE A FUCKING DOOZY TOO! ARC 6 OPENS WITH ANGST AHAHAHAHAH But yeah this one is like... completely original and it kinda is mostly a bunch of character interaction, going downward from the last chapter and whatnot,, yadda yadda whatever whatever. Either way, I hope you enjoy it because its time for some BOMBSHELLS AHAHAHAH WOO BABY!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/172209617169/universe-falls-chapter-50-part-2

Chapter 51: Lost and Found

WLICWC YPDVS NDR CSDRGP D POE WMMP WS RPPIMMHV WSDX TTPI FZUKOE ZLAE RRCP ZES WRWT SDW NZZ GOXH XO WLKHE EYT EKI QFHWTTRR RPPEIYV: HIO USSP GS WSDX WLV VIRKX?

A teardrop splashed onto the page, staining it as the hand writing the letter stilled. A tug of grief pulled at the writer’s heart, grief that prompted even more tears as they continued their letter.

“I should have told them.”

Their script was flowing and elegant, but their message was sad and solemn, though hard to make out through their pressing tears. Still, it was a message that needed to be relayed all the same, even if they weren’t sure their intended recipient would ever receive them.

“If I had just let them know about the danger we were facing from the beginning, then maybe none of this would have happened…”

They sighed, pausing to shake their head remorsefully. It seemed as though regrets of the past never really died, no matter how much time and healing passed.

“But I did what I had to… for them… for us…”

The very act of writing the letter itself was becoming almost too painful to bear, given the nature of it, but they had put this off long enough. If they didn’t finish this now, then chances are, they never would.

“If you were still here, then I know you’d understand…”

The letter was nearing its end now, but even so, it still felt incredibly incomplete. After all, there was so very much to say that a simple handwritten page couldn’t ever hope to contain it all.

“But you’re gone… and its all my fault… just like everything else…”

Another tear slipped down their cheek, just one more do add to the almost endless flow that had begun even before they had ever sat down to write this letter. A letter that could only ever serve as a forever insufficient, eternally empty way of reckoning with the wrongs of the past.

“And I’m so, so sorry… for everything I’ve done…”

Steven awoke with a gasp, his eyes wide as soon as they opened as his mind reeled from whatever it was he had just dreamt about. By all accounts, what he had just seen made no sense to him whatsoever, but what made even less sense was the fact that his cheeks were damp with tears. Apparently, the very same tears he seemed to have shed in his unexplainable, context-free dream.

Yet that wasn’t all. As the young Gem slowly pulled himself up out of bed and wiped his face dry, he couldn’t help but feel weighed down by a wave of immense guilt, guilt that he couldn’t really pin the source down for. After all, the only things he had fallen asleep with last night had been worry and uncertainty given everything that had happened the previous day and all that had been uncovered, but for once, he had been relatively free of any tangible guilt. So then why did he feel like he had done something so horribly, unforgivably wrong?

For a moment, Steven simply sat on the edge of his bed, trying to sort these mysterious, almost random feelings out, quite alarmed by just how heavy they seemed to be. And yet, his focus was soon diverted away from his own confusion emotions as he overheard quiet voices coming from the front porch. Steven’s brow furrowed as he recognized these voices to be those of the Gems, and given just how shaken they had all been the last time he saw them the previous night, he couldn’t help but tiptoe down from the loft and press against the wall near the door to listen to what they were saying.

“There’s no denying that he was close to Rose,” Garnet said, leaning against the railing as Pearl hung close to her, though Amethyst was oddly somewhat distanced from them. “The journals alone are proof of that.”

Steven quickly realized that the Gems had to be talking about Ford based on this mention of the journals, and even though he felt somewhat bad for eavesdropping on them, he couldn’t resist. Especially given the apparent and now forgotten camaraderie between them that the young Gem still wanted to know more about.

“W-well even if they do, that doesn’t mean we can just take everything he told us yesterday at face value,” Pearl huffed crossly. “For all we know, he could have been fabricating any given part of all that just to… to save face or something.”

“As far as I can tell, he’d have no reason to lie,” Garnet shook her head, her manner seemingly calm, though there was still some uncertainty beneath it. “And the evidence does add up: our gems on the portal, what happened in the bunker and with the Society… Everything points to the fact that there was indeed a time that we worked together with Stanford. We just don’t remember it.”

“And that’s exactly the problem!” the white Gem moaned impatiently. She paused for a moment, anxiety filling her features before she spoke up again, her voice even softer as she clasped her hands together tightly. “G-Garnet? I… I know this is ridiculous to even bring up but… what Stan said yesterday about Rose knowing something regarding our memories… you don’t think-?”

“H-hey! Ste-man!” Amethyst suddenly spoke up with a tightly forced grin upon noticing Steven standing on the other side of the screen door. The young Gem flinched, having wanted to remain discreet, but still, he emerged from the house nonetheless somewhat sheepishly as Amethyst continued greeting him. “H-how ya feeling? You somehow manage to get some shut-eye after, uh… everything that went down yesterday?”

“Y-yes,” Pearl chimed in, offering her young ward a placating smile. “We know that a lot happened yesterday, what with the agents, the portal and everything else, s-so if you feel like you need to talk through any of it, t-then we’re right here to listen.”

Steven frowned as he took in the warm, but ultimately fake smiles each of his guardians were offering, smiles that were merely serving as masks for much deeper, underlying dread and apprehension. “Uh… I think I’m ok…” Steven said evenly enough, though this wasn’t entirely the truth. For much like the Gems, he too was quite concerned by the accusation that his mother had some knowledge of what happened to their missing memories, an accusation that, by all accounts, he didn’t want to believe just as much as they didn’t. Still, he didn’t bring this up just yet, at least not so directly. “But um… i-is there anything you guys wanna talk about?”

The Gems exchanged a surprised glance at this, but even so, Amethyst played it off. “Uh… like what?”

“Like…” Steven bit his lip, unsure of where he really wanted to go. After all, there was so much to talk about in light of what happened in the past 24 hours alone that it felt like he’d never truly be able to cover it all. Still, he figured he’d start with at least one of his pressing curiosities. “Like, are you guys… mad at Mr. Ford for… well, for what happened back when Mom was still around?”

“Steven, we don’t remember what happened back then,” Pearl sighed, glancing away. “And even if we did, we’d be hard pressed to forgive Stanford based on everything he told us about that disastrous machine of his…”

“Well, to me it seems like he just made a mistake…” Steven said somewhat sympathetically. “And he made it sound like it was a mistake that he was pretty sorry about and that he did just about everything he could to try and fix.”

While Amethyst and Pearl didn’t share this sentiment, Garnet couldn’t help but smile somewhat at this as she placed a gentle hand on top of her young ward’s head. “Maybe you’re right, Steven,” she said, catching her teammates off guard somewhat. “But there’s only one way we can know for sure: we need to find our lost memories, once and for all. There can be no more putting this off. As of right now, it’s the only way we can finally learn what really happened for ourselves and why.”

“But how are we supposed to do that?” Amethyst asked hesitantly. “We still got like, no clues about what happened to them. Well, unless you wanna believe what Stan said,” the purple Gem scoffed harshly upon mentioning the conman, her ire towards him over his betrayal still quite apparently. “Which I sure as heck don’t.”

“Neither do I,” Pearl asserted firmly. “There’s no way Rose had any involvement in what happened to our memories. More likely than not, that was just another one of Stan’s countless lies and after everything we’ve seen and heard yesterday, I’d say he’s just about the least credible source of information out there!”

“Well… what about Mr. Ford?” Steven suggested thoughtfully. “I mean, he seems like he’s really smart; he did write the journals and he built that portal, so… maybe he might be able to help us figure this out.”

The Gems were hesitant about this idea, to say the least, their expressions alone conveying that none of them were really too keen on asking the author for help in this matter. Still, given the fact that they had essentially no leads, none of them could deny that the assistance of a proven genius would be rather welcome in solving this long ongoing mystery. Or at least getting somewhere closer to the truth than they had ever been before. Which was why, when Pearl and Amethyst looked to her for the final verdict on this plan, Garnet simply shrugged, showing that she was every bit as clueless as they were for a change. “It’s worth a try.”

A great deal could change over the course of 30 years; this was something that Ford was well aware of, largely since it was a matter of common logic. But what exactly had changed during his absence was what the author hadn’t been able to anticipate, and as he reacclimated himself to his native dimension, he was quick to find that some changes were much more alarming than others. For example, the discovery that he now had a great niece and nephew was fitting, welcome even given that he had never really had the chance to be much of an uncle prior to the portal incident. The revelation that Rose was no longer around and the Gems bore no recollection of him, however, was much more shocking and much more disheartening, to the point that he was still largely trying to process it all himself. But at the moment, the change that Ford found the most appalling and offending was what Stan had apparently done to his home over the past 30 years, both cosmetically and functionally.

What was once his proud and stately research base had been transformed into a tacky, homely tourist trap dubbed the “Mystery Shack”, of all things. Ford scoffed to himself as he stood outside of it, sketching the changes to its exterior out in his third journal as a form of venting his frustrations. It was bad enough that Stan had embezzled his name, but to turn his property, his home into a tawdry, fabricated sideshow for mindless vacationers to pass through and sink their money into was perhaps the most disrespectful slight his brother had made against him yet. Which was why Ford had absolutely no qualms about sending Stan the harshest glare he could muster upon noticing the conman emerge from the shack a moment later.

“Mornin’, Sixer,” Stan greeted casually enough, even though he was still aware he was essentially walking on eggshells with his brother now. Which, of course, was far from what he had wanted after finally saving him after 30 years, but even so he had no choice to accept the tense state of things between them. For now, at least. “What are you up to? Makin’ up for lost time by writing more ‘nerd notes’ in those ‘nerd books’ of yours?”

Ford’s glower deepened somewhat upon hearing this teasing, teasing that he would have laughingly accepted from Stan back when they were kids, but now only saw with contempt and bitterness. Much like how he viewed his brother in general at the moment. “Two things,” he began coldly as he shut the journal. “One: my journals are not so-called ‘nerd books’. They’re important, highly detailed chronicles of my research of Gravity Falls, and after wrongfully using their knowledge for the past 30 years now, I’d think you’d have finally come to understand that, Stanley.”

“Yeesh, I almost forgot how annoying you are when you get into one of your little ‘genius’ rants,” Stan rolled his eyes at Ford’s sour scolding. Still, the author paid his callous remark no mind as he continued.

“Two: care to explain the meaning of this?” he nodded to the Mystery Shack, his expression alone conveying that he was far from supportive of it.

“What’s there to explain?” Stan shrugged. “Like I said yesterday, I did what I had to do to keep things up and running here. It gave me a way to keep your bills paid so I could stay here and keep working on your dumb portal. When you think about it, the Mystery Shack pretty much saved both our butts, whether you wanna admit that or not.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t want to be saved?” Ford asked sharply. “That perhaps I was willing and ready to sacrifice my own wellbeing for the sake of protecting the entire universe by wanting the portal to remain deactivated forever?”

“Ugh, you sound just like Rose used to with all that self-righteous garbage,” Stan remarked dryly. “No wonder you two were such good friends; you two are probably the some of the most pretentious know-it-alls the world’s ever seen. Well, you and Pearl.”

Ford’s reaction to this was much harsher than Stan had been expecting as he took a step closer, his expression fierce with genuine fury. “Say what you want about me, but you will not disrespect Rose Quartz like that,” he growled bitterly. “She is—was one of the closest and most trusted friends I’ve ever known, even despite everything that regrettably went wrong between us. In fact, Stanley, I’d even say that she’s done more for me than you ever have.”

It took every ounce of willpower Stan had in him to keep himself from punching his brother square in the face upon hearing this. Because how dare he uphold the honor of the Gem who had stubbornly tried to keep him trapped in another dimension for thirty years as opposed to take the side of his own brother who had risked so much and worked so hard to save him. But even if he didn’t intend to physically harm Ford, that still didn’t stop Stan from lashing out and grabbing his brother by the collar of his sweater and sending him an incredibly harsh glare. “Listen here, Sixer,” he began, his tone chillingly hostile. “You’re kidding yourself if you think that stupid pink broad was some kinda perfect saint, because she was just about the exact opposite of that. She was nothing but a lying, stubborn, selfish bi-”

“Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford?” Stan instantly cut himself off upon hearing Mabel’s confused questioning. The brothers starkly turned to see their nibblings both emerging from the shack, Dipper a good bit behind Mabel, though neither of the kids seemed to be in really high spirits as they looked to their uncles questioningly upon seeing how Stan was holding onto Ford rather threateningly. “What’s going on?”

Stan was quick to release Ford after a beat of somewhat awkward silence and both brothers readily scowled away from each other, giving the younger twins a pretty good impression of what was going on, despite their uncles’ attempts at playing it off. “Uh, n-nothing!” Stan remarked with a forced, fake smile. “Me and your Grunkle Ford were just, uh… we were…”

“We were just… catching up,” Ford finished, sending another critical glance Stan’s way before he turned to address his nibblings with a much softer expression. “Anyway… Good morning, children. How are you feeling? Neither of you are suffering from any sort of portal radiation from yesterday, are you?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so…” Mabel said, innocently shaking her head. “But I am going through a bit of a sugar rush from the baker’s dozen of super chocolatey chunk cupcakes I had for breakfast!”

Ford took pause, looking to his niece with apt concern upon hearing this, though he didn’t get much of a chance to ask Stan about her nutrition habits before Dipper cut in. “Don’t worry, Mabel’s pretty much on a perpetual sugar rush,” he said dismissively, ignoring his sister’s flustered scoff as he perked up while addressing the author. “B-but anyway, Great Uncle Ford, I was just wondering… Did you really take on a Gremloblin on your own? What do you think the secret behind the bottomless pit really is? Have the Gems ever told you any huge secrets about the war or Homeworld? Do you think there are any ghosts out there above a category ten? Did you and the Gems ever try to find a way to fix corrupted Gems? What did you do when-”

“Ah, s-slow down, my boy,” Ford interupted with something of a bemused chuckle at this round of rapid-fire, curious inquiries. “Based on all those questions, it seems as though you really weren’t kidding yesterday when you said you read my journals.”

“Oh, several times over, at least,” Dipper said with clear pride over this fact. “Well… to be honest, the only one I’ve really gotten the chance to read is the third one, but it’s still super informative!”

“Hm…” Ford duly noted, raising an eyebrow as he flipped through the later pages of the journal still in his hands. “So I would be correct in assuming that you were the one who made all these… additions to this one, then?”

Dipper’s excited manner faltered upon noticing that Ford looked less than pleased about the notes he had compiled on his own within journal 3 throughout the summer. “Um, y-yeah, I… sorry…” he muttered, glancing down sheepishly as he realized his unintentional slight against the author. After all, he could have never even considered that when he first began recording his findings on the journal’s empty pages, but now he wished he had never written anything on them at all in light of the disapproval he had apparently garnished from his longtime unknown idol.

Mabel was the first to pick up upon her brother’s newfound fretfulness, but as soon as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, Dipper was quick to pull it away with returned bitterness, refusing to so much as even glance over at her. Proof that he was still just as upset with her as he had been last night, something that only served to make Mabel feel even worse about it all.

Stan readily noticed the shared, silent despondency of both his nibblings, and he was quick to blame Ford for it as he sent him a sharp, almost furious glare. The author himself didn’t really notice that though as much as he did his own tactlessness towards his nephew in particular, but before he could make an attempt to apologize for it, the informal family gathering was suddenly interupted.

“Hey, Mr. Pines!” Soos exclaimed with a cheerful grin as both him and Wendy showed up for their shift. “And hey, Mr. Pines!” the handyman greeted again, this time to Ford as he passed him by.

“’Sup, Stan Two?” Wendy nodded to the author sardonically, already well informed of his arrival thanks to Soos’ thorough recounting of the tale. “Nice turtleneck.”

While Ford was rather confused by the pair’s arrival, Stan spoke up with something of a relieved sigh, glad that his employees unknowingly broke through the ongoing tension. “Glad to see you two are actually both on time for a chance,” he remarked, crossing his arms. “I don’t expect any customers today, but as you can tell, the shack is kinda torn up from yesterday’s fiasco, so get to work and make this place look a little less like a sci-fi portal exploded underneath it, ok?”

“You got it, Mr. Pines!” Soos grinned with an eager thumbs up as him and Wendy headed off, though he didn’t hesitate to express his excitement to his coworker in a frenetic whisper. “See? I told you, Wendy! There really are two Stans around here now! Isn’t it great?!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wendy remarked dryly, pulling her phone out of her pocket and disinterestedly texting away. “Of course, it would’ve been better if you hadn’t kept me up until 3 AM last night telling me about it.”

“Oh yeah…” the handyman frowned briefly, though he hardly let this dim his innocent elation over it all. “Sorry! Next time we have a bunch of huge truthbombs drop on us, I’ll only keep you up till 2 AM to tell you about them!”

“…Gee, thanks, Soos,” Wendy deadpanned, rolling her eyes as the pair went about their respective tasks for the day.

“Stanley,” Ford began as soon as the cashier and the handyman were out of earshot. “Who are those two… young adults?”

“Uh, my employees, poindexter,” Stan said. “You already met Soos yesterday, and the sarcastic one is Wendy. Might as well get used to seeing them around here, just like the Gems. Speaking of which…” The conman let out an aggravated sigh as he nodded ahead to the Gems and Steven as they came down for the temple, their expressions all rather tense and uncertain as they approached the Pines, who returned their gazes just as stiffly.

“Uh, h-hey, you guys,” Steven greeted them with a small, but genuine smile.

“Hi, Steven,” Mabel said just as awkwardly, though her smile faded as she glanced to the rest of her family. Dipper still stood alongside her, but he refused to spare either her or the young Gem another glance, Stan’s expression was still set in a cold scowl away from just about everyone, and Ford was clearly apprehensive and anxious as he gave the Gems only a terse nod of greeting. One that none of them made any sort of effort to return.

“So… um… h-how is everyone after, uh… yesterday…?” Steven asked unsteadily, rather concerned that the Gems hadn’t stepped forward to address Ford concerning their memories yet, like they had previously planned.

“We… could be better…” Mabel noted, rubbing her arm as she looked over to Dipper once more. “R-Right, bro-bro?”

Of course, Dipper didn’t bother giving her any sort of response as he instead turned away from her even more, his arms crossed as he let out a small, almost bitter sigh. Steven and Mabel exchanged a silent, worried glance at this, realizing that he was still clearly upset with them from what happened yesterday. Though exactly why he was still carrying this grudge so heavily and adamantly was beyond either of them.

Even so, a bout of general uneasy silence lingered between both the Pines and the Gems, none of them quite sure of what to say in the aftermath of all that had unfolded, mostly as a result of no one really knowing where they stood with each other now. Things between the kids alone were shaken and soured, but then there was the tenuous, largely forgotten ties between Ford and the Gems, not to mention the distain still very much present between Stan and Ford themselves. Really, it was as though they were all on unstable ground with each other, friendships fractured, relationships ruined, and everything else left in just as many shambles as the shack standing before them currently was.

Still, that didn’t mean there could be no attempt at fixing at least some of it.

“Hey, uh… Amethyst?” Stan spoke up, looking to the purple Gem apprehensively as she finally spared a glare in his direction. “I, uh… um… I was thinkin’ of blowing off some steam after everything that’s happened with a good ol’ Revenge Trip tonight. Are you along for the ride or what?”

“I dunno,” Amethyst muttered, her arms tightly crossed as she scowled away from him. “I think I’m gonna be busy doing just anything but that.”

Everyone was rather taken aback by the fire in the purple Gem’s tone as she said this, especially Stan as he flinched back, as if her harsh words had actually hurt him, which in a way, they did. Fortunately, they didn’t linger in the air for too long before Ford cut in, collectively addressing all of the Gems, though not without clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly. “So, h-how are you three doing? Have you happened to recall any of your memories of our… time together?”

“A-actually…” Pearl began, averting the author’s gaze as she spoke tightly. “That’s… why we’re here… we… w-well, we were hoping that… we… you-”

“We need your help,” Garnet finally finished where Pearl was unable to out of pride.

“Oh, r-really?” Ford asked, somewhat surprised by this request. “With what?”

“With finding our lost memories,” the Gem leader continued just as evening. “At this point, we’re not sure who else we can go to aid us with this, and so we have no choice but to ask you.”

Ford took pause, both confused and somewhat offended by the Gems’ apparent hesitance to seek his assistance, something that Steven in particular noticed and quickly made an attempt to clarify. “Uh, I-I think what they meant is that we think you could really help us figure all this out, Mr. Ford,” he said with a warm, hopeful smile. “Your journals already proved to us how great you are at solving mysteries, so this one’s bound to be a cinch for you!”

The author finally grinned at this, clearly glad for this vote of confidence as he began to exude the very same confidence himself. “Ah, yes, well in that cause, I’d be more than happy to help in any way I can, just as I said I would yesterday,” Ford said, adjusting his glasses as he offered the Gems a genuinely friendly smile, one that none of them returned, though their expressions did soften somewhat. “Now, I suppose the best place to start would likely be… Oh! I know! The memory gun! Back when Fiddleford built that infernal contraption, I had always doubted that it would be able to work on Gems, but seems as though it could be the very thing responsible for stripping you three of your memories!”

“Uh… yeah, we already figured that,” Amethyst huffed, rolling her eyes.

“And that wretched Society of the Blind Eye didn’t have our memories in their archives,” Pearl added with a frown. “So where exactly are they? And who would dare to even take them in the first place? And why?”

“…Those are all very good questions…” Ford noted thoughtfully. “We have the answer as to how, but everything else is still up in the air… Which means that we’ll need to look into a variety of possible scenarios that could have resulted in the loss of your memories. Its bound to be a lengthy process, given how many sheer possibilities there are, so we’ll have to be patient and hope for the best in analyzing each of them.”

“Ugh, we’re tired of waiting!” Amethyst groaned hotly. “We’ve been waiting to figure this junk out all summer! We want our memories back now!”

“That’s… understandable…” the author remarked, trying his best to remain tactful amidst the Gems’ mutually thin patience. “But relatively unlikely. I’m sorry to say this, but to me it seems as though finding the key to restoring your memories could take quite some time, if we can even find it at all.”

Despite their shared disappointment upon hearing this sum of probability, the Gems didn’t get to voice it as a familiar horn blared out, followed by the arrival of a familiar van. Greg sped into the shack’s lot, slamming on the breaks as he stuck his head out the window rather frantically. “Steven! Thank goodness you’re ok!” he cried, jumping out of the vehicle to rush over to embrace his son. “I wanted to come check on you as soon as I saw that huge explosion of light on this end of town, but the road here was blocked off by this huge tree and they only just cleared it out this morning! Heck, it took so long to get over here that I even managed to pick Connie up along the way.”

“Steven! Dipper! Mabel!” Connie called as she hopped out of the van herself and hurried over to her friends. “Are you guys alright? I haven’t been able to get in touch with any of you since the other day! What’s been going on!?”

“I think the better question is what hasn’t been going on…” Dipper remarked somewhat dryly.

“Connie! You’ll never believe what happened!” Steven exclaimed. “We just-”

“Wait! I wanna tell her!” Mabel excitedly cut in. “So it all started when Grunkle Stan got arrested by these government agents-”

“And they tried to take me and the Gems away too-” Steven interjected before Mabel carried on.

“So we tried to prove his innocence only to find out that he-”

“That he had all these fake IDs and this huge machine under the shack-”

“Which turned out to be this crazy powerful portal that his long-lost twin brother came out of-”

“And he wrote the journals and he used to work with my mom and the Gems years ago but-”

“But they kinda hate each other now and everything’s all awkward and weird and confusing-”

“But we’re trying to sort it all out by finding the Gems’ lost memories by thinking about all the ways they could have lost them!”

“Pretty intense, huh?” Mabel finished this rapid-fire tale, one that left Connie aptly confused as she tried and failed to catch up with it all.

“Uh… what?”

“Long story short,” Dipper cut in much more calmly. “Is that Grunkle Stan’s been hiding an interdimensional portal under the shack all summer that he opened up again to bring his brother back here.”

“Ohh…” Connie mused in understanding. “That makes much more sense! Well… kind of. The whole ‘interdimensional portal’ thing is something you guys will definitely have to fill me in on later.”

“Would you believe that’s hardly even the craziest part of it all?” Dipper asked with a small, but growing smile of excitement as he dropped down to a whisper. “The craziest and the best part is that Stan’s brother, our Great Uncle Ford, just so happens to be the author of the journals himself!”

“Wait, what!?” Connie gasped, completely stunned upon hearing this and knowing full well just how baffling this mystery had been to them all for the entire summer. “You guys finally met the author?! And he’s your uncle?! No way!”

“Way!” Mabel chimed in brightly. “And you gotta meet him too, Connie! Come on!” Before Connie could really even respond to this, Mabel and Steven were pulling her over to where Ford was still in the midst of conversing with the Gems, largely not paying much mind to the two new arrivals as the continued discussing matters of memory. Or at least they were until Mabel blithely interupted. “Grunkle Ford, this is our friend, Connie!”

“I-it’s an honor to meet you, sir!” Connie said with an amazed smile as she shook the author’s hand. “Your work is so fascinating! Honestly, if it wasn’t for your journal then we probably wouldn’t have made it out of half of what we’ve been through this summer alive!”

“Oh, well… that’s… good to hear…” Ford noted, unsure of what to really make of that, though he offered Connie a small smile all the same. “What’s really fascinating (and rather concerning) though is just how many children seemed to have read through my research over the course of this summer alone…”

“Uh, we probably shouldn’t tell him that Gideon had his second journal then, should we?” Steven whispered somewhat awkwardly.

“Wait a second,” Greg interjected, having overheard the conversation. “I-I can’t believe it… You’re him!” The former rock star’s jaw was dropped as he approached the author, clearly in a state of disbelief that nobody else really understood. “You’re Stanford!”

“Um… yes?” Ford raised a confused eyebrow, unsure of what the former rock star’s apparent amazement was all about.

“Wow! This… this is incredible! I never thought I’d ever get the chance to actually meet you myself!” Greg exclaimed with an incredulous chuckle. “After all, Rose said you were basically gone for good but then again, Mr. Pines has been working on that portal to try and bring you back all these years, so I guess it’d only make sense that he’d finally get it up and running eventually.”

“Yeah, Greg,” Stan deadpanned, not noticing the Gems’ growing expressions of absolute shock beside him over what Greg was divulging. “Told ya I’d figure it out.”

“Heh, well, I’m sorry for ever doubting you, I guess,” the former rock star grinned, flusteredly rubbing the back of his neck before he turned back to Ford. “But man, if only Rose were here! She’d be so happy to see you again! Well… happy and maybe a little upset about the whole portal thing but still, she’d-”

“Excuse me,” Ford interupted rather stiffly. “But… who are you exactly?”

“Oh, right, sorry!” Greg laughed again as he shook the author’s hand warmly. “I’m Greg Universe; Steven’s dad.”

Ford was silent for a moment upon hearing this as he looked between the former rock star and the young Gem, his brow furrowing and his expression largely not changing as he put the pieces together. “So you and Rose were… I see…”

“Y-yeah, she… used to talk a lot about you,” Greg remarked, still grinning slightly. “In fact, she even-”

“Greg!” Pearl’s very sharp exclamation interupted the conversation, prompting the young rock star to glance over at the Gems. All three of whom looked simultaneously dumbfounded and outraged all at once. “You knew about the portal?!”

“I, uh… oh!” Greg gasped, his eyes wide as he looked between the angry trio in newfound fear. “D-did I say portal? I-I… I meant, um… I didn’t know anything about any… w-well, you see, I-”

“Forget it, Greg,” Stan remarked, rolling his eyes at his former employee’s hectic attempt to explain. “The jig is up. They already know about everything.”

“No, we don’t!” Pearl scoffed, completely appalled. “We don’t know a thing about what’s happened to our missing memories and we certainly don’t know why Greg, of all people would know more about all this than we do!”

“D-Dad?” Steven spoke up apprehensively. “You don’t… y-you wouldn’t know anything about what happened to the Gems’ memories about Mr. Ford and the portal… would you?”

Greg froze up at this, this question completely catching him off guard, especially as he looked to the Gems starkly. All three of them were silently demanding answers, answers that he had no idea how to give, even if he could. So instead, he went with the easier alternative. “N-no,” he shook his head, his voice shaky as he tried to sound as convincing as possible. “R-Rose… Rose never told me anything about that. I’m sorry…”

“What do ya mean Rose never told you about that?!” Amethyst spat harshly. “Seems like she sure had a heck of a time telling you everything else!”

“Everything she didn’t bother telling us…” Garnet added, clearly hosting a glare underneath her shades.

“W-wha—no!” Pearl exclaimed hotly. “You two can’t be serious! Rose couldn’t have known what happened to our memories! It makes no sense!”

“What doesn’t make any sense is that she would have told Greg about all of this and not us,” Garnet remarked, adjusting her shades as she tried to remain as calm and as rational as possible.

“M-maybe she just never got the chance to?” Steven offered anxiously. “L-like… maybe your memories were erased right after I was born.”

“But that wouldn’t make add up,” Dipper interested, shaking his head. “Grunkle Stan said something about their memories being erased almost 22 years ago.”

“Well, I mean, as far as I know,” Stan said with a small shrug, unwitting eliciting ire from the Gems with such a remark.

“And how exactly would you know that?” Pearl asked, glaring coldly at the conman. “Unless you happened to have some hand in all this yourself, Stan!”

“Ugh, seriously, with this whole accusation thing again?” Stan scoffed. “I already told you, I don’t know anything about what happened! And even if I did, why would I keep something like that hidden from you three for so long?”

“Oh gee, I dunno, Stan,” Amethyst growled sharply. “Maybe for the same reason you kept that dumb machine hidden from us! Or those fake IDs! Or every other stupid secret you’ve been sitting on for years now without even thinking about being honest for a change!”

“It seems as though you would have a pretty good motive,” Garnet nodded. “With us not knowing about the portal, that likely made it easier for you to work on it without us trying to stop you like Rose would have wanted.”

“A-and for all we know you probably recruited Greg back when he used to work here to help you keep all this under wraps,” Pearl huffed angrily, shooting a fierce glance over at the former rock star as well. “Both of you were in on this for all these years! You must have thought that you weren’t going to get caught, but you are, so you might as well just admit it, Stan, and tell us where our memories are already!”

“I ain’t admitting nothing because I didn’t do anything!” Stan protested adamantly. “Even if I did keep this whole portal thing under wraps from just about everyone else, I never went after your memories to keep you three from getting in my way! That’d be just stupid!”

“Well, then it sounds like it would be exactly your kind of plan, Stan,” Pearl remarked crossly.

“Oh I’ll show ya what my kinda plan is!” the conman exclaimed, beyond infuriated by these groundless allegations to the point that things quickly devolved into an all-out shouting match on both sides. With both Stan and the Gems as outright outraged as they were, they held nothing back as they argued brutally, all of them acting off emotions rather than any real logic as they held their grounds against each other. The others were all rather surprised to see things heat up so aggressively, especially the kids as they stood on the sidelines, watching in dismay as everything seemed to explode in absolute fury all at once.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Gems so mad before…” Connie muttered, her eyes wide in alarm.

“Me either…” Mabel agreed stiffly. “But I don’t get it. Why do they think Stan got rid of their memories? He’d never, ever do something like that!”

“Yeah, just like he wouldn’t run an incredibly dangerous portal underneath the Mystery Shack, right?” Dipper asked, his tone quite dour as he crossed his arms and largely dropped out of the conversation.

“Uh, w-well, either way, we’re not gonna figure out what really happened to the Gems’ memories with everyone arguing like this,” Steven said earnestly. “Come on, you guys, we have to do something!”

Mabel and Connie were quick to follow after the young Gem, intent on trying to make peace between the conman and the Gems. Dipper, on the other hand, hung back somewhat, his hands shoved into his vest pockets as he instead glanced over at Ford, opting to discreetly listen in on the conversation that was just striking between him and Greg.

“Hey, uh… M-Mr. Pines?” the former rock star began rather awkwardly.

“Please, call me Stanford.”

“Oh, um, ok, Mr. Stanford,” Greg continued, still being as respectful as he could. “I just, uh… W-well I know the Gems aren’t really in the mood to hear this right now, but I didn’t… I wasn’t-”

“You didn’t have anything to do with what happened to the Gems’ memories?” Ford finished presumptuously, glancing the former rock star up and down. “Well, I figured that much, considering how you and Rose were apparently… ahem, together. At the same time, I also don’t think Stanley was responsible for this either. My brother may be a lying, unscrupulous cheapskate, but despite his many faults, it seems highly unlikely that he’d do something as lowbrow as outright take a person’s—or Gem’s, for that matter—memories . Then again, I suppose there really is no way to know for sure until we figure this mess out once and for all.”

“Um, yeah, about that…” Greg took in a somewhat unsteady breath. “I… Well, Rose, she-” The former rock star cut himself off, dropping his voice down to a serious whisper. “Look, she missed you… a lot. Heck, almost every time she brought you up, she’d end up blaming herself for what happened to you.”

“But it wasn’t her fault,” Ford said, his tone softening quite a bit upon hearing this.

“Well, of course it wasn’t,” Greg agreed. “But you know Rose; she always felt so much for everyone, especially her friends.”

“That she did…” the author remarked with a fond smile in the pink Gem’s memory. “And our friendship was one I always valued very highly. I only wish… I wish I could have had the chance to speak to her one last time, even if it was only for the sake of saying a proper farewell… I still can’t believe she’s really gone…”

“A lot of the time, neither can I…” the former rock star glanced down sadly. “But, she always wanted one last chance to talk to you too, which was why… right before she had Steven she sat down and wrote everything she never got the chance to say to you out. She said she didn’t know if you’d ever make it back here, but if you ever did, then she wanted you to have it. So she gave it to me to hold onto, just in case, and now that you actually are back, well, you might as well have it.”

Ford was rather surprised to hear that Rose had apparently left him some sort of note, but all the same, he followed Greg over to his van, where the former rock star dug around the back of the vehicle for a bit before finally finding what he was looking for. “Aha! Here it is,” he grinned as he pulled a light pink envelope out and presented it to Ford. “And here you go. To be honest, nobody’s ever seen what it says before. I just… didn’t think it’d be right to read something that she only meant for you, you know?”

The author was silent at first, his eyes wide as he held the envelope, apparently the last message Rose Quartz herself had left for him, as though it was the most precious and fragile thing in the entire world. And given just how much the fact that it existed at all meant to him, it very well could have been. “I… T-thank you… Greg,” Ford said, absolutely genuine in this sentiment.

“You’re welcome,” the former rock star said warmly, nodding his affirmation before stepping away to give the author some privacy as he opened the envelope up. Ford wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, even as he initially glanced over the lengthy page Rose had written for him, but even so, it was as though he could hear her lovely voice saying every word to him as he read it silently to himself.

Dear Stanford,

If you’re reading this letter, then that means that you’ve finally made it home, back to Earth and back to Gravity Falls, where you truly belong. A part of me, a part that dismisses all of the danger this world would be put in if such a thing ever did happen, has spent the past 16 years hoping this day would come, and that I’d be there for it, to welcome you back with open arms. But… I know I’ll never get that chance… I’ve made a choice… I want to do something that no Gem has ever done before, to create something that this world has never seen before… But the only way I can do that is at the expense of myself… A sacrifice not too dissimilar to one you were willing to make the last time we met.

But even so, if this letter has found its way to you, then I’m no longer around, or at least I’m not around in the way you were used to. Because in a sense, I’ll forever be a part of the child I’m about to have, a child I hope you’ll hold nothing against, even despite everything that went wrong between us.

Speaking of which… I feel as though I owe you another apology for, well, everything really. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret how hard and fast our friendship fell apart… Even before you fell into that portal, there had been so many times when I wanted to go down the hill and pour my heart out to you, but I never ended up working up the nerve. Funny, isn’t it? How I had all the courage in the world to stand against my former home and fight for this planet until the bitter end, but I didn’t have enough to walk a few feet and simply tell you “I’m sorry”?

You need to know that if there had been another way to bring you back, even if it was just for a second, I would have taken it. But the portal was far too risky; I knew that. That’s why I did what you asked and kept the third journal hidden safe and sound, even from your brother (You never told me you had a brother, by the way). I tried everything I could to right our wrongs and fix our mistakes…

And in the process, I only ended up causing so many more.

Its much too… risky to divulge everything here, but… something happened several years ago. Something that none of us were prepared for, though I should have been prepared. It was a threat I knew, a threat we both knew… a threat swept through our lives and nearly took everything away in the process. And I wasn’t able to do anything to stop it.

I Can only myself to blame for what happEned that awful night. I should hAve told them. If I had just Let them know about the danger we were faCing from thE beginning, then maybe none of this would have haPpened… But I did what I had to… for them… for us… If you were still hEre, then I know you’d undeRstand… But you’re gone… and iTs all my fault… just like everything else… And I’m so, so Sorry… for everything I’ve done…

I need, need you to know that, Stanford. I need Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl to know that. I need my child to know that. I need everyone I’ve wronged because of this to know that. I never wanted to hurt any of you, I promise that. I just wanted to save you, my friends, this planet, everything I truly care about. But it seems I’ve only managed to hurt them all instead. Which means I suppose the key to healing them lies not with me, but with whoever comes next… And I have the upmost confidence that they’ll succeed where I have failed.

There are so many more things I want to say to you, Stanford, but I know there would never be enough time to write it all out. I had thought to offer you one final apology but that just didn’t seem right, as sorry as I truly am. So instead of lingering on the shadows permeating our past, I’ll leave you with a reminder of the light that once shined through it instead.

Do you remember the first time we met? Amethyst had pointed out your six fingers to the rest of us, and at the time, I had thought that was the most spectacular thing about you. Little did I know that I’d quickly find out that there was so much more to be amazed when it came to you, Stanford. Your intelligence, your determination, your passion, all these things and more made me realize that you were by far one of the most special humans I’ve ever had the privilege of getting to meet, and believe me, I’ve met plenty. There were times when I saw it: you underestimating your own brilliance and abilities, but those were things I never once doubted. Which is why, despite how impossible things might seem right now, I encourage you to hold onto the words you wrote at the start of the journal you entrusted to me years ago, words that I hope will inspire you and comfort you, even when I can’t:

“Ad astra per aspera”: To the stars through difficulties.

Yours truly,

Rose Quartz

Ford had never been one to get too emotional, but he was unable to stem the silent flow of tears as he finished reading Rose’s final words to him. Up until that point, the author hadn’t put too much thought into the pink Gem’s absence; of course, he knew that she wasn’t around anymore in place of Steven existing, but some small, irrational, yet persistent part of him still wanted to believe that it wasn’t true. That Rose would make her long-awaited appearance and that everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be. And yet, upon reading her last message intended for him himself, the truth of it all finally sunk in once and for all: Rose Quartz really was gone, most likely never to return. Even after 30 seemingly endless years of longing and remorse, he’d never get to speak to her, laugh with her, apologize to her, to simply see her ever again. It was a crushing reality, to the point that it was almost unbearable, to know that he’d be forever separated from one of his closest and most cherished friends, left with only a page of ultimately unfeeling letters to remember her by.

Yet at the same time, three of his other most invaluable friends were still there, still present and still alive and well. The only problem was they held no recollection of the bond they used to share, the camaraderie they used to uphold. A deep sense of loneliness filled Ford as this wave of realization washed over him yet again, a kind of loneliness that he hadn’t even ever felt traversing the empty voids of the multiverse. The author truly wanted to help restore the Gems’ memories to them, to the point of near desperation almost, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, even he didn’t know where to start with such an arduous task. By all accounts, the chances of things ever returning to even a shadow of how they used to be seemed incredibly slim, to the point that Ford was beginning to lose hope that such a thing was even a possibility at all.

Despite the still-ongoing argument between Stan and the Gems, Ford paid none of them any mind as he looked down to Rose’s letter again, its ending catching his attention in particular. “Which is why, despite how impossible things might seem right now, I encourage you to hold onto the words you wrote at the start of the journal you entrusted to me years ago, words that I hope will inspire you and comfort you, even when I can’t: “Ad astra per aspera”: To the stars through difficulties.”

“To the stars through difficulties…” Ford muttered to himself, taking in a steadying breath. It was a Latin phrase he had always been very fond of, one he had heard during his college years and kept close to his heart throughout his studies, both academically and in Gravity Falls. He had always seen it as a call to greatness, an affirmation of aspiration, no matter how daunting circumstances might seem. But now, the author began to realize that perhaps it held another meaning as well; perhaps it wasn’t just a message of upwards inspiration. Perhaps it was also just what Rose had said: a message of hope, of comfort, a promise that even though the road ahead seemed dark and uncertain, the stars of something better could still be reached regardless if one only worked hard and persevered enough to get to them. And while this was only a mere small spark of hope, it was one Ford decided to hold onto nonetheless, as the final piece of encouragement Rose had to offer for him. Encouragement that could perhaps at last lead them towards the answers they were all looking for.

Ford couldn’t profess to understanding everything concerning what Rose had spoken of in her letter, but several parts of it came across as somewhat bizarre to the author, to the point of being downright cryptic almost. Ford had never known Rose to be so indirect; the pink Gem, with her relative lack of understanding when it came to human subtlety, had always been very literal and forward in her conversations with him. Yet the vagueness in her letter threw the author off, especially when she sparsely described whatever apparently disastrous event had transpired quite some time ago. Certainly there must have been a reason that Rose hadn’t just written it all out if it was so significant and horrific; because instead of transcribing it all, the pink Gem had left only clues, breadcrumbs really to something that already seemed to lead to something so much more.

“I’ve only managed to hurt them all instead. Which means I suppose the key to healing them lies not with me, but with whoever comes next… And I have the upmost confidence that they’ll succeed where I have failed.”

“Whoever comes next…” Ford read once again, initially confused by what this meant until he happened to finally glance up from the letter and over to the still-brawling group just a few feet away. Or more specifically, towards Rose’s son, Steven.

The author was somewhat hesitant, knowing that he was really just working off mere conjecture alone as he approached the young Gem, Rose’s letter still in hand. In truth, Ford was still rather confused about exactly how the pink Gem had managed to reproduce at all, much less with a human, but his curiosity about Steven’s no-doubt bizarre hybrid biology would have to wait. After all, a far more pressing question needed answers now.

“Excuse me, um… Steven, was it?” Ford addressed the young Gem, placing a hand on his shoulder to pull his attention away from the ongoing fight between Stan and the Gems. Despite the tension behind them, Steven offered the author a friendly smile and a nod of patient confirmation, prompting him to go on, even as the other kids took notice of this almost random interaction. “Rose—I mean, your mother left this letter behind for me before she-” Ford cut himself off tightly; just because he had accepted the reality that Rose was gone didn’t make it any easier for him to admit it out loud. “A-anyway, the nature of this note implies something that I’m rather unclear of, something that she made it sound like only you can figure out.”

As Ford handed the letter off to Steven for him to see it, the quarrel between Stan and the Gems gradually fizzled out as they glanced over to the exchange between the author and the young Gem. An exchange that just about every single one of them disapproved of on some level, especially Stan. “Ford, what did I say about-” the conman’s sour callout was interupted by his brother, who put a silent hand up before patiently turning his attention back to Steven. The young Gem himself was focused on his mother’s letter, his eyes wide as he skimmed over it and tried to make sense of its more mysterious parts, though he did glance back up at Ford as he slowly knelt down to his level.

“Steven, this-” Ford stopped short, his brow furrowing, almost as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to put this, though he continued on a moment later anyway. “I should be honest… I have reason to believe that this letter might hold our first real, tangible clues about what’s happened to the Crystal Gems’ memories.”

Upon hearing this, Pearl was more than ready to speak up in heated protest against it, though Garnet quickly stopped her. “Wait,” she urged, keeping her sights trained on the conversation unfolding before them, one that could prove to be very helpful in their most pressing cause.

“Which is why I feel compelled to ask…” Ford continued, hesitantly but earnestly. “Would you be willing to help me decode the clues your mother left behind and uncover the truth behind this mystery once and for all?”

Steven didn’t answer this right away, instead taking a moment to glance back at his guardians somewhat apprehensively. Amethyst’s expression showed a general sense of apathy towards the situation at large, while Pearl intently shook her head in staunch disapproval over such an idea. Garnet, on the other hand, looked to the young Gem expectantly, with a air about her that told him that this was his choice to make alone. And as Steven turned to the author once more and took in his sincere, solemn, almost sad even, he found that it wasn’t that hard of a choice to really make.

“W-well, I’d love to help, Mr. Ford, I really would,” Steven said with a small but fretful smile. “But… I’ve never met my mom before. She stopped, uh… being around when I was born, so I didn’t get the chance to really know what she was like which means I might not be the best person to figure out what she tried to say here…”

“Oh…” Ford’s expression fell in slight disappointment as he rose to stand. “Well, I suppose that… does make things complicated, doesn’t it?”

“Well… even if I don’t know a lot about Mom myself, that still doesn’t mean we haven’t figured anything out about her,” Steven ventured, taking a glance over at Dipper, Mabel, and Connie. “In a way, we’ve… kinda been learning more about her all summer in some… pretty crazy ways.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Mabel spoke up brightly. “Like the time we found her light canon out here near the shack and used it to blow that Red Eye to smithereens!”

“Wait, you… you kids found the light canon Rose asked me to hide away years ago?” Ford asked, aptly surprised.

“Yeah and we’ve been to hear healing fountain,” Dipper added intently.

“And her hidden armory,” Connie said with a nod.

“Heck, we even found her sword and its scabbard!” Steven’s smile widened with confidence. “And we’ve solved a bunch of other huge mysteries too!”

“And that’s why they call us the Mystery Kids!” Mabel chimed daringly.

“So I think that between the four of us,” Steven went on. “Maybe we can figure out what the deal with Mom’s letter is and if it has anything to do with the Gems’ memories!”

“Oh… well, are you sure you kids are really up for a task this… daunting?” Ford asked, not entirely convinced of their merit.

“Oh believe us, we’ve been up against plenty of daunting odds this summer,” Connie assured with a bit of an ironic laugh.

“Yeah, nothing stumps us as long as we’re working together!” Mabel boldly proclaimed. “Right, you guys?”

“Right,” Steven and Connie affirmed with clear resolve, though Dipper was noticeably silent as he glared away from the rest of the group. The young Gem in particular took notice of this, his heart sinking a bit as he realized that part of his impromptu plan still wasn’t working; the Mystery Kids were still fractured in some way, and as long as they were, then chances were, they wouldn’t be getting anywhere to any degree. Including fixing the past and moving forward into the future, things that all needed to be done sooner rather than later, as far as Steven was concerned.

“Uh, Dipper?” he began with a small, anxious smile. “You’re on bored with us in this too, aren’t you?”

Of course, Dipper didn’t respond to this right away, instead looking to the young Gem with a rather incredulous scowl, one that said everything that words didn’t really need to about how he was feeling about both him and Mabel at the moment. In truth, the pair was surprised that he was carrying this apparent grudge out for so long, neither of them really understanding why the decision they had made in the heat of the moment before that blinding portal still upset him so much. But at the same time, it was something of a small relief when Dipper let out a relenting sigh, even if his manner didn’t lighten up at all as he made it very clear on where he stood in all this. “Fine, whatever,” he complied sourly. “But only until we figure out what happened with the Gems’ memories.”

“Well… i-it’s a start…” Mabel said to Steven as Connie looked between her three friends in confusion, not knowing where this apparent tension between them all really came from.

“Uh… what’s going on with you guys today?” she asked with a concerned frown.

“It’s a… long story…” Steven whispered to her. “We’ll fill you in later.”

“Well,” Garnet spoke up, her hands on her hips and a hint of a coy smile on her face as she looked from her teammates to the kids. “I don’t know about you two, but for me, there’s no one I’d rather trust with a mystery like this than the Mystery Kids themselves.”

“Yes, well then,” Ford said, still somewhat uncertain about this plan of action. “Reasonably the best thing to do first would to be to carefully analyze Rose’s letter for any of its more subtle, possibly leading details. Then depending on whatever we uncover, we can work from there to-”

“I said,” Garnet interjected, crossing her arms. “We were going to trust the kids with this one.”

“Oh …r-right…” the author cleared his throat as he backed off, somewhat flustered as he let the kids investigate the matter on their own.

“Uh, well actually, Mr. Stanford’s plan seemed like it’s a pretty good one,” Connie shrugged, reading Rose’s letter from over Steven’s shoulder.

“Yeah, there does seem to be something off about this letter…” Dipper noted, putting his bitterness aside as he became invested in this mystery himself. “Like this paragraph right here. Some of the letters are just… randomly capitalized for some reason. Why would Rose do that?”

“Well, normally she wouldn’t,” Pearl cut in pointedly. “Rose’s handwriting was impeccable, just like everything else she did.”

“So… that probably means she had a good reason to do that,” Steven mused. “And in only this part of the letter too… weird…”

“Maybe she was just really tired when she wrote that part?” Mabel suggested, though even she didn’t really buy into such a theory too much.

“Or maybe…” Dipper trailed off as a newfound idea came to him, one that he was quick to act on. “Quick, someone write this down!”

Connie was quick to do so, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen as she recorded all of the letters that Dipper read out, each one of them bizarrely and improperly capitalized within Rose’s letter. Everyone else watched this work with baited breath, hoping that perhaps it would lead them to some kind of answer, though by the time they were done, the results they had gotten were… less than conclusive.

“Ok, so it all adds up to… CEALCEPERTS…?” Connie read, raising a baffled eyebrow as she did.

“Uh… I’m pretty sure that’s not a word…” Mabel frowned before quickly perking up. “Though it does kinda sound like seal-experts! Oh! What if Rose wanted to tell everyone that she was secretly a seal expert!?”

A beat of doubtful silence passed at this bizarre limb before Steven went off on another one. “CEALCEPERTS…” he repeated, looking to the letter once more. “Does that mean anything to any of you guys?” he asked both Ford and the Gems collectively.

“No,” Ford said, equally confused by this odd clue.

“Not at all,” Garnet remarked as the other two Gems shook their heads.

“Dad?” Steven ventured, hoping that perhaps the former rock star might have some kind of idea.

“Sorry, kiddo, I got nothing,” Greg shrugged. “What about you, Mr. Pines?”

“Ugh, heck if I know,” Stan rolled his eyes impetuously. “I think I’ve had enough of dealing with Rose and her little ‘mysteries’ for one day. I’m takin’ off. I have a feeling you nerds will be just fine without my ‘help’.”

And with that, the conman turned on his heel and headed for the shack, not bothering to spare another glance back at either the Gems or at Ford as aggravated as he was with them both. “Just as well,” Ford scoffed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s attitude. “Stanley wouldn’t have been much help in this anyway. Or much help in anything else, really.”

“I heard that!” Stan shot back crossly, though he didn’t bother to stick around and protest it any further.

“Hm… what if this CEALCEPERTS thing isn’t really a word…?” Connie theorized, tapping her pen against the page thoughtfully. “What if it’s… something else?”

“Oh yeah!” Dipper exclaimed in realization. “For all we know, it could be a message written in code, or an acronym, or heck, even an anagram!”

“What’s an anagram?” Steven asked curiously.

“It’s when the letters of a word are all mixed up and out of order,” Connie explained, sitting on the ground so she could work properly. “Like, for instance if we took CEALCEPERTS here and tried to turn it into something else using just the letters it has in it.”

“Oh I think I got one!” Mabel said, looking over the bizarre word once more. “Maybe this is supposed to be two words? Like… CASTLE CREEP?”

“Or… LACE SCEPTER?” Dipper tried, though he was quick to denounce the result. “No, that can’t be it…”

“Um… what about CREPE SELECT?” Steven guessed with a shrug.

“Or it could be ELECT RECAP…” Connie mused. “But none of these make any sense… There’s got to be one that-”

“Wait,” Dipper interupted, his eyes wide with realization as he worked through this in a different way. “PACER… PLACER… PLACE… It’s some kind of place… And then what’s left makes… ERECTS or…” he trailed off with a stunned gasp before revealing what he had uncovered. “SECRET… SECRET PLACE! That must be what its supposed to say! Secret place!”

“Secret place?” Amethyst asked dubiously. “Uh… like what?”

“Maybe its talking about some place that was a secret to Mom?” Steven purposed thoughtfully. “Like… oh! I know! Mom’s secret armory!”

“Steven!” Pearl quickly chastised upon mention of the pink Gem’s hidden sanctum. A sanctum that she would much prefer to keep the relative secret that it was.

“Oops… sorry, Pearl…” the young Gem rubbed the back of his neck. “I kinda forgot about the whole secret part of it…”

“Wait… Rose’s armory…?” Ford asked knowingly. “The one buried under the town cemetery? I’ve been there before. Rose took me to see it years ago after I asked her about advanced Gem weaponry. It’s really quite impressive!”

“What?! She took you to—oh… that’s right…” Pearl grumbled, crossing her arms with a scowl as she recalled the journals’ mention of the armory.

“Armory?” Amethyst asked, confused. Confusion that Garnet mirror as well. “What the heck are you guys talking about?”

“Well… why don’t we all just go there together?” Mabel suggested. “After all, it does sorta seem like it’s the place that anagram thingy in Rose’s letter is talking about, so its probably worth checking out, right?”

“Wha—no!” Pearl protested adamantly. “We can’t all just go to Rose’s private sanctum like its some kind of… field trip! It’s already been defiled by far too many intruders already! We should just leave it well enough al-”

“Pearl,” Garnet interjected calmly, placing a hand on her frustrated teammate’s shoulder. “We know this place, whatever it is, was special for both you and Rose. But if there’s anything there that could possibly lead us towards the whereabouts of our memories, then we have to go investigate it.”

“B-but…” the white Gem’s argument weakly fizzled out as she realized Garnet was right. If Rose’s letter indeed pointed towards any leads in particular, then the armory was most likely the exactly that. And as much as she wanted to preserve that special place’s sanctity, she wanted to reclaim her and her teammates’ lost memories even more. “A-alright…” she sighed reluctantly as she began to lead the way towards the cemetery, feeling as though she was breaking something important and cherished between herself and her former liege as she did. “Then… let’s go…”

Since there was no warp pad leading to Rose’s armory, the collective group of the kids, the Gems, and Ford had to walk across town to get there, in a trek that was spent mostly in stiff, awkward silence. Along the way, however, Steven, Mabel, and Dipper all managed to fill Connie in on more of the details of what had happened over the past two days, each of them telling her disconnected accounts that both confused her and allowed her to understand the newfound division among them at the same time. A division that, for all intents and purposes, she found wise not to take a clear stance on, lest that create even more of a rift between them all than there already was.

Things were still in a relative state of silence even as the group ventured into Rose’s armory, the vast, cavernous hold still just as pristine and stately as ever. And while the kids, Pearl, and Ford were largely unphased by its familiar, sparkling interior, Garnet and Amethyst were quite amazed by it, seeing as how they had never once step foot into this secret sanctum that belong to their longtime leader.

“Well, uh… here we are,” Steven announced as he stepped up onto the central platform. “Mom’s armory.”

“Incredible…” Garnet murmured, adjusting her shades amidst looking around the cave.

“Seriously…” Amethyst agreed, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped. “Why didn’t Rose ever tell us about this place? Its not like we would have went and blabbed about it to anyone.”

“M-maybe because it was just… really special to her,” Steven ventured with a bit of a reassuring smile.

“Then why’d she show it to these two?” Amethyst nodded over to Pearl and Ford.

“Well she showed it to me because I was her most trusted confidant!” the white Gem proclaimed with a proud smile that quickly disappeared as she glanced over at the author. “Or at least… I thought I was…”

“Rose brought me here purely for the sake of historical research, I can assure you,” Ford clarified conclusively.

“Oh, right, research…” Pearl scoffed coldly. “Research about her private sanctum that you went and liberally recorded in those infernal journals of yours for the entire world to see, right?!”

“T-that was never my intention!” Ford protested earnestly. “I only wanted to-”

“That’s enough,” Garnet interupted staunchly as she wisely stepped between the pair. “We are not getting into another argument today. We need to focus on finding answers, no matter where and what they might be.”

“Well then, this is as good a place as any to start looking,” Steven said as he tapped his hand down onto the central switch, which instantly lit up the moment he made contact with it. Ford and the Gems all watched in apt amazement as the young Gem cycled through each of the weapon collections the armory had to offer, with Mabel and Connie both helping him out by poking him in the right places to get them to appear. However, none of the armory’s contents seemed to point towards any further clues, from the Armor of the Fallen, to the Axes of Ages, to the Heretic’s Anguish, to even the Quatizine Trio. Even some of the collections the kids themselves had never seen before were ultimately fruitless in anything that told of missing memories or untold secrets, aside from the existence of the armory itself. And by the time they had been through everything, the majority of the group was starting to get quite frustrated by the lack of any real, tangible hints they were still facing.

“Ugh, this is stupid,” Amethyst groaned impatiently as Steven began going through the weapons once more, just to make sure there wasn’t anything they had missed. “Wherever our memories are, its pretty obvious they’re not here, so why are we still wasting our time doing this?”

“Because Rose’s letter pointed towards a secret place,” Garnet reiterated. “And, given the fact that so few actually knew about this armory, I’d say it was exactly that.”

“W-well even if this place was a secret, I don’t see any reason why our memories would have been stored here anyway,” Pearl said pointedly. “Especially since, as we’ve said multiple times, Rose had nothing to do with their erasure!”

“No, of course she wouldn’t have,” Ford agreed with complete sincerity as he looked over the pink Gem’s letter to him again. “However, she did imply that she might have known what happened to them after they were taken. Which means that the leads she’s offered for us are the best we have to go off of for right now.”

“If those leads are even pointing towards our memories,” Pearl countered. “Which, for all we know, they not be at all.”

Based on this bout of speculation, a round of heated debating broke out between Ford and the Gems, one that wasn’t quite an argument, though given how on edge they all were, it could have very well been mistaken for one. The kids watched in unanimous dismay as the adults bickered, knowing that such contention seemed to be a running theme today, one that didn’t show any signs of breaking any time soon.

“Ugh, more fighting…” Mabel sighed with an exasperated frown. “How are we ever gonna figure any of this stuff out if everyone just keeps getting mad and yelling at each other?”

“I guess its because everyone’s just a little tense…” Steven noted sympathetically. “Especially the Gems; they won’t really tell me a lot about it but… its sorta like everything’s just been turned upside down for them and they don’t understand why or how. It can’t be easy for them.”

“Well… do you think finding their memories will really fix that?” Connie asked worriedly.

“I…. don’t know… Maybe?” Steven replied, honestly. “I think what’s bothering them the most right now is the chance that Mom might have actually known about what happened to them, but… that doesn’t make any sense… Why would she keep a secret like that from them for all those years?”

“Well, she did keep this whole armory thing a secret from Amethyst and Garnet for a whole bunch of years, it sounds like,” Mabel pointed out.

“Yeah, but… this is different,” Steven frowned fretfully. “This armory was hers’. But the Gems’ memories belonged to them. If she knew all this time, then why would she keep something that’s theirs hidden from them, especially something this important? Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were her best friends, so why wouldn’t she trust them with their own memories?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, Steven,” Dipper spoke up, his tone quite cross and sardonic as he glared at his sister and the young Gem. “Why wouldn’t Rose trust her friends on something really important? Then again, its not like you and Mabel really know anything about putting your trust in the right people, now would you?”

“Uh… what are you talking about, bro-bro?” Mabel asked, exchanging a confused, but still concerned glance with Steven upon hearing this.

“Are you serious?” Dipper asked in harsh disbelief. “You guys still don’t get what the problem is here?”

“W-with the Gems?” Steven guessed, though even as he said it, he knew that wasn’t the focus of this conversation anymore.

“No, with us!” Dipper exclaimed in unbridled frustration. “With what you guys did yesterday! You two saw what the journals said; that portal could have torn the universe apart and killed us all! And you both were in the perfect places to put a stop to it and save us all but you just… didn’t!”

“B-but everything turned out fine!” Mabel protested, not understanding her brother’s perspective on this. “We’re all still ok and now we even have Grunkle Ford around! Aren’t you happy about getting the chance to meet him seeing as how he’s the author you’ve been just about dying to find all summer?!”

“Well, of course I am!” Dipper snapped, his hands in tight fists at his sides. “But that’s not the point! The point is that you guys knew something really bad could have happened, and who did you decide to trust about it in the end? Not me, you know, your twin brother, one of your best friends? No, you decided to trust Stan, a literal conman who we just found out had been lying to us about basically everything all summer!”

“Dipper, we didn’t decide to trust Mr. Pines over you,” Steven clarified gently. “It was just a really intense, heat of the moment sort of thing and we were being pressured on both sides and things just sort of… happened.”

“Things just ‘sort of’ happened?” Dipper repeated with a cold scoff. “Oh what you mean like how you guys ‘sort of happened’ to go have a little ‘chat’ with Peridot even after the Gems and I told you not to? Or, Steven, like how you ‘sort of happened’ to keep me trapped in a fusion with you just so you could feel good!? Or, Mabel, how you ‘sort of happened’ to not help me with the laptop which left me with only a psychotic, sadistic demon to turn to for help!? Or how you guys just ‘sort of happen’ to always do stuff like this! You always have to do what works for you guys, what you guys think is right. Well maybe what’s right for you two isn’t always right for everyone else, did you ever think about that?! Oh, well, of course you didn’t because you two just hate thinking about anything even remotely unpleasant, don’t you!?”

“Whoa, hold on-” Connie attempted to intervene upon seeing how heated things were getting, though Mabel quickly, angrily interupted her.

“Dipper, none of that is fair and you know it!” she exclaimed sharply. “I thought we already settled all this! What happened with the invasion or with Bill is none of our faults and neither is what happened yesterday! Don’t you get it?! If we had shut down that portal yesterday, then Grunkle Stan would have never gotten to see his brother again! He wasn’t trying to destroy the world; he was trying to save his family! I totally would have done the same thing if you were the one trapped in some nightmare dimension like Grunkle Ford was!”

“Would you have, Mabel?” Dipper asked dubiously. “Because if we’re being perfectly honest here, I don’t think you would. After all, I’m always the one who has to end up sacrificing the things I want and need for you, not the other way around! If Bill was right about one thing, it was that. And you pretty much just proved that completely yesterday by not hearing me out about hitting that shutdown switch! The one time I ask you to do something that could have potentially saved the entire world and you don’t even listen to me!”

“Dipper, I—we wanted to listen to you!” Mabel argued back intensely, and by now, Ford and the Gems had start to take notice of the effective shouting matching that was unfolding pretty much between just the twins at this point. “But your problem is that you think way too much with your head and never with your heart! Because me and Steven went with our hearts yesterday and they turned out to be right! Why can’t you just accept that!?”

“Because you didn’t trust me!” Dipper reiterated fiercely, clearly upset enough that he was almost to the point of tears, though he held them back nonetheless. “How many times do I have to say it?! A few weeks ago you guys made such a big deal about how important it was that we stand together and listen to each other, but then you two turned around and did the exact opposite of that! Do you guys even know what that felt like to me? It was like you guys just… shut me out, like you-”

Steven suddenly interupted with a sharp gasp of realization upon hearing this, his eyes growing wide as he finally hit what very well could be a breakthrough in everything. “L-like what Mom did to the Gems…” he muttered, his eyes wide as he stared up to the nearby pink platform.

“Steven?” Connie frowned in confusion, the twins doing the same as they wondered how any of this related back to the argument at hand.

“Pearl,” Steven began, looking to the white Gem as he started to work of this realization. “You said that Mom used to keep a lot of secrets because she wanted to protect everyone?”

“W-well… yes…” Pearl nodded, unsure of where her young ward was going with this. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if that’s true, then that means Mom didn’t keep secrets from you guys because she didn’t trust you…” Steven continued, pacing around in the shallow water of the cave as he continued thinking thins out. “She did it to keep you guys safe from… something…”

“Something…” Amethyst repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Like… what?”

“I… don’t know…” Steven shook his head. “But I don’t think that’s the important thing here anyway. What’s important is that she did trust you guys, and she trusted you too, Mr. Ford, didn’t she?”

“W-well, I’d like to think that she did,” Ford remarked, glancing down in slight shame. “For a time anyway…”

“Well, she trusted you enough to show you armory, and a bunch of other things too!” Steven assured thoughtfully. “But… what if there were things that she still kept secret from everyone, things that she didn’t ever tell anyone about ever, because she wanted to keep her friends safe from something really bad.”

“Well what kinda secret would that be?” Amethyst asked, hands on her hips.

“It would be something like… hm…” the young Gem had to take pause from his ongoing line of reasoning here, knowing that he was still missing one essential piece out of this growing puzzle. A piece that had to be something that neither the Gems nor Ford had any prior knowledge of. A piece that could very well lead to the answers they were all still so desperate to find. A piece that, as it finally dawned upon Steven in another burst of sudden realization, was much more pinker and fluffier than he thought it would be. “Lion!”

“Lion?” everyone save for Ford asked rather incredulously, all of them now completely lost by the young Gem’s newfound, bizarre conclusion.

“We gotta get back to the temple, right now!” Steven implored, splashing loudly through the cave as he ran towards its exit, the others all curiously following after him. “Come on!”

No one really understood what Steven had in mind for his impromptu plan as they arrived back at the temple, save for the fact that it apparently involved Lion. Almost as soon as they all stepped inside, however, the young Gem wasted no time in frantically rushing forward and urgently calling for his pink pet, knowing that time was of the essence in solving this longstanding mystery now.

“Lion!” he shouted, glancing around for the pink beast as the others filed in behind him. “Lion! Come on out! We need you to-”

The young Gem was interupted as the pink beast suddenly leapt down from the loft above, nearly knocking him down in the process. As Steven re-steadied himself, he let something of an exasperated huff out upon seeing his comforter draped over his pet’s head. “Ugh, Lion!” he groaned, pulling the blanket off of him. “How many times do I have to tell you!? My bed is for me to sleep on, not for you, even when I’m not here!”

“By Tesla’s coil…” Ford muttered in amazement as he stepped forward to take a better look at the pink beast. “T-that lion is pink!”

“Uh, yeah, tell us something we don’t know,” Amethyst rolled her eyes.

“What a scientific marvel!” the author continued with an impressed smile. Lion sent him an unenthused glare but surprisingly didn’t growl at him as he curiously approached him. “And he’s so tame too! Certainly, he has to have some sort of magical or supernatural origins! Where on earth did you find him?”

“In the desert, a few months before this summer started,” Steven replied, stroking his pink pet’s fur. “But… he has this huge tree inside his mane, i-it’s a little hard to explain, but there are a whole bunch of stuff in there. Stuff that I think used to belong to my mom… Its where we found her sword and this tape she left for me, and there’s a lot of other things in there too. A-and…” he turned to the Gems as he briefly paused, clearly nervous as he purposed his latest idea to them. “Maybe it’s the ‘secret place’ Mom’s letter talked about. Maybe… its where your memories are.”

“Oh, Steven, don’t be ridiculous,” Pearl scoffed. “The chances of our memories being hidden inside Lion’s mane are even lower than them being at the armory.”

“It’s a good guess,” Garnet assured, placing a hand on her young ward’s shoulder. “But it just doesn’t seem very likely.”

“No!” Steven protested, pulling his shoulder away. “Garnet, you said that we have to investigate anything that could lead us to where your memories are. Well I really do think that whatever’s inside Lion’s mane could at least help us get closer to finding them! Please, just… trust me on this, ok? It’s worth a look, isn’t it?”

The Gems said nothing to this, instead exchanging an uncertain glance before they all backed off to allow Steven the room to do what he needed to. The young Gem himself took in a deep, steady breath as he nodded to Lion, who simply tilted his chin up, granting his master access to the pocket dimension tucked away inside his pastel mane. And, taking in a deep breath and letting go of any reservations about what he might find, Steven jumped right in.

The grassy fields of Lion’s mane were just as calm and peacefully silent as Steven always knew them to be, though unlike the countless times he had visited them before, this time, something felt… different. It was as though the very atmosphere, or lack there of rather, that covered the seemingly boundless space was filled with something ominous and unsettling, almost as if it knew what he was there looking for.

And it wasn’t happy about it.

Even so, Steven forced himself to ignore the growing dread in his own heart as he pressed forward through the tall grass, the large, pink tree still afar off in the distance, though it loomed closer with each step he inched towards it. As he ventured closer, his breath dutifully held and his eyes focused on his destination, the young Gem couldn’t help but think about his mother. Rose Quartz, the leader of the Crystal Gems, who saved so many and gave so much. Who harbored so many secrets, both big and small. Who had left so much confusion and uncertainty behind. Who, the more he learned about, the more he seemed to know nothing about at all.

“She was more than just nice,” his father had told him with a warm, earnest smile of deepest affection and love. “She was sweet, and selfless, and funny, and brave, and beautiful, and amazing…”

“Your mother always believed that trust was something that shouldn’t be given away so easily,” Garnet had said, but Steven couldn’t help but question that supposed belief now, in spite of it all. “She believed it was something that should be earned, and that everyone should be given the chance to earn it.”

“I don’t know what kind of sweet, little fluffy lies the Gems have been feeding you, kid, but your mom was far from the amazing, perfect, flawless goddess those three thought she was!” Stan had harshly criticized, with a kind of disdain that the young Gem now understood the reasoning behind. Disdain that, in a way, he even saw as somewhat reasonable, at least from the conman’s perspective.

“She was always, always thinking of humanity, of the earth, of her fellow Crystal Gems over herself,” Pearl had said with a loving sigh of adoration, one that perhaps, Steven started to realize, carried some biases to it all their own.

“I was always able to bear my secrets to her, just as she often entrusted her own secrets to me,” the journal had read and Ford still echoed his sentiments of deepest respect for the pink Gem even now. Sentiments that, much like the Gems’ refused to be shaken. “I can only hope she’ll understand. She has to understand. She’s the only one I still completely trust…”

“Then again, I’m hardly surprised,” Bill had said during a moment of such high intensity that it had barely even registered again in Steven’s mind until now. “After all, your mom did the exact same thing way back when before just making everybody forget about it later on!”

Steven had to take in a sharp gasp of realization upon recalling this callous remark, to the point that he was forced to stick his head outside of Lion’s mane ever so briefly to catch it. He didn’t even bother sticking around to answer anyone’s pressing questions as he quickly shoved himself back inside, his mind absolutely reeling by what the dream demon had said several weeks ago no. There was no way, no way Bill could have been right about that; certainly it had to have been just another one of his infamous lies and deceitful ploys. The idea that Rose had known where the Gems’ memories had been all this time was bad enough; but the implication that she had been the very one to take them in the first place was something else altogether. Certainly, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Because…

“Take care of them, Steven…” Rose had said herself to him in a tape made years ago. A tape filled with so much warmth and love and sincerity that it usually pushed all thoughts of his mother’s shadowed secrets away. But not this time. Because as Steven scaled the hill leading to the tree, the only thing left in place of that warmth was a bitter chill, in place of that love was fear, in place of that sincerity was doubt, more doubt that he had ever really felt before. She had entrusted him with the Crystal Gems, with the protection of the earth and everything upon it. Those were burdens he could handle, burdens that were heavy yes, but manageable. But she had also left him with her secrets, with the ghosts of her past still unreckoned in the present, with all the horrible mistakes she might have made. With all the things that he knew he wasn’t strong enough to carry, even if he wanted to.

And as he finally reached the tree and happened to peer just beyond the chest resting near its base, he found just about the heaviest burden she could have left him with.

His heart sank with a feeling of absolute woe as he caught sight of it: an unassuming glass tube, the very same kind the Society of the Blind Eye had once horded en masse. It lay gently in the low grass, a label pressed to its side that bore a very simple designation written in a deceptively beautiful script:

“Crystal Gems’ Memories”

Steven’s hands were shaking as he reached down to pick the tube up, grasping it ever so gently as he pulled it into his grasp. Tears had started to well up in the young Gem’s eyes as the realization crashed down upon him all at once that it was all true. That Rose really had been keeping this momentous secret from her teammates, from her friends all this time. That she had barred them from the truth, truth that they had agonized over missing for so very long now, truth that she could have very well stolen away from them herself. Truth that he had finally, finally found, and truth that he had every intention of returning to who it rightfully belonged to.

Something that his mother had apparently never bothered to od.

Since he was starting to run out of air, Steven quickly bounded down the hill, practically leaping out of Lion’s mane and back into the house as he landed on the floor clumsily. As tense as everyone was, no one really bothered to give him too much of a chance to catch his breath as they all crowded around him, eager to hear his findings.

“Steven, are you ok?” Mabel asked with concern upon noticing the tears streaming down the young Gem’s face.

“Did you find anything in there?” Connie asked, equally worried as Steven slowly pushed himself up to sit.

“Uh… y-yeah…” he muttered morosely, looking down to the memory tube held tightly in his arms. “I… I think I did…”

Steven let out a sad sigh as he held the tube up for the Gems to see, a unified gasp of shock escaping them as they realized what it was. The young Gem had always imagined this to be a moment of immense relief and joy for his guardians; the long awaited reunion with their lost memories should have been exciting and liberating. But instead, it only felt like a betrayal of the absolute worst kind.

“T-those are… they can’t be…” Pearl whispered, wrapping her hands around Garnet’s arm tightly.

“T-they are…” the Gem leader said weakly, not even hiding the dismay in her tone.

“B-but… but why were they… in there all this time?” Amethyst asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

Garnet took in a deep breath, steadying herself for her teammates as resolve filled her expression. “There’s only one way to find out,” she said, looking to the memory tube first, and then to her teammates. “Gems?” she offered, though neither Amethyst nor Pearl seemed very keen on taking the initiative. “Alright then, I’ll go first.”

The others all watched in tentative silence as Garnet took the tube, placing her palms against both of its end tips. However, the moment she did so, a spark of energy rushed from the tube to the two gemstones making contact with it, eliciting a gasp of surprise from the Gem leader as she went rigid and still. For a moment, her expression only conveyed shock; her jaw dropped and her eyes unreadable underneath her shades. No one else had any idea what she could have been seeing, what memories she was recalling, what secrets she was learning, but in the end, it all proved to be too much for her as she let out a sharp, distraught cry, her hands flying away from the tube as she stumbled backwards. The tube itself nearly shattered on the ground, but fortunately, Pearl managed to catch it just in time as the others all looked to the compromised Gem leader in concerned alarm.

Garnet said nothing as she backed against the far wall, her shades disappearing to reveal her trio of eyes, all huge with terror and oncoming tears in an expression of unabridged fear that none of them had ever seen on her before. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, a hand pressed tightly against the side of her head as she shook it repeatedly, as sign of how unable she was to comprehend what she had just seen.

“G-Garnet…” Steven asked, taking a small, hesitant step towards her. “A-are you… ok?”

The Gem leader didn’t respond, her eyes darting downward as she remained in her state of silent, frantic panic, completely unresponsive to everyone else around her. Pearl and Amethyst in particular were quite stunned to see their usually steadfast leader so shaken, and as they looked to the memory tube again, they were both left wondering if reclaiming what she just had was even worth it at all. “W-what did she see just now?” Amethyst asked quite apprehensively.

“I-I don’t know…” Pearl said, warily eyeing the tube once more. “Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad, right?”

Amethyst simply shrugged in response to this, something that Pearl took with a readying sigh as she began to lift the tube up to the gem on her forehead, knowing that was how Garnet had absorbed the memories contained therein. And much like Garnet, Pearl’s expression went completely blank as she touched it to her gemstone, though it only took a moment or two for the same kind of horror to fill her eyes as she let out nothing short of a scream of anguished fear. The white Gem practically threw the memory tube away from her, though Amethyst managed to nab it with a well timed stretch of her arm before it could hit the wall. All the same, Pearl let out another heartbroken cry as she quickly collapsed to her knees, choking on several sobs all the while as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

“H-how could we… w-we were tricked, we didn’t… what have we done?!” she cried miserably, her voice rising in yet another agonized shriek before she broke down into the same, tearful, inconsolable state Garnet was still in. The kids, Ford, and Amethyst could all only watch their absolute breakdowns with apt alarm, none of them having the faintest idea about what apparent horrors their previously lost memories could hold. The purple Gem in particular looked down at the tube anxiously, knowing that if she were to gain those memories herself, then she’d likely fall apart just as her teammates had. And yet…

“Amethyst, wait,” Steven stopped her as she began to pull the tube towards the gem on her chest. “Y-you don’t have to…”

The purple Gem’s expression turned grave as she heard this, shaking her head solemnly as she spared another pitied glance towards Garnet and Pearl. “Yeah… I do…” she muttered despondently, taking in a deep breath before she placed the tube against her gem. Just like her teammates, it took a moment for Amethyst to really respond to whatever secrets the tube held inside it, but when she did, her reaction wasn’t one of shock or grief. It was anger. The purple Gem let out an appalled gasp, her eyes igniting with furious fire as she ripped the memory tube away from her, letting out a fierce shout as she slammed it hard into the ground, shattering it into hundreds of irreparable pieces.

“She lied to us!” Amethyst practically screamed with fury, her fingers tightly knitted into her messy hair. “All this time! All these years and she couldn’t even bother to tell us anything just so she could hide her own mistakes!? How could she do this to us?!”

“Do what?” Ford asked, both immensely concerned and immensely curious as he addressed all three of the Gems. “What happened? What did you see?”

As soon as the author asked this, the Gems all snapped their gazes over to him, each of them wearing some variation of a hostile scowl, something that Ford was genuinely caught off guard by. “W-what did we see?” Pearl began coldly, wiping her tears away and replacing them with anger as she stood. “I’ll tell you what we saw! We saw-”

“Pearl,” Garnet quickly cut in, still against the wall, though her expression had hardened somewhat. Her shades were still gone as she sent an intentful glance towards the kids, silently telling her teammate that what they had witnessed was something that didn’t need to be discussed in front of them.

The white Gem heeded her leader, though all the same, she turned to Ford briefly, whispering only two words that none of the kids were able to hear, though they left the author completely in shock. “W-what?” he stammered, hoping he had heard Pearl wrong, though she didn’t bother to repeat herself as she abruptly turned on her heel and marched towards the temple, letting out another remorseful, bitter sob as she did. Amethyst followed soon after, grumbling hotly to herself as she stormed into her room, not even sending another glance back at the stunned group behind her. Garnet lingered just a moment longer, her three-eyed sights fixated on the broken remains of the memory tube on the ground before her, as if it held any of the answers she was failing to find.

“G-Garnet?” Steven spoke up apprehensively, taking a step towards the shaken Gem leader. Garnet briefly glanced up at him, her eyes filled with pain, regret, fear, and a million other things at once as she prepared to speak to him, only to end up saying nothing at all. Instead, she simply summoned her shades once again, standing upright as she too retreated inside the temple, unable to even begin describing the horrors her and her teammates had just seen.

“W-wait!” Ford called after her, rushing up to the temple gate just as it closed. “Please, just tell me what happened! W-what did he—what did Rose do to…” The author trailed off, stilling his knocking on the door as he let out a defeated sigh and hung his head in shame, knowing that, based on the incredibly small amount of information he had so far, he couldn’t help but blame himself for it all.

“G-Grunkle Ford?” Mabel spoke up anxiously. “Are the Gems… ok?”

Ford hesitated in turning back to face the kids, but when he did it was with a small, largely fake smile of reassurance. “Ah… um… t-they will be. There’s no doubt that whatever memories they just recalled were… somewhat intense. It’s understandable that they’d need a little time to… adjust, so to speak…”

“It was Mom, wasn’t it?” Steven asked, his back turned to everyone else as he instead stared at the portrait of his mother rather coldly. “She was the one who erased their memories. That’s why they were hidden in Lion’s mane; she put them there. Like Amethyst said, s-she lied to them…”

“I-I… I’m not sure if she… M-maybe she just… She…” Ford stammered, clearly unsure of what to say as he looked to the serene portrait of the pink Gem himself. The author knew there was much that he could have said, not just to the kids, but to the Gems, to himself really, in a moment like this. Unspoken regrets, unkept promises, unabashed guilt; but in the end, he said none of it, opting to take the same route of silence as the Gems had by making a swift retreat of his own. “I… don’t know…” he mumbled to the kids as he passed by them, his tone and his manner both low and remorseful. Yet all the same, he did stop briefly as he began to step outside, offering the kids something of a bittersweet smile as he left them with a few genuine words of affirmation. “You know, despite how everything turned out, you kids really did come through and figure this conundrum out, and that’s something to be proud of. The four of you really make quite an impressive team.” Ford let out a small, somewhat sad laugh as he finally left, though not before muttering one final, wistful statement to himself. “Just like myself and the Gems did back in the day, I suppose…”

And with that, the author departed, leaving the kids alone in a state of heavy silence as they all tried to wrap their heads around everything that had just happened. There was no doubt that something significant had changed with the restoration of the Gems’ memories, but exactly what that something was was largely unclear. However, Steven hardly even thought of this apparent change as he instead continued staring at the picture of his mother, his hands slowly clenching into tight fists at his side as his despair started to grow into frustration. Which in turn, quickly grew into a rare kind of anger he was powerless to control.

“I can’t believe it…” he began, quietly at first, though his volume quickly rose as the others all looked to him in confusion. “All this time, all this time we’ve been trying to figure out what happened to the Gems’ memories, and the answer was always right here! Mom took their memories! They were her friends and she stole from them without even thinking about how much it might hurt them!”

“Oh, Steven…” Connie frowned, wanting to comfort the young Gem amidst his upset anger. “M-maybe she had to erase their memories. Whatever the Gems saw… it looked like it really scared them. Maybe that was her way of helping them deal with that.”

“But why couldn’t she think of another way?!” Steven exclaimed, distraught as he began to intensely pace back and forth. “Why did she have to go and take something that was so important to them and just… just hide them for so long without telling anyone?! She didn’t give them a choice or anything, she just did it to try and fix whatever happened, but it didn’t fix anything at all! It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right! It’s just like-!” The young Gem cut himself off with a sharp gasp, his eyes widening as he realized he had no right to be upset with his mother for such a momentous mistake. After all, he had nearly done the exact same thing to one of his own friends just a few mere days ago.

Steven’s eyes welled up with tears, a guilty sob escaping him as he looked to Dipper, who, up until that point, had only been watching the young Gem’s outburst in concerned alarm. However, his surprise only grew as Steven suddenly rushed towards him, pulling him into a tight, sorrowful hug that admittedly caught Dipper completely off guard.

“S-Steven, what-”

“Dipper, I-I’m so sorry!” the young Gem cried morosely. “I finally understand why you were so upset with me and Mabel about what happened yesterday! Its because we didn’t trust you! B-because I didn’t trust you, a-and that’s why I almost erased your memories back when we were dealing with the society! I thought you couldn’t handle it all but I was wrong! I was only thinking about how bad I felt then, about how scared I was yesterday that I didn’t even t-think about how… about… about anything else! You’re right… I-I… I’m selfish… Just like my mom was…”

Dipper had to take pause upon hearing all this, still lost in surprise as he felt the young Gem sob miserably while still maintaining their embrace. For the first time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty himself for the grudge he had been holding onto so tightly ever since that portal blew open. A grudge that, in light of everything they had uncovered and everything that they had been through together, seemed far too petty and unimportant to really hold a place in his heart any longer.

And yet, before he could let it go, Mabel spoke up, her tone shaken yet sincere as she managed to join in on the hug between the boys herself. “Dipper, I… I’m sorry too…” she said, much softer than Steven had, though tears were starting to fill her eyes as well. “You were right… we really did shut you out. We broke our promise to stick by each other and be a team, and then we—I guess I just thought that things would get better on their own, so I didn’t even try to make it right… J-just like I always do, right?”

“Mabel, no…” Dipper protested softly, gently pulling himself out of Steven and Mabel’s shared embrace. “Y-you guys didn’t… I was just…” He trailed off, trying to focus everything he wanted to say to them both down to something concise, meaningful. And once he did, he couldn’t help but do so with a remorseful sigh. “I… I was wrong. About Stan, about the portal, about… well, just about everything. In fact, when it comes to the big things this summer, there’s probably about only a handful of times when I’ve actually been right. And I guess I was just so tired of being wrong about everything all the time that I wanted to blame it on someone other than myself so… maybe I sort of just… pinned it all on you two. Which is something else that’s wrong, when you think about it, because you guys totally don’t deserve that. You did what you thought was right. And… in the end, it turned out for the best. I mean, it brought Great Uncle Ford back to where he belongs, it led to us finding the Gems’ memories—for better or worse—it gave us the answers to so many of the questions we had this summer. So… I’m sorry for holding it all against you guys. What happened yesterday… it changed pretty much everything. But the one thing that it shouldn’t change because of any of it is us.”

“And it won’t,” Mabel assured with a small, but steadily growing smile. “Remember what we talked about last night? About not getting all stupid like Stan and Ford, and heck, even the Gems did? Well, we’re not gonna turn out like them. We’re better than that, all four of us are!”

“That’s right!” Steven agreed as they welcomed Connie into their quickly developing group hug. “Because we’re…”

“The Mystery Kids!” they all chimed in together, laughing warmly as they all pulled together, both physically and symbolically. The past few days, the past few weeks really had been tumultuous for all four of them, through trials ranging from Homeworld invasions to battles against demons both external and internal to even interdimensional portals and hidden memories sealed away. But even despite all the strain it had been put under, their bond was a resilient one, built to last under the pressure stacked against it without crumbling apart. What was lost between the kids had been found, and as long as they kept sight of it, so it would remain.

And yet… even despite the comforting assurance of their newly-secured friendship, the kids still had their worries. Worries of the past they still knew nothing about, about the mistakes and terrors laying dead but not buried somewhere years before any of them were even born. Anxiety about the present, about how things were now as shaken and shattered as they were in light of everything they had learned.

And most of all fears of the future, of what they’d find as they moved onward into the unsteady, uncertain darkness ahead, where literally anything or anyone could lie in wait.

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