#at least we have some nice new gnome decorations for the place?

[victorluvsalice]

Welcome back to the Chill Valicer Save, where we have reached Fall Friday! And the gang going out to yet another world to peddle their Van Liddelton Snacks. :) Let's see how that went for them –

-->Started with everyone where I’d left them on Saturday – Alice sleeping, Victor working on his new song, Smiler editing their latest SimsTube video (“Karaoke Til Spooky,” the singing video they were working on when they got interrupted by the house making weird noises), and Marm playing chess while his durability slowly degraded. I had Smiler finish their edits on the video (just had to add some fancy transitions), hype it up to their followers, then upload it, while I sent Marm out to feed Toothy the cowplant before anybody got any ideas about eating the cake tongue –

And then the game informed me “hey, pop-up holiday today, it’s Night On The Town” by flashing that little “there’s something new on the calendar” light on the, well, calendar. XD I made a mental note of that for later and sent Smiler down to meet Marm once Toothy was fed and give him a tune-up so he didn’t suffer any catastrophic explosions –

-->And then I looked over at the wind farm and was like “is every fucking turbine broken AGAIN?!” *shakehead* I promptly sent Smiler and Marm over to go repair them (as Victor was still busy with his song) – then remembered “oh wait, Marm’s ready to get an enhancement level – I should have Smiler make a mechanism so they can upgrade him” and sent Smiler to the robotics bench to do that instead while Marm kept repairing. Because hey, he does need to learn some skills, and Handiness is always a good one! I’d planned for him to get them all while I pushed Victor to complete his song –

But then, midway through Marm’s repair efforts, I realized that poor Victor really had to go to the bathroom. So I reluctantly stopped progress on his classical piece and let him use the toilet...then, since he was up already, had him cast Repairio on a handful of the turbines (and one busted water collector) to speed up the repair process once he was done washing his hands. Because I wanted that damn wind farm working again FASTER, damn it. (Seriously, why do the turbines break so often?? It’s annoying.)

-->Anyway – with all the water collectors and wind turbines back in functional condition, I had Victor go kick a creepy doll by the laundry nook, then prepared to have him start the laundry before heading into the greenhouse...but before I could, I noticed a few things. Namely, that the minifridge in the greenhouse was broken (thanks to the angry gnomes from Harvestfest); both fridges were stinking (thanks to the spoiled food within, as no one in this family has to eat often enough to take care of all the leftovers); AND that the back porch umbrella table was a scorched mess (thanks to a lightning strike I must have missed on Harvestfest). I thus had Victor Repairio the table and the minifridge, then clean the spoiled food out of the kitchen fridge before finally putting the laundry into the washer. With a bluebell to keep it floral fresh. Glad something is fresh in this house!

-->While all that was happening, Smiler finished up their mechanism, and Marm finished repairing the final turbines and scavenging all the trash piles for parts before sticking them in his inventory for later recycling. I thus had Smiler start properly enhancing Marm while Victor took a moment to Scruberoo the puddles in the greenhouse before going to rummage through the trash pile left behind by the gnomes. I myself took a moment to clear up the gnome population while he did that – moving one of the gnomes standing on a rock and the gnome sitting on a rock over to the corners of the greenhouse; sticking the ordinary gnome in the little wheelbarrow out front of the greenhouse; putting the reaper gnome and the alien gnome outside of Toothy’s pen; and just straight up selling the duplicate “standing on a rock” gnome and the two pool gnomes. So these little fuckers are all set until the next Harvestfest. :p

[spencers-renaissance]

The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

Summary: After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

Tags: high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Part Two

This is a platonic Derek & Spencer friendship fic because they are minors, but there are seeds being fairly obviously sown for part two of this series which will be set when they are both over the age of 18.

Spencer unfolds the creased piece of paper he’s holding for the eleventh time as he stares up at the house in front of him. He remembers the address scrawled on the sheet Derek Morgan had ripped from the back of his notebook earlier that day perfectly, the spiky peaks of his handwriting and the surprisingly loopy ‘y’s and ‘g’s are burned into his brain, but nerves have overtaken his helpless body. He’s not exactly in control of his actions. 

It’s not much but it’s definitely a cheerful house, that much is clear from the brightly lit windows and colourful curtains, the many gnomes decorating the front garden and the carefully planted flowers neighbouring the vegetable patch. One of the windows upstairs is cracked slightly and he can hear 90s R&B floating through the airwaves, accompanied by a female singing voice. The welcome he knows he’ll receive, though, is exactly what’s giving him pause.

A happy home is so foreign to him he has no idea how to behave. He’s used to being the adult, but tonight he has to play the 16 year old he is, and his mask is so dusty and disused he’s worried he won’t be anywhere close to convincing. 

Eventually, though, he summons up the courage to make his way up the stony path leading to the bright red front door. A brass knocker stares him in the face, but there’s a doorbell to his right as well, and the choice debilitates him for a moment, leaving him standing uselessly on the front step. He decides on the doorbell, since it’s a little more subtle, and he only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door is being yanked open and a smiling Derek Morgan is right in front of him. 

“I thought you’d never come.” His voice is bright and cheery but Spencer wonders for a moment if he’s mad at him. He’d been early when he first turned onto Derek’s road, but his over-thinking and ritualistic obsession over the address written on a scrap piece of paper had made him late. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and his desperation to be understood, his clear discomfort in such a foreign environment must be obvious, because Derek’s face softens even further. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” he grins, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him deeper into the hallway as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

Pretty boy. He’d used the nickname once earlier that day when they were planning when to meet up for their science project, and Spencer had flushed immediately. No-one’s ever called him pretty. He’s an awkward, lanky 16 year old senior who’s far too short for his age; his appearance isn’t exactly conducive to flattery. 

The last time anyone had called him by a fond nickname was when he was eleven years old and his mother was still somewhat rational. She’d pulled him close and called him her baby boy, and while some pre-teens might have recoiled from such a name, he simply snuggled closer and tried to remember every second he was wrapped up in such warmth. Five years later, he’s so thankful he did. He replays it most nights before he drops off to sleep.

He blushes again at Derek’s easy affection, trying to relax into the warmth of his house. 

“Is that your friend, honey?” A woman emerges from what Spencer assumes is the kitchen, drying her hands on a teatowel. She looks every bit the stereotypical American mother, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes with a warm smile plastered across her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Fran, Derek’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says shyly, trying to meet her eyes but failing miserably. He can’t help that this whole experience is so out of his comfort zone it’s ridiculous. 

“Do you boys want any snacks to take up with you?”

“Are you hungry, Spencer?” Derek asks, and he internally panics for a moment. Yes, is the answer. Yes, I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten today is an apple this morning. But is he allowed to say that? He examines the both of them and it does look like a genuine offer, but will they guess that something is wrong if he says yes? It’s only six o’clock, though, so maybe he can swing it.

“Yes please,” he dares, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fran says, putting her hands on her hips. “You both head on up. I’ll bring up a tray.” 

Derek’s room is big, filled with football trophies and posters. It’s so achingly normal that Spencer’s stomach clenches as he gingerly takes a seat on his bed at Derek’s instruction. 

“I did some research that will help us with our presentation,” Spencer offers as Derek sits on his desk chair, spinning around to face him. 

It had been a shock when they’d been paired up. Derek’s friends had hollered and laughed when their chemistry teacher had paired them together, and Spencer had gone bright red at the humiliation, not that he could exactly blame them. Pairing up the skinny nerd who’d been moved up two grades with the jock who was almost guaranteed a football scholarship to an excellent university later this year had been a rather bizarre choice on their teacher’s part.

It’s not that Spencer minded: along with being the quarterback with a 4.0 GPA, he was also painfully nice. But everyone else certainly did. Every girl in their science class had sent him death glares as Derek had sauntered over to his desk at the end of class, wearing a lazy grin.

“Chill, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he pushes himself side to side in his spinning chair. “We got time.”

“I have to be back home by 9,” Spencer says sheepishly. He’s sure most people in their senior year are allowed to stay out later than that, and he hopes against hope Derek thinks it’s only because he’s sixteen and not that he has to get his mother into bed and try and force her meds down her throat so she won’t wake him up in the middle of the night convinced the shadows in her room are government spies. 

“Still three hours. Anyway, I’m sure my mom can drop you home,” Derek shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, we have weeks until we have to present. Why don’t we spend tonight getting to know each other? I feel like I should know a little bit about my project partner, especially if we’re going to be working together for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year?” His voice squeaks anxiously but he can’t help it, Derek’s completely catching him off guard. 

“Yeah. Ms Farron keeps partners from the first project together for every assignment that year.”

This is news to Spencer, but he tries to keep calm. It’s a good thing, right? Derek has always been friendly to him, and he’s intelligent, too. It’s unlikely he’ll fob all the work off onto him. But being taken advantage of and subsequently left alone is what he’s used to: ‘getting to know each other’ is decidedly new territory. Spencer’s head is spinning. 

“Oh.”

“So, pretty boy,” Derek grins, giving himself another 360 spin, “tell me what a 16 year old is doing in senior year.”

“I got moved up two grades back in elementary school,” he explains, grateful that this is at least a rather impersonal topic. “My teachers wanted me even higher but two grades is the maximum our school district allows.”

“I guessed that much,” Derek points out. “Why were you moved up two grades?”

They’re briefly interrupted by Fran’s delivery of a delectable spread for them to feast on. Spencer reaches for a cracker and dips it in some cream cheese, but as soon as he’s swallowed his first bite, Derek gives him a look that tells him he hasn’t exactly gotten away with it. 

He sighs. “The last time I was tested, I had an IQ of 187,” he admits, looking down at his worn sneakers. He’d expected to be told to remove them, but he’s glad he wasn’t. His socks almost certainly have holes in them, and laundry isn’t something he can afford to do often. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I knew you were a genius but that’s some next level shit,” he says, before popping a grape in his mouth. “You’re going places, Spencer Reid.” He’s saved from having to fight his blush too hard by Derek moving swiftly on. “Your turn to ask me a question.” 

Spencer takes a second to think before deciding to push the boat out, to ask something he actually wants to know instead of playing it safe. “You’re popular, star of the football team, get straight As,” he starts slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes. “What makes you so nice? You could easily join in with your friends and be another asshole jock pushing me into lockers.”

When he looks up, Derek’s face is an array of emotions. “Kindness costs nothing,” he says seriously, and the intensity of his gaze surprises Spencer. “I saw my pops shot to death in front of me when I was ten and I got my ass kicked every day in freshman year, believe it or not. I know what kindness can mean to a person just as much as I know what cruelty does to someone.”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he knows that he’s finally relaxed a little. Derek’s stark honesty and vulnerability, as much as he doesn’t know quite the right way to react, is refreshing to him, and it’s made the icon of their school seem much more human. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spencer says quietly. 

“Thanks, man,” Derek says, a half smile crossing his face. “What about your family life?” 

Spencer swallows another bite of his cream cheese and crackers, his empty stomach thanking him for finally filling it. “My dad walked out when I was ten,” he admits, treading as carefully as possibly. “It’s just me and my mom now.”

“I’m sorry. Are you and your mom close?”

How does he answer a question like that? They’re close in the respect that Spencer cares for her and spends every free moment he has with her. But he also holds his breath every time he turns down his street, half expecting to see his house up in flames, and they’re going hungry this week because she threw most of their groceries in a nearby river after convincing herself it was all poisoned. They don’t exactly have a typical mother-son relationship. 

“Something like that,” he mumbles, stuffing another cracker into his mouth. Derek clearly takes the hint that he doesn’t want to elaborate and moves on. 

They spend the rest of the evening taking it in turns asking one another questions, ranging from simple ones like their favourite colours to deeper conversations around their future plans and biggest fears. By the time 9 rolls around, they’re lying next to one another on Derek’s bed both facing the ceiling as they trade questions back and forth. Fran’s dinner tray is now covered in crumbs, her carefully prepared spread having been demolished by two hungry teenagers. 

Their assigned topic, Enthalpy, Entropy, and Free Energy, hasn’t even been touched, and Spencer can’t find it in him to care. He could throw together a perfect presentation the night before if he needed to. Right now, getting to know Derek Morgan seems far more important. Ironically, the boy he’s only really started to get to know three hours ago is probably the person who knows him best in this whole world, and the thought makes his chest hurt. 

The jittery nerves that had consumed him at the start of the evening have dissipated into a calm companionship, and he can’t believe how comfortable he now feels. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to take care of his mom; she’s already been on her own for so long today. 

As if on cue, Fran knocks on the door, poking her head round. “Would you like me to drop you home, Spencer?”

He feels guilty accepting, but the last thing he wants is a twenty minute walk home through the streets of Chicago in the pitch black December night. “Yes, please.”

Derek comes with them for the short drive, and Spencer feels a little embarrassed as he points out the apartment block he lives in. It’s a shitty neighbourhood and his building is crumbling, but it’s home and it’s the cheapest they can afford on welfare. He ducks out of the car and shoots them both a grateful smile. 

“Thank you for driving me home, Fran,” he says. “And thank you for a nice evening, Derek.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Derek winks. “I’ll find you at school tomorrow and we’ll sort out another night to meet up, yeah?”

The smile the Morgans put on his face doesn’t fade until he opens the door to his apartment and reality brings him crashing back down to earth. 

⭐️

Over the next few weeks, Spencer Reid gains his first friend. They finally end up actually writing their presentation and naturally, they get an A+ but Spencer’s anxiety that Derek would want to stop hanging out with him once the project that had brought them together was behind them ended up being for nothing. Derek had fist-bumped him as they’d walked out of their classroom. “Come over tonight?” he’d asked, and once Spencer had recovered from his shock, he’d beamed and nodded excitedly. 

As Christmas comes and goes, they continue their bizarre friendship. Spencer runs up to Derek’s room as soon as the door is opened, and dives under the covers on his bed, always freezing cold. The first time Derek had cuddled Spencer, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. He’s seriously touch-starved, and it’s only more apparent from the way he craves contact with Derek. He’s ridiculously thankful that the older boy is so free with his affection, not consumed by the same toxic masculinity that seems to plague the rest of the football team. 

It’s nearing February when Derek asks the fatal question.

Spencer had whizzed home after school and made sure his mom was okay before running over to Derek’s, breezing past Sarah on the staircase and diving onto the soft, clean bed sheets. He’s sometimes jealous of all the home comforts his friend has access to, but he does his best to tamp it down. It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault that he’s well-loved and cared for. 

“Whoa, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he spins around from where he’s doing homework at his desk. “Where’s that shy boy who sat right on the edge of my bed only two months ago, hm?”

“You prefer confident Spencer and you know it.” He moves up the bed a little to sit with his back against the headboard. He’s never become so comfortable around a person this quickly before but there’s something different about Derek. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He gets off the chair and moves to sit next to Spencer on the bed, lifting his arm to let the smaller boy cuddle close. Spencer sometimes has nightmares that the boys at school find out how affectionate they are with one another and call them gay after which Derek doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore. (Secretly, he thinks he might actually be gay, but he won’t tell Derek that. Just in case.)

“Can I stay for dinner?” he asks. It’s a moot point: Spencer always asks if he can stay and the Morgans always say yes, but he doesn’t like assuming, especially since he knows how expensive food is. Not that Fran has ever complained about an extra mouth to feed, though. The dinners at Derek’s house are always a family affair, full of laughter and hearty, homemade meals and Spencer likes pretending he’s one of them, just for a little while. 

The guilt that he’s leaving his mom for so long eats him up, only eased by the knowledge that she usually sleeps the afternoon away, worn out by a manic morning. He has no idea how to navigate this anymore. It was easier when the only person he had in the world was his mom, but now he has Derek and his family. And as much as he loves his mom and doesn’t mind taking care of her at all, spending time with Derek doesn’t automatically trigger gut-eating anxiety and heart-wrenching misery.

“Of course you can stay, don’t be ridiculous.” Derek elbows him playfully. “You don’t need to ask every night.”

“What if one night you don’t want me to stay, though?”

“I thought I told you to stop being ridiculous?”

Spencer can’t help but smile at Derek’s relaxed, easy grin. For some reason this popular football player with the world as his oyster and a million friends chooses to spend every evening with the nerd who’s two years younger than everyone in their year. For some reason, Derek chooses Spencer. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Derek asks the question. “Why don’t I come over to your place instead one evening?” It’s a casual suggestion, there’s nothing really behind it. “I’d like to meet your mom and see your bedroom. If you’re gonna make fun of my football trophies, I need some revenge material.”

Spencer freezes. He has no idea how to respond to such an innocent proposition. Derek takes his stunned silence as reluctance simply cured with a little more persuasion. “Besides,” he continues, “I feel bad that you always have to run home first before coming over here. It’s like a twenty minute walk.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer hedges, trying to buy time as he comes up with a cover story. “My mom is really particular about our space and she doesn’t really like visitors. I’m not sure your mom could spare you a family dinner anyway.” He pushes Derek playfully, hoping to God he’s even half-way convincing. 

One glance at Derek’s face tells him he isn’t buying it, but he can clearly read Spencer’s troubled anxiety expression so he doesn’t push it. “Okay, pretty boy,” he says, relaxing back into the bed, “we’ll stick with the Fran Morgan dinner delight for now.”

Something tells him he won’t get so lucky next time. 

⭐️

Spring is just starting to show her face the next time it comes up, and this time it’s completely Spencer’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone over to Derek’s. He should have made up an excuse and stayed in his shitty apartment with his mom, but he couldn’t help it. He was sore and desperately sad, and all he wanted was Fran’s comforting shepherd’s pie and a cuddle with Derek. So he’d made his way home, checked his mom was still sleeping before limping over to the Morgan’s.

He’d concealed it pretty well all day, but energy is seeping out of him and the pain is only getting worse, not helped by the decent trek across town. 

He has a key now, so he lets himself in, hoping to avoid Fran until dinner time. Luckily, he’s quiet enough to not disturb her baking in the kitchen, so he makes his way slowly up the stairs, hoping Derek is not as perceptive tonight as he usually is. He’d briefly considered using bullies as a cover story if it came up, but Derek has spent almost every moment he could at school with him the last few days, he wasn’t out of his sight long enough to really encounter anyone cruel enough for it to be a viable story. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek greets him, not turning away from the maths homework he’s finishing up. It gives Spencer a little extra time to make it to the bed like he usually does. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs. “A bit tired. You?”

“Training was rough today so I’m sore as shit, but otherwise I’m fine. Better now you’re here.” He turns to smile fondly at Spencer, finally locking eyes on his pale, sallow skin and defeated expression. He scrambles to try and make himself look slightly less terrible, but he’s not quick enough. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine,” Spencer tries to persuade him. “Just tired as I said. Can we watch a movie while we wait for dinner?”

Derek doesn’t look even close to convinced, but he gives in and brings up netflix on his computer. Spencer collapses against Derek and lets his eyes close as the film they choose plays across the laptop screen, but he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by his friend and he’s in a completely different position. 

“Spencer, wake up,” he says insistently, and the urgent worry in his tone makes him sit up, wincing when the movement aches his core. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily, obediently sitting up at Derek’s instruction. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek says, sounding teary and a little desperate, “where did you get those bruises?” 

He freezes for a second before glancing down at himself and realising that as he’d slept his shirt had shifted, revealing his black and blue stomach. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Not seeming himself wasn’t such a challenge, everyone has their off-days after all, but bruises like these aren’t the sort of thing your best friend just drops when you don’t want to explain them. 

“I—” He has no idea what to say. Tears spring to his eyes in a terribly unhelpful fashion, and Derek moves closer, wrapping Spencer up in a hug. 

“It’s okay, you can tell me, Spencer,” he promises as he holds him so tenderly it breaks his heart. “Take your time.” 

He cries for a good few minutes — it just feels so good to let it out — but as his painful sobs draw to a close, he knows it’s time to face the music. There’s no other option. He has to tell Derek. And maybe a teeny tiny part of him actually wants to tell his best friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he confesses, keeping his head buried in his friend’s chest so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Derek’s hand combing through his hair doesn’t falter. “The reason I didn’t want you to come to my place is because of my mom… She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. When my dad left I became her primary carer, and I’m— I’m not doing a good job.”

Derek holds him a little tighter and presses his cheek to the top of Spencer’s head, shushing him quietly. “Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job.”

“The other night she got confused because she’d refused her meds again. She became convinced that I was a spy there to hurt her. I can usually talk her down from these moments, or at least guide her to bed to let her sleep it off, but this time there was no reasoning. Eventually, she got so worked up that she shoved me backwards, hard. It sent me sprawling face first across the coffee table, and she kicked me twice before considering herself safe and barricading herself in her room.” He tells the whole story through thick tears, shoulders still shaking with pent up emotion. He wishes it didn’t feel so good to finally get off my chest. 

“Spencer, oh my God,” Derek whispers, sounding thoroughly shocked. He’s suddenly fearful that he’s going to report Diana, and he sits up, finally meeting Derek’s teary eyes with his own. 

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone,” he begs. “If anyone finds out, she’ll be locked away and I’ll be put into foster care. I can’t do that to her and I can’t lose you.” 

Derek takes Spencer’s hands. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, making him calm down a little. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, okay? Not without your permission. But I also can’t let you be beat up by your mom.”

“It’s not her fault,” Spencer says desperately, “it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she thinks she’s in danger.”

“I know,” Derek promises him, “I know it’s not her fault, but she still hurt you. Has this happened before?” Spencer’s hung head and refusal to respond speaks for itself. “Okay, listen. I know you need to go home tonight, but come over tomorrow morning okay? It’s a Saturday and we can spend the morning figuring out a game plan and the afternoon taking your mind off it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Is this… is this why you like being here?” Derek sounds nervous asking the question, clearly not wanting to offend him.

“Before I became friends with you,” he whispers, moving back to hide against Derek’s chest where it’s safe, “I went hungry a lot. We don’t have much money between rent and bills and mom’s medical expenses. I had to hide the groceries because she would become convinced they were poisoned and destroy them, but she got really good at finding them. I had to stop keeping them in my room because she would insist that I was corroborating with the government in trying to poison her.” 

“Spencer,” Derek breathes, holding onto him for dear life. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, I would’ve done something, I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’ll keep you safe now. I promise.” 

When Fran comes and asks them down for dinner a few minutes later, Derek points to Spencer’s exhausted form slumped against him and asks if they can have it up in his room. She relents, and Derek manages to get him to eat a few bites of the risotto Fran had made, not leaving his safe cocoon against Derek’s chest.

He insists on driving Spencer home himself tonight, surprising Fran who had her coat and boots on already, but he escorts his friend right up to his door. “If you come in, mom will get confused,” he explains so Derek gives him a long hug in front of his apartment door instead, holding him as close as possible. 

“Spencer… you know I love you right?” he asks, expression intense and serious as his gentle hands rest on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” he whispers, giving him another hug. It scares him just how much he means those five little words, all the meanings that dance behind them taking him aback. For now, though, he settles on one more tight squeeze before deciding to not procrastinate the inevitable anymore. “I should go in and see mom.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow?”

“Perfect.” His heart does an excited little leap at the thought of seeing Derek again in the morning. As he walks away back towards the elevators, Spencer takes a deep breath before inserting his key into the lock on his door and pushing it open. He only has to go 12 hours without seeing his best friend. He can do this. 

His life suddenly seems like it holds infinitely more promise than it ever has. He supposes that’s the power of Derek Morgan.

Part Two 

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith  (taglist form)

[maine-writes]

Ugly Sweater Holiday

That harsh, irritating, itchy feeling of a handmade sweater, Dipper would never get used to it. But, Mabel made it, so he had to.

The pair walked through the gentle snowfall, passing the usual comings and goings of that strange town called Gravity Falls. Gnomes were raiding the trashcans; a tall, thin, faceless man was discreetly passing out chocolates; and Toby, The Artist Formerly Known As Bodacious T, was living out his other other dream of being "The Spirit of Christmas", meaning that he was prancing around in green spandex, studded with mistletoe and holly, reminding the townsfolk of the meaning of Christmas.

"You think Pacifica will like our present?" Mabel wondered aloud, a carefully, lovingly wrapped present in her hands.

"What makes you think 'our'?" Dipper said, "You won't even tell me what you got her."

"What we got her."

The Northwest family, formerly one of the most prominent families in Gravity Falls. They used to live in Northwest Manor, a grand mansion overlooking the town. A few years ago, the family relocated out-of-state to pursue a better situation. Preston Northwest, the family patriarch, already ruined the family reputation when Bill Cipher almost took over the world. So he and his wife took everything they could to West Philadelphia. Their daughter, Pacifica, remained in Gravity Falls.

Now she lives in a house left by Susan Wentworth. She didn't die, mind you, she just went home.

Although this simple, two story house, was a far cry from the extravagant mansion of her youth, it did have its charms. Since she moved in a couple years ago, Pacifica has done her best to make it feel like home. The once cat-scratched white walls were given a new coat of lavender paint, the white molding was redone, the wooden floors were restored, and she has some potted plants hanging around.

The twins were greeted warmly with hugs and laughter. Mabel, as expected, couldn't help but be jumpy and giddy with Pacifica. With Dipper, on the other hand, the young hostess was awkwardly cordial.

The trio sat in the livingroom; a nicely furnished place, decorated with whatever Pacifica could bear to show off. The twins sat on a very comfy red couch, its frame was made of fine, dark wood. Pacifica sat on its accompanying chair. Mounted on the wall was a collection of paintings, and over the fireplace was a very menacing and old woodcutter's axe.

"So, what's new with you guys?"

"College, usual drama, boring stuff." Mabel groaned, setting her hot cocoa on the coffee table. "Oh, Dipper dumped his last girlfriend."

"Mabel!" Her brother protested, which only entertained her.

"D-, I mean, go on." Pacifica said, curiously.

"Well, he met this cute girl in his physics class," Mabel continued, much to Dipper's embarrassment, "They went out on a few dates, then he dumped her."

"W-why?"

"Becau-" Mabel began just as Dipper hit her with his baseball cap.

"That's enough Mabel." He pleaded.

"Oh fine, just because you asked nicely."

Then Mabel's eyes lit up, a sure sign of either her remembering something or coming up with something mischievous.

"Oh, Pacifica," she began as she produced her wrapped box grom under the table, "We got you a gift! Well, two!"

"Two?" Dipper asked.

"Two." She replied with a wink. "Anyways, I'm gonna do stuff in the bathroom. You know, bathroom stuff."

"Bathroom's down the hall, on the left."

But just before she got up, Mabel gave her brother a nudge to the side and a knowing wink. This only worried him.

Curious, Pacifica began to tear open her present. What appeared to be one box was actually two, carefully wrapped with two different kinds of paper. The first, wrapped up in red and green and images of pink elephants, had a card reading, "From Mabel".

Inside, was a fuzzy purple sweater with a beige llama on it. The llama wore a pair of black shades, a red sweater with red trim, and a Santa hat. Below it were the bedazzled words, "Christmas Party Queen".

"T-that's nice..." She commented. "Let me guess, she made it herself?"

"Sorry." Dipper said. "You know Mabel."

"Guess I'll slip this on since she got it for me." She said, throwing it over her head. As expected, it was itchy, but it fit.

Then she turned her attention to the other present, wrapped in blue and white paper. Inside, she discovered a holly red outfit with mistletoe white, fuzzy trim. A typical Santa outfit, except for a few modifications. Instead of a pair of black work boots, she had knee-high boots. The sleeves were cut, which were repurposed as long gloves. And it had a rather short skirt instead of pants.

"...Di-D-...umm..." Pacifica sputtered, but only just. Like Dipper, her face was flushed with red.

It was either embarrassment or horror, and they were both speechless. As Pacifica lifted up the tight-fitting dress, she noticed a large hole in the upper chest area.

"I-...I'm...a...I-" Dipper began, his heart and mind racing.

"W-well...gues-...guess I'll sli...since you..."

Dipper couldn't believe what he was hearing, or at least what Pacifica was trying to say. The two didn't notice the mistletoe Mabel carefully hung over them with a fishing pole.

"Oooooh" she howled mischievously, "Is that mistletoe?!"

But the two were sheepishly twiddling their thumbs instead of following the rule of the mistletoe. Mabel, annoyed by their lack of initiative, groaned and whined. Months of planning and hard work, going to waste all because of two idiots.

"Kiss, fuckers!"

@artsycooky13

[aleniksimmer]

Paranormal Stuff

As usual, at this point, some things I noticed in the new trailer.

Curtain, dreamcatcher and small old picture frame are nice, but I’, not convinced about the fireplace look, despite the side shelves. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the moon so big??

I hope lights actually do this.

The doll is so cute. Also the cube boc and the written hand are nice.

Again, I hope candles actually turns black/blue. The bird thing is also nice, reminds me of Egypt.

I mean, it’s nice I guess, but I wasn’t expecting this “style” to go with this pack. Remove the ghosts and you’re actually going to have Movie stuff 2.0. I’m kinda tired of this “bohemian/country style and desaturated clothes” like Movie, Laundry, Strangerville, Batuu etc. I wish there had been a more “edgy” approach in terms of clothes/furnture like RoM and Vampires.

Initially I thought these were the captured ghosts, but apparently they are just decor?

The “2020 mood” ghosts. And a, what appears to be, african statuette? Also, another hanging plant finally.

OMG so fricking scaaaryyyyyyy *sarcasm* but at least the hands plant on the background is cute. More of that kind of stuff please.

The small cowplant is cute and the fact that they used Strangerville plant on the frames is nice too.

Johnny Depp, is that you? At this point couldn’t it have been Tim Burton’s aesthetic?

Uhm, nice I guess? But still the style doesn’t scream fortune teller nor creepy dark witch to me. The characters dressed like this seem out of place.

I hope you can actually see the face inside and that’s not just a video effect.

I’m not really sure if I like the animation overall, seems a little stiff and repetitive? Idk.

Bob is me right now. Not fazed at all.

Gnomes and bees 2.0.

Apparently the ghosts are going to mess the place and the the new career includes being a maid.

Don, don’t try to flirt with the new dead maid. The candy vases remind me of Coraline, the cups are nice but probably just decore, and I hope the cupcakes aren’t made with actual ghosts.

What a nice bonding activity to do with your kids! I mean, they can’t take care of plants but I’m sure trying to break the wall between the living world and the realm of the dead is way less dangerous!

In conclusion, my personal opinions are: I don’t like the style of the pack, nor I like the fact that the ghosts are more cute than anything (at this point it seems they aren’t even trying to appeal to the older players, but just to the very young ones). I really would have liked a more dark/creepy/edgy approach. The evoke/banish ghosts alone seems boring in term of visuals and I think making it a career is the only right thing to do to make this feature more useful. I speak as a player who loves supernatural and occults, but this pack doesn’t inspires me that much. I admit, before the Disney ad pack I really really loved TS4 and I couldn’t stand all the negativity surrounding it, but after that extremely urequired pack the game didn’t appeal me that much anymore. Each announcement after that, except for the skintones and sliders, never really made me excited for the game again, and I know at the moment TS4 isn’t really pleasing family nor occult players with the new releases. I, at least, will hardly call this supernatural/occult and I hope they are not going to hide behind this SP and say that they’ve fulfilled occult players wishes. I’m still hoping that this year we’re going to get another proper occult type (like fairies, werewolves, maybe helves, zombies etc) and the preview pics of the skintone update kinda hinted at that, I distinctly remember there were a pink and yellow swatch on the unnatural category, something we don’t have and can’t achieve with the sliders and existing skin colors. Maybe this is just a precursor of something bigger since the year just begun. In the end I’ll still buy it cause I like some things and I’m a collector (except for batuu) but I’ll wait for a 50% sale at least.

PS: I’m probably going to write a post about life and stuff in the next days. I needed some time off for myself and I’m sorry I left you like this.

[dastardlydandelion]

respice finem

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced violence and abuse

part one link

obligatory irl inspo link

Max keeps pacing up and down the diameter of the room. She stretches her hands over her head and Billy thinks her protective hovering is starting to bug the nurses. They both stayed overnight but Billy’s at least taken a couple breaks. He got himself some Doritos from the vending machine. Borrowed and smoked a cigarette even though he virtually quit a couple years back. Took a short drive to a Kmart up the road and bought Max a change of clothes, supposing he wouldn’t able to get her anything of her own if her home was wrapped in caution tape.

“You wanna go down to the cafeteria, maybe? Get something to eat?”

“Not hungry.”

“Okay…did you know they have a gift shop? Wanna go check it out?”

“No.”

“Do you—“

“I’m not leaving, Billy.” Max’s eyes glitter in a stubborn glower.

“Oh, but maybe you should, sweetheart,” Susan says softly. “You’re getting restless.”

“I’m fine.”

“You should get out of this stuffy room. Go for a stroll, stretch your legs. I would if I could.”

Pure heartbreak flashes across Max’s face and Billy feels his own lurch.

“Oh dear, bad joke.” Susan frowns and flaps her hand, the tube connecting it to the IV pouch swaying gently in the air. “That was in poor taste, I apologize. But I do think you need to get some fresh air, Max. I’ll be fine.”

Max pauses. Her hands come together and she taps her thumbs together as she mulls it over.

“I’d feel better if you stayed here.” Max shifts her gaze to Billy.

“Didn’t plan on going anywhere,” he says honestly. Max is obviously wired and getting more antsy by the minute but Billy is the opposite. He’s wiped out after driving for several hours straight and aching from head to toe after scrapping with his dad.

“…alright,” Max relents after a very long moment. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

She gently swipes the back of her hand over her mother’s cheek. Susan blinks contentedly and hums in approval as Max trudges off to the door. She leaves. Susan's gaze flickers to Billy and then down. She frowns at the guardrail of the bed and uncertainly pushes at it with her palm.

“What’re you doing, Sue?”

“I don’t need this. I’m not going to roll out of bed.” She continues pushing at the guardrail but her efforts are weak and uncoordinated. Even if she had more power and precision behind her pushes, Billy’s pretty sure these things aren’t designed to be collapsed from the patient’s position.  

“It’s fine, just leave it alone.”

“No,” she refuses, eyes narrowing. “It’s in my way, Billy. It’s separating us.”

Something knocks loose inside his chest. Billy hasn’t seen her in three months. He hadn’t been particularly sure he’d ever see her again.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it a go. Here.” He sighs out and messes with the thing and after a couple tries and a few silent shrieks from his very sore shoulders, he finally figures out how to get the damn rail lowered, adjusting it accordingly.

“Thank you so much,” Susan breathes. “Now it's easier to do this.”

She stretches out her slender fingers and rests her hand upon his knee. She gives it a couple dulcet pats. Her pinky pokes inside the fraying tear in the denim, soft pad of her fingertip cool against his skin. Billy swallows, wonders how much he is allowed to touch. She wouldn’t be this affectionate with him if she knew.

“It’s my fault Neil found you and Max,” Billy admits, heart pumping guilt like sludge in his veins. “It’s my fault he almost killed you.”

“What?” Susan stares at with owlish eyes.

“I wanted to send Max a gift in the mail,” Billy explains, speaking slowly and plainly. “I hid it under my bed. My dad saw it when he raided my room looking for some shit he thought I stole from him. That’s how he got your address. I tried to stop him, Susan. But I couldn’t…I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Billy.” Susan signs, rubbing her lips together. Her hand travels from his knee to his wrist and she gently pushes up his jacket cuff. Billy doesn’t stop her. He watches her eyes darken at the sight of the bruises.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“You said it was a gift for Max?”

“Yeah…new skateboard.”

“I wish you would’ve just driven over to drop it off. Because if you came over, you would’ve seen how nicely we decorated our little duplex…you could’ve seen my darling little gnomes sipping tea and these delightfully clever novelty magnets Max found for the refrigerator. You could’ve sat on our couch and while it’s a bit worn— we got it secondhand —it’s very comfy. Maybe if you saw how nice everything was and sat in our cushy, comfy couch, you wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

Billy gapes at her, noncomprehending. He just confessed he’s the reason she almost got killed. That it's his fault his dad literally broke into her home to beat her to death with a wrench. And Susan doesn’t seem angry at all. He knows she's on the good shit, but still. She's not out of it. She heard what he said. Ahd she is frowning but it’s a more fretful expression than anything, dimple between her eyebrows, forehead crinkled in concern.

“I waited for you, Billy.”

Oh.

“We talked about this before you left, Susan,” Billy gently reminds her. “I told you why I chose to stay. Remember?”

“You wanted to protect us,” she murmurs, thumb chary as she rolls it over his bruised wrist. “Me and Max.”

Billy solemnly nods his head.

“Mm…” Susan’s eyes rove the room and then settle back on him as her lips curl into a doleful smile. “How well do you suppose that turned out?”

Billy’s eyes travel along the chest tube to the rectangular drainage unit on the floor, the printed numbers and increments he doesn’t really understand. Glances to her legs elevated on the pillows. The right one was more badly broken. Not badly enough to require surgery, but still too swollen for a hard cast. The swelling in her left went down and Susan got fitted for a cast just a couple hours ago. The dark purple color she picked matches the massive bruise that currently blooms across most of Billy’s back.

“I’m sorry.” He bows again even though it hurts, it hurts, he’s goddamn sore but not as sore as he is sorry. Billy feels the knot tremble in his throat and he is possibly more sorry than he’s ever been anything else in his life. There is a beast in his belly with a thousand guilty eyes and shame in every one of its silent, miserable cries.

“No, no, raise your head. Don’t— it’s not your fault, Billy.” He feels Susan’s hand sweep the fringe from his face in a few quick motions, delicate and deft. “Won’t you look at me?”

Warily, he glances up. Susan’s eyes are misting up as he feels his own stinging again. Shit. Max is going to kill him if he makes her mother cry.

“I am the one who needs to apologize," Susan declares. "For the life of me, I couldn’t convince you to come with us. I failed you.”

“What?” Billy scoffs in disbelief. “No, that’s not on you. I’m stubborn, I’m—“

“I am the adult,” Susan cuts him off, voice sharp even as her hand rests against his cheek lamb gentle. “The real adult, you're barely twenty. You did what you thought was best but I’m older and I knew better, and I couldn’t make you see it. I let you stay, I left you in the lion’s den.”

Billy doesn't really see it that way. He doesn't feel like a child, doesn't want to be treated as one. And he's no longer Neil's legally, albeit he's been nowhere near financially independent. Couldn't work for a long time after that gruesome nightmare turned reality that was the worst fucking Fourth of July ever. Had to fork over all his paychecks to Neil even after he could go back to work— supposedly put toward residual medical bills insurance didn't cover, but hell if Billy truly trusted any excuse Neil could and would hold over his head. In any case, that's not entirely why he stayed with Neil. And staying with Neil wasn't even exactly the same thing as not going with Susan and Max, but abandonment wasn't a factor in the equation at all. He doesn't feel that way, how could Susan think that?

“You left me the address,” Billy pointedly reminds her and he does not let himself crane his face into her touch even though it’s cool and soft and he feels his stomach loosen with this, this featherlight clemency so careful and sweet.

Because of course he knows why he was left the address and it was never so he could mail packages.

“I should’ve grabbed you and dragged you to the car.” Susan doesn’t sound like she’s kidding.

“You could’ve,” Billy breathes and he’s not kidding either. “You’ve seen me get grabbed, Susan. I don’t fight it. Not in the house. Never did…not until he found that address.”

Susan’s thumb brushes away the tear that spills over, unbidden. Billy reaches out and does the same for hers.

“I’m not mad,” he promises in earnest.

“Neither am I. In fact, I’m…” Susan trails off, exhaling heavily as she draws her hand back from his cheek. “I don’t know, Billy. He was going to kill me. Maybe both of us and I could never say that I’m glad that happened because I am not. I am not glad Max had to see and do what she saw and did. I am not glad that at present, I cannot even stand without assistance. But…you’re here. You’re here because of what happened. Because of what happened, Neil…I never have to worry about Neil again. I never, ever have to look over my shoulder worrying about when he will find me because he already did.”

“That’s one way of looking on the bright side, I guess,” Billy mutters, voice hollow.

“Your father has done all the harm he will ever be able to do, to any of us, and now we’re together again. Isn’t there something to be said for that, Billy?”

He swallows thickly, nodding his head as he places his hand on the bed. Susan’s fingers slide over his and that’s how Max finds them when she returns.

“There you are,” Susan welcomes, smiling warmly. “That was a bit longer than fifteen minutes.”

Max freezes. “Did you need me?”

“No, honey, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m just happy that you took a good break.”

Max visibly relaxes and shuffles over, lightly squeezing her mother’s upper arm. “I saw Neil.”

Billy exchanges a look of shock with Susan.

“Yeah, he had a new guard today and we talked for a couple minutes. Cool lady with a cool name, like some Greek Goddess name. She gave me a dollar for the vending machine and let me in his room.”

“Are you okay?” Susan frowns, worry crossing her features as her lashes flutter.

“Yeah, Mom. Neil doesn’t scare me anymore.” Max leans in and presses another kiss to the crown of her Susan’s head. Billy’s never seen her more affectionate than this, so doting and tender with her injured mother. “It was actually good. To see Neil like that…to know I did that. It confirms it, I guess? I mean not that I didn’t know, because obviously I know I didn't dream or hallucinate what happened, but…”

“Seeing is believing, perhaps?” Susan tilts her head, mussy red tresses shifting over the pillowcase.

“Yeah, like that. Seeing is believing, I guess. I saw the neck brace and the handcuffs and now I’m…well I’m not gonna turn into a badger every time you want me to take a break.” Max’s mouth quirks, expression sobering when she glances to Billy. “Are you gonna see him?”

“I don’t know,” Billy answers. He keeps thinking about it.

Maybe he’d feel better like Max does. Maybe he’d feel worse. He thinks he’d hate himself if he wound up having some scrap of sympathy. He thinks maybe he’d rip the pillow out from under his father’s head and smother the rest of the life out of him. He thinks he would have the opportunity to say everything he’s ever wanted to say but worries that he would not have the words, worries they may dissolve on his tongue with that stern, steely stare that’s shackled him all his life.

“Not yet,” Billy decides at least.

“You look weird,” Max bluntly blurts, scrunching her nose.

“That’s not nice,” Susan protests in mild reproach.

“It’s not mean,” Max counters, shrugs a shoulder as she looks back to Billy. “You okay? Is it hard being in a hospital again?”

Susan too raises a brow.

Billy reflexively lifts a hand to his chest, curls his jacket in his fist until the button presses uncomfortably into his palm. Few things in his life had been more challenging than his hospital stay and it wasn’t even being in pain or sick or weak, then weaker, then stronger and still in pain— it was sterility. It was being cooped up. It was no privacy whatsoever and never the right noises. It was everything being terrible except Max and Susan even if Max and Susan being around constantly was sometimes terrible but never, ever because they were terrible because they genuinely weren’t and— and now they’re all here again with some of the details rearranged.

Billy realizes that’s the hardest part, maybe, that the details are rearranged. Discovers that maybe it is worse to see someone you care about hurt than hurt yourself. He cannot speak but maybe they know, maybe they can read it in his face because then Susan’s reaching up again, brushing gentle fingertips over his scabbed up knuckles until he relaxes the death grip on the jacket balled into his fist.

“If you decide you want to see Neil, I’ll walk you to the door,” Max offers.

“Thanks,” he manages, terse but sincere.

“And if you want to see him, Mom, I’ll—“

“I don’t,” Susan breaks in, vehement and almost nervous, hand retracting from Billy’s and clasping fast to the opposite above her chest, IV tube swinging again. “I don’t, Max, I really, really don’t.”

“Okay,” Max promises her immediately, gingerly draping an arm around her in a reassuring embrace. The closest to a hug she can manage. “You don’t have to. You never, ever have to see him again, Mom. If you don't want to, you don't have to and that's that. I won't let anyone make you.”

Susan’s eyes dart back and forth as she leans into Max as much as she can, releasing a shaky exhale. Billy’s taken his breaks. They finally got Max to take her break. He thinks maybe Susan needs a break too.

“You wanna see what’s on tv, Sue?” he suggests.

‘No news,’ Max mouths at him above her head. Billy blinks knowingly.

“Sure,” Susan agrees, relaxing and shifting a bit as Max lowers her arm. “Um...maybe the animal channel?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s see what nature is up to.”

[hollandroos]

Build Me Up (Buttercup)

My imagines ❀ My series 

Summary: Tom receives a knock at his door at half-past one am from his bruised and bloodied best friend. 

Prompts; “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?” (This was requested as a blurb but I got carried away)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of physical fights, blood and drinking 

                                 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tom hardly seemed to sleep as of late. He was always typing emails to someone, working on one project or another or chasing after one of his friends. He didn’t seem to mind – especially when it came to seeing to his friends. If they needed him, he was there.

All he needed was coffee and a nap the next day. 

But he didn’t expect the shrill ringing of his front door to flood the apartment at one twenty-six am. At first, he ignored it. Thinking it was a prank from neighbouring teens he shoves the nearest pillow over his head right after glancing at his phone only to see a few texts from Harrison and a game request from one of his brothers. 

But when it rings for the third time he hauls himself out from beneath the sheets, groaning as the cold autumn air hits his bare chest. A shiver runs down the brunette's spine – one that makes him want to climb back into bed but Tessa had already rolled onto his spot, taking place where he once lay. He trusts that she’d shield the warmth until he got back from – most likely – warning off angsty teens at half-past one am.

Tom had to get to ‘em before Mary Jane across the street did with her bat.

Sighing, he pads out to the front door nearly tripping over clothes that long-needed washing and dog toys that he swears Tess lay in the hallway. Tom was totally one to curse but cricky – something about stepping on a chew toy in the dark makes him have to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. This prevents him from yelling out a string of curses that’d make the neighbours hide their 6-year-old boy from Tom for the remainder of their lease. 

Right outside the door, facing the bitter seasonal air stands you. 

You slip your lip between your teeth right before tasting the crimson blood on your tongue. it’s gross - the taste reminds you of when you were in fourth grade and tripped and fell on your face. And when you had that dental operation in sixth. 

You release it, screwing your face up instantly in disgust. By now the blood had probably stained the area around your mouth and beneath your nose, the bruising had probably painted your torso shades of purple and blue. Surely you looked a right mess, without a doubt. And you were tired too – so tired that you could sleep on the patio with Toms glass garden gnomes and the hedgehogs that visited every now and then.

You were cold too, the tips of your fingers numb and toes painfully so in your party heels. The dress you were wearing hardly did anything. You didn’t even have a coat. 

Tom opens the door a crack, opening it fully when he sees you standing there but through that crack, one merely a few inches he doesn't see the extent of your injuries… or any of them. It’s not until the door is fully open that he feels his chest ache and questions begin to plague his mind.

“Holy shit– what…” Tom eyes you up and down, mouth falling open in shock and his knuckles tighten around the front door. Surely it’d splinter, that's how hard he was gripping it. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, wincing when the pain hits. “No.”

In any other situation you would’ve pointed out that he was damn near naked and if it wasn’t so dark out then little Mary Jane next door, the elderly who was always out doing her lawn would’ve been scarred. But in any other situation, you wouldn’t be standing on his doorstep drunk and pained. 

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” Tom says it a little more aggressively then he means too, with an almost hoarse tone. But he feels all traces of still being tired – whatever was left, slowly float away. That exhaustion turns into and in fact– fuels his anger. 

You look broken, both physically and mentally and hardly able to even hold yourself up and with that realisation, he steps aside to let you hobble in. You hold yourself up with little energy, leaning against the wall to stop yourself from tumbling. Feeling as weak as you look, you want to ask for a glass of water or a blanket but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of words recalling the last hour. 

“I was at that bar down the street and I got in a fight with this girl who thought that I was flirting with her boyfriend but really I was just asking him if I could borrow his phone because I lost my own and I still might be a little drunk–”

“Did you drive here?” Tom interrupts, checking if you were still holding your car keys. He doesn’t see any - and he doubts that even drunk you’d do something that stupid. But still, he has to check. 

You shake your head, strands of hair sticking to your bloodied face. “No– no, of course not. I walked–”

“You walked?! Y/N, It’s like one am what the fuck?” Tom throws his arms over his head, raising his voice to the distaste of his poor neighbours. Tom hated the thought of you walking down the streets of London by yourself, drunk and cold. without a phone nor a companion. He would’ve walked you home in sweats and slippers if it meant you weren’t alone.

It leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. One that hadn’t seemed to leave since the very second he saw your broken form. It only escalated when you told him the story. Tom swears that if the feeling gets any worse he’ll quite literally throw up – hopefully on the patio and not the new, four hundred dollar rug in the middle of the living room. 

“Relax, I’m okay. Besides, I think after tonight I’ve learnt that I throw a pretty mean punch.” You try your best to smile, wincing as you pull on the cut on your lip. “If you think this is bad you should’ve seen her.”

It’s a lie. You’re in way worse shape then the other girl but don’t say that out loud. At least not tonight. Usually, Tom would’ve been able to see right through your lies – after many years of friendship that was compulsory but not tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol that allowed you to lie to him so easily. Maybe your best friend was just more concerned with the bruises that littered icy skin to notice the tale tail signs of you slipping in a little dishonest information. 

Tom rests a hand on your cheek, assessing the bruises. “Your eye is bruising pretty badly and your lip is split.”

“You should see my ribs.” You snort, words still a little bit slurred. 

With wide eyes and a heart that skips not one– but possibly Tom beats, your tired best friend lets out an exasperated gasp.“What!”

“Relax, it’s not that bad.”  

By morning, you’d regret the shots you took one after the other and dancing on tables like no one was watching (in reality… everyone was watching) and you’d probably regret causing your poor best friend enough stress to give him a heart attack. Silently, you’d regret trying to fight back with the drunk girl and you’d regret not taking up the bartenders offer of a couple of bags of ice and a free bottle of water to compensate. 

“Just a little… a little bit sore.” You tell Tom swallowing the blood that stains your teeth with a queasy expression. 

With that, you tug the underside of your dress up. It wasn’t anything Tom hadn’t seen before - not the injuries. You. Your body. Besides, it wasn’t hard to focus when bruises were blossoming on your torso. Appearing like daisies in spring.

“Fucking shit–”

You gasp at your friend's curses, blurting out a strong; “Language!”

“You need to go to the ER,” Tom tells you, wondering just how long you’d be able to stand on your feet for. The heels couldn’t be too comfortable.

You had long forgotten about the blisters that up until just recently, had been the causes of your wincing and whining. 

Pressing a firm finger to the boy's chest, you prepare your next statement. Keep in mind that it’s early in the am’s. The moon illuminates the city instead of the familiar glow of the sun and everyone else was curled up in their beds, shielded by layers of cotton blankets and pets that guard the doors – asleep themselves. All except Tessa. 

Yawning, you allow your eyes to flutter open and shut. Sleep sounded nice. It sounded marvellous. Sleeping next to Tom, entangled in a shirt of the boys and the familiar scent that had intertwined itself with his pillow sounded perfect.

“You need to let me sleep first.”

“Sleep after I’ve taken you to the ER.” Tom eyes you up and down, noticing the goosebumps that decorate your arms and the fact that your lips already looked a little discoloured – and not from the blood and bruises that paint your expression. “You can borrow some of my clothes so you don’t get cold. And maybe have a glass of water or two and a protein bar first.”

A pout replaces the purse that once adorned your features. “But sleep–”

“But you need to go the ER, I’m not letting you sleep when you may have a concussion and I’m most definitely not letting you go into work tomorrow.” Taking your hand carefully, Tom tangles your fingers together. It was a little thing the two of you did whenever one of you was nervous or hurt – a kind of ‘I’m here and I’m not leaving’ thing. 

Tom sighs, noticing your face fall from what looked like a combination of exhaustion and slight disappointment. He didn’t want to disappoint you – he wants you to be safe. Fully aware of the alcohol making you a little more receptive to your current overwhelming abundance of emotions, Tom shakes his head.

“Now buttercup, go sit on the couch and I’ll grab you and me some clothes and some food. We could be there for a while.”

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[insomniac-dot-ink]

Paper Girl

Genre: wlw, mystery, slice of life urban fantasy

Words: 25k

Summary: A paper girl, a wealthy neighborhood, and a strange house. Seiko Toyomi starts her job at the crack of dawn and then does her sleeping on the morning bus, in between she interacts with a strange young girl that never seems to leave her house.

Seiko unexpectedly starts to befriend the girl and begins to wonder more and more: who is she? Why does no one know her? And is she trapped?

A love story of newspapers, front porches, and growing up together

Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress⭐Twitter ⭐ Wattpad ⭐ Ao3

There was a house up on Townsend Street. A house with wedding-cake frosting trims and big white oak doors, a massive yard with room for three dogs but no dog in sight. It had a blue-grey exterior and thick green hedges perfectly trimmed in a square around the whole property. White daffodils bloomed in the numerous flower boxes and kaleidoscope bird feeders hung from the porch. The type of bird feeders even thieving squirrels looked at and said: no way guys, we can’t touch those ones.

A proper wrought iron fence hugged the hedges, dark, with ornate swoops and swirls at each bend, opening only once at an enormous double-gate. It was also dark iron and more decorative than practical, filled with large gaps and flowery designs, like out of some sort of story book. Seiko called it the ‘fairy gate’ in her head, holding her breath and crossing her fingers as she walked under the arch each time.

Everything was big there, big and quiet and filled with a hushed kind of luxury, it didn’t announce itself, but it was a living heartbeat that strangled everything else with it.

It was that type of street. A street with no cracks in the smooth grey sidewalks and cars with wax finishes and busybody mothers that yelled at her when she accidently walked on a lawn. Seiko didn’t mean to walk on the grass, she promised Mrs. Hankla it was only once and only since she was in a bit of a hurry.

They called the enclave ‘Greenbriar Hill’ and the other delivery kids were jealous she was assigned there, nobody else got tips like her. But nobody else had to deal with the wedding-cake house either.

They didn’t have to deal with the young girl in the neat frilly pajamas and face that scrunched up like an upset paper bag, watching Seiko with an exacting spotlight gaze.

The girl waited outside the big white oak doors every morning like one of those dogs that fetched the paper for you, but not the doting golden retriever type. More like a trimmed poodle, with it’s curls primped and perfumed with utmost care before it was walked. Or squatted next to a fire hydrant.

She looked around Seiko’s age, no more than 11, standing outside each morning in pink fluffy pajamas that fell past her knees and a pressed white bow. Her thick blonde hair was carefully curled and hung just above her shoulder tops, loose corkscrew curls that bounced when she moved. She had dark eyes the color of royal blue ink or sunless ocean waters, dark and ready to storm.

She had pinched cheeks and a little mouth, making her eyes seem even bigger on her small face and delicate features. Most strikingly was how pale she was, pale as unmarked parchment or bleached bone, like the dry skeleton of a hare Seiko saw once on a trip to Arizona: bare and stripped, a little chilling.

She was as pale as burnt ash and almost as worrying, like a sickly victorian child you thought to give cough syrup to. Or holy water.

Seiko wasn’t expecting to see anyone her age outside this early, the sun was barely up and Seiko’s arms were goose-fleshing from the chilly breeze. She had worn her short-sleeve Lego Batman t-shirt for her first day, making sure everyone saw it at least once since she spent her allowance and then some on the thing.

And now she was sitting on her bike in someone’s huge driveway with a little girl in pink staring fiercely back at her lego-shirt and shivering arms.

The girl glanced down at a leather wristwatch as if Seiko was late, what kind of kid had a leather wristwatch? Seiko plucked a newspaper out from her sack and hopped gingerly forward.

“Good morning miss,” that sounded like the right thing to say. She smiled, “It’s gonna be a beautiful day.” The girl reached out and snatched the newspaper from Seiko’s hands, “it’s going to rain.” She said flatly back and her blonde curls danced in place. “You’re new. What’s your name?” Seiko blinked a couple times, taken back. “Seiko. Seiko Toyomi, nice to meet you?” She wasn’t sure if she should put her hand out to shake, like a sales transaction or charged mob-boss greeting like she saw in movies.

“Well, Seiko,” the girl said tartly, “don’t leave the gate open next time, it’s a hazard.” Seiko’s eyes went huge and she frowned, “It’s my first day.” The girl arched her eyebrows pointedly over at the end of the lawn and Seiko followed her gaze, she had, indeed, left the gate open behind her. Seiko had a few snappy words trapped behind her tongue about the girl’s attitude.

“Annalise!” A voice called from inside the house, “Annalise! Did you get it?” “Yes mom,” the girl turned around, only sparing one last look behind her. “Don’t forget the gate. And,” she paused, “thank you for the paper.” She said stiffly. “Here.” She handed Seiko her tip and it all felt like some sort of dream Seiko was walking through, with  rich girls in sleeping wear sliding her balled up five dollar bills from her tight fists. She half-expected to see a large white swan walk out from behind the bushes to grant her wishes.

“Thanks,” Seiko piped up, blinking. “Have a nice day.” The girl, Annalise, just waved and shut the door behind her. “Don’t forget about the rain.” Seiko turned around to hide her eye-roll and jumped back on her bike, maybe money could buy giant yards and fancy bikes with more than one speed. But apparently it couldn’t buy manners. It did rain that day though, and every day after.

Seiko remembered it vividly, like an omen.

—————–

Seiko got up at 5:45am, just like her mom instructed, bolting upright with the first beep of her alarm clock and jumping into her sneakers. She had slept in her jeans and fuzzy orange sweater, her mom didn’t know about that part.

But it was Seiko’s second day of work and she wasn’t going to mess it up, she already got briefly yelled at for knocking over someone’s lawn gnome and delivering someone’s paper bent in half. Most people smiled and waved and handed her a dollar or two, but those two other encounters stuck in her mind like a sharpened pencil. It wouldn’t happen again.

The apartment was dark and soundless at that hour, almost seeming taboo, Seiko was careful to walk heel-toe down the hall and only turn on one light. She ended up stuffing a single piece of bread in her mouth and then hurrying out the door, groggy and wired as a dorm room outlet. She left ten minutes earlier than she needed to, whirring over Mr. Simmons shop and grinning from ear to ear the whole way on her bike.

Rogers, Illinois was a small town, small enough that people liked their papers hand-delivered and Mr. Simmons was old-fashioned and idyllic enough to hire kids to do it. It built character he said, tightened the community, somehow was unquestioned under ‘child labor laws.’ That sort of thing.

Seiko skidded to a halt in front of the corner shop, waving, “Hey Mr. Simmons!” She put her hand out, “Here for the Greenbriar route.” Mr. Simmons was out front moving boxes and fastening shut large sacks, bulging with rolled up papers. They were white with one thick strap for your shoulder and the words ‘Local Business Proud’ printed on the side.

Mr. Simmons handed her the far one, “Remember we’re having a pizza party this Friday,” he sounded properly awake and bright, “It’ll be the first one for the whole team.” Mr. Simmons was young, still graying around the temples and nearly blind in one eye, a traditionalist in the sense of people who forget what tradition is.

“Thanks Mr. Simmons, I’ll remember,” she grinned and waved, kicking off from the curb. “See you!” She streaked away, ready to prove herself in all her 10-year-old glory and with the energy of a newly-broken glow stick.

She pedaled hard, making little grunts as she pushed herself up the hill to Greenbriar, sweating despite the sweet fall chill in the air. The neighborhood was graveyard-still when she arrived, cold and blurry-eyed. She grinned, reaching two-story sprawling houses and carefully placing papers face-up in their slim plastic bags, like neatly wrapped Christmas morning presents.

She didn’t knock over any lawn gnomes this time.

Seiko was breathing hard, but in a good way, in the way that made her feel like she just answered a question right in class or did a perfect high-five. The wedding-cake house was in the middle house of her route, slightly removed from the other ones. Seiko closed the gate quickly behind her when she arrived and latched it tightly just in case.

It was earlier this time, no hint of sun on the horizon under the lumpy morning clouds and no sound of bird calls at all. The girl in pink pajamas was waiting for her.

Seiko waved, “I closed the gate!” She sang and jumped off her bike to hurry forward, “I’m even early.” Annalise looked her up and down and then nodded, just as pale and otherworldly as before. “Good.” Annalise put her hand out, “the other boy always used to forget anyway.” Seiko picked her way up the driveway, she smiled amiably. “Hey, do you go to Bristol Elementary school? Or Canyon Creek? I bet it’s Canyon.” The girl frowned at her, wiggling her fingers in midair for the paper, “Seiko Toyomi,” she sounded like she was prying the name off a burning skillet. “You go to Bristol.” Seiko nodded quickly, “Yeah, Bristol, how do you know that? Do you go there?” She hopped up and down, then stopped with a frown, “Probably not.” She would have seen her in the school halls if she did.

“Put rain boots on tomorrow,” Annalise fluffed her curling hair, “It will be worse.” She took the paper from her briskly. “Thank you for your service.” She handed her another large bill.

Seiko was still staring at her as she closed the door and another voice called as before, “Anna, dear, bring the tea over too.”

“Coming!” What kind of girl was this?

Seiko pulled her hood up as it began to drizzle, turning away and putting the oddness of it out of sight and out of mind. She slept on the bus on her way to school that morning and dreamt of poodles eating her bike tires and barking at her.

—————

The entire week continued like that: Seiko pedaling her heart out and trying to prove herself to some unknown entity that judged ten-year-olds on their job performance. Biking, delivering, and having snatches of conversation with early-waking exercise nuts, bathrobe-fathers with bags under their eyes, and old people ready to complain about the morning’s headlines.

And the girl. The strange girl.

She was chastising and brisk, reminding Seiko of the crabby middle-aged manager at the local CVS who always yelled at Seiko for picking up half the candy section and then only ever buying one. She reminded her of the blonde news-anchor lady who was always angry at the local politicians. She reminded her of someone who definitely had never seen the Lego Batman movie and never would.

Seiko only found out a little more about the sharp and secretive girl on the last day of the week: the friday pizza party. It stopped raining that day.

—-

“Does she have like, warts on her hands?”

“Or blood on the doorframe? For warding off the evil eye or something.”

“Tell me she has a raven that caws at you when you enter.”

“Why would I go inside?” Seiko pushed away the face of a bug-eyed boy with too many freckles and a whistle when he talked through the gap in his teeth. The other kid’s crowded around her in turn.

“Does she have roses in her garden?” A mousy girl with straight black hair and the voice of a tiny cricket asked her a little dreamily. “That never wilt or die. I bet they’re beautiful.”

“Tell me her mother tips you in crystals or astrology calendars or something.” June, a bright-eyed redhead, contributed excitably. “I’ve never seen the mom,” Seiko shook her head, “Only the daughter. And they don’t have roses.” Katy, the mousy girl, wilted at that. Katy was slightly chubby, stout, and skittish, always looking ready to apologize or sink into the floor like a self-effacing puddle.

Bobby Isler, the bug-eyed boy, frowned “Or blood?” “Or blood.” “Aww,” June slumped down, vivid red ponytail bobbying in place, she was a tall girl in baggy overalls and chipped fingernails each painted a different color. She grumbled, “That’s so lame.” She poked her pizza with one finger. “Are you even looking?” Seiko rolled her eyes and took a bite of her own luke-warm pepperoni pizza, Mr. Simmons had left them alone to ‘enjoy themselves’ as he explained with a wink. He thought they were talking about crushes or weed or whatever he assumed kids talk about.

They were not talking about weed.

“It’s not like that. It’s normal. Ish,” she looked away and scratched her nose, “Why are you all so interested in it? She’s seriously not a witch.”

Bobby poked her, “Nuh-uh. Don’t you watch channel 7?” He squinted at her, “How out of the loop are you?” They all stare at her, Seiko jutted her jaw out fiercely, “Me? You’re the ones,” she huffed, “you’re the ones who are losing it. She’s just a lady and her snooty daughter.” “I didn’t know she had a daughter,” Katy said slowly. “She never mentions it. That’s nice to know though.” Seiko blew stray dark hairs out of her eyes, she had cut it short for the new school year and immediately regretted it. It kept getting in her face.

“Yeah, well, she does. And she’s bratty,” she sniffed loudly, “and we don’t get channel 7, my mom says it’s rubbish.” “Rubbish,” June repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth and rubbing her nose, “are you doing that phony British accent again?” Seiko’s cheeks flushed red, June was in her fifth grade class and she had a long memory. Seiko looked away and took a huge bite of her pizza, “That was only for a little! SO long ago June.” June snickered and looked at the others, “she pretended to have British accent for all of 4th grade, and not even a good one.” “It was only for a month!” Seiko retorted sharply, “barely three weeks.” June laughed again, “it was the worst.” Bobby laughed loudly and Katy looked away politely, like this was some embarrassing family affair where the aunt took her shoes off and threw them at your rotten Uncle Shou for smoking and tipping the pretty waitress too much.

Katy cleared her throat, “She’s the only psychic in town, I watch her every night.” She met Seiko’s eyes, “I’m going to get my love line read by her.” She nodded astutely, like it was set in stone and the only obvious path ahead. Katy was also the oldest of them, just turned 13, and that made an impression in Seiko’s head.

Or at least, it had. She wrinkled her nose, “Love line?” She snorted, “That’s all bogus, she’s just a rich lady who reads off a teleprompter.” She shook her head, “That’s what my mom says.” Her mom had a lot of opinions.

“No way,” June crossed her arms over her chest, “She’s the real deal. She did Macy’s moms fortune on LIVE TELEVISION, she talked about future death in the family and Macy’s grandpa died the next week! She’s the real deal.” Madame Catherine Lynne (or just Madame Lynne) was a local television personality who told people’s fortune on channel seven, several small-town legends had sprung up around her since. With her huge glasses, elbow-length gloves, long evening gowns and deep resounding voice, they called her everything from a genuine black-magic witch to an elaborate hack.

“I just deliver her papers,” Seiko grumbled into her soda, “I didn’t even know that was her house.” Which was true, it was just another fancy house in a row of fancy houses.

“Well, that’s our favorite space case for you,” June reached for Seiko to give her one of her signature noogie’s.

Seiko pushed her way, “And our favorite terrible busy-body.” They exchanged a number of kicks under the table until Katy put her hands down, “Let me know if you see the Madame.” She said in a small but firm voice, “Ask her if she’s gotten letters from a Katy Mendoza. I’ve been,” she struggled, face blooming red as she realized they were all staring at her now. “I’ve been writing…” She ended weakly.

Seiko frowned, there was so much earnestness in the other girl’s face, almost desperate. Seiko puffed her chest out, “I will, I promise.”

They all sat back in their chairs and Seiko stifled a yawn as the music of the pizza parlour swelled. She was ready to leave by then, still tired from waking up at around 5am all week- her father joked about how this is what it felt like being a real worker. She’s not sure she wanted it.

Seiko sucked on her soda until only the grating sound of ice and backwash was left. She spoke up again after a long moment, “Do any of you know if an Annalise Lynne goes to Canyon Creek? That’s the daughter.” They all just exchanged blank looks with each other, Bobby was the first to shrug, “Like I said, I didn’t even know she had a daughter.” Seiko frowned at that, but June sighed exaggeratedly, “I bet she goes to some fancy private school.” She waved her hand in the air, eyes drifting down, “Did you get a new sticker on your bag Seiko?” She changed the subject, “Do you even know who Daft Punk is?”

Seiko turned on her, “Of course I do, and for your information…” The night continued on, bickering and talking and listening to cheesy pizza parlour tunes.

Seiko never found out where Annalise went to school, or if she went to school at all.

——————–

She looks so lonely.

Another blurry, creeping day hit Seiko with long grasping fingers, yanking her out of bed with a groan. She rubbed her eyes, trying to fight through the thin spiderwebs criss-crossing her headspace as she lumbered around the apartment at 5 in the morning.

The first week of Seiko’s new job slipped quickly by and by the second and third she was getting tired, more tired than she thought she could be.

Her dad, once again, told her that ‘this is what being a real working person felt like.’ The joke was getting old. She barely remembered leaving the house and getting to the corner shop, it was all getting old.

Seiko drove her boke dutifully up the hill to Greenbriar, the weather had been getting cooler with each week as Illinois winter bore down, but that day was the exception. It was going to erratically climb up into the high 60s and shine all day, but that was weather for you.

Seiko was barely cognate of her regular route, pedal, place, pedal, wave, accept two dollars, keep going. She didn’t think it would become so rote so fast, but it was just as mindless as her friend Kingsley warned.

He was always warning her about something though, she’d call it a downright nervous disorder if the spirit of one of her auntie’s wouldn’t materialize and pinch her cheek with a ‘be nice Seiko’ from beyond the grave.

She could be nice.

It was on that particularly warm fall day that Seiko was struck with a strange thought, a sticky hard thought that that caught in her mind like a thorn. She approached the wedding-cake house with the girl perched outside like an ever present stone guardian.

She looks so lonely.

It echoed within her.

Seiko wouldn’t call herself particularly perceptive, but that didn’t stop her from looking the girl up and down. She made a stunning pale silhouette against the enormous house with the air of an-fashioned heroine waiting for her family to return from the war.

It’s all so lonely.

Seiko shook her head vigorously, she’s a rich, pretty girl, she’ll be more than fine.

Seiko took the paper out immediately and shuffled up to the house, “Hiya,” she spoke up, remembering herself. “Good morning.”

Annalise’s brow knit together, “good morning.” Seiko shifted from foot to foot, holding the paper aloft. There was another thing she was working up to, maybe this was the right moment. Seiko could be nice. And maybe Annalise would like the conversation.

“So,” she cleared her throat, shifting from side to side. “I have thing.”

Annalise arched an eyebrow up, “What thing?” She asked testily, “Did you rip the paper?”

“No!” Seiko lifted her chin up proudly, “It’s not about papers. I was just wondering,” she took a deep breath in, deciding to do this now. “Have you seen any letters from a Katy Mendoza?” “Who?” Annalise took a step back, wary and eyeing her.

“Katy Mendoza. She writes you letters, I mean, she writes your mom.” She felt the sting of awkwardness rubbing against her skin. Annalise was looking at her like she was growing another head- and that head was ugly. This was a bad idea.

Annalise’s sharp blue eyes penetrated her like a swear word in church: echoing and harsh. Annalise cleared her throat, “We get many letters.”

“She’s my friend,” Seiko went on, “She wants to have her love line read. She’s into that sort of thing, she’s thinks she’ll never find love or something and that Madame Lynne, your mom, can help I guess.” Annalise was still frowning, as if perplexed by a certain math problem or stubborn weed. She put her hand out for the paper, Seiko reluctantly handed it over, wilting in place. That hadn’t gone well.

“Thank you for the paper,” Annalise handed her five dollars. “Have a good day.” Seiko wanted to bury her face in the perfectly manicured grass, what was I thinking? She doesn’t even want to talk to me in general, much less do favors.

Seiko turned to flee to her bike and pedal until her thighs burned away her own fumbling mouth and unnecessary probing.

“And Seiko,” Seiko stopped in place, Annalise hadn’t closed the door yet, voice chasing her. “I will look for your friend’s letter. I won’t forget.” She said, voice measured and whispery. She closed the door swiftly afterward, before Seiko could add anything else.

“Thanks,” Seiko stared blankly back at the large white oak doors and latched golden handles.

Sometimes she thought she saw Annalise watching her from the second story window, stony and frozen in place, hand gently touching the window and following her. Other times she thought it was just her brain conjuring up tales in her head, the type with snow queen’s daughters and fairy gates.

She rode her bicycle away, this whole place is lonely.

The empty lawns and gated homes and featureless driveways go on and on and Seiko wished for a moment she wasn’t a working girl, that she was still in bed waiting for the morning to come.

——————

Life went on.

She was graduating fifth grade that year and it couldn’t have felt like a bigger deal, would she follow her friends to Bristol Middle School or go to the local charter school, Elmswood?

Elmswood had a better reputation, bigger cafeteria, and a soccer team who actually made to the state championships. Then of course some Chicago school would immediately bump them out of state championships, but they still made it all the same.

Seiko wasn’t very good at sticking to sports, or hobbies for that matter, but she was pretty excited for soccer this year. The early-morning biking helped her stamina and game play, the fact she couldn’t actually kick the ball in any desired direction did not.

But Liza Mayweather was captain of the team and she was 5 feet 5 inches of the ‘coolest girl’ Seiko knew. Liza was going to Elmswood.

But then Seiko would have to leave Kingsley, her best friend since kindergarten. They met on the first day, traded chocolate puddings, chased a bouncy ball around for two hours straight together, and had been inseparable ever since. It was a hard choice and wasn’t getting any easier.

Seiko kept her paper route, even as the weather turned for the worse and she already had enough money saved up to buy at the very least a second hand Switch. However, things in the neighbor simply became more and more habitual, familiar.

The people in the brown house had a Saint Bernard named Nooky who was possibly the best creature ever, he gave a world ending ‘boof’ whenever he saw her and Seiko’s heart soared. Mrs. Hankla let her pet him some days.

Several of the houses had outdoor cats who appeared on high fences, fancy-feast enthusiasts who would eye you from afar and daintily get closer and closer each week. She named the white one ‘General Sour Cream’ and the calico one ‘Grand Duchess Granola.’ They were in love.

Less people jogged in the winter, more people greeted her with sleep-crusted eyes and a quick ‘are you alright sweetheart?’

Two different people offered her new gloves to wear. She already had gloves.

Seiko learned about the girl too.

Annalise changed from her pink pajamas to a loose long-sleeved top and soft matching black bottoms. She liked tea, because of course she did, she didn’t like the neighbors mowing their lawns, she liked Seiko’s rainbow fingerless gloves. Or at least, Seiko hoped she did since Annalise kept glancing at them.

Annalise could play the piano, she got headaches easily, and thought anyone who woke up past eight O’Clock had simply already given up on life. She knew name brands, hated fast-fashion, and ran her own ‘Plastic Reduction’ eco-education home page. She gave Seiko a sticker for it.

And that was it.

Seiko assumed there wasn’t anything more to it, and then it was February.

————

Snow fell in wallops of sticky cold droplets that hit unwitting citizens like frigid water balloons from above, half-ice and half-slushy it might as well have been the devil pissing on them. That’s what one of the older kids said on the bus yesterday when it first started.

Seiko repeated it to Kingsley who joined her in giggling into their hands like they said it themselves.

Seiko expected school to be closed the next day, she expected the roads to be shut down and people to be banned from the outdoors like some sort of dangerous zoo enclosure. She expected to drink hot chocolate in bed and watch youtube videos of ‘how it’s made’ all day.

Her alarm rang at 5:45 am anyway. The people needed their news, they needed that fresh headline: It’s Cold as a Witch’s teat in a Brass Bra. Seiko had learned that one on the bus too.

She hadn’t missed a day of work so far and she, for reasons beyond herself, wasn’t going to start now. Her uncle had bought her new boots for her birthday: fur-trimmed with little puff-balls at the end of the shoelaces, he told her to break them in nice and easy. This would have to be the ‘mean and hard’ way instead.

She put on two pairs of socks underneath and went to the doorway.

She stuffed on her oversized ewok hat, a joke-present she got before she turned 11 and too old for that sort of thing. But it was as thick as siberian’s arm hair and the little ears made her feel a little bolder in the furious white morning.

“Where are you going Seiko?” Her mom was also up at 5am, always claiming to be busy with Seiko’s little sister Rei at this hour, but Rei was 2 by then and barely up any more. Their dad swore their mom had insomnia, but her mom would be in her grave before she admitted to that sort of thing.

She looked at Seiko’s fluffy hat and pretended to be busy folding kitchen rags.

“Work mom,” she adjusted her hat and found a large fleece scarf to wrap around her neck.

Her mom sniffed, “Don’t ride your bike.” “I can’t,” Seiko blinked with a grumble, “Too bad out.” “And don’t talk to strangers.” “When do I ever talk to strangers mom?” Seiko retorted with a yawn and a prickle behind her words.

Her mom patted her shoulder, “I’m making leftovers for breakfast. Take a hot shower when you’re back, school isn’t canceled.” “I knoooow,” she moaned and went for the door. “And don’t move my backpack. I got stuff in there and I keep not being able to find it.” “Then don’t leave it where I can kick it.” “Ugh,” she made a face, “bye mom.”

Seiko left before they could get into one of their regular squabbles, the weather didn’t help since Seiko always felt like they were living on top of each other when they got snowed-in. Her family’s apartment was fine, everything worked and the pipes never froze, but it was… tight. It had three rooms, one bathroom, and a tucked away kitchen with no oven. But it was fine, it had a carpet that didn’t static and an outside not completely overcome by hobos or nettles.

It was on the second story of a red-brick apartment building that had a bent TV dish outside and rusty skateboards piling up on the side. The building’s heating worked most the time and the air conditioning worked some of the time.

Between the weeds growing up between cracks and the convenience store that sold cigarettes to anyone not carrying a pacifier, it was fine, everything was fine. Walking over to Greenbriar on the other hand though was crossing between ‘fine’ to the ‘fairygate.’

Seiko collected her wares at the corner shop, Mr. Simmons applauded her for coming in at all and handed her two hot packs for her hands. She didn’t say much back, she didn’t know why she was there either.

She skimmed the paper’s headline: It’s Cold. So Cold, Father Winter is Definitely Passing a Particularly Frigid Gallstone Over Us. Seiko traveled slowly into the fairy hills, covered in powdery white sugar and untouched by the bustling of other determined worker ants, blithely ignoring the coming slush and grime of the town’s roads and sidewalks.

Seiko trudged onward. She forgot her hands, her feet, and everything else in between as she walked, shivered, and delivered.

——

“Attagirl,” Mr. Busby of the brown house and fake teeth handed her a five. He had never done that before. “Good see the youth off their phones and actually doing something.” Seiko just nodded in response and mutely moved to the next house. The street wound on in a dusty blaring-white monotony, almost no one was up to greet her as she placed one plastic-wrapped paper down after the next.

She wasn’t at all surprised to find Annalise Lynne outside when she reached the wedding-cake house. Strangely though, the other girl wasn’t in her usual position next to the door, safe and dry with the usual impassive look on her face.

Seiko’s eyebrows rose, Annalise was bent over the edge of her concrete porch, squinting out at her snowy domain. She had pink boots stuffed over her feet and a yellow umbrella shielding her from the onslaught of slushy snow from up above.

She was bundled up underneath the umbrella and looking nervously at the ground, lips pinched together and expression shadowed, whole body as tense as a stretched rubber band.

Seiko tilted her head to the side, pausing for a long second. Annalise shifted in place, worry-lines permeating her young face.

“Uh,” Seiko hurried up the girl’s vast driveway, “How’s it going Annalise?” Her voice sounded rusted and stiff to her own ears as she asked.

Annalise blinked up, her expression noticeably strained. “Nothing,” she murmured quietly and then looked back to the snowbanks, clutching the umbrella. She glanced up unseeingly, “You must be cold.” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Yeah.” She scratched her chin, “It’s cold.” Seiko just nodded, sniffing slightly, “The last boy would never come in weather like this.” Her gaze was still trained away from her. “Thank you for your service.” Whenever she said that Seiko felt like a war veteran being thanked at an airport by a white woman who bought in bulk from costco. She just nodded again.

“Is… everything okay? Do you need,” Seiko searched the ground, “Help?” She offered weakly since it seemed like the thing to do.

Annalise finally looked up again, “I’m capable of handling it,” she clutched the umbrella and reached absently up to her ear. There was a small empty hole there. She frowned, “But…” She met her eyes briefly, “if you see a blue diamond earring then, well,” she bit her lip, “let me know.” Seiko journeyed the little way up to the side of the porch, the overhang finally protecting her from the soggy snowfall. “Blue earring?” Annalise nodded shallowly, barely tilting her head down, “it looks like a snowdrop.” Her hands bleached on the umbrella handle, “and my mom’s going to freaking kill me for losing it.” Seiko stood up straight at that statement, the words strangely out of place and striking. My mom’s going to freaking kill me. What?

“Hey, watch my papers,” Seiko pushed her pack toward the dry doorway. “I once found my sister’s binky in a playground ball pit.”

Annalise looked up sharply, “Seiko Toyomi, I can’t,” she said quickly, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Seiko made a face at her, “You can just call me Seiko,” she wrinkled her nose, “and it’s not a big deal, honest. Did you lose it around here?” Annalise looked away, cheeks burning a bland red, like her face wasn’t accustomed to any color at all. “Maybe…” She said slowly, “Last night I went out here to look at the snowfall and,” She said haltingly and felt at her ear, “When I woke up this morning I realized I didn’t have one of my earrings. Ugh.” She growled in the back of her throat, “Stupid, stupid. She’ll be so mad.” Seiko cocked her eyebrows up, “When does your mom normally wake up?” Annalise frowned, “She had a late show last night,” her shoulders relaxed, “So she’ll be out for at least a little longer, maybe even 7:30.” Seiko smiled, “Alright!” She hopped into the nearest snow pile, sinking into the layering ice and sleet. “Let’s get looking.” Annalise watched her carefully, “… Thank you.” She spoke softly, clearly, searching Seiko’s face for a moment before nodding, “Check by the flower bed.” Annalise leaned off the stoop and pointed, “It would be somewhere close to the bottom.” Seiko got to work sifting through the piles of wet slush, her gloves soaking through and eyes straining against the pure white mass. “Are you sure it fell here?” “No,” Annalise pointed to her right, “check over there.” They hurried, Annalise pointing and Seiko kicking and churning her way around the yard.

“No, no, not there, that’s too far,” Annalise huffed after several minutes, breath coming out in puffy little clouds. She stood up in place, “This will take too long. One second, wait here.” Seiko looked up brightly, “What?” She cocked an eyebrow up at her, “Also, for the record, I’m doing this to be nice. Friendly. Polite, stop glaring at me.” “I’m not glaring,” Annalise snapped and looked to the door, “I’m just… frustrated.” She scuffed her boot on the ground and then looked back up, “I’m going to help. One second.” “Okay?” Seiko had figured Annalise was too delicate or soft or perfectly-moisturized to wade into the clingy snow with her and help dig. That’s what you hired paper girls for.

Annalise tossed her umbrella aside and swung open her house door, Seiko peaked into the dim foyer: huge and holding a grand staircase. Seiko just blinked at it as the other girl ran back inside.

Seiko told herself she was just being nice. It was the right thing to do. She wasn’t here to be a looky loo, especially since her mother would never let her live it down if she was. They weren’t the type of family to get fascinated by pop stars or celebrities or late night TV show psychics.

Or their strange daughters.

Seiko stood in the bitter wind, shivering slightly and glancing at her undelivered papers. They were all definitely late.

But maybe the neighbors would forgive her for a snow-storm delay.

Seiko watched the family’s big doors for another minute, waiting for something. Did Annalise abandon her to the cold and needle-in-a-haystack quest? Should she leave?

Just as she was thinking about getting her pack and being on her way, Annalise strode calmly back outside. Seiko stopped in place as she did, “Oh my God.”

Annalise lifted her chin with a sniff. “Don’t laugh.”

Annalise was wearing what looked like a plastic beekeepers helmet, yellow cleaning gloves secured by rubber bands, two winter coats covered by a teal rain jacket, and what looked like shiny waterproof ski pants. She even wore plastic bags over her winter boots- also secured by rubber bands.

Seiko ended up covering her mouth and snickering.

Annalise’s face glowed red, “I don’t like getting wet!”

Seiko laughed into her hands, “No, no, I get it.” She giggled, “It’s just… okay.” Annalise put her hands on her hips, “Are you here to help or make fun of me?” Seiko gave a cheeky grin, “Can I do both? Because… that’s a bee helmet.” Annalise tilted her chin up with a frown, “No, we’re not that familiar yet.” Seiko shrugged and bent down again, “How familiar does a newspaper girl and her house-deliverees have to be?”

“Well I’ll tell you when we’re there, then you can laugh I suppose.” Annalise shuffled forward, weighed down by her various clothes. “Though your assistance will be noted.” Seiko shrugged, “Don’t mention it.” Annalise teetered on the edge of her porch, looked closely at all the snow, like it was a freezing lake she was preparing herself to jump buck-naked into. Seiko gave her a funny look, “Are you waiting for something?” Annalise shot her an unreadable glance, unnervingly blank. Then she widened her stance, took a deep breath, exhaled, and did a short flailing hop into the snow.

She landed, hands out and eyes screwed shut, whole body star-fished out as if to keep everything away. She opened her eyes slowly.

“Oh,” she shivered and then turned around in a tight circle, kicking a nearby pile of snow, “Oh!”

Seiko knit her brow together, Annalise expression had opened up into a strange erratic joy- fascinated by the mounds of white fluff. “Oh this is very good.”

“Yes?” Seiko watched Annalise gawk and poke at the piles, picking up a handful of the stuff and throwing it in the air. “Look at that!” It fell in lumps down and she beamed, kicking another pile over.

Seiko waited for a while before clearing her throat. “Um,” she looked around, “Are you not allowed to play in the snow?” She had a weird feeling about the answer.

Annalise’s guarded eyes flicked in her direction, she straightened up. “I just… don’t do it often.” She bent down again like a robot given a sudden direction, “Alright, where have you already searched?”

Seiko pointed to several locations around the porch and they got to work again, pointing and guessing and carefully searching. The snowfall slowly dwindled, turning from fat wet balls into tiny dandelion fluffs. Faint rays of sun finally broke out into a sleek grey morning, weak and barely there like the wheezing breaths of a forgotten old man.

Seiko was starting to get a headache from the glare of the endless white, she finally sat back on her haunches and turned to the other girl. “What will happen if you don’t find it?” Annalise froze mid-sift, eyes cast down, “my mom,” she clenched her teeth, “will be really pissed.” “Oh,” Seiko could only guess at what that meant for her. Grounding? Pony privileges revoked? A dungeon? Who knew.

“They were for my birthday,” she continued bitterly, “she was so excited to give them to me. Said it was some milestone.” Annalise shook her head, “Goddammit.” Seiko giggled at that.

“What?” Annalise glanced at her. “What is it?” “Nothing,” Seiko kept running her fingers through the layers, “it’s just, you know, you don’t seem like the type to curse.” She snorted, “Too prim.” Annalise paused at that, giving Seiko a hard long look. Then, she drew herself up, standing tall, squaring her shoulders, and making herself big and solid. She held Seiko’s gaze as a lion would before jumping through a fiery hoop. “FUCK.” Seiko burst into a side-splitting laugh, rich and spilling out her from her insides like a warm river, she held her sides and rolled back in the snow, “Oh my god.” “Shit!”

“No wait,” she laughed, “stop.” “Bastard baby idiot!”

Seiko waved her hand through the air, “You’ve proved it, you’ve proved it.” Seiko wiped at her eyes and couldn’t miss the pleased smile crossing Annalise’s face, terribly satisfied with itself.

“Well. Now you know.” She flattened down her bloated jacket like it was a fine party dress. Seiko couldn’t stop laughing, she turned over in place. “You showed me. I’ve learned a lot today.” Annalise hummed and looked her over, “you’re a strange girl.” “Me?” Seiko’s face lit up and she kept snickering, “Me?” “Yes,” Annalise delicately picked through some more snow. “All… those outfits you wear and bike riding. You go so fast, where is your helmet?” “You sound like my mom,” Seiko grumbled, but she was still smiling. “You’re the one who lives in a huge house with a psychic mom. And no one’s even heard of you, do you go to some fancy boarding school or something? With like, uniforms and everything. I bet it’s in England.” And maybe with wizards and sorting hats and dragons, Seiko had theories.

Annalise didn’t look up, her expression downcast and eyes uneasy. “Well,” she folded into herself. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just homeschooled.” “Oh,” Seiko blinked a couple times, that wasn’t what she imagined. It wasn’t how she imagined homeschool kids looked or how she imagined Annalise spent her days.

Annalise met her eyes tentatively, “You go to the school down the way,” Annalise touched her elbow, “Do you like it?” Seiko wasn’t sure how to answer that, did she like it? She didn’t know. It’s just what she did, it’s what everyone did, it’s not something you liked or didn’t, you just did it- like your laundry or the dishes.

“I guess?” She itched her nose, “I like PE and science class. Sometimes I like art, but Miss Shaw is kind of an old bag, she keeps telling me I draw without purpose. Whatever that means.” “Right,” Annalise looked away, as if that wasn’t what she was looking for.

“Right,” Seiko turned away, unable to hold on to whatever this was. She was about to tell Annalise to maybe secretly buy another pair of earrings and get rush delivery. And then she saw something glittering in the snow.

“Woah,” she reached down, following the reflection- a silver glare catching the light. “Oh man.” She picked up a blue-diamond, shaped as a perfect snowdrop with a silver back and little delicate outline.

It looked like something a prince might give a princess for her hand in marriage or a charm to ward off warlocks and ugly curses. It caught the light like a bird song and Seiko has to gape at the thing for a second.

She never got into ‘stuff,’ how could she? She could afford fingerless rainbow gloves and novelty t-shirts and the occasional ewok hat, but they weren’t like this. Nothing was like this.

“Here,” Seiko pushed it away from herself as if it burned, swallowing some bile in her throat she couldn’t name. She wasn’t going to own something like that, even if she got a silly boyfriend or big wedding, she knew that.

Annalise took it, cradling it in her clumsy gloved hands. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, “Thank you so much.” Seiko thought she saw Annalise’s eyes go damp and slightly red, but it was hard to tell. Seiko just patted her knee, “No big deal,” she shrugged, “Pissing off your parents sucks.” And it doesn’t look like you have anyone else.

Seiko didn’t think of herself as observant or thoughtful or any of those ‘ding’ words, but Annalise looked up at her and Seiko felt like something, someone, after all.

Annalise put her hand out, “I can’t repay you enough.” For some reason, they shake, there in the snow and weak light and undelivered newspapers. “Let me get you some tea or dry gloves or anything.” Seiko just sniffed and looked away, “Nah.” She dusted herself off and got up again, “Just don’t complain about me and the gate or how I bike and all that stuff.” She winked, “I’m the good samaritan here.” “Yes, yes you are,” Annalise’s eyes go soft and she stood up after her. “Let me get you som-” And maybe she would have gotten her something, but they both heard footsteps from inside, “Annalise?” A voice called, “Honey?”

Annalise froze like she was a burglar caught in police headlights, “I gotta go.” They both tore away in opposite directions, though Seiko didn’t know what she was running for, she looked over to shoulder to see Annalise ripping off her plastic gloves and heavy coat, eyes wild with something.

Seiko hurried away with her pack at her side and a few missed calls from various adults. School had been canceled after all. And where was she? She should have been back then. And so on.

Seiko was wet and cold and achy when she returned, limbs heavy as stones and trembling on their own. Her thoughts endlessly started churning, taking apart what just happened. Annalise in the snow, her face as bright as an expanding star.

Annalise as frightened as a hare in a claw trap, Annalise cradling the blue diamond and on the verge of tears, Annalise looking at her.

She’s just another girl, she reminded herself, and I’m just being a good person.

She closed her eyes and put her head against the shower wall, hot water ran over her back and she exhaled, it was a day worth more than she knew.

—————

Annalise started to open up more to her each time she visited, as if finding her earring had turned Seiko from ‘alien service worker’ into ‘acceptable stranger on my porch.’

She started chatting, about the weather, about the Chicago Cubs (Annalise liked them for some reason), about the neighborhood and what size dog was ideal. Seiko said the bigger the dog the better, Annalise thought that if it couldn’t fit in a children’s swing it was too big.

Seiko started to worry more, that Annalise wasn’t allowed to play in the snow, that she wasn’t allowed to lose things. That she wasn’t outside anymore.

There wasn’t much she could do though and worrying didn’t stop time from passing like slowly dripping candle wax. Winter turned to spring and Seiko cut her hair again as her graduated into 6th grade, she was starting to like the short look.

“So you’re going to ‘Elmswood’,” Annalise said one day, bits of summer sun streaking across her cheek and eyes unreadable.

“Sure,” Seiko shrugged, “I mean, I think the soccer team will be cool and they have an actual film club instead of just one kid running a movie review column in the school paper.” “So?” Annalise still seemed bemused by everything about her.

“Plus, I mean, it’ll be nice,” Seiko put her hands in her pockets, “Maybe I can start over, ya know? Most the kids in my class won’t be going there,” she stood all the way up, “I’ll be the cool new kid.” Annalise somehow gave her an even more bemused look, “Are you not cool?” She asked dryly.

Seiko stuck her tongue out, “… not cool cool. People like Liza are cool,” she paused for a long second, frowning, then looked up again, “but I feel like me and Liza could really click next year if I go.” Annalise leaned back on her heels, “Be careful Seiko,” she said, her voice dull, flat, and fluttering out of her lips. “Girls like her may be just as the seem and nothing more.” “What?” She made a face, “What? They seem really cool and are?” Seiko just snorted, “You should get out more…” She took a step forward, hunching her shoulders slowly, “you could come too. Maybe you’d actually like it.” Annalise shook her head, as if breaking out of a daze. “Where?” “Elmswood,” she said simply, “I mean, June is going too. Who is the worst and won’t stop bringing up every embarrassing thing that’s ever happened, but it’s fine. We could gang up against her.” She gave a devilish grin, “You could tell her some bogus fortune like her life line has a huge rude gorilla in her future.” Annalise frowned deeply and looked down at her knees, “I can’t.” She said simply, “I do school here.” “But-” “I can’t.” She said sternly and took her newspaper inside without another word.

The conversation ended for that day.

—————–

Time seemed so slow when she was young, but it passed just as it always did: one drop at a time. She graduated elementary school, spent a summer lazing around the pool and trying out things like rollerblading and science camp. She scraped her knees at both and said she wasn’t ever going back.

Her uncle gave her a cheap camera to take videos on, it was better than her phone and she became obsessed with dressing her sister up and filming her destroying cereal-box cities.

She kept her delivery route, Bobby quit that year and Seiko got a raise, she kept attending monthly pizza nights. Mr. Simmons added brownies to the meal, he winked and said ‘not the type you kids like though.’ He was still somehow convinced they were preteens with a thing for weed.

Seiko felt like she knew everything and absolutely nothing.

Liza Mayweather seemed excited to start Elmswood with her, Seiko didn’t know what to make of that. She entered Middle School with new ripped jeans, a skrillex t-shirt, and knock-off vans, sick with excitement, but fall soon sunk into normalcy.

She was the worst player on the soccer team, but they gave her the job of taking videos for the games, she started editing them to Queen songs and shatter sound effects. The girls laughed themselves silly when she added fake bloopers and ‘mm whatya say’ whenever they missed a goal.

Her sister turned 3 and her mother fretted about her speaking properly and walking and potty-training and everything she could fret about. Kingsley wrote Seiko a heavily worded text about not spending enough time together and ‘forgetting him.’ Seiko broke out the ‘super pinky promise’ to assure him they weren’t going anywhere. She got a hairline fracture on her wrist from a bike crash.

She wore a helmet after that.

Annalise, Annalise remained the same. A picture on her porch, in a variety of pajamas and flat expressions, sometimes she showed her new earrings or a good book she read.

Sometimes Annalise started speaking so quickly and emphatically that Seiko couldn’t stop her, like an overflowing dam. Sometimes she barely said anything at all, dark sleepless bruises under her eyes and something bumpy under her words.

“Are you writing on yourself?” Seiko pointed out one day, looking at a few words printed over Annalise wrist, inky and precise, Annalise quickly left after that.

She was still a strange girl in a strange house. And it didn’t change.

——————

Seiko was 13, it was the second semester of 7th grade. She was breaking out on her chin, sweating through her shirts, and wearing lumpy sports bras that made her feel like a padded grandma. She had refused to let the fitting-room lady measure her so she just guessed her size and fled like The Other Man out of his lover’s bedroom window.

Her mother gave her the longest lecture of her life about periods and babies, Seiko turned two shades of green and swore up and down that this didn’t have anything to do with her. Her mom gave a tampon demonstration.

Liza got a boyfriend. No one else did.

And something changed.

Seiko’s mom said she was getting too old for paper routes, but Seiko kept on, she knew the way, she knew the drill, it was fine money. June quit the paper route that year, so it was just her, Katy, and all the new kids they started to ignore.

And something changed.

It was spring, smelling green and loud and filled with a type of hope that carried on with arbitrary spinning of the world into the sun. Seiko had a history report due and a split-lip from a soccer ball to the face, she barely looked at the houses she delivered to anymore.

Annalise was standing at the edge of her porch, an enormous smile spread across her usually grim features. She waved excitedly when Seiko arrived.

“Come come,” she leaned forward on her tiptoes and gestured, “Come up, I have news.” Seiko raised her eyebrows, “Oh?” Annalise bounced in place, she seemed more full today, like the light had been pumped back into her. Seiko reached the side of the porch, Annalise clapped her hands together, “I got your friend in.” She burst out like a party popper, like Seiko would know what that meant. Seiko tried to smile back, “You got my… friend in?” She wracked her brain for what that could mean.

Annalise visibly sagged, “You don’t remember.” Seiko put her hands up, “No, no, just… jog my memory maybe?” Annalise gave a forceful sigh, “You don’t remember.” It looked like an out-and-out pout.

Seiko leaned on the side of the porch, “Tell me about,” she grinned and rose up toward Annalise, “kids these days, amiright? Can’t remember a thing without smartphones.”

Annalise gave a quick smile and then trained herself back into a pout, “You’re the one that told me about her.” She folded her arms over her chest.

Annalise blinked a couple times, “Who?” She couldn’t even place a name.

“Katy Mendoza!” She said clippedly, “You had me dig up all her letters years ago.” Seiko’s mouth fell open, “You actually looked for them?” “Of course I did,” Annalise defended, lifting her chin up and looking away, “no faith.” Seiko lit up, “You actually looked for them!”

Annalise huffed, “All for nothing it seems.” “No, no,” she tossed the paper on their doorstep to pay proper attention to Annalise, “You, you got her a spot?” Annalise grew a slim smile, almost sly. “It took awhile. My mom has a long waiting list, but, well,” she puffed up, “That girl kept sending letters and I kept putting them at top of the stack.” She grinned widely, “It finally paid off.” “Wow!” Annalise clapped, she hadn’t talked to Katy in three weeks, but still. “Woah, that’s so cool! You made it happen.” Annalise fluffed her hair, “Of course I did.” They both laughed and spring seemed more spring than it did before. “Watch tonight,” Annalise beamed, chest puffed out. “Yeah, of course,” Seiko nodded so hard she thinks pez candies might start shooting of out her neck, “I will!”

Annalise seemed to have a long memory, longer than hers, and she preened like a shiny hen at a peacock competition.

—————–

Seiko was 13 and lying on her stomach in front of the TV. They had gotten more channels in the last few years, her little sister liked PBS and their mom compromised.

“Don’t forget,” her mom called from the kitchen, “it’s your night to put the dishes away.” “I know mom,” she called back, “It’s just a half-hour program.” Her mom walked back and forth between rooms, “And put away your cleats.” “I already did!” “Then what did I just step on in the hallway?” They were still in the same smarmy small apartment.

“Ugh,” Seiko quickly got to her feet and rushed to put her cleats back in her room, just as the psychic’s jingle came on.

‘Your future is waiting, your future is written. Sit down with Madame Lynn and hear the infinite.’

It reminded her of a slightly more-spooky car sales jingle.

“Are you really watching this?” Her mom stood on the cusp of the living room, taking the time to stop and comment.

“A friend is on.” Katy had almost fainted when she was told she would actually be on TV. That she would find out about her love line, solve her heart’s sickness and find out the truth- apparently she had never given up on that.

Seiko placed herself in front of the screen, propped up and focused. Rei sat in the other room  and audibly baballed a very long story to their father about animals and bugs she had recently seen. Her father clapped along at every other full sentence and Seiko turned the volume up.

The stage was brightly lit and a dark velvet screen filled the background, a single plain table sat in the center of the space, it was covered in a red cloth decorated with various symbols. She recognized some of them as Kanji and even hindu script, Seiko snorted at that.

The unseen announcer reminded her the show was filmed in front of a live audience. The town of Rogers was waiting.

A woman walked on, she was tall and upright and slightly ‘handsome’ if you would use that word. She wore a long burnt-orange silk scarf around her black hair, enormous round glasses, and a deep maroon shawl around her thin shoulders. Seiko had seen her around on local signs and a couple video clips, but it had never occurred to her that this woman didn’t look terribly like Annalise.

Her complexion was darker (which wasn’t hard), her eyes were deeper set in her face and features pasted on at different mismatching angles. She looked like a collaborative art piece from college students whereas Annalise reminded her of a classical European painting.

Though, of course, Madame Lynne’s entire demeanor and disjointed look fit her persona, the smalltown psychic with otherworldly powers. Despite the cheesy effects, numerous gaudy bangles, and over-the-top opera gloves she wore, Seiko could see why people thought she was a witch.

She carried herself like that, like some other strange force swept across the stage, swaying and stalking over like a suave cat.

“She’s such a hack,” Seiko’s mom tutted from the background. “I’ve seen those tarot card she uses online. They aren’t even an original set.”

“Sshhush,” Seiko waved her hand through the air frantically, “it’s about to start.” Her mom just humphed but didn’t move to leave.

Madame Lynne looked directly at the camera as she spoke, solid and imposing. That part reminded her of Annalise at least. “We have a special guest tonight, an anxious soul in need,” Madame Lynne’s ghostly voice rang out, enrapturing and deep. “A young woman with woes and a heart full to bursting. Her path ahead is uncertain and she has come to us for counsel, a dedicated fan and Rogers local, please welcome Katy Mendoza!”

Katy walked onto stage with her huge eyes and quivering lips and mousy nose, she looked just as unsure of herself on TV as she did everywhere else. She picked her way across the stage and took her time sitting down, trembling slightly.

“I’m such a big fan of yours Madame Lynne,” she whispered in her cricket voice, the microphone had been placed extra high on her collar. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I’m sure my dear,” she patted her hand warmly, “I’m happy to help.” The show preceded much as Seiko assumed it would. Katy gushed to the psychic, explaining her heart’s dilemma: that no one had ever like her, that she was too ugly and shy and would never find love.

Madame Lynne assured her that she was lovely and that anyone who valued her outsides more than her insides weren’t worth her time. Seiko liked that part, Katy brimmed with some fragile hope and a watery heartfelt smile played across her face whenever Madame Lynne spoke. That was something.

And then they got to the reading.

Seiko understood very little of it, she had gone through a brief witch phase herself but most of it had been reading about the occult and trying to summon cthulhu. She hadn’t gotten to tarot.

Madame Lynne brought out her stack of shiny golden cards and shuffled them in place, her long fingers quick and fastidious, almost mesmerizing as she began to hum. This was the pinnacle of the whole show, Seiko watched in a trance.

Katy drew six cards and Madame Lynne placed them out across the table methodically, explaining each card’s meaning in relation to Katy’s past and present. Seiko glazed over during this part, most of it she already knew: a controlling father, several nervous habits, a desperate wish for confidence. Seiko understood. However, Katy started weeping when she pulled out the sixth card and final card, it was revealed to be the ten of pentacles.

“It’s certain,” Madame Lynne held her hands and patted the top, “This reading is clear: true love is certain.”

Katy let out a hiccuping sob and wiped at her eyes, Seiko smiled a real smile for the other girl instead of rolling her eyes. Love wasn’t exactly on Seiko’s ‘important things’ list, but this felt like something else.

“Will I have kids?” Katy asked next in a small voice, “And a house with a yard? For my daughter to run around in.” Madame Lynne blinked a couple times, confused for a moment, then probably broke some sort of rule and held out the cards once more, “Let’s find out. Hold your question clearly in your mind and pick another.” Katy bit her lip, concentrating for a full minute, she drew a seventh card. It had a shimmery large wheel in the center, someone in the audience gasped. It was the wheel of fortune, Madame Lynne frowned, “It is uncertain.” “Oh…” Katy hung her head, face falling.

“But don’t fret young dear,” Madame Lynne reassured, “your future is your own. If you want a daughter, you may certainly still have one.” Katy looked back at Madame Lynne, fixedly, worshipfully. Seiko had an odd feeling about this.

“Did it work out for you Madame, do you have any kids?” She asked earnestly. Seiko’s mouth fell open, no doubt Katy remembered the conversation they had all those years ago. “Did you want them too?” Madame faltered for the first time that night, a sudden slippage of her expression and poise, heavy brow furrowing. “Well,” she folded her hands in the lap and then reverted to calm smile, maternal even. “Yes, how perceptive you are. I also wanted a daughter, much like you.” She leaned over to pet Katy’s hair, Katy leaned into it.

“And you got her? It worked out.” Katy nodded as if that answered everything. Madame Lynne gave a heavy sigh, “You’re future is your own, young one.” She said slowly, “But it was not to be for me. I wanted a daughter, yes, but I’m afraid it never materialized in my fortunes. My flock are my children now.” Seiko froze in place, didn’t have a daughter? Why would she say that? Of course she had a daughter, Seiko had been chatting with every week since she was 10.

“But I thought… you had one?” Katy seemed confused, a murmur went through the crowd, something was off.

Seiko’s eyes bulged at the whole affair, Madame Lynne looked dead into the camera, cutting and direct, somehow loaded. “I’m not sure where you got that idea…” Seiko’s heart dropped, she breathed in through her nose and felt somewhat chilled. What did that even mean? Why would Madame Lynne not acknowledge Annalise? Seiko’s head spun and she quickly turned off the TV, not even finishing the program. Something was off.

—————–

Seiko reluctantly approached the wedding-cake house the next day, feet scraping against the pavement and path zig-zagging. She’d chosen not to ride her bike that day, even if walking was the equivalent of taking a rowboat when a speedboat was available.

I don’t have a daughter.

Seiko still had no idea what that meant. Was Madame Lynne hiding her? Was Seiko mistaken about the house? Had she been seeing things?

Seiko had a couple new things in her search history, such as ‘Signs You Are Actually Communing with the Dead’ and ‘How Good is Recent Hologram Technology?’ She almost asked her mom if she had ever had vivid hallucinations growing up.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

She took her time unlatching the large iron gate and closing it behind her, sneaking onto the property with light feet. She kept her eyes trained on the stoic grey house as she approached. There was no one outside that morning, no one in sight at all, that was very very out of the ordinary.

Seiko’s shoulders rose like the haunches of spooked cats, she drew closer sluggishly, had something gone wrong? She made it to the front porch and slid the newspaper toward the door in the way a blackjack dealer slides cards to players about to bust. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door finally swung open, Annalise hurried out onto the porch as usual, cheeks slightly flushed.

“There you are,” She blinked a couple times.

“Annalise!” Seiko clutched her heart as the other girl appeared.

Annalise just leaned over the porch, “Did you see the show last night?” “I-I did,” Seiko bit her lip, fishing for the words to say next. Your mother tells people you don’t exist. That seemed like a bad place to start.

“I hope you liked it.” Another voice input from behind the doorway, deep and direct. If seeing Annalise that morning was disconcerting, seeing Madame Lynne hovering behind her in the doorway was even more so. She was wearing a deep blue bathrobe, a towel over her black hair and several fat rings on her fingers, her makeup was gone and so were her huge glasses.

She seemed plain now, no less spooky and uncanny, but more simple. She frowned slightly and fixed Seiko with a hard look, Seiko squirmed in place.

“Here’s your paper ma’am!” She shoved the power toward the woman. “I hope you’re having a good morning.” She was suddenly sure she was sweating through her lumpy sports bra.

“Indeed,” Madame Lynne’s lip curled back, brown eyes narrowing. Annalise stood uncomfortably between them as they exchanged a charged look. “I’m glad my daughter has friends.” Seiko blinked blankly at that, the back of her neck prickling.

“But, please, be mindful.” Madame Lynne put one bony hand on Annalise’s cheek, dragging her fingers down in a caress. “She’s my only daughter and I treasure her, her constitution is… weak.” Madame Lynne pursed her lips, “And we are a private family.” The older woman seemed to be nudging at something Seiko didn’t quite grasp, Seiko kept meeting her gaze and looking sheepishly away again. “I… I understand.” She didn’t understand. “Good,” Madame Lynne straightened up, “I hope you won’t go spreading any rumors then our little paper girl.” She smiled toothily, “Apparently the town already thinks I’m a witch. And a bad one at that!” She laughed richly and Seiko tried to join in.

“They do say… silly things.” Seiko was starting to suspect this woman was a witch.

“We’ll have to see you tomorrow then Seiko,” Madame Lynne reached for the door, “Say goodbye now Annalise.” Annalise waved limply, looking rather off-put. “See you Seiko.” Seiko waved back, wondering if she should mouth something or break into interpretive dance, but the door swung shut and Seiko was left there- confused and little taken back.

We’re a private family.

Seiko still had questions.

—————–

Madame Lynne chaperoned their conversations from then on, showing up at the door in her  lofty imperial bathrobe and lingering just behind Annalise. Seiko had no idea why.

Their conversations became a lot more bland and short, about the weather or the morning headline or even schoolwork of all things. Annalise was learning advanced algebra apparently, because of course she was.

Madame Lynne took up a lot of the space.

‘I hear you’re on the soccer team Seiko.’

‘I hear you struggle in social studies, perhaps give this book a try…’

‘I hear you like movies.’

Like, yes? Of course she liked movies. Seiko barely had any proper answers, it felt like she was filling in multiple choice bubbles and it kept coming up red ink. She fumbled through nonetheless and then left. Somedays Annalise didn’t speak at all.

—————

Time slipped by, Seiko got caught up in school drama, after school practice, and her little sister’s new nightmares about a jello monster that lived under their carpet.

She was 14 and in the last year of Middle School, she already knew she was going to Dale High school with all the other Elmswood students this time.

It was the tailend of winter, a grey day, grey and quiet and her feet crunched through the two inches of snow with every step. She was no longer ten and filled with bustling excitement, she was used to waking up at 5am, but that didn’t mean she liked it anymore.

Seiko yawned with enough force to suck in a small planet and barely noticed where she threw the newspapers anymore. Her aim was good enough, but they usually bounced and it was up to God and Jesus Christ where they landed after that.

She yawned again and checked her cellphone. Maria was mad at Cynthia for talking to her boyfriend last night after the game, but it’s not like Cynthia started it. He talked to her first and she was just laughing at his jokes to be polite.

The group chat went on and on, Seiko wished they could just go back to sending memes and silly pictures of their coach. But Cynthia had apparently also tugged on Matt’s sleeve and put a hand on his chest, people were taking sides.

Seiko was caught up in the drama of the little team when she reached the wedding-cake house. It was empty that morning and Seiko frowned, preparing herself for another brief ‘mom conversation.’

She reached the door and put the paper neatly down, raising her eyebrows when no one greeted her at all, all the lights were off. She took a second to dawdle and stand there. This was different.

She was about to turn around and stomp her way to the next house when the door finally swung open.

“Good morning,” Madame Lynne stood in the doorway, black bangs loose and smile plastered across her face unevenly. “Annalise is sick this morning, but she sends her regards.” Seiko just nodded, bobbing her head a bit to try and see past Madame Lynne, someone was standing on the stairs. Madame Lynne took a step to block her view.

“Have a nice day now Seiko.” Seiko shifted again, the figure on the stairs shifted as well, a pair of pale legs came into view. They looked off- dented, shadowed, Madame Lynne raised her arms up, the wings of bathrobe block the whole view.

“Yes ma’am,” she finally said, “Tell Annalise to get better soo-” The door closed in her face before she even finished the sentence. There were quick footsteps from inside but nothing more.

Seiko sniffed loudly and turned. She was thinking of quitting her paper route.

She was almost in high school after all.

She didn’t see Annalise after that.

————–

“You’re turning fifteen,” her mom was folding laundry on the couch. “You’ll need a real job this summer.” “I have a real job mom, I get tips.” Seiko folded her socks haphazardly and then moved onto the next pair. “And I told you, I don’t know.” “Don’t know what?” Her mom frowned sourly, “That bike of yours is rusting and your father is too old to keep repairing it for you.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “I walk most days now anyway.” She shook her head.

“Well,” her mom hummed loudly, “Why walk when you could drive?” Seiko sat all the up, hands falling down to her lap as her mom said it. “Seriously?” Her face lit up, “It’s time? You’ll teach me?” Seiko’s parents hadn’t mentioned anything about her driving yet, even as all the other kids started to get lessons.

Her mom tilted her chin up proudly, “Driving is a privilege,” Seiko vibrated in place at that, “And for girls who need to get places. Such as to real jobs. Did you know my friend at the grocery store is hiring?” Seiko just nodded emphatically, “Awesome! Yes.”

She would be in high school in just one month, Seiko decided she needed a cooler persona beyond ‘delivery girl who owned a camera and sucked at soccer.’ Now she could be the girl who drove her parents 1999 beat-up corolla.

Or at the very least didn’t bike to school every day.

——————-

“Yes, ma’am, this is my last day.” Seiko gave her most winning smile to old Mrs. Hankla, the paperbag-textured woman humphed, frowned, and told her to wait there a moment. Mrs. Hankla put down her watering hose and went inside without turning it off. She came back outside with a twenty.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Mrs. Hankla seemed to swat the air in front of her and handed the bill over, “and don’t go spending it on candy and chocolates for some boy. That’s how they get ‘ya.”

“Oh yeah, I hear you,” Seiko laughed and pocketed the money as she was on her way. “Thanks Miss H!” She called, “Look after Nooky for me.” The woman just grunted in reply and it was like every other morning, but now she had a twenty.

A surprising number of people were up and about that morning, preening their lawns, checking their mail languidly, and stretching for a morning run. It was one of the last weeks of summer and everyone from sports nuts to grumpy dads in nothing but boxer shorts were enjoying the final days of truly delicious sunshine.

Seiko even had a little hop in her step, it was her last round ever and her first job really had treated her well. Even if she had become later and later with each year, did people really need their papers at 6am sharp? Not according to her they didn’t.

Seiko climbed the small hill and tried not to think about the middle house on Townshend street. The one that looked like a wedding cake.

It’s just another house, she told herself carefully. It’s not even goodbye forever.

She opened the fairygate slowly and carefully made her way up, the white doors were closed with no one there to greet her. But that had become normal.

Seiko placed the paper down and lingered at the door for another moment, was it rude to knock? Was it more rude to not tell them? She impulsively reached out, “Hi Lynne’s!” She knocked three times, “I just wanted to tell you, this is my last day.” She nodded at herself, “It’s been nice being your paper girl! Our talks have been nice, I mean, I hope… well I hope you have a nice day! Tell Annalise…” She petered out, she didn’t know what to tell Annalise. I hope you find a way out of this house? I hope one day you look a little less lonely? Someone cares about you?

Her heart sank, she couldn’t say that.

“Bye!” She finished lamely and turned to leave, squishing down any lingering emotions of what this would mean. She quickly skid down the driveway and back toward the road, she had her rounds to finish.

Seiko half-expected the door to open or a voice to call after her at the last second, nothing but silence and bird calls chased her down the road and around the corner.

Seiko finished delivering her last paper and loitered at the end of Greenbriar, taking one last look at her old stomping grounds. She turned her phone camera around: very last day at my childhood job!! She captioned a snapchat with her empty bag and threw up a peace sign for the hell of it.

That’s when a series of hurried footsteps thumped down the sidewalk, clumsy and stumbling on the pavement. Seiko whipped around to see a young woman in soft white pants and an overly-large apricot sweater standing there. Seiko jammed her phone in her pocket and stood up straight.

Her curls were longer, softly falling past her shoulders and down her back, she was taller as well, taller than Seiko by then. Puberty had seemed to hit her like a lovers kiss, all sweet clean skin and swan-length limbs. Brushstrokes of youth whereas Seiko felt like puberty had swung at her wildly with a baseball bat: all hairy legs and spotty acne and terrifying vivid red dreams you couldn’t repeat to anyone.

Seiko’s mouth was hanging open as she took Annalise in, she tried to stifle her thoughts before they even began, seeing the young woman out in full sunlight, breathless and reaching for her. Lovely as any dream Seiko had ever had.

Seiko swallowed in the way you choke down medication with a swollen throat.

“Don’t go,” Annalise’s dark blue eyes were huge and searching, she panted, “Don’t go.” Seiko sucked in a breath and dashed back up the street, “Annalise,” she smiled widely, pausing just in front of her, “it’s weird to see you not on your porch. How are you feeling? I haven’t… seen you in awhile.”

Annalise just shook her head, “don’t say this your last day.” Her voice sounded wet with emotion and she pawed at her face forcefully, though it didn’t look like there were any tears there.

Seiko’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled faintly, “Sorry,” she swallowed, “I need a different job and this one… doesn’t really fit anymore.” Annalise shook her head more vigorously, pressing her lips together tight as an angry iron line. “It was,” she whispered, “I waited for you every day. It was the best part of my day.”

Seiko’s chest tightened, a pain shooting through her upper body. I know you were lonely.

She rubbed her shoulder, “Why don’t I come visit? Or better yet, let’s hang out sometime, like, I dunno, get pizza or walk to the park or go swimming-” “My mom wouldn’t allow it,” Annalise was pawing at her face again, hiccuping. “She thinks I’m not ready.” Seiko frowned decidedly, she touched the other girl’s wrist, it was dry and rough. “Annalise,” she said seriously, “Is there something you’re not telling me? Is your mother,” she looked around and leaned in, whispering between them, “Trapping you in there? Are you okay?” Annalise’s bottom lip trembled, “It’s not like that. You wouldn’t understand,” she took a step back, “I don’t like to go out.”

“I know,” Seiko’s brow folded in, “But, I mean, we could still be friends! Let’s try and f-” “Annalise!” A voice carried down the street and both their heads jerk up, a woman in a long sweeping robe and strappy heels was running down the sidewalk. “What are you doing? Look at the sun coming up, are you even wearing sunscreen?” Annalise scowled back at her, “Here.” She turned back to Seiko, “You forgot this.” She slipped a wad of cash into Seiko’s hands and Seiko just blinked, she looked back up, “Wait.” She said thinly, “We need to talk. I can help you, I can do something.” “My mom is coming,” Annalise turned, “Thank you Seiko. Thank you for everything.” Her words were heavy and brimming with other unsaid things. But just like that Annalise was jogging back to her mom, calling out tersely. “I’m fine Catherine.” She seemed to snap, “See? No damages, God, you’re so dramatic.” Seiko watched the interaction mutely, trying to piece together whatever that all meant. Would a trapped girl talk to her mother like that? Would an abused girl simply leave again? Annalise took her mom’s hand and they walk back toward their house hand in hand, Madame Lynne didn’t even spare a glance for Seiko. It was Seiko’s last day after all and she’d be gone like a coins into a Las Vegas slot machine.

When Seiko looked down at the money in her hand there was a small slip of paper as well: a note written in neat fine handwriting.

unicornstormbringer773@comcast.net – write me.

Seiko blinked at the message for a long few seconds, “unicorn… stormbringer?” She broke into a smile and something jumbled in her chest like elegantly tossed puzzle pieces. She had gotten an email.

——————-

Dear Annalise, So… about that email address. Where exactly are you hiding your horn? And are you always summoning storms or just when you’re in a bad mood? Did that address come with glitter and like, rainbow stickers?

Kidding.

Are you alright though? Do you need anything? From,

Your delivery girl

She got a response back right away.

Dear Delivery girl,

Haha. For one thing, I needed something my mom would never guess- and for another I just needed any email at all, it seemed like a good idea when I was 12.

How is ‘lucyliusloveinterest’ any better?? And who is Lucy Lui? No, no, I’m fine. My mother is just overprotective, it’s complicated, don’t worry about me.

How was your day? I stopped getting a lot of updates from you, you’re going to high school soon, right? How was graduation? How was the soccer season? From,

Your Least Favorite Former Unicorn Enthusiast

Seiko grinned to herself and started typing away, she imagined she was a 19th century working girl keeping correspondence with an old-fashioned bedridden rich socialite. You know, instead of texting like normal people.

Dear Unicorn Salivator,

For one, the fact you never leave your house is no excuse for not knowing Lucy Liu, for shame!! (Elementary? Charlie’s Angels?? )

The address is an inside joke from a rather out of control sleepover. I’ll never live it down, but I will make a joke email around it! Haha, nothing serious, just a lifetime of embarrassment nbd

Day was fine, graduation was pretty awesome, I got my picture in the yearbook TWICE, one for jump-high fiving the mascot and the other for a gatorade incident. Soccer kind of sucked, too much drama and our coach wanted us to get ‘serious,’ whatever that means.

We got to state tho, then immediately knocked out of state, figures

I might not do it next year, but Liza says practice will suck without me and that I can’t leave her, maybe it will be different in High School, so I guess I’ll endure. I GUESS

High school is gonna be hella different tho, I swear, I’m buying an electric scooter (eventually) and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna ace social studies for once, go to a few dances, maybe break an arm and get everyone to sign the cast, move to Peru and open a coffee shop, you know

How are you? Your mom see my future recently? Read any good books? Come get pizza with us some time, I promise that public school kids don’t bite

Yours,

Soccer Dud, High School Stud

Dear Dud,

Sorry, pizza sounds lovely, but it will have to wait for later.

As for the soccer, I have to say…

——–

High school passed rotely: a series of highs and lows, almost failing math for a hot second, quitting the soccer team, rejoining the soccer team, getting the flu, getting ask out- turning down someone for the first time. And emails. Lots of emails.

Seiko had no idea how she could write paragraphs on paragraphs to a girl she had known for only minutes at a time in middle school. But maybe it made sense, maybe Seiko wanted it to make sense.

Why does her mother keep her indoors? Was any of it okay?

The emails became a constant in her life as the first year of high school dragged on.

Dear Dior Heathen (who God hath abandoned),

Uuuugh, my mom is bugging me so much recently. She’s obsessed with Rei and her elementary school play, but barely remembers to even take me out to drive. It’s always ‘wait your turn Seiko’ and ‘talk to your dad about it.’ He’s such a space case when I do, he keeps pretending to lose the car keys and makes a big deal of it (or he’s not pretending??).

This whole semester is screwed, high school is the worst Annalise, I’m so jealous of you being homeschooled.

The video and film club keep outvoting me for what short film we make, no one wants to do my alien thriller murder project. NO TASTE. June’s in that club. Did I mention June? We used to do paper delivery stuff together

She’s the worst. And she keeps wanting to do this romcom she wrote!! It’s based off her dumb supernatural fanfiction- I swear to God it is. She’s only a sophomore, but claims to have the most ‘seniority.’ She’s also in the lbgt+ club and says that also makes her ‘the authority on art,’ whatever that means, and she keeps trying to get me to join >:(((

For the record, JUST BECAUSE I HAVE SHORT HAIR AND PLAY SOCCER DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING!! She’s so pushy, and presumptuous!! dating is like… the last thing on my mind

Hbu? You finish that book about the secret life of trees? Do they do anything spicy, like squirrel espionage? Tree murder plots? Huh?

OR how about… your LOVE LIFE? Your mom’s new ‘Loves Fortune’ show is all the rage at school, tell me she’s at least tried to read your future and it’s like… a horse (unicorn maybe, hmm?) husband. Or probably a lesser nobility of a small country, aim high A!!

Anyway, gotta go count my $$$, I want to go to movies this weekend and I didn’t get that grocery store job (since no one will teach me to drive!!) and I’m still living off my paper route money. THE CRUELTY OF IT ALL *this is where I swoon and fall to the ground, I can’t go to the movies, people are weeping, Mr. Dior is there, he tells me I am terribly unfashionable*

Yours,

Your Impoverished Vehicle-less Friend

Dear Marooned Stranger,

You poor dear, I wonder what it’s like to not be able to go anywhere (*she loudly coughs into her hand*). I wouldn’t be too jealous of being homeschooled dear, it gets rather… suffocating to be honest. Involving many rules and worksheets and sorting through her vast collection of dusty tomes and ‘elixirs,’ Catherine is going from overbearing to class A-hysteric.

Everything worries her lately! At least her new show keeps her busy, out more, trust me, it’s a nice breather.

You claim to not have dating on your mind, but this is the third time you’ve asked me about a love life who do you think I’m going to meet all the way up in my room? The new delivery boy doesn’t even smile and the birds outside my window are assholes, no one likes an early-morning screamer.

So no. No love life.

But I wouldn’t be so close-minded of that club if I were you! I was reading ‘Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers’ for my social studies curriculum and it was truly fascinating. I know you never read my recommended books, but give it a try.Who knows, maybe you can usurp June at her club! Viva la non-pushy girls ;).

Also, remind me of when your birthday is. I want to send you something.

Yours,

Loveless in Confinement

Dear Inmate,

Sucks to be yoooooouuuu. Haha, but I’m serious, for real, for really serious. Break out. She can’t keep you there forever!! What are you, almost 16? Let’s go out, get a milkshake, knock over a trash can, break loose

Hell, we could go to a ‘scene,’ Kingsley invited me to one of those recently

He’s into ‘scenes’ now, and smoking apparently which is really gross but his mom says he’s just ‘experimenting.’ I hope she doesn’t think his new boyfriend is just an experiment too (see?? I’m not close-minded, my friend from elementary school is gay. So there). I haven’t seen him in awhile so it will be like a big ‘ol reunion

Also, sorry bb but you already missed my bday, it’s November 15th and it’s almost April lol. But you have to come to my next one!! The big 1 and 6, hopefully I’ll finally be able to drive by then, if the lord deigns to bless me with any indulgences at all adkfjagjgp

You can still send me a present tho!! I accept late-work, no points taken off :3c

I’ll try usurping June too, maybe not at her tiny lbtq club but I WILL have my alien-thriller-murder movie come to life!!

Liza keeps asking me about film club, I think she can tell my heart is like not into soccer at all at the moment. I dunno, I keep thinking we’ll drift apart after middle school but every time I think about like, not seeing her, or not talking to her, it just sucks. You know? Really sucks

Ugh, June would throw a big ‘I told you so’ party if she saw me writing that, and then I’d have to smack her haha

I’m serious about you getting out of there tho, I’m real about it, we should stop talking about it and just do it, you know?

If you do want some outside-time meet me next Friday, at the end of Greenbriar by the entrance sign, I’ll wear my neon green windbreaker so you can recognize me (and since it’s an AMAZING jacket and NOT an eyesore like my mom says). At 7, k?

We’ll do whatever.

Anyway, yours,

Your Sucker-Punching Sad Sap of a Friend

(Outside Greenbriar!! 7, don’t tell your mom or anything haha, I’ll get you home before 10 promise)

Dear Seiko,

I’d like that. I’d really really like that.

I’ll bring your present then, by the sign, 7 O’clock , I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.

Yours,

Annalise

—————

Seiko stood in the gentle spring air, the last rays of the sun bleaching across the land, shining in between the houses and warming the back of her neck. She took deep even breaths.

She was wearing her neon green windbreaker, holding a stuffed unicorn toy, and wearing her hair up in the shortest ponytail this side of Chicago. Maybe if she pretended to have long hair her heart wouldn’t beat so fast. Like hummingbirds caught in a wind turbine.

It’s just hanging out, she hunched her shoulders over. It’s just a silly toy I got her.

Freshmen year of highschool hadn’t gone like she expected. Sure, she had gotten ‘involved,’ made some friends and lost some, but she wasn’t popular and she wasn’t ‘taking the town.’ She didn’t really feel like anything at all. She was still just the girl making video edits with cartoon sound effects and photoshopping wiener dog faces over the woodshop teachers face.

She was still just Seiko.

Her mom wanted her to get a proper job again or she wasn’t affording new shoes for next year, she wanted her to quit soccer, Seiko wanted to quit soccer, Seiko couldn’t quit soccer. She kept looking at Liza and feeling some tasteless, nameless thing she pushed down like drowning a first born son in a bathtub.

But this wasn’t nameless. It was Seiko holding a stuffed animal around the neck and swaying back and forth in the warm breeze. It was Seiko checking her phone’s clock, again and again.

She had put on mascara, she had put on lip gloss. Ten minutes passed.

She had walked there so she wouldn’t sweat on a bike ride over. Twenty minutes passed.

She thought out what she wanted to say over and over, a simple ‘hey, you look nice.’ Thirty minutes passed.

She bought a purple and white unicorn with a sparkly horn for fifteen bucks. She waited fifty minutes.

Seiko’s arms fell to her side, she waited an entire hour for someone in a pretty white dress and expensive earrings and angry little face to show up. No one showed.

————–

From: ToyomiStoryReloaded@gmail.com

Where were you? Get busted by the man on your way out? Get cold feet? Lmk, either way I’m sending you 4 videos, 3 are cute dog videos you WILL enjoy and 1 is Rick Astley. Choose wisely. *saw music plays*

1, 2, 3, 4

Yours,

I’ll be real with you, Im a little pissed

PS I hope you’re okay.

Seiko never got a reply. She didn’t get anything at all, no matter how many follow up emails she sent, no matter how many ‘just write me that you’re okay. And not trapped in a dungeon somewhere.’

‘Just write me one letter, if it’s the letter ‘c’ I’ll come get you.’

‘Just send me some smoke signals, I’ll look to the western sky’

‘Just write me at all.’

‘Annalise…?’

————

Seiko visited Annalise’s house. Something had to be done, it was the middle of the day a week later, she waited ten minutes on the sidewalk, just watching the house. She saw a blond head in the first-story window.

Seiko waved forcefully, gesturing for her to come outside- come away with her, Annalise’s head turned and their eyes met. Seiko beamed, but Annalise gave her a neutral look, all placid eyes and an uninterested twitch of her lip.

Annalise looked away after that. Simply turned her head and looked the other direction. Seiko waited another minute, but Annalise never came out to greet her.

Seiko stared at her shoes, took a deep gulping breath, and went home the long way. The way that made her legs ache and her eyes sting a little less in the night air.

—————-

Seiko was 16. It was the week of her birthday, Seiko was 16 and she couldn’t tell if she was at the top of the world or buried under a hundred pounds of dirt.

“Just come,” she heard the voice of her friend Kingsley on the phone, “One night, it’s your birthday weekend, spend it with people who like you instead of all those hetero soccer girls who put your bra in the freezer last year.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “That was just a stupid prank and they already took me to Denny’s this week on my actual birthday, bought me every flavor of pancake for your information. It was cool.” She flinched at the memory of the cold ice on her chest, but she pushed it back down. She had laughed that all off. “And what if they figure out the IDs are fake? My mom would kill me for even thinking the words ‘fake ID.’”

“Tres Beaut doesn’t even card before 11 and I know a guy,” Kingsley explained slowly, “Sei, I invited people from your school too, Liza something- you like her, right? You gotta come. What happened to that ‘fuck the man’ spirit? You’re the one that made me watch the Breakfast Club when we were ten.” Seiko gave a brief laugh, she forgot how much she missed Kingsley. Then she frowned again, “For one, Liza is definitely not coming.” She covered her eyes with her arm and groaned, “Definitely not.” “Why not?” He humphed, “I thought she was the one you-” “She’s just not coming.” Seiko growled, cringing briefly. She had finally said something, it was not the right something- she played it off as a joke.

“Perfect!” Kingsley sang, most likely putting two and two together. “You can come and let off some steam. There will be girls there who, you know, could actually like you back!” Seiko groaned into the receiver and thought about hanging up. “I don’t know what I like.” She looked away, maybe that was true, maybe it wasn’t. “I’ve never even kissed a girl, please, Kingsley.” “What? What about the time you called me crying on the phone about Natalie Dormer and your english teacher and those wei-” “It’s always been just a joke, a haha funny, ‘maybe Seiko doesn’t like boys’ clown joke,” Seiko looked miserably up at the ceiling, “None of it was ever meant to be serious.” Nothing ever was.

Kingsley sighed loudly, “Then it’s time.” He said resolutely, “Come to the club with me, it’ll be awesome, live a little, figure yourself out, don’t leave your old friend Kingsley to go alone to this thing.”

“Maybe.” “I think you mean yes. Yes, yes, yes,” He repeated the word like a mantra, “Say yes.” She sighed so deeply a bit of her soul might of left, “Fine.” “Yes!” The phone hung up after that.

Kingsley had become more strong-willed since back in third grade when he cried over dead bugs on the playground. Apparently he dated a Junior girl last year, briefly dropped out, stopped dating a junior girl, and now got fake IDs for a gay club. Life changed.

Seiko just looked the ceiling, eyes misting over. What if she did go? What if she spent her birthday money and drank and danced on sticky floors in the night? What if there was somebody in the smoky dark room with soft lips and warm hands that took her off to the side…

Well, but what if the gay girls didn’t like her either? Then it truly would be hopeless.

She sunk deep into her couch, the rest of her family was out at a family dinner night. She had refused to go, claiming a cold. Seiko lugged herself over to the family calendar and penned in an event: Seiko goes to Liza’s house for a sleepover, gone the whole night.

She went to bed before 8 O’Clock and thought about nothing.

———–

Friday.

There was an email in her inbox on friday, and not her school one, her old one, the one she almost forgot about. She only checked it as an old habit, one that ached like a scar and stuttered hotly in her chest.

She opened her email and something new was there.

Dear Seiko,

It felt like reading a ghost’s handwriting.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it was all my fault. I was a coward, a fool, I wanted it so badly but I was so scared. I’m sorry.

Happy birthday, I needed to tell you that. I’m so sorry and happy birthday.

I’ve been thinking about you and your birthday and everything else.

Let me know if you ever want to try again. I promise I’ll be ready this time, I want to try again so badly Seiko. But I understand if you don’t.

Love,

Annalise.

Seiko shut her laptop with a loud ‘clack,’ tossed the entire second-hand computer under her bed, and hopped under the covers. She put her head under her pillow and screwed her eyes shut tight in order to force herself to sleep. Nothing but a pounding in her head greeted her.

She opened her computer again at 2am that night, it was dark and still as a tomb. The apartment below them was playing soft ocean music and someone was singing drunkenly on the street. Seiko couldn’t sleep, she didn’t want to sleep. She should sleep.

She wrote, despite herself.

Dear A,

I get it. I think I get it, your mom, right? Sure, yeah, I’m going out this Saturday, out-out, it probably won’t be your thing, a club probably isn’t the best starter-outing

But, yeah, we could try again.Promise you won’t see me and blow me off again? I’m pretty delicate (and dainty, can’t you tell?) and that kind of really fucking sucked like, 6 months ago

If you’re actually up for it, meet us at the gas station on 25th street, we’ll pick you up along with a few beers. Hope you don’t mind.

Yours,

Totally-Cool-and-Drinks-Beers-Now Seiko

She shouldn’t have done it. She did it.

She closes her laptop again and buried the thing at the bottom of a stack of laundry.

————-

She didn’t expect anything. She told herself there was nothing to expect. She was 16 and she made her own meals, did her own laundry, and tied her own damn shoes, she got to make her own decisions.

She could go out to places where they drank and smoked and didn’t care about small apartments that smelled like burnt sneakers and damp soil.

She was 16 now. And she didn’t need ‘fairy gates’ and pale victorian girl’s trapped in wedding-cake houses that were more fantastical than real. She didn’t need bedtime stories of captive princesses.

Seiko’s heart still stopped when she saw the lithe figure under the green fluorescent lights of the gas station. She wasn’t wearing pajamas for once. She had on a knee-length white tent dress with pale yellow accents, a soft blue knit jacket loosely buttoned up her front, and a pair of ankle-length brown boots. She clutched a saddlebag brown leather purse to her side.

They were all probably name-brand with designers Seiko couldn’t place and held by a girl with poise money couldn’t by. Annalise’s dark eyes followed each car nervously, standing with her whole body tense and bathed in the eerie glow of the musty gas station.

She looked out of place against the grungy pumps and compact convenience store, candy bars, tabloids, and energy drinks framing her loose twisting golden curls. She looked out of place and more nervous than Seiko had ever seen her.

But she had come.

“Is that your girl?” Kingsley whistled, he was driving his families yellow jeep with the air of someone with enough money to replace it. “She’s like one of those fancy haunted dolls you buy in the creepy part of ebay.” Seiko shot a glare at him, “She doesn’t get out much.” She explained shortly to him, “pull over.” They drove up to the spooked girl and she froze in place, eyes wide and mirror-like, Seiko quickly rolled down the window, “what’s up hot stuff?” She said with a slight cringe.

Annalise visibly relaxed, “Seiko.” Her eyes grew soft and a faint smile played across her features. “You came.” It was simple, a moment with no time at all, crystallized and still in a way that was beyond a gas station meeting in the dark with childhood friend’s going to a drinking party.

Seiko put her hand out, “Come on up.” Annalise beamed, a faint glow coming to her cheeks, “I’m ready to go out into the world.” She declared and lifted herself up tall, “I’m not even frightened.” “You should be,” Kingsley snorted, “The world’s a fucked up place.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “don’t listen to the cynic, he’s in his ‘try everything once and become an asshole’ phase.” “Thanks Sei, you’re a peach.”

Seiko gave a short laugh, “Come on,” she opened the car door to the back seats, “We’re giving you a crash course in the outside world. Zero to a hundred real quick.” “I’m ready!” Annalise pumped her hands in the air, “Show it to me.” They all grinned with the burn of youth in their guts and chill of the frosty winter in the air. It was time to do something new.

————

Dark trees, brilliant headlights, and a stretching highway unfolded around them in long plodding stretches, Seiko held her hands- popping each knuckle one finger at a time.

She vibrated in place gently, trying to push down any building giddiness, it’s just a club she told herself, just a party, just a girl. So what if it was a gay club? So what if I haven’t done anything like this before? It was thirty minutes to the nearest big-city, Springfield, and then thirty minutes back. But Kingsley had already assured them that they might need to uber their own way back.

“What’s an uber?” Annalise blinked a couple times, wide-eyed and tilting her head like a graceful meerkat leaning into their personal space. She hadn’t been convinced to put a seatbelt on yet.

Seiko and Kingsley exchanged a look, “Uhh,” they both fumbled. “A car you, pay for?”

Annalise grew a cheeky grin, “I’m kidding.” She pushed on Seiko’s shoulder, “I’m a shut-in, not a luddite.” They laughed, passed around a few unmemorable words, and turned the car’s speakers on high. They sang along to Kingsley’s father’s playlists, belting out the Beach Boys best hits when appropriate.

“If everybody had an ocean

Across the U. S. A.

Then everybody’d be surfin’

Like Californi-a”

No one in that car had surfed a day in their life. They turned the song up for a reprise.

Some of the worries melted from Seiko’s gut, it was the night for this, it was the night for her, and Kingsley, and most of all Annalise. They could eat the world whole- chew on the rinds, crunch the mountains into crumbs, and swallow the oceans like candy-flavored cough syrup.

They sped across blank landscape, passing the speed limit at several points and tapping the ceiling with a kiss at every train track. They drove until a glittering mass of high buildings arose from the treetops like a sudden witch’s hut in an otherwise cursed black forest. Sprawling neighborhoods, actual indoor malls, and house lights that didn’t turn off at 9pm came into view.

Seiko took deep even breaths, “We close?” She bit her lip, “are they even expecting us?” Kingsley rolled his eyes and turned off into a highway exit, “Chill,” he put his hand out, “Relax. Everyone will take care of you, they’re cool.” “Take care of us?” Annalise knit her brow together.

Kingsley looked back in the mirror, “You know, like murder.” “No Kingsley.” Seiko groaned.

They made several turns down dinghy second-hand neighborhood roads and Seiko popped her fingers again. The neighborhoods had low gutters, indistinct sidewalks, yellow street lights the color of stale mountain dew, and five story buildings on either side- and this wasn’t even the downtown district. They were as far from Rogers as the afterlife was to the newly born.

Kingsley started humming, “here we go baby.”

They slowed down in front of a boxy cement building with glowing square windows and too many people mulling about outside. Most of them were holding lit cigarettes, chatting, and relaxed as a crowd of crows at a carcass. One of the groups were sipping out of red solo cups and watching a young man in a beanie attempt a skateboard trick.

Seiko gulped as her eyes flicked over the cups, she had tried a few beers with the soccer girls before and even a shot of whiskey she immediately coughed up through her nose.

But nothing like this.

Several cars were parked haphazardly off to the side, a jigsaw puzzle of devil-may care line-ups, a couple of stranger’s raised their heads as Kingsley’s yellow jeep pulled up.

“Y’all ready?” Kingsley winked.

Seiko set her jaw and put on a brave face on, “Let’s rock.” Kingsley just chuckled, “Alright then.” He parked, Seiko exchanged a look with Annalise.

‘You ready?’ she mouthed to the other girl and Annalise just gave a stony-faced nod. She sat up straight and threw her arms up, “Let’s murder it!” She shouted at full-volume and they laughed recklessly in reply.

Kingsley was the first one to jump out, boneless and tall as the buildings themselves. “Who has a drink for me and these lovely ladies?” He waved and some people must have recognized him as he was greeted with a brief ‘ayyyyy.’

Seiko took another moment to get her legs to work, closing her eyes, imagining the whole night laid out in front of her like a winding silver road, her feet pounding on it up and up and out. She hopped out of the car without looking back.

Seiko stumbled forward and a few people looked her over, she gave a lopsided-grin, “Sooo, there’s drinks here?”

“Sure kid,” a girl with a nose ring motioned for a guy wearing a hawaiian t-shirt.

Annalise followed her out like a lost shadow, bumping into Seiko and grabbing at her sleeve, Seiko just gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We got this,’ she mouthed in her general direction, Annalise’s expression had slipped slightly like a shifting curtain over a disturbed zoo animal.

“Yeah.”

Kingsley whooped from the makeshift parking lot, patted some hands, and handed Seiko a sort of ‘jungle juice’ he called it. She wrinkled her nose at the sweet slippery smell and fluorescent redness.

“I guess…” She gave it a long hard look.

“Oh no, none for me, not yet.” Someone tried to offer Annalise a drink too, but she politely turned it down, her cheeks paler than usual and face a little stricken.

“One of you has to break your alcohol cherry tonight,” Kingsley said loudly for the benefit of the crowd, like a showman at the fairgrounds, some other kids cheered back. “Go for it girl,” a young woman with a mohawk cackled.

Seiko looked over to Annalise, her sweeping dark eyes, small wrists, preened curls, and the upright way she carried herself. Everything.

Seiko took a deep breath, held her nose, and drank deeply, it was like every punch juice she ever had but sweeter and with a strong bitter undercurrent. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinked up, and stared into the starless night sky until it all went down.

—————

Colors and lights blurred together, sound thumped in the very center of her being like a drumbeat to her blinking eyes and swirling thoughts. Everything was slightly blurred around the edges, like a developing photo that had been shifted at the very last second.

The world was brighter, busier, and more jumbled than ever before, Seiko had a huge liquid smile spread across her face. They had made it to the club, she couldn’t remember how or why they made it, but they were there. Seiko was sitting on some black leather couches with a group of people she hadn’t known an hour ago.

In the distant past she had entered an apartment, played her first drinking game, won at flip cup, lost spectarcurly at king’s cup. She drank the whole regal cup after that to a series of chanting that began and ended with ‘chug.’ That’s when things got a little wonky around the edges.

She was sitting, smiling, and soaking in the room, there were girls moving with girls and boys whispering to each other in private corners. Couples laughed, held hands, and found places to   dig skin into skin like holy burial grounds. There was a sapling plant in her chest being watered for the first time, a sunbeam to people who never seen the sky before.

She blinked slowly, “This place is great.” That might not have been the first time she said that, “Really great.” Some girl she didn’t know was placing water in front of her, “drink up.” She smiled and watched her carefully. The girl had sparkle star berets in her stiff brown hair, a neon-troll shirt, and a thousand brightly colored bracelets. Seiko thought they started talking when she complimented the girl’s purple leather pants and somehow ended up here. Another girl sat across from them in all black and ignored the crowds for watching the multi-colored ceiling lights instead.

Seiko slowly reached for the water and chugged. It was good, lot’s of things were really good.

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice broke into her headspace.

Seiko turned to see a blonde girl leaning over them, trying to avoid other people swaggering behind her as they passed behind the couch. She looked perplexed, Seiko turned her smile on Annalise and reached for her.

“Annalise,” she hummed, “You look so pretty tonight, those red lights are hitting just right.” She hiccuped, “Wish I had my camera.” Annalise shook her head, “I thought I lost you.” The girl (Kendra something?) looked between them curiously, paused, and then scooted over, “Take a seat, we’re just taking a break here.” Annalise exhaled and squished into the place next to them, her eyes flitting over everything and anything.

“Had a drink yet?” Seiko asked and Annalise just shook her head in reply.

“Shame.” A girl with a dark mohawk and a cat-like curl to her lips said, sitting crossed legged on the opposite couch. She reached into her pocket and took out a cherry-red lighter in the shape of a tongue.

Seiko opened her mouth to say something, but a high-pitched yelp interrupted. Seiko turned, Annalise had reeled back, kicking her legs into the table between them and climbing the couch backward. Her eyes were huge. “Is smoking allowed in here?” The girl shrugged, nonplussed, “I know for damn sure this isn’t.” She took out a rolled up piece of paper and put it between her lips, leaning her head back and exposing an expanse of smooth skin. Seiko had the sudden urge to lick it.

“What is it?” Annalise watched her movements, lips parted and shaking anxiety apparent in her movements.

The girl grinned smoothly, “A happy stick. Sweet Mary Jane.” That was pretty obvious.

Annalise just nodded slowly, mouth falling open as the girl flicked the lighter to life, the little flame danced in place. Annalise’s eyes followed it closely as the girl lit the end of her reefer, Annalise swallowed, “My mom always warned me about that stuff.” The girl took a deep inhale, it smelled sweet and thick. Sne answered on the exhale with a huge plume wafting up, “don’t worry about it.” She grinned, “momma knows best.” Annalise watched the whole process in silence, waiting for something. Seiko herself got distracted and started playing ‘Hand Slap’ with Kendra. She kept losing.

“Your reflexes suck,” Kendra frowned, “Are you even trying?” Seiko got her hands slapped for the fifth time, a red welt forming on the top of them. She screwed her face up in concentration, “You’re more sober than me, it’s not fair.” “Drink some more water!”

Seiko rolled her eyes and complied, then a voice spoke up.

“Could I try it? I mean, if that’s okay.” Seiko swiveled around, alert, she almost forgot Annalise was sitting there, neatly tucked away in the corner and watching.

The girl, who’s name was Mikenna, slid her eyes across the room as cool as oil slicks. Her mouth split open in another grin, “Sure thing.” She languidly handed over the blunt, “Don’t inhale too deep the first time, sip it like a kiss.” Annalise’s cheeks pinked, shoulders drawing together and taking the blunt with jerky, questioning movements. She nodded briefly.

“Like this?” Annalise brought it to her lips tentatively.

“Sure.” Mikenna gestured widely.

Annalise paused, thinking for a moment, she took a long inhale in the way you give a firm handshake, solid and focused. She broke out into a sputtering cough the next second, Seiko patted her on the back as she hacked into her fist. “Slower!” Mikenna instructed.

Annalise squeezed her eyes shut, brought the blunt back up again, barely parted her lips and took a drag. The smoke came out of her mouth in a snaking puff, winding and soft, she doesn’t cough this time.

“You got it!”

“Woo! She’s an art kid now,” Annalise gave a brief whoop and they all laughed. Annalise took another hit, watching the little burning end the way preachers watch baptisms, reverent. She never took her eyes off the thing as she and Mikenna passed it back and forth, taking a series of hits. Seiko observed mutley as her agoraphobic friend learned how to smoke weed, she watched the plumes of blooming smoke and Annalise’s pupils expanding like bursting fireworks. Seiko took another shot of whiskey and laughed along with the others at some joke.

Her head lulled back in place and time became thick white ink in the back of her mind, spotty and barely there.

“Let’s dance.” A voice breached her blank thoughts, sudden as a lightning strike, Annalise stood over Seiko, red-eyed and limp-jointed.

“Hmm?”

“Dance,” Annalise smiled and reached for Seiko’s hand, her fingers trailing out from the abyss and grasping for her. “Out there.” Their hands slid together and Annalise tugged gently on Seiko.

“Okay,” she replied simply, the water was running through her system and her senses were coming back into place like lost puzzle pieces. Luckily, she still had enough goose left in her to let herself be led to the dance floor.

Annalise was giggling and covering her mouth, squeezing Seiko’s hand like it was a secret between them, Seiko felt weightless again. They wedged themselves onto the edge of the dance floor, a horde of shaking bodies jerking back and forth around them. The music pounded wordlessly and they fit together on the sticky white floors face to face.

They giggled for another moment before starting to rock back and forth experimentally, leaving enough room for Jesus but catching each other’s eyes and smiling. They hovered closer, shimmying and throwing their hands up to the beat.

They swayed and touched lightly and tried to collapse into something more than ‘almost.’

The breath left Seiko’s body when someone bumped into her and she stumbled into Annalise, crashing into her and their bodies coming together like peanut butter and jelly bread slices. Annalise didn’t pull away, instead intertwining their hands and pulling her close. Their bodies slid into one and a melting heat coursed through Seiko like river rapids.

She drew her eyes up and they’re rolling along to the music, sandwiched together and mixing like shaken martinis. Seiko exhaled through her nose, something feverish and prickling across her skin, their legs slotted and chests touched lightly.

She wet her lips, “this is good.” It felt dumb to say out loud, she glanced up shyly at Annalise’s loose hair and bright eyes, “You look good.” Her hands felt dumb, her feet felt dumb, and her head swam with dumb. The rest of her was completely electric.

Annalise tapped their foreheads together, “You too,” She said gently, wrapping her arms around Seiko’s neck, sweaty skin melding and eyes burning. “Thanks for inviting me out.” She leaned closer with each word, “It’s even better than I thought.” She was a hair away, sticky music and rhythm consuming them on all sides.

“No problem,” her voice cracked, she grinned up, “I just can’t believe you smoked a joint.” Annalise laughed, lighting up like a firecracker, “I just hoped to get up the nerve to get you alone.” Seiko’s heart beat so fast and hard she thought it might crash through her chest and out into the bloody world, abandoning her there forever. Her whole body froze despite the grinding and the pooling warmth inside her. “You didn’t need to do all that, I think you’re,” she floundered, mouth gaping open and closed, “…cool.” She finished weakly.

Annalise giggled and her breath is hot against Seiko’s cheek, “I think you’re amazing.” She felt the touch of almost-skin against skin, “and I’ve been waiting too long for too many things.” The actual words were drowned out by the thrumming music, but their lips crushed together with the force of honey bees into flower hearts, ready to suck the pollen dry. Gentle and needy, the first touch is rainwater against burnt hilltops.

Her lips are slightly parched, warm and pulsing like a drumbeat, it didn’t matter that they were in a dim club in the middle of a distant city with nothing but strangers around them. They kiss, clumsily, forcefully, Seiko’s thoughts jammed like cars at a traffic light and she melted into the moment.

Annalise’s hands went through Seiko’s hair and Seiko wound her arms around the taller’s girls waist and pulled her closer. They deepened the kiss in the flurry of music and sweet heaving bodies. Little noises caught in Seiko’s throat and it’s a tunnel she’s falling down, down, down into with no safety rope, tilting her chin up and getting lost.

The union was wet and sloppy, hot as fevers and bruising her chaste lips, everything a mix of sensation threading together in one infinite moment. Annalise kissed like she wanted to eat her, hands running down Seiko’s whole body and teeth nipping at jawline.

It was better than she imagined.

Annalise had never been outside her house, Seiko had never named wanting anything at all. Wanting was for people with names in the yearbook and clothes from anywhere than a thrift shop. And it was all fire ants on a honey hill, kittens rolling in catnip, turnedo storms on flat plains, none of the embrace was elegant but it really didn’t need to be.

A blur of lips and grinding and wetness, it felt like hours, someone told her later that it was hours. Seiko eventually broke the entwinement in a fit of panic and went to choke down some water. They found each other again after a brief recovery, retiring to the nearest couch and falling into one another.

Seiko burst with the world and it burst back.

Her mouth became puffy and cracked with chapped heat, neck littered with tiny purple swelling marks and everything aching with pouring light. It was all a wish of wish she had never managed before.

They took an uber home and parted with a kiss that broke her in two, Seiko walked home from Greenbriar on foot and didn’t feel a single drop of cold. She was electric.

——————

Seiko woke up the next morning and she was not electric anymore, in fact, she was very much grey thunderstorms with no lightning. Very very bleak. And loud.

She groaned and turned over in bed, groping around to close her blinds and sleep forever. Her head hurt, her knee hurt where she she kicked a chair, her back hurt, and her breath tasted like sour candy left out to rot in the sun.

She had gone out last night.

Seiko rolled over and reached for the small trash can by her bed, she sat there and felt queasy for at least a couple minutes before stumbling up to go find some water. Mercifully, her mother didn’t come check on her that morning and Seiko returned to her bed unhindered.

It was hard to process the night. It was hard to even guess why she did the things she did.

The other part of her was amazed she did them at all, was it real? Had she kissed a girl? Had she touched her hair and felt the swell of music and warmth inside her? What was that night real? Seiko replayed the moments over and over in head, even the blurry parts that were more sensation than images. But the kiss was real.

She sighed into her pillow and was helpless against the next pull of sleep, dreaming soft things in fits until her headache slowly faded into just an aching pulse. It was well past noon when she finally managed to drag herself from bed again, shower, and feel like any sort of person.

Seiko sat cross-legged on her bed in a fluffy towel, opening her email to check on her grades and any Monday assignments (she prayed she hadn’t forgot any).

Instead, she felt her soul leave her body as she read the worst email header of her life: Goodbye.

Seiko could barely process the word, much less who is it was from. It had unicorn in the name.

Goodbye.

Thank you for everything Seiko, it means more to me than you will ever know. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Go live your life, forget me, know that I am so sorry and forget me.

Love,

A

Seiko’s eyes went wide, she sat there numbly for a full minute.

“Of course she would,” Seiko gnashed her teeth, “Of course that fakey psychic witch would,” something burned in her center, “Enough is enough Madame Lynne.” She said the name mockingly and burst to her feet, only swaying slightly in place.

Enough was enough.

She wrote out a quick manifesto and threw on some new clothes: children don’t belong in cages Madame L. Children deserve to see the world and make their own mistakes.

It sounded reasonable enough to her, she could start with reason at least and then resort to other things later.

Seiko still had to wait another hour before she was less groggy, less achy, and less panicky in her fritzing nerves. She knew what she had to do nonetheless.

When she finally left her room to stuff a sandwich down her throat and find her shoes her mom was waiting in the living room. She was sitting on the couch absently watching the TV, “Did you have a fun night?” She asked without looking up.

“Oh… yeah,” Seiko just nodded, “It was pretty great.” Her mom’s sober crows-feet eyes looked up at her. She spoke dryly, “Learn anything?” Seiko made a non-committed gesture, “Maybe.” She frowned, “I think so.” Her mom just sighed and shook her head, “I saw you put your shoes away in the bread box when you got in. At 5 O’clock.” “5 O’clock,” Seiko repeated, “Thanks, I’ll go get them. Also,” she hesitated, deciding whether to go all in or not, “Also, I might call in sick Monday.” Her mom narrowed her eyes, “Oh?” Seiko just nodded and tried haltingly to explain, “I have something important to do. It might… need a lot of attention.” Her mom gave her a piercing looking, all folded brows and a discerning stare. She lifted her chin up, “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” Seiko lifted her chin up, “Thanks mom. Thanks for everything.” She shuffled over to kiss her mom on the cheek, her mom blinked rapidly in reply.

“Oh my God,” she turned to her in horror, “How bad is it?” Seiko just gave a weak smile, “I need to go help a friend.” She waved, “I promise it’s important.” “Important enough to miss school?” Her mom kept frowning.

She gave her a thumbs up, “You betcha.” Her mom shook her head but waved her toward the door, “Don’t make it a habit.”

She shoved her shoes on, grabbed a bagged sandwich, and stuffed her fully charged cell phone into her inside pocket. She might need it. She turned as she reached the door, “I love you!”

Her mom just gaped, “Jesus, be careful.” Seiko’s mom said forcefully, but didn’t stop her as she raced out the door. The older woman tutted to herself, “Wild girl… Be home for dinner!”

Seiko streaked down the apartment steps and back into the light.

———-

Seiko once again made her way to the wedding-cake house on Townsend Street, paperless this time and taller than she had ever been. It was quiet, hushed with grey misty skies and yellow parched winter grass.

It hadn’t snowed in a few weeks and everything was frosted and bare across the naked trees and shuttered houses. It felt appropriate as Seiko made her way up the hill.

“Miss Lynne,” she practiced with herself, “I know you might not think it’s any of my business, but there’s something important I have to say,” she drew a deep breath, “I know you have your daughter’s best interests at heart, probably, maybe, but locking her away is absolutely the wrong thing! She’s a person, not a mint-condition action figure, last night was good for her!”

She mused over the words, rearranging them little by little, “She’s a young woman, not a fancy tea set to be put aside in a cupboard! Take it from me, I’m mostly-functioning, I mean I get decent grades. I mean, I’m allowed to roam around and my parents trust me to not mess up too bad. That’s good!”

She couldn’t quite make the right arguments, even to herself, but hadn’t she been trekking around neighborhoods on her bike since she before she could remember? Hadn’t she been fine? Wasn’t she evidence enough? Seiko couldn’t even imagine what Madame Lynne had to worry about in a rich neighborhood like hers anyway.

The house came up much faster than Seiko would have liked, all too familiar and yet alien at the same time. She stood on her tiptoes to peer through the fence and over the hedge, all the curtains were drawn on the house’s long Georgian windows. Seiko held her breath at the sight, pursing her lips together and inching her way toward the gate, there was no turning back now.

She touched the cold iron latch of the fairygate, resting her hands on it’s clasp and waiting for something. She closed her eyes and pushed it soundlessly open, it was time to go in. Seiko kept her back broom-straight and marched up the drive before she could talk herself out of it. She had been their paper girl, maybe that meant something.

She knocked on the door three times, jaw set and resolve hard as a cherry pit in her teeth.

“Okay, you see,” she muttered, practicing one last time, “It’s time to face the facts… This is no way to prepare your daughter for college!” Parents cared about that, they were really into colleges.

She knocked on the door again.

She counted to ten, no reply. Seiko started to huff, “Hello?” She called, “Not answering me is really unnecessary, I just want to talk!” Seiko was starting to find this childish, she screwed her face up and stomped on the hard porch. “Locking kids away isn’t good! And if you keep this up, well, I might just… call somebody. Somebody you won’t like!” She threatened, wondering if she’d actually need to prove Annalise was being mistreated to the cops.

She wondered how she might actually change things, how a conversation like ‘I think you should switch your entire parenting style’ went.

Seiko waited five more minutes with no reply.

She began to circle the house, tapping on the glass and trying to peer in, “Miss Lynne?” All the curtains were still drawn and the house was quiet as a graveyard angel, a sleeping beast to the world. “Annalise?”

Seiko circled the house again, coming back to the front door. She almost went cross-eyed staring at the big white doors, waiting for something. Seiko weighed her next move carefully, holding a single idea in place and poking at it.

There was no other choice.

“I’m coming in now.” She called out as loud as she dared, voice wobbling slightly, she turned the golden door handle and the back of her neck prickled. It wasn’t locked, the door swung open easily and revealed a dim empty house, faceless and unlit.

She gulped, this was the part in horror movies where the protagonist needed to run away, where you yelled at your TV ‘just don’t go on!’ The part where you wonder if they’re idiots or not.

Seiko took a step inside, shoulders hunched and eyes sweeping the gloomy foyer, it held a grand-staircase, blank white walls, and a short hall leading to a massive dining room. The stairs had thick pale carpet, grand wooden handrails, and a shadowed upper story. It all lacked many personal items, just a large plumy plant in the corner and coat rack off to the side.

The house smelled of dust and musky green things.

Seiko took a few more shaky footsteps inside, if the fence was the fairy gate this was surely the witch’s house.

“Anyone home?” She lifted her chin up, heart in her throat and eyes combing the emptiness, “Madame Lynne, I just have a few things to say.”

“How few?” She jerked around, someone was standing behind the door, “We prefer our deliveries outside paper girl.” Before Seiko could react, a clear crystal ball was raised in Madame Lynne’s outstretched hands, it caught the light for just a moment. A rainbow speckled across Seiko’s cheek as the ball was hoisted above her.

She didn’t even get a second to cry out, Madame Lynne brought the crystal ball down hard, pain bloomed at the top of Seiko’s head and shock sunk in like gushing ice water. She crumpled to her knees and her vision quickly spotted black.

She thought she heard a strangled cry from up above, but the world dimmed into a nothingness and was gone just as quickly.

——————–

There were voices, voices, piercing light, and an acute acrid taste in Seiko’s mouth. Seiko wanted to groan and roll away into some distant corner of sleep again.

“This is for your own good,” a voice snapped sharply.

“You don’t know what’s good for me!” a voice, Annalise, it must have been Annalise, hissed back, “This all for you.” There was a growl and a dark undercurrent to her words.

Seiko cracked her eyes open, she flinched, a pain was nestling deep in her forehead, a cruel pounding that thrashed around her frontal lobe, and this one wasn’t from a hangover. Dried blood ran down the left side of her face, making her skin stiff and eyelashes clump together when she blinked. Seiko squinted into the room around her.

It was bright, bright as flash bombs, pure white light shone from up above- a crystal chandelier hanging off a gilded silver fixture, casting diamond streaks of light and long shadows on the walls. The room itself looked like a grand bedroom, a dresser and vanity were pushed off to the side on a silvery grey carpet. Thick curtains covered the windows and the air was warm with blasting furnace heat, Seiko tensed, a large circle was drawn in the very center of the room. It looked rough, homemade, and wet, crude symbols were drawn along the edges and two blurry figures perched just outside the lines. The room smelled like unseen smoke and rotting things.

Seiko’s lips curled back, she tried to move her hands and found them tightly bound. She looked down, her wrists were tied crushingly to the arms of a high-backed chair. She had been captured.

“What the fuck?” She rocked back and forth in place, “WHAT THE FUCK.” Madame Lynne turned, she was wearing one of her dark shawls and a maroon head-covering. She looked over to Seiko like she was an unwanted chunk of mold on a piece of sweet bread.

“Who does this?” Seiko struggled against her restraints, “What the hell is this?”

“Seiko, stay calm, wait,” She looked up sharply, Annalise was sitting across from her, wearing a light blue nightdress and worry lines across every surface of her face. She was similarly tied up to a tall kitchen chair with sailor’s rope and immobilized. She was noticeably bedraggled, somehow paler and more worn, like a ghost of herself. There was something dented about her cheeks, shadowed and lifeless. Her were eyes dull and tired, a strip of tape or maybe plastic was stuck on her left cheek.

“Annalise!” She called out and tried to rock forward, she turned on Madame Lynne hotly, “Child services would definitely have your ass for this,” She narrowed her eyes, “What is it, some sort of occult thing?” She glanced at the circle, “Like, moms sacrificing their kids to satan kind of fucked-up?” She watched Annalise look bitterly over to her mom, gaze dark and unflinching. “She’s not my mom.”

“Of course I am,” Madame Lynne waved her hand dismissively, “What else would I be?” She snorted, then swiftly turned toward Seiko, stalking over to her in a sweeping shapeless dress and with outstretched clawed hands, “And you, the delivery girl,” she licked her lips, “What were you thinking? Smoke, really? Really?! Do you even know what you’ve done?” She stood back up, “Of course not, little fool.” Seiko rolled her eyes with a special type of gumption, “It was just weed, Jesus. It’s not going to kill her.” Madame Lynne lunged forward, one thin hand grabbing Seiko’s chin and jerking her head around to look her directly in the eye. “You don’t know anything.” She whispered acidicly, expression wide and empty, “You don’t what you’ve done.” Seiko sucked in a short breath, “I know you can’t treat her like this. I know this is probably pretty fucking illegal.” Madame Lynne’s lips twitched up, she released Seiko roughly and righted yourself. “You think the law means anything here?” A type of feral humor crossed her mismatched features, “Mortal enforcement wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Mortal…?” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Okay, I guess you’re definitely an alien or some sort of weird demon then. Good to know.” Madame Lynne turned to her slowly, “no, no,” she sang, “just a normal psychic woman,” she looked up at the ceiling, tone suddenly turning weary and sour. “It’s a story you’ve probably heard before.” “Oh trust me, I bet I haven’t.” Seiko tugged at her bonds, trying to loosen the grip just enough to slip her wrist out. “Try me.”

“Wait, wait, no,” Annalise shook her head vigorously, eyes wide, looking adrift and slightly sick to her stomach. “It’s not what you think… it’s not important.” Madame Lynne gave a cackling laugh, “Oh yes, you’ve heard it before. A woman who desperately wants a daughter, someone to hold and care for.” Her eyes looked misty and distant, lost somewhere. “And to care for her when she’s old and unwell.”

Seiko noticed Madame Lynne reaching into her pocket, absently retrieving something curved, pointed, and glittering from one of the deep folds. Seiko’s breath hitched, it looked like an item from an assassins medieval weapons set, a knife half the size of Seiko’s forearm balanced in the older woman’s hand.

Sweat gathered on the back of Seiko’s neck, she pulled on the ropes again.

“You wanted a daughter,” her eyes darted back to the knife in her hands, “So you had Annalise. Yeah, that’s how it works.” Madame Lynne shook her head with forlorn. “I couldn’t.” She sighed and rounded the witches circle in the bright room. “It was not in my fortunes.” Seiko frowned, tilting her head to the side. “So you adopted a daughter just to fuck with her later?” Annalise’s whole face collapsed, she twisted forward desperately, “Please… Seiko.” It sounded small, “I don’t want you to… I don’t…” She choked slightly, like a fish drowning on land.

Seiko shot her a concerned look and then turned back to the psychic. “You didn’t have to tie me to a chair for this speech.” Madame Lynne’s lips curled back, “I thought you should know what you’re going to part of.” She presented a cheerless smile. “I couldn’t have a daughter.” She continued, “So I made one.” “… Okay,” she looked back to Annalise who didn’t meet her eyes.

“I poured my love and my breath and my soul into paper and wax, pasting her together one layer at a time. A perfect beautiful daughter that I could hold and care for,” Madame Lynne sniffed, Seiko still wasn’t processing this. “The Old Ones saw me. They saw my heart’s desire, my greatest wish, all my work, and gave pity.” Madame Lynne looked up at the ceiling, a certain reverence there. “They brought my daughter to life for me.” Seiko eyes went wide, “What?” She squinted, “What?” Madame Lynne closed her eyes, “They breathed life into my beautiful paper doll.” She sighed, “and brought life to the lifeless.” Seiko sputtered, “Iike Pinocchio?”

Madame Lynne looked back to her, unsmiling. “No.”

Annalise gave a weak, sad hiccup of a laugh. “My nose doesn’t grow.” Madame Lynne tutted, “She could walk and talk, feel, learn, think, grow, live as a real girl.” Seiko’s heart started to beat faster, this was too strange. “Come on,” she relaxed into a tight smile, “Seriously? You want me to believe Annalise is some sort of… paper… person?” She moved her wrists back and forth, loosening them, “That’s crazy!”

Seiko should have come sooner to this nuthouse and done something.

“Crazy?” Madame Lynne barked a laugh, “Of course. Of course!” She turned around in a tight circle to face her daughter, “Crazy.” She reached for the tape on Annalise’s sunken cheek, “Crazy… Do you know what smoke does to paper?” She grabbed the strip. “To wax?” Seiko glared, “What the hell are you doing?” “Weakens it!” Madame Lynne yanked at the strip, a vicious tearing sound filled the room.

“No!” Seiko called out breathlessly as a chunk of Annalise’s skin was ripped away in one grisly tug. But no blood came out. No fluid, no muscle revealed or skin at all to behold.

Annalise cried out in pain, but underneath that layer of skin was just another layer: paper white, smooth, and blemishless.

Seiko gulped deeply, “You shouldn’t… do that.” She said weakly, her entire world turning upside down.

“A paper girl,” the psychic continued darkly, “can’t go out in the sun without her wax melting, can’t go into the rain without sagging, can’t touch the snow without disintegrating. Can’t eat, can’t drink,” She snarled, “I have done nothing but keep my daughter safe!”

The blood drained from Seiko’s face, she glanced between Annalise and her mom, trying to parse through this. She focused on the other girl, “Annalise…?” It was soft, a question, probing at her gently.

Annalise looked miserably down at her knees and a few long seconds passed, “I’m not her thing.” She whispered quietly, “I have my own thoughts, wants, my own life.” She jerked her head up, “I’m not her thing!”

Seiko’s mouth fell open. “No… you’re not?” She was still trying to wrap her mind around being able to make a person out of paper and wax. Madame Lynne waved at Annalise dismissively, “We’ve been over this. I needed to keep you safe,” She exhaled, “but this one.” She turned on Seiko with her nasty gleaming knife, “this one is going to change everything for us.” Seiko leaned back in her chair, “Maybe… plastic wrap?” She offered with a feeble smile, “We could laminate her.” “Haha,” the woman’s voice echoed, “You always were a funny one.” She leered, “Maybe Annalise will inherit that when you give your life for hers.”

“No?” Seiko squeaked shrilly.

“I was against such things before, but well, you broke in.” She laughed, “Who can a blame a homeowner for defending herself?” Seiko jerked her head back and forth, looking between the two women, “Annalise?” She asked in a shrill voice, sweat beading down her temples, “Haha, jokes up, nice one guys. I’ve learned my lesson, no more coming in uninvited.” Madame Lynne bent her head down, “Bone and blood.” She started to chant, “Bone and blood, bone and blood, take this flesh and take this soul, take from the corporeal make to the core, b-” “You can’t do this!” Seiko shrieked, the knife was coming carefully toward her unmarked forearm, ready to sink it’s teeth in. “You can’t make her a real girl through me!”

Madame Lynne wasn’t listening.

“No,” a thunk came from across the room, the chair across from Seiko careening over in one loud crash. Seiko and Madame Lynne snapped to attention. “You can’t.”

Annalise had ripped one hand free of the ropes, wrenching her skin to ribbons and using what was left to untie the other. She rolled out of her chair, raising to her feet with a trail of uncoiled paper hanging loosely from her left forearm.

Madame Lynne straightened up with a forced smile, “What are you doing, darling?” Annalise lifted her chin high in the air, “What I should have done a long time ago.” She went sprinting across the room, spitting and tearing like a feral cat on the attack. “Put. That. Down!”

They crashed into each other. Mother and daughter, wrestling for a silver glittering knife.

Seiko wiggled against her own harsh ropes, ugly red abscesses forming along her forearm as she struggled, she managed to loosen one of her hands enough to yank her palm out. “Ah!” A burn scorched across her skin, she gritted her teeth and tugged through the pain.

Meanwhile, Annalise grappled with her mother, clawing at her face with her battered hand and a fiery hissing force, a battle cry spilling out of her from years of bottled grief.

“I’m not yours!” She roared over and over, “You can’t have me!”

Seiko ripped at her shackles, freeing one hand and fumbling with the other tight knot with shaking fingers and breathless movements. She unbound her wrist in one swift tug and bolted to her feet instinctually, ignoring the throbbing in her arms and head.

“Annalise!” She called, voice rasping and heart pounding as if it might collapse in her chest like a straw birds nest in a hurricane. She reached out, “I’m free, we’re free, Annalise!”

Annalise glanced up from where she wrestled her mom. She looked down again, gave a final roar and tore the knife out of her mom’s hand. She took the weapon in hand, lifted it high, and threw it viciously across the room. It lodged into the wood of the house with a twang and Annalise leapt to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she wailed and reached for Seiko, jumping up as Madame Lynne dove for the knife again.

Seiko grabbed Annalise’s good hand. “Don’t even worry.” She tried to smile, “I’ve had weirder nightmares than this.”

Annalise cringed, “It’s not over yet.”

They throw themselves at the door and toward escape. Seiko twisted the lock open and they shoot out into the dark hall with furious feet and numb legs. Annalise led them through the house, turning down a hallway and toward the quiet grand staircase. “Down, down, down.” Annalise yanked them down the stairs at a breakneck pace, running as a wordless howl chased their progress toward the blurry grey outside.

Seiko overtook her as they reached the front door, “We’re going to get you out of here.” She promised, “You’re going to be out of this house for good.” “Seiko,” Annalise squeezed Seiko’s hand painfully as Seiko tore the door open, spilling in weak wintery light. “Seiko, what she said was… true.” Annalise relented disjointedly, looking down at her feet. “I’m not… like you.”

“I don’t care,” Seiko said fiercely, “You can be a girl made of snow or cat litter or whatever the hell, but I know you’re a person! And you don’t have to stay here,” She stepped closer to her, eyes softening, “Not if you don’t want to.” Annalise looked between Seiko, the blurry outside, and then back up to her wailing mother upstairs. She set her jaw, voice thick with brimming emotion, “I don’t want to stay here.” Seiko pulled them out the door, out into the bleak day and the smooth path out, out, out. They made their way down the driveway.

“But,” Annalise followed limply behind, mind obviously whirling as they ran. “Where will I live?” She asked the open air suddenly, “Where will I go?” “Move now,” Seiko yanked open the fairy gate, “Think later.” They only had a moment to hold their breath on the precipice of the yard before a banging came from behind them. Madame Lynne burst out the front door and flung herself onto the porch rail, hair falling down in black waves and eyes bulging. “If you leave you can’t come back!” She spat, “You’re nothing but paper, I won’t have you after this.”

Annalise hovered at the edge of the property, eyes unmoving and clouded. She drew a deep breath, “I’d rather be nothing than be your ornament!” She shouted firmly, squeezed Seiko’s hand and then pulled them both through the gate. Then they were running again, panting, howling, skipping down the sidewalk toward the highway and out of Greenbriar. Out, out, out.

Madame Lynne didn’t follow.

“Wow! That was amazing, awesome, fantastic Annalise,” Seiko cheered as they danced into the middle of the empty road, hot with adrenaline and a vicious type of joy. “You did it.” Annalise looked up, smiling wearily, “It’s over.” She sighed, “it’s over.”

Seiko vibrated, “You can live in my room, I’ll roll a mat out. My mom won’t be happy, but I’m sure once I explain it to her she’ll have to. And we can sleep over and I’ll make pancakes in the morning.” Annalise was slowing down, dark eyes looking up the sky. “Seiko,” she said slowly, evenly. “This is everything I ever wanted.” Seiko glanced back at her and laughed, “Don’t say that yet, you haven’t even had the

pancakes.” Her thoughts were already going over logistics, Annalise had missed a lot of school and a lot of socializing. It would have to be a process.

But that could be handled, it could all be handled.

And then a fat wet snowdrop fell. Wet and soggy and spiked with ice, just like the downpour all those years ago with two young girls and a missing earring. The rain fell.

“No,” Seiko looked up, the world slowing into a single tiny moment. “No.” She turned, Annalise’s cheek had smeared into a wet slushy white paste, flesh sinking in like a deflating party balloon. Seiko’s eyes went wide with horror.

“Hurry,” she pushed on Annalise, “Let’s get you to a shelter. I have some… paper mache at the house, I can fix that.” Annalise just shook her head and stayed in place, more heavy droplet’s hit her forehead and shoulders, tearing at her gently.

“Go.” Her voice was wispy, watery with unshed tears, “There’s no place for me out there, I have no money, no family, no home… Go Seiko, live your life, live, you deserve it.” She stood in place, “just… remember me.” Seiko staggered backward, grabbing at Annalise. “You deserve a fucking life too,” tears stung at her eyes, she pushed on Annalise to move, to walk, but the other girl didn’t budge. Seiko gnashed her teeth, “We didn’t… we didn’t get you of there just to end here. You deserve it so much, look at me,” she sobbed, “Look at me, I’m not letting you just stand here.” Her breaths came out in distressed tiny bursts. Annalise wrapped her arms around Seiko’s neck, “that night,” Annalise’s whole face was sagging down, weighed down by pelts of snow. “It was the best moment of my entire life. Everything, it was worth every second.” “Goddammit!” Seiko planted her feet, bent down and thrust her arms underneath Annalise’s knees and armpits, hoisting her up in the air bridal style. “Stop it. It’s not going to end like this!”

Annalise took a shaky breath, “you’re going to have such a beautiful life, I can see it.” “Shut up!” Seiko ran, barely feeling her legs as she carried the light girl over to the nearest shelter. They take refuge under a large bus stop overhang. “You’re the one that’s beautiful, your life will be too.” “Look at me.” Annalise breathed, Seiko kept her gaze on the flurry of white sky above, biting her lip in two as she did. “Please.” Annalise begged, “I promise… it’ll be okay.”

Seiko forced herself to look down. Annalise was melting, skin peeling away from her face and tissues sinking inward like holes in quicksand, leaving nothing behind. “Kiss me.” Seiko’s choked on the air, tears spilling out across her cheeks in thick sheets, running freely down her face. “N-no.” She shook her head vigorously. “You’re not a thing, you’re a person, a person, you hear me? You have your whole life to figure stuff out. A whole life… to kiss.” Annalise licked her lips, leaving no moisture behind, she was folding inward, becoming even lighter in Seiko’s arms. Coming apart.

Annalise wiped gently at Seiko’s streaming tears, “I can’t come with you.” She whispered, “I knew that, I always knew it.” She took a labored breath. “This was always going to happen. But at least… it’s a good happening.”

“Fuck, no,” Seiko begged, “it’s not good, it’s awful. This can’t… I can’t…” Annalise gave a weak smile, “Go. See the world, fall in love, make something, be anything, you were always made for life Seiko.” Seiko shook her head vigorously, “You can’t,” she was hyperventilating, “You can’t talk like that.” Annalise closed her eyes, “I can’t stay.” “No!” She wailed, “You can’t. I- I love you.”

Annalise just nodded, “Oh Seiko, I won’t be the last one to love you,” she stroked her cheek, “there’s so much for you.”

And then she was kissing her. Wet and crumpling and filled with a vigorous force she couldn’t explain. Annalise’s hands ran through Seiko’s damp hair and they kiss with the anguish of bursting stars and holes boring into the ozone. It’s harsh and gentle as a settling frost and whisper on the wind.

They kiss and kiss, tears spilling from her eyes and a hard begging in every crevice of her: no, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

She kissed until nothing but cold air touched her lips. Seiko opened her eyes, she was holding a limp nightdress and wet paper folding into a pile of unrecognizable mush, disintegrating at every angle. A collapsed paper doll. “No!” She shrieked, tearing at her vocal cords in a shattering sob, “Annalise, Annalise,” she pulled the wet paper to her chest and rocked it back and forth. “Say something, goddammit, Annalise! Annalise, I love you.” The wet paper didn’t respond, just folded silently into the soggy ground and disappeared with nothing but Seiko and the snow as witnesses. Seiko cried until there was nothing left to cry.

—————–

Seiko quit the soccer team. Liza said she understood, Seiko told her that maybe their friendship could use a small break. She told June she was making her own film, they could watch it together sometime.

She told her mom she loved her, she told her father he was doing a good job, and whispered to her little sister she was going to make a better path forward, for the both of them.

She told them that she liked girls, that she liked movies, and that she liked not working and going out sometimes. They took her out for a long drive and Seiko drove the hole way back herself.

Seiko put her pen to paper that night: Dear Annalise,

I won’t forget you. Her hands shook like dried autumn leaves, I’m 16 now, maybe I wasn’t before. I wish you were here. I’m going to the movies with a girl, I’m going to start reading that book about trees you liked.

I’m going to go live my life, whatever you meant by that, and I’m going to make something beautiful. For us.

Love, always,

Seiko.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - The Treehouse

Summary: Right before Dipper and Mabel return to Gravity Falls for another summer, Stan and Ford decide to do something nice for them only for it to nip them in the butt.

Author’s Note: So if there is ONE thing I'm disappointed in the GF fandom for (besides BillDip and ANY incest shipping) is that there are NO Drake and Josh references! I can think of at least twelve episodes that would fit PERFECTLY with the silver foxes! Seriously, am I just in the dark or crazy or has no one else made that connection? Anywho, thank you so much for reading and if you liked this one-shot then you should check my fics out; I've done quite a bit of Gravity Falls that can be found on FanFiction.net. Have a great day!

https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_tab_list.php

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford hummed a mindless tune to himself as he picked up the red toolbox and climbed up a make-shift ladder; he had made it by hammering planks of thick wood to a tree, leading up to where the Treehouse of Dreams was, or will be when he and Stan finished it.

It was so hot in the early summer afternoon that Ford had actually shed his trenchcoat and rolled up his sweater-sleeves, showcasing his less-gruesome scars. His six-fingered work gloves covered the old burn-scars on his wrists given to him by Bill, so he was comfortable freeing some skin in order to work more efficiently. While it was an adventure of a lifetime to sail with his brother on the Stan O' War II, Ford found it extremely rewarding to build something bigger than a hand-held invention and to do it for two people he loved very much.

Dipper and Mabel would be back in Gravity Falls in a few hours, and when they came back, they would find a huge "Beginning of Summer" party waiting for them at the lake and a new treehouse in the woods. Stanley first snorted and said the teenagers were too old for a treehouse, but then Ford showed him the blueprints and the old conman agreed to help.

This treehouse was located about two or three rows of trees away from the Mystery Shack, enough to give a brooding teenager privacy if wanted, and it had three sections and a small deck for fresh air. The middle section was designed to be a shared space between the twins, but then they each had their own space, Dipper's host a work-deck and a bookshelf while Mabel's had a rocking chair (made by Ford himself and decorated with birds, gnomes, pinetrees, and other things one would find in the woods, carved into the soft, polished wood) and drawers for art supplies. There were no walls separating the sections, but Ford did have curtains that could be drawn for alone-time if desired. The whole treehouse was furnished, decorated, and ready to go, except for the last wall.

Stan walked up to the old okay tree with a glass of lemonade in his hands. He gave a low whistle. "Lookin' good, Sixer."

"Stanley!" Ford scolded from the treehouse. "You were supposed to be helping me!"

"I did help you!" Stan argued. "I made the walls and got the stuff up there! Now, I've been resting, the way old men should be, which hey, have you seen Soos' new attractions? Genius! I dunno where he gets these ideas!"

Ford rolled his eyes and had a small smile on his lips. "Fine, fine, just get up here, you knucklehead, and help me with his last wall."

"You got it." Stan sat the lemonade down on the grass and climbed up in his Hawaiian shirt and tanned shorts. "Right, so what do we do?"

"I got it all set up." Ford explained. "See, it's a pulley system. We just pull on his rope and the last wall will swing up, then I'll screw it into place."

"Right, gotcha." Stan said and grabbed the thick rope hanging above him. "Okay, ready?"

Ford grabbed the rope, as well. "Alright… pull!"

The two men worked together to pull the rope and it worked just as Ford said it would; the wall with a window came up into place just in front of the small deck (the deck was only big enough for either two small people to sit or one adult). With a small creak of wood coming together, the wall was in place.

"Hold it, Stanley."

"I'm holding it." Stan growled as he pulled on the rope tightly solo.

Ford quickly grabbed the power drill and used five-inch titanium screws to secure the wall; he didn't want Steve or a Manotaur to bring this treehouse down. When all fours screws had been placed, Stan testily let go of the rope and let it hang. Ford pushed heavily against the wall and smiled proudly at his work. "Great! We're all done!"

"Hot tamales, the kids are gonna love this place!" Stan punched Ford's shoulder lightly. "Kinda envy 'em, we sure didn't have a cool treehouse like this when we were kids."

"Yes we did, it was just shaped like a boat and on the beach."

Stan laughed. "Right. So, ready for the party?"

"Yes, just let me put away the…" Ford was heading for the exit as he answered his brother, but he found there to be no exit. There was a door drawn on the wall by the window, but no door. Ford's eyes widened as he saw a dilemma that Stan had not yet seen. His temper boiling steadily, Ford turned to Stan, who was admiring the homemade rocking chair, with his hands held so he wouldn't strangle the old conman, and the old scientist asked coldly, "Stanley?"

"Yeah."

"Where's the door-hole?"

Stan looked up and pointed at the wall. "Right there, I drew it in."

Ford could feel a vein popping out of his forehead. "You were supposed to cut it out with the power saw!"

"Geez, Poindexter, relax!" Stan defended with his hands up in surrender. "I was gonna, just like I did with all the windows, but Wendy came to me and said Soos was doing something stupid and to grab a camera, so I decided I'd cut the door-hole later."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes!"

Ford nodded towards the wall. "So go do it. Right now."

"Fine, I will," Stan growled. "Moses, when did you get so bossy?" Stan stopped when he reached the wall and realized he couldn't leave to get the power saw. He tested the wall and looked around the treehouse, ignoring Ford's death glare. "I see the problem."

"Oh, DO YOU?!" Ford yelled sarcastically.

"Okay, okay, so what do we do?!" Stan asked. "The little twerps are gonna be here in three hours and we gotta be at the bus stop when that happens!"

"I know, Stanley, I know." Ford held his forehead as he tried to think. "I… oh! I'll just unscrew this wall so you can get down and cut the door-hole." He picked up the power drill and turned it on. He was just about to unscrew the first screw, when it shut off.

"What happened?" Stan asked.

"I… I have no idea." Ford clicked the tool several times, but the drill would not turn on. He looked out the small window and all Stan heard was a loud, "You have got to be KIDDING me!"

"What, lemme see!" Stan shoved Ford out of the way and looked through the little window to see a deer munching on the cord that connected the drill all the way to an outside outlet of the shack. "Oh, COME ON! Hey! Get outta here! Shoo!" And the deer scampered off.

Ford dropped the useless drill. "Great, just great, you couldn't have cut one simple exit, Stanley?!"

"Hey, you're the idiot who didn't notice there wasn't a door-hole until it was too late!"

"You didn't notice it, either! And now we're gonna miss the niblings getting back!"

"No, we are not!" Ford said stubbornly. "We're going to find a way out of here and we WILL be there on time!"

"And how are we gonna do that?!"

Ford ran a six-fingered hand through his fluffy charcoal-gray hair and seriously evaluated the situation. "Alright, this… let's see… the walls are too thick to cut through with a swiss-army knife. The drill isn't going to work. If we could either get the power saw or have the power drill working again we could get out of here."

"Right, so how do we do either of those things?" Stan asked.

Ford leaned against the wall by the window and peered outside as he thought of a good answer. His eyes widened and he shoved his head out the window. "Mr. Gleeful! Gideon!"

The white-haired chubby child stopped walking towards the Mystery Shack and looked towards the voice. He walked towards the treehouse, all dressed up in his light-blue suit and said, "Well, Stanford! Good to see you again! My, my, what a treehouse!"

"Thank you, but unfortunately, we're stuck." Ford said. "Listen, could you hand us the power saw so Stanley and I can get out of here?"

"Heavens to Betsy, no!" Gideon gasped with ah and to his heart. "Carrying a sharp saw up a tree is too dangerous for wittle ole me!"

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fair enough, but will you at least, please, plug that extra cord to the power drill and then plug it into the shack?"

Gideon smiled and pointed at the old man. "That I can certainly do, Dr. Pines."

"Good, hurry it up." Stan growled from inside the treehouse, his arms crossed over his chest.

Gideon had just picked up the dark-green extension cord when a joyful jingle met his ears. "Oo! The ice cream truck!" The kid squealed as he squished his cheeks with his hands, dropping the cord.

"Gideon!" Stan roared and made Ford move from the window so he could scowl at the kid properly. "Now you listen to me, you little troll, you better plug up the screw driver or I swear I'll…"

"Stanley," Ford said warningly, reminding him that they were actually on somewhat good terms with the demon-child.

Gideon smiled smugly. "You know, I think I'll let you cool down a bit in that nice ole treehouse. I'll be back after some ice cream." And he started to walk away.

"GIDEON!" Stan yelled. "GIDEON!"

Ford shoved Stan out of the way so he could yell out the window. "GIDEON!"

Stan shoved Ford out of the way so he could yell out the window. "GIDEON!"

"GIDEON!"

"GIDEON!"

"GIDEON!"

Stan punched the wall angrily and then yelled and shook his hand to reveal himself of the prickling pain. Ford slumped to the floor and sighed. "Guess we just have to trust he'll come back."

Stan raised an eyebrow at him. "You realize he's not coming back right?"

"I know." Ford moaned.

And so the two old men just sat around and tried to think of a way out of the treehouse. What really irked them was that this was a simple trap; this wasn't like a heavily-guarded government facility or an alien prison, both of which the Pines twins had escaped from; this was a homemade treehouse for their niece and nephew with four windows and no door and no way out. Stan eventually sat in Mabel's new rocking chair, reading a book from Dipper's bookshelf, and Ford paced between the three sections of the small shelter in the oak tree.

Stan checked his watch. "We got two hours to get outta here."

Ford growled and held his hair tightly. Then his eyes grew wide as a simple solution came to mind. "Wait! My cellular phone!" He yelled victoriously and pulled it out of his pocket. "I'll call for help!"

"You just now thought of that?!" Stan yelled.

"Well, where is your cellular phone, Stanley?!" Ford snapped back.

"It died so I left at the shack to charge."

Ford rolled his eyes and began dialing a number. "I'll call Soos and have him come help us."

"Great, let the handyman do his thing!" Stan said and watched as Ford called Soos and put it on speaker. It rang and rang, but no answer. Eventually Ford called a second time.

(None of them were aware that Soos had stepped into the shower before the big party and was now singing Disco Girl to the top of his lungs. "Dipper was right, it is catchy, dude!")

When Soos didn't answer the phone again, Ford guessed, "Maybe his phone also died."

"No, it didn't go straight to voicemail." Stan snatched the phone and said, "You probably dialed the wrong number, lemme try."

Ford took his phone back. "I think I know our handyman's phone number." He growled.

"Just lemme…"

"Stanley, back off!"

"Quit it!"

The two old men fought over the smartphone and even punched and shoved their opponents to try to get the valuable piece of technology, but then it slipped like a bar of soap out of their hands and flew out the window. Ford and Stan stared and then ran and crammed their faces together to see the phone had landed on the grass.

"Nicely done, Stanley."

"You're the one who couldn't get ahold of Soos!" Stan then lit up and asked, "Wait, what about your magnet gun?!"

"I left it in my coat." Ford said as he rolled down his sweater sleeves, no longer burning up from working so hard. "I don't even have my ray gun with me."

"What?! You always have that thing on you! You even take it in the shower!"

"Okay, one: I don't take my weapons with me in the shower, I leave them with my glasses on my towel." Ford defended, sticking a finger up, then he held up two fingers. "Two: you're always on my case about being paranoid!"

"Yeah, I don't want you to be paranoid! But I also don't want you to be an idiot!"

"This is coming from the man who couldn't cut a single door-hole."

"Okay, ya know what…!"

The pointless screaming match went on until they were both hoarse and burned out, resorting in Stan and Ford to lying on the floor of the little house and stare up at the ceiling.

Dipper smiled with his cheek pressed up against his hand as he stared out the bus-window. Mabel was bouncing in her seat, her legs swinging, and her hands gripping the seat. As each new landmark looked familiar, she squealed a little bit more.

"This is so exciting, Dipper!" Mabel cheered. "We're almost home!"

Dipper chuckled and looked at the distant mountains that were starting to appear. "We are almost home." Waddles turned over in his sleep and Dipper rubbed his belly to give him something to do alongside wonder what his great-uncles were doing right now.

"Man, I'm starving." Stan complained, lying with his brother lying opposite so they were shoulder-to-shoulder, but their bodies pointing away from each other; Stan's stomach growled loudly to prove his point.

"I have not eaten since noon." Ford looked at his own watch. "Dipper and Mabel will be here in an hour."

"And Gideon still hasn't come back." Stan growled. "Little troll probably forgot."

Ford sighed and knocked on the wooden floor. "At least we know this treehouse is secure."

Stan snorted. "Yeah, you did a good job, Genius."

Ford smiled. "Thank you. You did help and provide necessary skills, and that was very appreciated."

"Yeah, yeah." Stan waved away and then let his hand collapse on his gut. "And, hey, while were here, what made you wanna build this in the first place?"

The eldest twin shrugged (as much as one can when lying down). "I wanted to do something nice for the kids."

"I think they would much rather see you than get all this." Stan teased.

Ford chuckled nervously. "You're probably right."

"Hey, a broken clock is right twice a day."

Ford sat up and asked, "Did you hear that?"

"Relax, it's not some monster, that's just my stomach again."

"No, Stanley," Ford stood up and looked out the window on the left wall, the section of the treehouse designed for Dipper, and gasped, "Mr. Shmebulock! Mr. Shmebulock! Over here!"

Stan got up and joined his brother. Sure enough, sitting on a tree branch and munching on an acorn was an old speechless gnome. He smiled at the sight of the old Pines men and cheered, "Shmebulock!"

"Yes, hello!" Ford held out his hand and the gnome, who was about the same size as Ford's six-fingered hand, sat and allowed the human to bring him into the treehouse. "Listen, we need your help. We're trapped here and Mabel and Dipper will be back any moment now. Can you…"

"Shmebulock?" The gnome gasped with smiling eyes.

"Yes, Mabel and Dipper are returning, so we need you… hey!" The gnome had hopped off Ford's hand and then climbed down the tree and started to scamper away. "Mr. Shmebulock! Mr. Shmebulock, please!"

"Get back here you little pest!" Stan demanded, but the gnome had gone off to greet the niblings when they returned. "If you try to make my niece your queen again I'll…"

"Stanley, let it go." Ford moaned and collapsed into the chair of Dipper's desk. "What do we do now?"

Stan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "What can we do?"

No one had an answer for either question.

Right on time, at six o'clock, the bus pulled up to the stop in Gravity Falls, Oregon. Dipper and Mabel grinned with their luggage in hand, pig at their feet, and waiting at the steps of the bus, and they were greeted by Soos, Wendy, Candy, Grenda, Gideon, and Pacifica. The twins ran off the bus and jumped into their friends' arms. Soos wrapped each twin up in a big bear-hug, cutting off the air-flow in their necks, until Mabel was pulled into a girls' hug by Candy and Grenda and Wendy traded hats back with Dipper; he had enjoyed Wendy's ushanka even in the warm California sun, but it was good to sport his pinetree cap again.

"We missed you guys SO much!" Mabel cheered.

"You talked to us, like, every day." Pacifica said as she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but now I can attack you with love!" And the brunette wrapped the blonde up in a tight hug before she could be stopped.

"Hey, where's Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford?" Dipper asked casually.

"Yeah, the party can't start without them!" Mabel said.

"Don't worry, dudes," Soos reassured. "They're probably already at the party."

"OH NO!" Gideon yelled, slapping his cheeks in shock, and he turned red as he began to confess a mistake he had made for the sake of ice-cream.

Stan was hitting his forehead against the back wall of the treehouse. Ford knew he sometimes did this to try to think clearly. He just sat by the drawn-door and watched, having an idea of when he should intervene his brothers possibly harmful way of coming up with a plan.

"Stanley, this treehouse won't be very appealing if you manage to get blood on the wall."

Stan stopped and looked down at his watch. It was twenty minutes after the kids were supposed to be back. "Alright, that's it!" He yelled, a new wave of adrenaline coursing through him as the idea of not seeing the kids drove him crazy. "That's it! We're finding a way outta here!"

"How?" Ford asked.

"You could try asking for help."

The men were frozen, but then fought over who could look out the window first until they resorted to sharing. Sure enough, Dipper and Mabel stood at the foot of the oak tree with their little group of friends behind them, all biting their lip and snickering.

"KIDS!"

"Wow, cool man-cave, guys!" Mabel called.

"Yeah, this gives the Manotaurs a run for their money." Dipper sneered.

"Just shut up and get us outta here so I can hug you two knuckleheads!" Stan yelled.

Mabel saluted and said, "Yes sir! C'mon, Soos you make sure the sax's plugged in, Dipper and I will go up there!"

"Hold it!" Wendy called out, then pulled out her phone and took a quick picture of the old men trapped in the treehouse. "Hehe, blackmail."

"You're fired."

"You've fired me fifteen times, Stan, and I'm still here." Wendy replied coolly.

The kids all laughed as Dipper and Mabel climbed up to the small deck, Wendy handed them the saw, Soos made sure it was plugged in, and then Dipper and Mabel called out a warning and started to cut an exit. Stan and ford backed up as the younger pair of twins carefully cut a door-shaped hole and soon a big piece of wood fell forward, freeing the older pair of twins.

Mabel blew on the saw, which was unplugged by Soos to make sure it was safe, and then she asked, "Now where's that hug we were promised?"

She ditched the saw and ran with her brother into Ford and Stan's arms as they got on their knees and were happily reunited for another summer.

[thesapphiresoul]

two slow dancers

beaujester week day 4: fake dating & resurrection/revivify

Beau and Jester go undercover at a very fancy party. [Read on AO3]

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

“Just follow my lead, and everything will be okay. I promise.”

Jester and Beauregard were arm in arm and climbing up the very fancy steps of a very fancy home in their very fancy clothes that led to a very fancy party.

“Why are we doing this again?” Beau asked for the millionth time.

Jester rolled her eyes but answered anyway. “We have to go to this very amazing and cool party because someone has to plant the evidence on the duke. We, specifically, are doing it because Caleb and Nott are breaking into his office, and Fjord and Caduceus are keeping look out.”

Beau knew all of this, but still nodded like it was new information.

“I still think Fjord should have done this part. He’s better at the social part,” Beau grumbled.

“But we needed someone good at sleight of hand,” Jester countered. She poked Beau in the side and added, “That is you.”

That finally managed to get a smile out of Beau. She batted Jester’s hand away.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m the greatest, and all that.”

Now it was Jester’s turn to smile.

The two of them followed the flow of people into the building. Beau watched Jester openly gawk when they stepped into the foyer. There were vaulted ceilings, and practically everything was gilded. Not to mention the massive rug that stretched the entire length of the room. You’d think an asshole that’s embezzling money would be a little more subtle about it.

Jester audibly gasped as they entered the main ballroom. Honestly, Beau couldn’t blame her. Beau was never one for ostentatious decoration and flagrant shows of wealth, but even she could admit that the ballroom was gorgeous.

“Oh my gods, Beau,” Jester whispered as the descended down the main marble staircase.

The large dance floor in the center of the room was already teeming with dancers. Score of beautiful people to match the beautiful room. Shining hardwood floors, multiple crystal chandeliers, spotless silk tablecloths, and the finest wine.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Beau. All of this was not boosting her confidence. She still felt extremely out of place.

“How about you go get us some drinks while I scope the place out,” Jester suggested, nodding toward the bar on the right side of the room.

“Yeah, yeah,” Beau could do that, “What do you want? Milk?”

“Um, see if they have juice or something. If not, milk is fine.”

“Alright, got it,” Beau patted Jester’s arm before they parted.

More and more guests were funneling in. Beau, focused on her mission, carefully maneuvered through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

“Good evening, ma’am. What can I get for you?” the bartender asked when she approached. He was a gnome man who looked way too chipper about working this event.

“Do you have juice? Like, just normal juice?” Beau leaned her forearms on the counter.

“Like a fruit juice?” he asked.

“Yeah, and a glass of your finest wine too.” If Beau was stuck at this dumb party all night, she was at least going to take advantage of it.

“All right. Juice and wine, coming right up!” the bartender said as he went to prepare their drinks.

Beau turned her gaze from the bar and tried to spot Jester in the crowd. She didn’t know why it was so difficult. Jester was wearing a bright pink dress—“It’s magenta!” she had corrected Beau earlier—and hell, she was fucking blue.

A tap on her shoulder drew Beau’s attention away from the dance floor and to the man standing behind her. He was human, probably just a little older than Beau.

“You need something?” she said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I just thought I’d strike up a conversation,” he said with a sly smile. “No reason a nice girl like you should be alone a such a fun party.” This was concluded with a casual lean against the bar’s counter.

There was no way this was happening. There was no way this man was hitting on Beau.

Listen, Beau knew she was attractive, attractive enough anyway. She knew she was attractive to those who mattered. This man did not fall under that category because, well, he was a man. Beau was dressed in a suit for crying out loud. It was tailored to fit her nicely and the blue compliment her eyes, but she was still confused. Usually Beau would just tell any unwanted advances to fuck right off, maybe throw a punch if necessary, but she absolutely could not draw attention to herself. They had a job to do.

Thankfully, she was saved from her mental panicking and the awkward conversation by a hand at her elbow.

When Beau turned her head, her eyes met Jester’s. Relief washed over her.

“Did you get our drinks, darling?” Jester asked in a stuffy accent. She had insisted that she and Beau have personas for this job. Jester had adopted a fancy accent and the alias Celeste, and Beau forewent an accent but took the name Allison.

Oh, and they were also married.

“I did, I did. Just waiting on them now.” Beau stiffly replied.

“Wonderful!” Jester now had both arms wrapped around Beau’s; one on her elbow, one on her bicep. “And who is this? Already making friends?”

“Oh no, we were just chatting while I waited,” Beau gave the other man a somewhat smug look in response to his perturbed one.

“Your drinks,” the bartender called.

Beau thanked him with a nod and a nice tip as she took the drinks from the counter.

“Oh! Well, it was nice meeting you!” Jester waved at the man as Beau led them away. She wove them through the other guests and casually handed Jester her juice. When they were far enough away, Jester leaned in to whisper in her normal voice, “Are you alright? You looked really uncomfortable when I showed up. Was it because of that guy? I tried to get you out as fast as I could.”

Beau’s heart swelled at this. Logically, she knew Jester cared for her, the whole group cared about each other, but it still felt nice to hear it. Beau patted Jester’s hand where it sat on her arm, saying “Thanks, Jes. I’m good now.”

Jester gave a relieved smile. “Also, it’s Celeste, darling,” she said, posh accent returning.

“Right, right.” Beau nodded with a smile. “So, did you find our guy?”

“Yes. He is out there.” Jester subtly pointed him out among the people dancing in the center of the room.

“Well, I guess you know what that means.” Beau downed her wine and set her glass on a nearby table. Jester did the same. The two of them shared a smile, like they were laughing at a joke that no one else was in on. Which they kind of were.

Beau made a show of bowing and extending her hand. “May I have this dance?”

This made Jester giggle, but she still nodded and took Beau’s hand.

As soon as their feet hit the dance floor, Beau couldn’t help herself, she sent Jester into a dramatic twirl and promptly pulled her close. Her previous smile slid into a smirk.

“Oh, my dear Allison, I didn’t know you could dance so well,” Jester laughed in her silly accent.

“As much as I would like to say otherwise, that’s really all I can do,” Beau began leading them in the vague direction of their target. She barely had the chance to see the mischievous glimmer in Jester’s eye before she was dropped into a low dip. The combination of Beau’s flexibility and Jester’s strength meant that Beau was almost in a backbend before she was pulled upright.

Beau’s head was spinning, the lights and dancers around her all blurring together. The only thing she could focus on was Jester’s brilliant smile. Now she was leading Beau through the crowd, still laughing brightly. Beau was honestly confused. Why were they sent on the stealth mission? How in the world were they supposed to not draw attention to themselves when Jester looked like that? She was shining like a sun, and Beau couldn’t pull away from her orbit.

Jester gave Beau a final spin before she closely whispered, “Okay, I got us close enough. I’ll bump into him, and you catch him.”

Beau shook her head and cleared her mind, “Yeah,” she moved her hand from Jester’s shoulder to pat her breast pocket that held the duke’s letter, “then I finish it up and we can split.”

“Can we have one more dance before we leave?” Jester asked with a small pout.

“Okay, fine,” Beau rolled her eyes, as if she didn’t want the exact same thing. With a heavy exhale she said, “You ready?”

Jester nodded and bit her lip.

Then she stepped directly into the duke.

Beau swooped into stabilize him as he teetered, slipping the letter into his pocket without notice. They exchanged quick apologies and went about their nights, not wanting to make a scene.

After quick bows, Jester and Beau danced away.

“Oh my gods! Did that actually work?” Jester was barely containing her excitement.

“Yeah, I think it did,” Beau replied with a triumphant smile. Things so rarely went right for them. She could only hope that the others were doing as well.

“Well, my love,” Jester said, accent returning full force, “how about we dance the night away, hm?”

Beau could get used to this. She smirked and pulled Jester closer, “I think that sounds delightful.”

And so they did.

[nautiscarader]

Careful transport - fic for Fereality-idy

This is a short fic for my buddy, @fereality-indy, who was today in a difficult situation due to his illness, and I though there would be nothing better than applying some Gravity Falls bandage on it.

(Ao3), G 

Dipper Pines thought it was going to be a boring day: dark, ominous clouds on the horizon announced the storm that would interrupt an otherwise perfect, sunny Summer. As a result, he intended to spend this day in his room, on his bed, reading comics from dawn till dusk. With a can of Pitt cola by his side, he was about to relax and indulge in another overblown issue of a team of superheroes causing more damage than good, when a multicoloured bullet shot through the doors of the Mystery Shack, ran up the stairs and burst into the twins' room

- Dipper! - Mabel shouted, jumping onto him - You gotta help me! - Wha-wha-What happened? - It's Dave!

Dipper blinked.

- Uh, who's Dave? - Dave! The somber-tooth tiger! My buddy from the book club! - Oh... right...

Dipper spoke, slowly remembering that his sister has in fact befriended a huge beast; a fact he'd like to bury deep down in his memories.

- Er, so, what does he need help with...? - His cave is being de-loused and he has to go outside! - And...?

Mabel grabbed the hem of Dipper's shirt and brought him uncomfortably close.

- Dipper, you don't get it! He can't-He doesn't-We must escort him! - she stuttered, trying to formulate her thoughts. - Well, okay, geez - Dipper forcibly removed himself from his sister's lock - Don't know what the big deal...

A few minutes later, they arrived by the entrance of Dave's cave, obscured by several bushes. It was a good hiding spot; despite it being in a seeing range from the Mystery Shack, Dipper never thought there would be a cave there.

- Okay, follow me, Dipper. - Mabel spoke and began walking down the slanted corridor.

Dipper was about to take his phone to shine the light, but soon he was met with a faint, warm, cozy glow coming from Dave's den. And even when his eyes got used to the bright light, they were still opening wide at the sight Dipper was seeing.

Instead of bare, rocky walls, Dipper saw a fully decorated room, with several bookshelves, a microwave, TV, and a collection of plastic figurines sitting on it. The light was coming from a fancy chandelier, and the floor was decorated with large carpet.

And on it, was...

Dave the somber-tooth tiger was walking nervously from one side of the cave to the other, muttering something under his breath, and only when Mabel grunted, he jumped in place and his face brightened. He leapt towards Mabel, and only thanks to Mabel's equally spontaneous reaction Dipper did not freak out.

- Hi, Dave, sorry it took so long.

The tiger let out a deep, pleasant-sounding growl. Only now Dipper noticed he was wearing a pair of reading glasses.

- This is Dipper, my brother, told you about him.

Dave growled and walked towards Dipper.

- Er, hi. - Dipper squeaked. His primal instincts were kicking in, after all. - Nice, uh, to meet you. So... we're supposed to, uh, help you? - That's right, can you believe, Dipper? They only told him about the delousing yesterday! - Mabel scoffed - And look at this! This house is pristine! No fleas, no bugs... The nerve those gnomes have.  

As if by command, Dipper was pushed aside when several foot-high gnomes walked in, carrying what would look like a chemical equipment if drawn by someone who had no idea how one looks like.

Dave let put a deep, somber growl.

- There, there... - Mabel patted his head - We're gonna come to the Shack and have a nice day inside, okay? - The Shack?! - Dipper protested - You sure about this? - Oh yeah, he'll love it.

Foot by foot, the twins walked the tiger up the slanted corridor. What took them alone maybe a minute, needed at least five, and when the light from the outside shone upon Dave's face, he yelped, and backed down.

- Come on, Dave, I know it's hard, but it's just few hours... - What's the problem? - Dipper asked, watching the cowardly tiger in his sister's arms - Isn't he a, you know, tiger? - Oh, Dipper...

Mabel shook his head and once again, gently stroked the fur on Dave's back.

After another five minutes, Dipper walked out of the cave and was glad to see that the storm clouds were passing.

- Well, Dave, what do you usually do? - he asked, knowing fully well he'll receive only grunts and roars - Like, do you have any tiger sport you play? Or maybe we can go fishing, instead of, you know, taking a tiger inside the house? - Nah, Dave likes reading books, and playing some board games. Oh! And he's a writer!

Mabel showed him her phone, with a fanfiction site profile on the screen.

- He has... five followers. - That's five more than you! - Mabel barked back - And he's really talented! Love your works, man.

Dave let out a growl and hid his face between his paws.

- Yes, yes you are, buddy! That last chapter was fantastic! - she cheered - Come on, let's go into the Shack. - But, Mabel! - Dipper insisted - It's sunny now, can't we go literally anywhere else?! We can go to the forest, check up on other animals, climb a mountain!

He looked at Dave, grabbed his fuzzy face and moved it away from the ground he was constantly staring at.

- Look, man!... Er, Tiger, look! We're in Gravity Falls, there's so much to do the-

But then, Dave growled. And it wasn't the meek, shy voice, but a blood-freezing one that made Dipper aware where in the food chain he was at.

From his now-horizontal position on the ground, Dipper looked at the squinted eyes of the predator and his sharp teeth, wondering if he was going to survive this.

And then, as quickly as Dave jumped onto him, his face frowned, his eyes watered, and he jumped away, howling and crying as he ran away.

- D-Dave! - Mabel shouted after him - Dave! Oh, Dipper, you idiot! - Wha-what did I do?! - Dipper asked, slowly getting up, confused at Mabel's anger. - You don't do that to him! - But why?! Mabel, that's the least tiger-like tiger I've seen my life, what is wrong with him?

For a split of a second, Dipper though that Dave came back and sank his teeth into his cheek. But as pain spread through it, he realised it was Mabel, who slapped him, tears pouring from her eyes.

- Dipper, Dave's... Dave's agoraphobic. He doesn't like going outside... - Then why didn't you say it sooner? - I... I promised him I won't tell anyone. Bec- she sniffed - Because he knew some folks would laugh at him. Mean folks like you! - she snapped.

As if tackled by another tiger, Dipper fell to the ground again.

- Oh, man... I was a total jerk, wasn't I?

He only received Mabel's concerned grimace as an answer.

- We-We gotta find him.

Dipper looked around, and spotted a customer walking towards Mystery Shack with an umbrella in his hand.

- And I think I know what to do!

Fortunately, finding a tiger in a city is much, much easier, thanks to the paw prints in the mud, visible damage, as well as people shouting "It's a tiger!". It took the twins just under ten minutes to find the sewage entrance Dave was hiding in, his paws still over his eyes.

- Dave? Are you there, Dave?

Mabel's sweet voice made the tiger move out of the shadows and look at his friend.

- There you are... Listen, there's someone who'd like to apologise to you.

At the sight of her brother, Dave scooted away, but came back when he noticed Dipper was no longer forcing him to do anything.  

- Hey, there. - Dipper spoke calmly - Listen, I shouldn't have done that. I... assumed you'd like what other people... or tigers would, and...

He reached behind is back.

- I think I found a way to make you a bit more comfortable.

Dave peeked out from the canal, and as soon as he did that, the harsh sunlight, as well as most of the surrounding world was cut off from him, when Dipper and Mabel opened several umbrellas, forming a barrier around him.

Dave cautiously walked out, marvelling at the patterns on the cloth around him. It was once again, Mabel's voice that gathered his attention.

- Can we go now?

Dave growled, smiled and leaned his head to be petted, this time by both twins.

And hour later, Dave was sitting comfortably between Dipper and Mabel on the sofa in the Mystery Shack, drinking cocoa and reading comic books.

- See, Dipper? Not so bad, right?   - Yeah, this is cozy. - he replied - Should've listened to you, Mabel.

Mabel reached for her phone.

- And, oh, look! - she addressed Dave in a would-be-surprised voice - Someone has liked your new fic!

Dave once again hid his face between paws.

- It is sooo good - Mabel giggled - Take a look, Dipper.

She handed him her phone.

- Wow, you are a prolific writer... But wow, that's a lot of shipping stuff for that one pair, don't you think you've written eno-

The sight of Dave's sharp teeth once again put an end to Dipper's thoughts.  

- I'm-I'm gonna shut up now...

[jekkiefan]

A Wound to Heal

A commission for @wombatking

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Word count: 5,017

Ship: Mabifica

Summery: Mabel and Dipper are spending their second summer in Gravity falls. Both Mabel and Pacifica are excited to see each other in person again, and it seems like nothing could ruin this perfect season. That is until Mabel brakes her ankle.

The school year was finally over. Ten months of lectures, bullies, and homework… lots of homework. All of it could be left in the past of the colder months. Now the mystery twins looked forward to spending their summer in the sleepy town of Gravity Falls. Or at least that’s what they thought a year ago. This summer the twins knew of the towns secrets and weirdness.

Dipper, equipped with the journal Mabel have given him, planed on uncovering more of the town’s mysteries. Meanwhile Mabel could hardly contain her excitement. Not only would she get to see her two BFFs, but she’d get to see Pacifica!

During the school year the girls had been texting each other. At first they talked about school, hobbies, daily life, and such. But after a while Mabel began showing off her new sweaters, and in turn Pacifica would send her pictures of her new jewelry. Eventually Pacifica would sometimes get a midnight text from Mabel asking questions like “If I spin fast enough with my arms out, will I fly like a helicopter?” or “Do you think it hurts the characters when I close a book too fast?” Talking to each other quickly became highlights of their day. And when they weren’t talking, they thought about one another. Mabel would often find herself wondering what Pacifica would think of her outfits. Likewise Pacifica would see a baby animal, and wonder what Mabel would name it.

And now they would finally see each other in person again! As soon as Mabel passed the Gravity Falls sign, she took a picture and sent it to Pacifica.

Mabel: Almost there!!! :D

Mabel: Can we hang out today?

She looked out the window of the bus, and watched the trees go by in a green blur. Waddles snorted sleepily as she pet his head. Then Mabel heard the phone ping.

Pacifica: No, I’m at a golf tournament right now. How about tomorrow?

Mabel sent a picture of a cat giving a thumbs-up, and smiled. This is going to be the best summer ever, she thought.

Until…

“Ow!” Mabel cried as she clutched her ankle.

An uncaught Frisbee fell as Dipper ran to his sister’s aid. “Are you okay?”

Tears began to pool over her cheeks as she shook her head. Through her watery vision she saw that the culprit was an un-seen gopher hole. She then looked to her bruised and swelling ankle as Dipper called for help.

One night in the hospital, then Mabel was back at the shack. Only this time a pink cast was attached to her foot, with orders that she was to keep it on for two months. Two months! That was all of summer!

Mabel sat in the TV room, orange juice in hand, uninterested in the show that flashed on the screen. Her foot itched and felt like it had a rock tied to it. Not to mention that her armpits hurt from using her crutches. She took a drink from her cup then frowned at her cast.

Dipper sauntered in and sat on the dino-skull. “Whatcha watching?”

Mabel looked up at the screen to see… sports? But with fire?

“Hmm,” Dipper pondered. “What’s the goal in death-ball? To not die?” He chuckled a bit at his own poor joke.

Mabel watched as Toby Determined ran across a field with a flaming, spiked bat. Then she glared at her cast with a sigh.

Dipper took note of this. “Pretty cool that they gave you a pink cast, right?”

His sister shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. But now my entire summer is ruined!”

“Don’t you think you’re over exaggerating?”

“Maybe,” Mabel pondered. She looked out the window, and saw a gnome dash into the bushes. What was she doing? Sitting inside when she could be out having an adventure. She needed to do something to get her out of this funk. “Ugh! You’re right.” Mabel stood up and leaned on her good leg.

“That’s the spirit, Mabel!” Then with a worried look, “Do you need your crutches?”

Mabel plopped back down on the recliner, and held her now sore ankle. “Yes, please.”

A few moments later Mabel was outside trying to figure out how to play hopscotch with crutches. After an hour of hopping and then falling, she gave up and tried dancing with Waddles. This proved slightly more fun, but only because for a second it looked like Waddles was waltzing. Then Mabel thought about doing cartwheels, but felt it best not to try. With head hung low, Mabel walked back inside to the TV room. There she watched the Why You Ackin’ So Cray-cray marathon until she heard a knock at the door.

“I got it!” Dipper called from the stairs.

When he opened the door, much to his surprise, Pacifica was there. She was dressed nice, maybe a touch nicer than usual. Then again Dipper wasn’t sure what “nicer” clothes looked like for a rich person.

“Is Mabel here?” She said.

“Sure, but...” Dipper thought of his sister still moping on the recliner.

Pacifica narrowed her eyes, “But what?”

“Well, Mabel’s really put out…” He thought about telling her to come back another time. “She told you what happened, right?”

“Yeah, she sent me a text yesterday. But she said we could still hang out.” Pacifica shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip.

“Come in, but Mabel might not want to do anything today. And I’m not sure what to do for her.” Suddenly a spark of an idea came to him. “But maybe you do!”

Pacifica stopped mid-walk and turned to Dipper. “Me?”

“Yeah! Mabel was super excited to see you. It was all she talked about on the bus here.”

Pacifica felt her face grow warm. “What can I do? Just hang out with her?”

“Yeah, just make sure she’s happy.”

Pacifica tried to think of how to help Mabel, but her mind went blank. She didn’t know how to make sweaters and scrapbooks like Mabel. Pacifica wasn’t that into crafts… wait “Hey, did Mabel bring her craft stuff?”

Dipper smirked, “This is Mabel we’re talking about.”

Pacifica looked to a bit of dirt on her shoe. “Well, I’m going to go decorate her cast.”

“She’ll love that!”

“And you go do something about those holes in the yard.” Pacifica pointed out the window, “I almost tripped.”

Dipper looked and saw that the lawn was now filled with gopher holes. “Where did they all come from?” He felt his journal in his jacket as curiosity filled his mind. “Hmm, seems like a mystery.”

“Okay, so where’s Mabel’s craft stuff?” Pacifica crossed her arms.

“Upstairs on her bed,” said Dipper not removing his gaze from the lawn.

The two parted their ways. Pacifica went up the stairs while Dipper walked outside with journal in hand. A few minutes later Pacifica was holding a big, pink bag of yarn, glue, glitter, flowers, and just about everything craft related. Objects shifted and clonked in the bag as she walked to the TV room. There she saw Mabel slumped over the arm of the recliner. Pacifica’s heart dropped at the sight. She had to make her happy again. She can’t have this sadness defeat her.

“Hey, Mabel,” Pacifica said setting down the bag.

Mabel looked up. Her eyes brightened a little. “Pacifica! What are you doing here?”

“We planed on hanging out today. Remember?” Pacifica sat down on the floor next to her.

“Oh, right.” Mabel then noticed her craft bag. “Why did you bring that down here?”

“To decorate your cast.”

Mabel turned starry-eyed. “Really!? With you!?”

Pacifica looked to the plain pink cast. “I’m surprised you haven’t decorated it yourself yet.” She then opened the bag, “So what do you want to do first?”

Mabel sat herself on the floor, and eagerly pulled out the bag’s contents. A bezazzler, stickers, glitter glue, markers, and just about everything else that one could consider crafty. Then she pulled out some blue and purple ribbon. “What about this?”

Pacifica looked at the ribbons then to the pink cast. “If you put it around the top, like a trim, that wouldn’t look half bad.”

Mabel reached in her bag and pulled out a hot glue gun, which was decorated with stickers. “Plug this in for me.”

Pacifica curiously held the device in her hand. After plugging it in, she turned around to find Mabel looking through rhinestones and fake flowers. “What about the ribbon?” Pacifica asked.

The other girl looked at Pacifica with confusion, “The glue needs to heat up first.”

“That’s how they work?”

Mabel chuckled. “It’s called a hot glue gun for a reason.” She glanced at the other objects around her. “Oh! Look!” Mabel grabbed a sticker and showed it to Pacifica.

Pacifica leaned in, and saw that the sticker depicted a giraffe saying ‘Reach for the Stars!!!’ while holding a star in it’s mouth.

Mabel place the sticker on her cast. “What flowers and jewels do you think would go with the cast?”

With a keen eye Pacifica looked at the flowers. There were pinkish ones with a yellow middles that looked nice. When it came to the rhinestones she thought that it would be best to pick ones that matched the ribbon and flowers.

Peering over Pacifica’s shoulder, Mabel gasped, “Pacifica! That looks great!”

Pacifica’s hands froze. “Uh, thanks. Anyway, how do you want them on your cast?”

Mabel looked at the pink plaster that surrounded her ankle. “Hmm… flowers. Oh! The jewels can look like stems!”

Pacifica nodded in agreement.

Mabel grabbed the bezazzler, “Let’s put the jewels on!”

“Uh, Mabel,” Pacifica said in a worried tone, “maybe we can just glue the rhinestones on.”

“Yeah,” Mabel looked at the bezazzler skeptically, “it did kinda hurt when I bezazzled my face.”

“You what?”

“Oh nothing. Hey, I think the glue gun is hot now,” Mabel pointed over to the device. A small blob of glue was now stuck to the carpet.

Pacifica pick it up and saw the glue, “Should we be worried about this?”

Mabel waved her hand, “Pfft, no, it’s fine.” Once handed the glue gun, she got right to work on the ribbon.

Pacifica helped hold the fabric in place as the glue dried. As well as help with tying a cute bow on the back for Mabel. After the bow came the flower design. Pacifica handed Mabel the rhinestones and flowers so the latter could glue them on. A few times Mabel burnt her finger on the hot glue, but assured Pacifica that she was fine.

“Done!” Mabel declared. She then turned to Pacifica, “What do you think?”

Pacifica looked at the floral design and smiled. “The rhinestones look pretty good for being plastic.”

Mabel seemed dissatisfied. “Hmm, it’s missing something.” She rubbed her chin in thought, then snapped her fingers. Mabel reached down and grabbed a marker. “Sign my cast.”

“What?” Pacifica felt her face grow warm again. She took the marker in hand, and carefully signed her name on the side of the hot pink cast. When she was finished Pacifica surveyed the pile of craft stuff, then glanced to Mabel.

“What is it?” Mabel asked.

She felt herself smile as she said, “Maybe we can complete the look.”

It took a moment for Mabel to process what was just said. Then her eyes got wide and she gasped with joy, “A makeover!”

If only Dipper was having as much fun as his twin was. He’d been spending his afternoon following the trail of gopher holes. A trail that started at the shack and led into the surrounding forest. Many a time Dipper stumbled on the holes and almost met the same fate as his sister. Suddenly the trees gave way, and Dipper was surrounded by gopher holes.

“Whoa.” He stood still, afraid that if he took a step further the hole-filled ground would collapse. “No normal gopher could do this.” Dipper took out his journal and began writing down his discovery. After writing he surveyed the clearing once more, and found another trail of holes. He would have followed it had it not been for the fading light, and his lack of a flashlight. Dipper made note to visit the clearing later. He then headed back to the shack.

Once he arrived, Dipper opened the door to the smell of… oatmeal? He turned to the TV room and saw it littered with craft supplies, dresses, and beauty products. In the middle of it all was Mabel and Pacifica. Mabel was wearing her pink and yellow flower dress. Meanwhile Pacifica was wearing Mabel’s old robin-egg blue dress with a matching blue ribbon in her hair.

Mabel turned to her twin. “Hey, Dipper! Pacifica and I are having a makeover.”

Dipper lightly kicked some sparkly fabric that was on the floor. “I see. Why does it smell like oatmeal in here?”

Pacifica held up a bowl. “It was for our face masks.”

“Do you want one too?” Mabel grinned.

Dipper took a defensive step back. “What? No, I don’t want oatmeal on my face.”

“Come ooon, Dipper!” Mabel teased.

“Nope,” He said backing out of the room, “I’m just gonna anywhere that not here.” And with that he left the room.

“But Dipper!” Mabel giggled. She stood up to chase her brother, but quickly met the floor with a thud.

“Mabel!” Pacifica ran to her side.

Mabel sat up and sadly looked to her cast.

“Are you okay?” Pacifica said, her voice filled with concern.

Mabel brought her knees to her chest. “No,” her voice mousy.

Unsure what to do, Pacifica sat down next to her. There was a long moment of silence. Pacifica felt helpless to the situation. She sensed the waves of sadness coming from Mabel’s curled form. There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t let the sadness win. Pacifica saw how Mabel’s long hair covered most of her body like a cocoa-colored blanket, and got an idea.  “Hey, do you want me to braid your hair?”

Mabel sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “Okay.”

“I think a side braid would look good with this dress.”

“Yeah, but nobody will be able to see it because I can’t walk anywhere.”

“What about your crutches?”

Mabel sniffed again, “But they hurt my armpits.”

Pacifica felt her heart ache. What could she do? Mabel was usually so bubbly, but now she looked so broken. Pacifica handed her a pillow.

Mabel looked up. Then took the pillow, and buried her face in it. “Thanks.”

Pacifica pulled back Mabel’s hair when another idea came to her. “I thought you’d like crutches.”

“Huh?” Mabel responded with curiosity.

“Wouldn’t it be like a personal swing?” Pacifica took out a hairbrush, then began working out the small tangles in Mabel’s hair.

Mabel sat up a little. “I didn’t think about that.” She rested her head back down on the pillow.

As Pacifica quietly brushed her hair, Mabel began thinking about how much faster she could be with her crutches. All that could be heard was the soft shushing of the brush that lulled Mabel into a half-sleep. Pacifica felt the smooth strands slip through her hands as she began braiding Mabel’s hair. The calmness that filled the air made Pacifica want to sleep too. A few minutes later, the braid was finished.

“Hey, Pacifica?” Mabel mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for doing this.”

Pacifica’s heart skipped a beat at the kind remark. “It-it’s nothing.”

Mabel looked to her and saw her pink cheeks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just happy to see you in person again.” Pacifica wanted to say more. She wanted to tell Mabel about this weird but nice feeling in her heart. The feeling had begun not long after school started. Pacifica opened her mouth to speak, “Hey, Mabel?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to-” her voice caught in her throat. “Do you want me to come back next week?”

A soft blush covered Mabel’s cheeks, “Sounds great!”

Pacifica stood up and surveyed the mess around them. “Do you need help with...” she gestured to the pile of crafts and makeup.

“Don’t you need to go soon?”

Pacifica thought of her parents, but then saw Mabel. “I can spare a few minutes.”

With that said the two of them shoved the ribbons, rhinestones, glue sticks, and more back in the bag. After putting away the dresses and makeup, Pacifica said her farewell and left.

Leaving Mabel alone in the TV room.

The next week seemed to go by agonizingly slow for both girls. Both felt trapped in their own house. Pacifica by her parents, and Mabel by her cast. Dipper tried his best to make Mabel feel better. He usually got a smile out of her, but as soon as he left the room, Mabel became melancholy once more.

One day Dipper took her to the park. Mabel sat on the bench watching the other kids play tag. Dipper had been sitting with her, but had decided to walk around. Mabel tried to keep her mind busy. She thought about what she and Pacifica could do when she visits in a few days. Mabel wanted to see her sooner, but Pacifica sent a text saying that her parents are having a dinner party. Maybe they could have a dinner party. But not like the boring ones Pacifica’s parents have. They could have a breakfast for dinner party! Everyone loves breakfast for dinner, Mabel reasoned. So Pacifica will love it! What breakfast foods does Pacifica like?

Mabel pondered Pacifica’s likes and dislikes. The she remembered how Pacifica smiled when they decorated her cast. How rosy her face was…

Wait.

Now that she thought about it, had Pacifica been blushing. Mabel felt her face grow warm. Containing a happy squeal, she threw her head over the bench, and looked up at the tree above her. A bird flew off the tree, causing a leaf to fall.

Mabel sat up and saw Dipper standing in front of her. “Hey,” Mabel said.

“There’s a slide on the other side of the jungle gym.” Dipper said with a smile.

Mabel looked out, thinking of climbing up the ladder. She sighed, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Do you wanna go to the shack?”

Mabel nodded.

Dipper handed her the crutches, and soon the two left the park.

When Saturday finally came, Mabel had everything ready. A new box of her favorite cereal, two cartons of eggs, all the bacon a person could ever want, and most importantly pancake mix and a newly cleaned waffle maker. Just when the last bottle of syrup was set out, Dipper came dashing through the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Mabel asked.

Dipper stopped and excitingly turned to his sister. “Yesterday I discovered that the gopher holes all lead to the bunker. And I was thinking ‘wasn’t there something about a mole-man in the third journal?’ But I just remembered that Grunkel Ford found a mole-man skeleton in there! So I’m going to go find it!”

Excitement filled Mabel’s heart. But then she remembered her ankle. There was no way she could go on a mystery adventure in her state. She’d just slow everyone down. “Well, have fun,” she said with a forced smile.

Dipper noticed the change in his sister’s mood. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied. “You go on your adventure.”

Dipper didn’t believe a word of it. But he decided not to press the issue too much. “Well, I’ll keep you updated.” He handed her a walkie-talkie. “Have fun with Pacifica.” Dipper gave Mabel a quick side hug and was off.

Not long after Mabel heard a knock at the door. Swinging her good leg between her crutches, Mabel dashed to the door. She opened it, and saw Pacifica standing there fixing her new skirt.

“How was the dinner party?” Mabel asked.

Pacifica rubbed her forehead and groaned. “Boring as always.” Then she turned to Mabel, “But how was your week?”

Mabel shrugged and avoided Pacifica’s eyes, “Boring as always.”

Pacifica crossed her arms. “What happened?” She looked around and noticed Dipper’s absence. “Where’s your brother?”

With a sigh Mabel replied, “Nothing. He went out on an adventure thing.”

Pacifica saw Mabel saddened face. She had to do something to make her happy. Pacifica decided to change the subject. “So you’re having a breakfast for dinner party?”

Mabel immediately perked up. “Yeah! I got everything set out.” She began walking into the kitchen, and Pacifica followed.

“Um,” Pacifica stuttered once she saw that every raised surface was covered in various foods. “How much food are we making?”

“As much as you want!” Mabel declared.

Pacifica surveyed the area, and spotted the waffle maker. “What’s that?”

Mabel gasped. “You don’t know what a waffle maker is!?”

Pacifica walked to the device and opened it. “How does it make waffles?”

“Well,” Mabel said pulling out a box of pancake mix, “you follow these instruction, pour the mix in here, smoosh it, and voila! A waffle!”

Pacifica looked at the box. “It says ‘pancake mix.’”

“The shape is what makes the waffle,” Mabel said setting down the box.

Suddenly Dipper’s staticky voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Dipper to Mabel. Dipper to Mabel. Can you hear me?”

Mabel grabbed the walkie-talkie from the table. “Mabel to Dippingsauce. I hear you loud and clear.”

“Is Pacifica there yet?” came his response.

Mabel tilted her head in confusion. “Yeah, we were just about to make waffles.”

“Good, she can help.”

Pacifica leaned in. “Help with what?”

There was obvious excitement in his voice, “Just come to the bunker. Over and out!” And with that said Dipper signed out.

“The bunker?” Pacifica questioned.

Mabel was shaking with enthusiasm. “It’s a mystery adventure! Can you help me climb down into the bunker?”

Pacifica smiled. Even if she wanted to, there was now way she could say no.

As they approached the hole a pebble was kicked away and fell. The echoing plunks faded, and ended with a clank. Mabel looked to the old wooden stairs, then to her crutches. Pacifica glanced at the dirty cobwebs and shivered. Then she looked to Mabel’s curious eyes. Pacifica opened her mouth to speak, but Mabel dropped her crutches and hopped onto the first step.

“Mabel!” Pacifica grabbed her arm.

Mabel teetered until she got her balance. She glanced at the stairs again, “Maybe I shouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t do that! Let me help,” Pacifica said putting one foot on the step.

Together they walked down the creaky wooden stairs. Pacifica lead with careful steps. Each wooden step creaked under the pressure, filling the area with an eerie echo. Pacifica held tight onto Mabel, making sure she didn’t fall. Every now and then she’s think about how close they were. She’d give a slight smile. But then the black abyss they were descending into quickly brought Pacifica’s attention back to walking. Finally they reached the bottom. Pacifica gazed at all the steps she and Mabel just journeyed down.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Mabel grinned.

Pacifica dusted off some cobwebs off of her skirt. “Yeah. Let’s just go see what your brother found.”

Mabel hopped to a large tunnel, pulling Pacifica along. “C’mon, the bunker is this way. Hopefully Dipper tripped all the boobie-traps for us.”

“The what!”

“Let’s go!” Mabel hopped into the tunnel with Pacifica close behind.

Once inside Pacifica noticed that she and Mabel were in what looked like an old bedroom. In one of the walls was a large un-man-made hole. And there was Dipper, examining his discovery.

Dipper turned to them. “Great! You made it.”

Mabel looked at the tunnel, “What did that?”

“I think my theory is right. It’s the mole-man I talked about.”

“A mole-man?” Mabel chimed in, “shouldn’t we call up a group of superheros?”

Pacifica peered into the tunnel. “So what are we going to do?”

“Meet him of course! Let’s go!” Mabel called as she started to crawl into the hole.

“Mabel!” Dipper yelled. “Your ankle!” then he started to crawl in after her.

Pacifica looked down at her nice clothes, but narrowed her brows and followed. It was a very long and dark tunnel. Not being able to see was really getting to Pacifica. Was that her hair that brushed past her face, or a bug. Honestly she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. But it wasn’t long until she found the rest of the team.

“Hey, Dipper,” Mabel called, “I see two different tunnels.”

“How can you see anything in this pit?” Pacifica said.

Pacifica heard some distant cracking followed by Mabel saying, “Here!”

There was a silence, until Pacifica saw a purple glow coming towards her. As her eyes adjusted, Pacifica saw that it was a glow stick necklace. She put it on, and noticed that she could actually see.

“Now,” Mabel said, “which way do I go?”

“Uh...” Dipper stammered.

“Left,” Pacifica called.

“To the left!” Mabel declared.

Soon the trio was back to their adventure. Making rights and lefts, downs and ups. Dipper became worried that Mabel’s directing would get them lost. However they eventually reached a stop.

“You guys!” Mabel said. “I think I found a cave!” There was some shuffling followed by a plop. “Ow.”

“You okay?” Pacifica and Dipper called.

“Yeah, come in here!”

Dipper and Pacifica made their way forward into the dark and spacious cavern. Mabel was sitting down with a pink glow necklace. Pacifica was quick to her side, and helped her up. Dipper took off his blue necklace, and used it to examine the rest of the cave.

“How far down are we?” Pacifica wondered out loud.

Dipper knocked on the wall. “Hard to say.” His curiosity grew, so he went off to inspect the rest of the cave.

Mabel gasped quietly, “Pacifica! Your skirt is torn.”

Pacifica looked down to see her nice skirt, the skirt her parents just bought, torn. She thought of coming home looking like she did. And of how disappointed they would be.

“It’s okay,” Mabel smiled. “I can sew it when we get back to the shack.”

Pacifica looked down at Mabel’s cast, then to her skirt. No, this is all wrong. Mabel’s hurt, she shouldn’t be... Pacifica became lost in her thoughts.

“Pacifica?”

She looked up to see Mabel’s worried face. “What’s wrong?” Mabel said putting a hand on Pacifica’s shoulder.

“Mabel” Pacifica said with self frustration in her voice, “I’m fine. You’re the one with a broken ankle.”

Mabel made a face. “But your feeling look broken.”

Pacifica couldn’t help but smirk at that. But it was quickly covered up by her internal frustration. “I’m worried about what my parents will think-- But that’s stupid. You’re the one with a broken ankle.”

Mabel tried to look into Pacifica’s downcast eyes. There was confusion and irritation in her eyes. “You problems are real too.”

“No, I’m supposed to be cheering you up.” Pacifica couldn’t let Mabel’s sadness win.

“You’ve been trying to make me happy?”

Pacifica sighed. “Yeah, I tried to do things to make you happy. But now you’re the one trying to make me feel better.”

A quiet chuckle came from Mabel’s smiling mouth.

“What’s so funny? I’m trying to be a better person,” Pacifica said feeling offended. “Why are you laughing?”

Mabel shook her head. “No it’s just...” she looked at Pacifica with twinkling eyes, “I am happy.” In one fluid motion Mabel wrapped her arms around Pacifica. “You helped me go on an adventure, and you were there for me.”

Pacifica felt her heart beat next to Mabel’s. She accepted the hug by holding her close as well.

“Thank you,” came Mabel’s muffled voice from Pacifica’s shoulder.

Pacifica hid her blushing face in Mabel’s hair. “It’s nothing.”

Then an echoing scream pierced the air.

Dipper came running into view. “I found the mole-man!” Behind him a giant man-like creature with large teeth crawled towards them.

“Run!” Pacifica yelled. She dashed into the tunnel, Dipper and Mabel close behind her. Leading the group, Pacifica crawled away. Suddenly the tunnel forked. “Which way!?”

“Any way!” the twins yelled.

Pacifica took a right which sent her sliding down headfirst. Roots and rocks hit her face. At the bottom she caught herself, only to have Mabel and Dipper come crashing in.

“You okay, Mabel?” Pacifica called.

“Yeah,” she said spiting out dirt, “just go!”

The mole-man’s roar echoed throughout the tunnels. Pacifica dashed into another passage. Making lefts and rights and ups until she finally began to see light. Her hand met fresh grass as she pulled herself into the sunlight.

“A little help!” Mabel said from the tunnel.

Pacifica grabbed Mabel’s arm, and pulled her up. Dipper followed soon after, coughing up dirt as he did so. He looked around, and spotted the bunker’s metal tree. They had come full circle.

“We made it!” Mabel declared.

The corners of Pacifica’s mouth turned up, “That was kinda… fun.” She turned to Mabel, “Do you need help walking back?”

“Yeah,” Mabel turned around as if looking for something. “I thought I left my crutches somewhere around here.”

Dipper walked up to Mabel and Pacifica, holding the crutches. “Found them.”

“Thanks, Bro-bro.”

“I’m gonna close up the bunker,” he said pointing to the tree.

“Meet you at the shack,” Mabel replied. Using her crutches, Mabel stood with a smile on her face. “Hey,” she said to Pacifica, “when we get back to the shack, I’ll fix your skirt for you.”

Pacifica looked down to her torn skirt, then to Mabel. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Words wanted to be said. But how could she say them? How would she start? “Hey, Mabel?” Pacifica’s mouth said before she was ready.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking that--” Pacifica stuttered.

“Thinking about what?” Mabel questioned. After observing Pacifica’s pink face, it didn’t take long for Mabel to know what was up.

“That,” Pacifica continued, “we should hang out again.”

Mabel smiled, “Of course we can, silly!” She gave Pacifica another hug. “It’s a date!”

Pacifica looked to Mabel’s grinning face. “Yeah…

“it’s a date.”

[vethyourhalflingmother]

Quarter elf playdate with gnome kids?

Arina Messokrin first hears the music that becomes rock and roll in a tiny tavern in northern Tal’Dorei. She’s the only other bard in the joint, probably the only other bard in town, and she finds out why no less than ten minutes after she walks in for a drink. She’s about to offer to take up her own lute, lighten up the place a bit, when the pair of them walk in. 

The pair’s a gnome girl and human boy, though Arina thinks he has some fey blood in him, by the cut of his face and the twinkle in his eye. They’re younger than her by a margin, or at least, the boy is. It’s hard to tell with those small folks, they don’t age quite right. Arina herself’s a human with a sprinkle of orc blood on her mother’s side, and she’s less than halfway through her life, so that says something about this boy. He’s little more than a kid, maybe a year or two past his first score. 

But it hardly matters how old either of them are when they start playing. They come with no instruments in hand, but Arina can tell they’re of her sort by the way the walk, and by the way the locals rise their glasses in a cheer for them when they wander in. They’re both wearing fanciful clothes - in purple and gold, like they’re kings or something. The gnome girl climbs onto a table in the far corner of the room - one that seems to have been left open for the two of them in this otherwise packed barroom - and no one stops her. When she’s on the level with her not-so-human boyfriend, she snaps her fingers and-

-an instrument appears in the gnome girl’s hand, one that looks like the guitars that Arina’s seen in her travels south, but slimmer, and the strings look made of a fine metal. Which doesn’t seem right. Besides, there’s no drum for the sound to vibrate in. And magically-sustained instruments don’t produce a very good sound, given they start to fizzle if the musician tries to keep them up while focusing their mind on a difficult piece. 

But the gnome girl starts plucking at it, her eyes alight with an intense flood of magic. More instruments, drums by the looks of them, fizzle into existence around her— and Arina realizes that the not-so-human boy’s eyes are glowing, too. Then an instrument appears directly in his hands, a larger and longer version of what the gnome girl is holding.

Arina realizes with a start that the tavern around her has quieted down without either of them so much as strumming a single note. She’s never seen that before. She leans in, and—

—they start playing. At first, there’s a low rumble from the drums floating around them. It’s quick and rhymic, though one of the drums seems to keep a hold on the beat. Then, they start playing their guitar-like instruments, and it sounds strange, like nothing Arina has ever heard before. Like they infused a guitar sound with thunder and lightning. Like they’re playing with the magic, instead of just through it. It’s enchanting honestly, a loud, deep pulse that takes hold of the senses and overcomes the audience. A modern siren’s song.

Then they start singing along with their instrumental.

Arina doesn’t recognize the language they’re singing in, but their voices compliment each other, the gnome’s high and heavy, the fey-human’s low and delicate. The barmaid must see the look on her face, because she leans over and whispers, “The boy’s singing in Infernal, the girl in Celestial. Don’t ask where they learned that, but that’s what they told me when I asked.” Arina almost wants to shush her for talking over their playing, but that’s… interesting. What is this? Where did these two come from?

When they’re done their set, Arina approaches them immediately. She can see the callouses on their fingers and the sweat on the brows, but also the satisfied smiles on their faces. “Hey-o,” Arina says, “I’ve never heard anything like that, it was fuckin’ amazing.”

“Thanks,” says the not-so-human boy, and she sees that spark of fey blood flash in his eyes. He rubs his arm, and it draws Arina’s attention the the array of tats decorating his arms. She recognizes some Elvish script on the inside of his forearm, but she’s not fluent enough in the language to make out the words. How many languages do these two speak? Where did they come from?

“It’s a new sound we’re working on,” says the gnome girl. Arina’s eyes flicker to her. Her hair is buzzed short to contrast her companion’s long, freeflowing black hair, and she has her own myriad of tattoos, including a couple more in languages Arina doesn’t recognize.

“It’s… well, from one musician to another, it’s working great.”

“You’re a musician?” says the boy, and when he perks up, Arina notices that the bits of ears poking out from his hair aren’t shaped quite right. He’s too human-looking to be a half-elf, though. Maybe a couple generations removed, like she is from orcs? “That’s sweet, you should play with us tomorrow night. We’re doing a set across the street.”

“Oh, I don’t have any instruments that sound like your magic ones,” Arina says.

“Can you play a fiddle?” asks the gnome girl, and when Arina nods, the girl says, “Then you can play with us. The sound incorporates pretty well. My sister only plays the traditional instruments, so we’re alright at working them in.”

“You come from a family of musicians?”

“My sister, my dad. Mom’s got the musical ability of a turnip, but we still love her,” says the gnome girl good-naturedly.

“And what about you?”

The boy shakes his head. “Nah, I learned everything I knows from her dad,” he says, nodding at his gnome friend. “My parents wouldn’t know good music if it hit them in the face.”

“Your mom has a pretty singing voice,” objects the gnome.

“Yeah, that she never uses,” says the fey-human. “Anyway, that’s an elf thing. She’s got a normal voice by elf standards.”

Elf. Arina was right, then. Though she’d have thought he’d look more elf-ish if his mother’s a half-elf?

“We’re going to turn in for the night,” says the gnome girl, drawing Arina back to the conversation at hand, “but we hope to see you tomorrow— what was your name?”

“Arina Messokrin,” she says, giving the slightest and loosest of curtsies, just out of respect for their obvious talent. “And you two are?”

“June Trickfoot,” says the gnome girl, “and this is my cousin, Vax de Rolo.” Interesting word choice on June’s part, calling her friend her cousin, of all familial relations. Arina would’ve pegged her the type to call him her brother, but she doesn’t know them well enough to comment.

So instead she says, “Nice to meet you both. See you tomorrow night.”

June gives her a little wave, and Vax does a two-fingered salute. Then they’re both out the door. The chatter in the tavern gradually starts to pick up again.

“They’re pretty great, ain’t they?” says the same barmaid from earlier when Arina wanders back for another drink.

“Yeah,” Arina says. “They do seem pretty great…”

[chille-tid-universe]

Status Report

Archivist Report 1305-47.b

Archivist: Just for the record, you are assigned item… 16-dash-T-point-four?

Vigilant: Yes, yes, that is correct, as you already know. I don’t see why you felt the need to draw me from the feast for this. That castle had been dormant for months, and the item hasn’t been disturbed since before I began my watch.

A: True enough, but there is talk from upstairs that the travelers from your last report might be capable of discovering the item’s resting place.

V: *snorts* That fancy scatterbrain with the dagger couldn’t find it, and he made himself right at home. Sure, the big one lines up with the basic description of the spell, but she’s a stickler for the law. No way it picks her!

A: *sniffs* Yes, your report concludes as much. Still… we do prefer thorough documentation of each contact, even potential contacts. At least… *glances at horn of ale dripping on table* … in my office that’s how we do things.

V: By the beard of… Fine, fine, let me pull up the scrying sphere. Your blasted quill is recording? Good, let’s see where they got off to…

~~

Melpomene walked briskly down the southern road from Daggerford. Of course, the blasted barkeep had found a replacement mere hours after the rest of the party had left the tavern. They only had a half a day’s lead on her, and the gnomes had such short legs, but Melpomene could not seem to catch up.

Unbidden, chords and lyrics flowed like water through the aasimar’s mind. As the miles marched past, Melpomene hummed a new song or two, mentally noting those tunes with the greatest potential. Yes, this strange party seemed to attract stories like flies to sugar. The devilish svirfneblin, the hapless gnome, the noble she-warrior, and the charming half-elven bard. If they could be believed, they had accomplished much already, and if Melpomene knew anything of folk-heroes, there were many more tales this group was waiting to spin. And Melpomene was in the business of good tales.

Halfway through her second day from Daggerford, Melpomene came upon a crudely constructed barricade stretching the width of the road, with a ramshackle hut to one side. Upon closer inspection, it appeared hastily vacated, and the gate through the meager wall was hanging on one hinge. 

Obviously there had been some sort of toll collection going on here, legitimate or not, but the proprietor appeared to have packed up in a hurry. Upon closer inspection, there was a bolt imbedded in the windowsill of the shack that looked quite familiar, and as Melpomene headed on she was chuckling. 

The next day brought with it a frightful wall of mist, stretching to either side of the road as far as her eyes could see. There had been no tracks leading off the main path, however, so Melpomene shrugged and carried on. As soon as she stepped foot into the murky fog, she could sense a dark presence, looming just ahead but never getting any closer. It was a persistent paranoia that quickly set her nerves on edge, and as she saw the darkened silhouette of a castle wall fade into view, Melpomene’s mood had tangibly soured. Her mood only slightly improved as the forms of her new companions became clear in the mist, standing over the mangled bodies of several orcs and fiends.

“Yoohoo!” she called out, jogging the last hundred feet to the castle walls. Nissa’s hand went to her crossbows before she recognized Melpomene’s voice, and Wun Way called out jovially, “How nice of you to join us! Don’t worry, we’ve only taken care of the welcoming committee. I’m sure there’s plenty left for you to help with!”

As the reunited party walked into the less-foggy courtyard, they relayed the events of the last few days to Melpomene, from the specifics of the information they had gathered from Trista/Vitalius, to the brigands they had dealt with a day past (“They weren’t even unionized!” Nissa scoffed), to the waiting party they had just dispatched.

As they walked about the courtyard, several things became clear immediately. The so-called Dragonspear “Castle” barely deserved the name anymore; almost the entirety of its construction had fallen into disrepair, with most of the walls crumbling or already fallen, limited reminders of where most of the previous buildings had stood, and the stale taste of inaction upon the air itself. There were merely two points of interest in the whole courtyard, they concluded, as they finished their rounds. 

The western tower, which sat adjacent to what, in another time, might have been a barracks, was almost completely whole. As Pock and Nissa explained, it appeared that there were stones of different ages, from a variety of quarries, that had been used to reconstruct the areas of decay on both the tower and barracks (Nissa was quick to dissuade Pock’s initial hypothesis that time travelers had built the structures).

The only other building worthy of that designation was a simple, stout stone structure, barely more than a large room, which Brienne quickly identified as a chapel. It was not immune to the many long years it had spent exposed to the elements, but somehow it still stood. As they finished walking along the inner wall of crumbling stone, Melpomene recalled all she had heard regarding this foul place during her time in Daggerford, and shared with the others.

Years and years ago, the stories went, this castle had been the staging ground for an invasion from the nine hells. There had been a portal opened, then, though tales told of an effort by the forces of Daggerford to seal it. There had been little told of this area since then, until around a year ago, just about the time of Morwen’s rise to power, when this strange mist had descended upon the land, and fiends began roaming the area.

Unsure of which area to investigate, the party placed their Immovable Rod against the door to the west tower and settled in across the courtyard to catch their breath from the previous engagement. 

As the party rested, both Brienne and Nissa’s heads suddenly jerked up. Nissa turned to the chapel, and Brienne asked, “Did you guys hear that?”

“Did we hear what?” Melpomene asked.

“Someone called for help… Said they were trapped… It sounded like it was coming from the chapel…” Brienne tapered off, glancing at Nissa and following her gaze to the chapel. “Did you hear it, too?”

Nissa seemed to think for a second, then nodded, “Yeah, someone was asking for help. Definitely coming from the chapel.”

The other three glanced among themselves. Pock shrugged and started walking toward the chapel before Brienne stuck out an arm to stop him. “Well, we didn’t hear anything,” Wun Way said with a hint of questioning in her voice.

Nissa just narrowed her eyes and sneered at the bulge in Wun Way’s backpack. “And none of us ever hear your ‘egg’ either, but we don’t call you completely crazy,” she shot back, fully aware she had called Wun Way completely crazy before.

The party moved toward the chapel.

~~

Archivist Report 1305-47.b (cont.)

Vigilant: What in the realms are they doing?! The she-warrior’s file said she possessed a potent Circlet of Intellect! How can they even contemplate this?!

A: Keep in mind the mist surrounding the premises. We theorize it could have a deadening effect on victims’ sense of morality, and certain members of the group have already shown preference for dubious decisions. *reference to file Svirfneblin-143.16598*

V: *takes a long draught of ale* Still don’t think there’s going to be anything here worth reporting on, but if you insist…

A: I do.

~~

The party stood beyond the door to the chapel. Nissa had glanced in through the windows and had recognized the trappings of Tempus, a deity of war. They had decided that Wun Way and Pock would stand guard outside, ready to intervene if anything malevolent occurred, but as Brienne walked in the gnome trotted after her.

As soon as the four stepped beyond the threshold of the door, the voice became audible, and Pock and Melpomene glanced around. “Help me… They trapped me here…” the feminine voice called, whimpering as if in pain. Outside, Wun Way could hear nothing.

“Who trapped you? When?” Brienne asked, looking around the room.

“It was those terrible priests of Tempus,” the voice seemed to pout, and it was clear now that it was coming from the solid granite altar at the end of the room. As the four stepped forward, they noticed that the area around the altar seemed better preserved than the remainder of the chapel; while piles of broken pews were pressed up against the walls, there was still reddish paint coating most of the floor in an area surrounding the altar. However, there were spots where it seemed the paint had been clawed away.

A sense of dread filled the four, and Brienne motioned to Pock, and then the altar. He nodded and closed his eyes briefly, then confirmed, “Yep, abjuration magic, pretty strong. Spells of binding, protection, sealing.”

“What do you need from us to be freed?” Nissa asked, glancing around the sparsely decorated room. “And what would you offer us for our services?”

The voice took on a cloying, pleading tone. “In the early times, it would have taken the blood of a follower of Tempus, but their bonds have weakened. Now, all it would take is a drop of lifeforce from a devout individual. As to rewards…” The voice went quiet for a moment, then seemed to focus directly onto Nissa. “I can offer a means for your people to defend themselves, Nissandra.” Nissa’s eyes glazed over, as if she could see some long-chased-after goal within reach.

Brienne moved herself between the two gnomes, knowing Pock was the closest to devout among them. “Why did they trap you here?” she asked, directing her question at the altar.

“They did not agree with my world views,” the voice explained coyly, “that anything worth having should be taken by, strength or by guile.” Wun Way, tired of hearing this one-sided conversation, inched a little closer to the doorway, but still could hear only her friends.

“And what of the settlements around here? Your intentions do not involve ill-will toward them?”

They felt the voice recede a little, as if it spoke across a great distance. “I have no aspirations towards them.” The four glanced among themselves. Nissa’s eyes clearly pleaded that they try something. What was the worst that could happen? And this was clearly a being of power. Their comeuppance would certainly be worth the effort.

Brienne’s jaw set like stone as she glared at Nissa. There was no way to know what this thing was, and to take it at its word would be foolishness. Pock simply glanced between the two women, tapping his warhammer against his thigh. “I could offer you and your loved ones protection,” the voice offered, tone as sweet as honey. “No harm would befall you or your families.” Nissa gestured toward the altar in triumph, while Brienne simply shook her head.

Melpomene shook out her long hair and sighed. She knew the traps and pitfalls that words hid. They needed assurance that this voice spoke plainly. Her eyes began to close, and she reached out with her mind, immediately detecting a nexus of thought centered on the altar. On the surface, Melpomene’s mind skimmed thoughts of freedom, decades of thirst for the outside world, a longing that went bone deep. Unsatisfied, the aasimar frowned and pushed a little deeper.

Immediately, she heard a deep, rumbling chuckle in her mind, and the four felt a wrenching pain as the ground beneath them tremored. Melpomene fell back, the mental link severed, and the voice called out, demanding, “Free me!” Wun Way felt the brush of the coatl’s mind against her consciousness, and she gasped.

“We need to get out of here!” the half-elf cried. Brienne looked back at Wun Way, and nodded, ushering Pock out and helping Melpomene to her feet. She turned and almost dragged Nissa away from the altar.

Outside, it was still misty, but it seemed that diffuse rays of sunlight filtered down a little brighter than they had seemed minutes before. The five caught their breath on the sparse lawn while Wun Way explained. “The coatl egg, it told me it was protecting me from… whatever that thing was. It couldn’t hold her off much longer.” The four glanced at the bulge in her backpack, then back at the now-silent chapel. Brienne turned to Nissa, who shrugged.

“Alright, so we don’t do anything for now. Maybe once we check out the tower and you’re sure there’s no other big, bad evil here we can hear her out, see if we can trust her.” It was the closest to a compromise Nissa was likely to offer, so Brienne nodded, and they turned to the west tower.

The door appeared to be normal, apart from intricate text that sprawled across the top of the wood in golden lettering. It read thus:

“A farmer wishes to plant 9 trees to form 10 straight lines, with 3 trees in each row.”

Brienne and Melpomene immediately began discussing how they could solve the riddle while Wun Way began sketching in the dirt. Pock asked if they could plant some of the trees in the air, to which Nissa replied with a punch to his shoulder. After a minute of discussion, Nissa threw up her hands and stalked to the door. She punched her finger into the wood below the engraving, and a yellow dot was left behind. Encouraged, she quickly punched in eight more dots in a grid pattern. As she jabbed for the ninth time, however, there was a flash, and an acrid smell filled the air. Nissa was thrown backwards and landed in a heap. Her nine dots flashed red for a moment, before fading like breath on a window into the wood. Below the puzzle, three green circles appeared, and the first turned red.

Brienne and Melpomene glanced at Nissa, nursing her lightly smoking finger, then back at the door. “Maybe we need to enter the answer thee times,” Pock suggested, and stepped over Nissa’s leg toward the door. Brienne grabbed him by the shoulder.

“I do not think so, Pock,” she stated. He shrugged and began searching the masonry for clues. Melpomene raised her eyebrows at Brienne, who responded under her breath, “He means well.”

There was a low growl from Nissa before she whipped out her crossbows and fired off two bolts at the door. They quivered slightly after they struck, deep into the wood, but there was no other change. The svirfneblin then reached into her cloak and removed a vial of green liquid, whose contents she tossed across the door. Where the acid hit wood, it ate away slowly, but the gilded lettering seemed unaffected. Nissa peered closely at the damage, but was careful not to let her skin touch the cursed wood.

Brienne returned to the etchings Wun Way had scribbled in the dirt. “No… it has to be symmetrical. But no matter how we move the saplings…” She crossed several lines through the etchings. “I can’t get more than eight lines!”

Melpomene thought for a second, then grabbed the stick from Brienne. “You’re focused on rotational symmetry. What if…” She placed five dots in a cross, then placed the remaining four above and below the cross. “Ha! Take that, you leafy little bitches!” Brienne stood back and nodded.

“...Seven, eight, nine, ten! That does it, well done, Melpomene!” Brienne glanced to the door. “Who wants to do the honors?”

Nissa shook her head. “No way, one shock from that stupid door is enough for me.”

Brienne shrugged and stepped up to the door, placing her finger lightly onto the grainy wood in nine different spots. Brienne winced as the last impression was made, but the door merely hummed a moment before the yellow dots turned flashing green before fading back into the wood. She gingerly gripped the metal handle and twisted it.

The wall separating the tower and barracks appeared to have been removed, creating a single long room with a curved wall at one end. For all the ruin of the castle, the inside of the building seemed quite well kept. A winding staircase along the inside of the tower wall lead up to a second story, and beneath the stairs was a cellar door to some sort of basement. There were several pieces of mismatched furniture strewn across the floor, with tables and stools crowding what appeared to be a full bar along the side wall. Shelves were stocked with a multitude of bottles behind this bar, and below the shelves stood a man.

The party immediately recognized the bushy red hair and mustache and the scar beneath one eye as belonging to Haesten, and there was a glint of a golden hilt by his belt. Weapons were gripped as their quarry came into view. With a blink, the wizard smiled and waved. “Hullo! Splendid, you opened the door! Was beginning to think I’d rot here, and that’s the truth! Come in, come in, won’t you have a drink?”

Nissa’s eyes darted to the shelves of alcohol, immediately marking which were the most expensive. “Don’t mind if I do,” she responded with a smile, darting past Brienne and climbing up onto the bar. She ignored the offered cup from Haesten and instead began examining the hefty bottles near the top. “Got anything gnommish?”

The wizard’s smile wavered for a moment before returning. “Er… Yes, I do believe there should be something around there.” His interest piqued, Pock also stepped around Brienne and clambered up onto a stool, tugging on Nissa’s cloak and beckoning for a bottle.

“Haesten, I presume?” Brienne accused, a cold chill creeping into her voice. This man held the dagger, and surely had some sort of defense set up in this place.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance… sir?” Haesten bowed, tilting his head in a question. “I presume you’ll have been sent here by Delphin. Oh, how silly he’ll think I am!”

“Did you steal his dagger and flee from Daggerford?” Brienne asked, gripping her battleaxe and sensing Melpomene reaching into her cloak for her blade. Nissa still perused the collection, and Pock was pulling out a magnifying glass to read the miniscule text on a bottle.

The wizard sighed. “Yes, I did indeed. Oh, it all began as one big joke, but…” He pulled the dagger from its sheath, and it glittered in the light of the lamps dispersed through the room. “...it really is a wonderful item. I’m sad to say I was tempted, and my greed got the best of me.”

“No need to apologize for that,” Nissa exclaimed, trying to shove several bottles into her cloak.

“Yes, well, I headed south with the dagger and found myself at this curious place. Did you know there’s a portal to hell sealed nearby? The power I could siphon from that source is immense! But I had learned from Ol’ Ondabarl how to set up a wizard’s tower, so I set to preparing the defenses. Unfortunately,” he mumbled, speaking into his drink, “I started with that door, and didn’t quite leave myself with a way to unlock it from the inside… But now you’re here, and we’re free!” Haesten threw his arms open, his drink sloshing over the rim, before his eyes darted from Brienne and Melpomene to the dagger he had laid on the bartop. “I do suppose Delphin has asked for his dagger, back, eh?” He picked up the dagger and held it out to Brienne. “I suppose I owe him that much, after the trouble I’ve caused.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes, but strode forward into the room and reached for the dagger. Melpomene shook her head as Brienne walked away. Something wasn’t right… “Wait. He said we!” As Brienne grabbed the offered hilt, Haesten gripped her forearm with his other hand, and grinned hideously. 

All at once, there was a pressure behind Brienne’s eyes, like a drill was digging out her brain, and then there was blankness, emptiness that spanned the last three days. Brienne could not recall where she was, or how she got here, but she recognized Haesten as if he had just been described to her. She glanced down and saw the dagger, and his hand on her arm, and assumed the worst. She let the dagger fall to the floor and pulled away, shaking her head to free it from a ringing sensation. She felt drained, as if she had run many miles, and there was a deep pain throbbing behind her eyes.

Nissa had been watching the discussion from the corner of her eye, and when Brienne had seized up at Haesten’s touch, the svirfneblin knew something was wrong. Bottles forgotten (for the moment) she whirled around and leveled her crossbow at the wizard, letting loose a bolt aimed for his shoulder. The bolt flew through the air and struck its target, and from her position mere inches away, Brienne saw the shaft of wood thud into Haesten’s body. There was no blood, and only a slight squelching sound as the bolt pierced what should have been flesh. “He isn’t human!” Brienne cried out as she reached for her battleaxe and shield.

“Oh, is he an elf?” Pock asked with curiosity, then turned to see the bolt sticking from Haesten’s chest. “Ah.”

There was a clang, and the cellar door opened to reveal a female adventurer, climbing from the basement below. Melpomene cried out to alert the others, then her blade darted from beneath her cloak. Across the room, Pock had advanced upon the wizard with hammer in hand. Nissa had darted behind the bar and was taking shots from her hidden position while Brienne brought her battleaxe down upon his arm with a sickening squelch, as if she had struck a boggy marsh. Haesten’s mouth split in a rictus grin, and his eyes turned towards Wun Way. The half-elf’s eyes glazed over for a moment, then she turned to see Nissa aiming at the wizard. “STOP!” she yelled, and pointed a finger at the gnome. Nissa’s eyes widened as she felt her muscles freeze, then she turned her gaze to Wun Way. There was murder in her eyes.

The adventurer had jumped at Melpomene, who took a deep breath and let her earthly guise fall away. All her heavenly, corrupted splendor shone forth upon the adventurer - and seemed to have no effect. She instead adjusted her leap and darted past the aasimar’s terrible visage.

A moment later, Brienne slammed the flat of her axe against Haesten’s face, and Wun Way slumped forward. Nissa was freed, and quickly turned her crossbow on the half-elf. She might have fired, had Wun Way not managed to quickly explain between breaths, “Mind… control…” This seemed to upset Nissa even more, and she renewed her attack on the wizard. Or would have, if the adventurer did not jump behind the bar and strike Nissa down with a heavy blow. The gnome fell unconscious, slumped over the bar. Pock turned around and placed his hand on his fallen friend, breathing words of life as he felt her body stir, but was then struck by the adventurer and sent reeling.

Brienne gathered her strength and unleashed a flurry of strikes against the wizard. As her last blow struck, it sliced clean through his torso. With that terrible grin plastered onto his face, Haesten’s body began to melt, becoming viscous and an ugly crimson. At the same time, the adventurer’s body underwent the same change, and within seconds there were two piles of sludge where they had stood a moment before.

Wun Way turned to the fallen companions and began administering aid. Melpomene composed herself and her beautiful and slightly less imposing form returned. Brienne took a deep breath and asked, “Does anyone want to fill me in as to what’s going on here?”

~~

Archivist Report 1305-47.b (cont.)

Vigilant: I see what you mean. She definitely fits the parameters. Still, will it have any effect? It’s been centuries, and still no indication that - 

Archivist: These discussions have already been exhausted elsewhere. *reference to open forum 928346.8*

V: Well, none of this will be worth a raven’s caw if they can’t find the blasted casket. Generations have passed by it without noticing anything.

~~

There was something strange about the wall beyond the bar. As Melpomene reviewed the events of the past few days for the three who had been injured by the wizard and his accomplice, Nissa’s eyes kept getting drawn back to a section of wall, much like any other in the long room, except for an unmistakable gut feeling that Nissa was getting from it. She recognized it as her treasure-sense, and had learned to follow it over the years. Cutting Melpomene off mid-sentence, the svirfneblin strode across the floor (avoiding the still bubbling mass that had been Haesten) to the odd wall.

The others eyed her, but knew better than to get between Nissa and potential wealth (unless that wealth belonged to someone else, in which case Brienne usually intervened). After a few seconds, Nissa let out a satisfied exclamation and, with a click, the false wall swung open. Within, there was a shallow wooden box, and as Pock helped Nissa remove it, an emblazoned warhammer crossed with a lightning bolt became clear on top, in stunning color as if it had been painted yesterday. Beneath, shimmering text, was written in Common:

“Used to threaten / Used to defeat

Sometimes it grows / Sometimes it shrinks

Used to conquer / Used to protect

It marks your downfall / It marks your success”

For the next few minutes, the party threw out possible solutions as Brienne lugged the half-casket around the tower (there was something about it that just felt… right to her), and they checked the second story, where they found a fledgling wizard’s study, complete with agents and reagents, globes and tomes, a fancy leather-bound tome they took to be Haesten’s spellbook and safely stored away in the bag of holding, several potions, and even an exquisitely ciphered scroll of teleportation, which Melpomene slid into her coat.

The second floor being for all intents and purposes looted, the party ventured a search into the cellar below the tower. Upon close examination, there appeared to be a thin trail of the crimson substance that Haesten and his adventurer had been diminished to, leading from behind the bar and down the stairs to the cellar. As they cautiously descended the cold stone steps, a hideous sight met their eyes. A bulbous red mass of oozing pustules was in the process of decay in what appeared to be a cell, strands of slime already seeping through the bars.

Wun Way leaned a little closer and announced that, given the circumstances, this was most likely an oblex, and an elder one at that. She explained that they had been known to incorporate the personalities and likenesses of those they fed upon, and one of this size could easily maintain several bodies-facsimiles at the same time. Pock asked in a hushed whisper if the elder oblex had fed upon a pile of red goo, and Nissa sighed and informed him that this was most likely its actual form.

As the party returned to the first floor, they resumed the discussion of the casket’s puzzle. “Government?” “Money?” “Citizens?” “An army?” On and on they threw out answers as they finished scouring the first floor. As they finished up and started towards the curving staircase, Melpomene pursed her lips and thought a second before offering, “Power?” There was a sound like a thunderclap, and the insignia on the casket glowed bright white for a split second. As the party’s sight and hearing returned to them, the lid had shifted off the casket, revealing its contents.

Within the casket, there lay a neatly folded bundle of cloth. There was an emblem stitched into the cloth, matching the symbol on the casket; a warhammer crossed with a lightning bolt. As Melpomene removed the cloth, it unfurled to show a handsome standard. Beneath the cloth was a metal rod, to be affixed to a pole or other weapon, to hand the standard from, and next to the rod was a warhammer matching the emblem.

Brienne felt a sudden need to hold that warhammer. She slowly reached in with her hand, and as her fingers slid around the cool metal of the handle, she felt the mental fatigue and heavy paranoia she had been suffering from since they had come to this place disperse. She braced herself to lift the heavy weapon, but was surprised to find it much lighter than it had seemed in the casket. There was a carving along the side of the hammer, an intricate lightning bolt woven in strange knots that seemed to shift from the corner or Brienne’s eye. She turned to face the rest of the party. “Neat,” Pock commented.

~~

Archivist Report 1305-47.b (cont.)

Vigilant: *cheers and bangs horn on table, endangering records with spilled ale* She’s done it! The crazy she-devil’s done it!

Archivist: *adjusting papers to avoid spillage* Technically she is a fallen angel, not a devil.

V: No, the warrioress! Do you know what this means? My watch it ended! That blasted hiding spot is finished!

A: Yes, it appears your position is no longer required. The paperwork will be distributed within a week. Please await your new orders. You may return to your… feast. *gathers files*

V: Not on your life, archivist. I’ve waited damned centuries for this moment. I want to see who we’ve been waiting for. At least until they’re out of range.

A: *reopens ledger* Very well…

~~

“Incredible,” Brienne breathed, feeling her moral ambiguities evaporate like morning dew under the intensity of the hammer’s influence. “You need to feel this.” She waved the hammer around easily, passing it to Wun Way, in whose hand the hammer dropped like a boulder, clanging loudly on the wooden floor and leaving a dent.

“Stars, Brienne, I know I’m not that much weaker than you!” she complained, straining as she attempted to lift the hammer. Brinne frowned, brow furrowing, as Nissa and Pock both approached the hammer and attempted, unsuccessfully, to lift it together.

“Curious,” the human muttered, reaching down and plucking the hammer from the floor to the chagrin of the others. “Well, there doesn’t appear to be anything left to find here. Let’s go.”

The party decided it wanted nothing to do with what was obviously a portal to the Nine Hells, and decided to head back for Daggerford immediately, hoping to escape the oppressive mists before the end of the day. So, still wounded and wearied, the group left the tower and headed for the gates of Dragonspear Castle.

Seldom has an oversight had such drastic ramifications.

The group walked with easy gait across the courtyard, but stopped as they reached the gate. Beyond, a semicircle of orcs were arrayed with a pair of hellhounds, and a large orc decked in intricate furs and skins in the center. As she began speaking, Brienne, Nissa, and Wun Way recognized her as the shaman from their journeys before Orlane. “We’ve finally tracked you down. Guthran will be most pleased to know those who slaughtered his tribe have been dealt with.” She waved her hand at Melpomene and Pock. “We have no business with you. Leave the others, and you will be spared.” The gnome and aasimar grabbed their weapons and stepped closer to the other three. “Very well,” the gravelly voice rumbled. “You have chosen.”

Lifting high the wondrous hammer, Brienne ran forward to face the old foe. As she passed between the towers, however, the shaman lifted a gnarled hand, and a torrent of flames shot up from the ground, creating a wall of fire between the structures. Caught in the midst of the inferno, Brienne cried out and pushed through, emerging singed but whole in the midst of the orcs and their hellhounds. With a grin, the shaman raised her other hand and two tears in reality opened before her, and two tall devils stepped through to the plane wielding long chains barbed with hooks.

As the foul enemies collapsed on Brienne, the other four dashed to the ladders that would take them to the top of the towers; Wun Way to the right tower, and the other three to the left. From their lofty vantage points, they saw Brienne dash in among the orcs and, swinging the warhammer about easily, knock one orc’s head clean off with a single blow, then spin and crush the ribs of another foe. In a flash, two other orcs had been felled, and the human woman was left grinning as the other orcs approached more skittishly. This, this was right. Mind clear, morality restored, and fell enemies to remove from existence. Though her body screamed for respite from the battles of the day, Brienne yelled a challenge to those before her.

Nissa called out as a trio of the strange spiked birds swooped down from the misty skies, flinging their barbed tail feathers at the party. Ducking from the assault, Nissa pulled out her crossbow and leveled it at the shaman. “This time you won’t get away,” she growled, loosing a bolt. Atop the other tower, Wun Way grabbed her own hand crossbow and aimed at the devils, calling out for Brienne to watch herself.

The devils approached, twirling their wicked chains as the orcs swarmed Brienne. She held her ground, throwing her shield between herself and her attackers, until the devils whipped out their hooks. One was knocked aside by the hammer, but the other struck, and Brienne grunted as the scythe-like hook dug into her arm. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, the hellhounds circled around her, breathing torrents of fire that engulfed Brienne and a few of the remaining orcs. 

Melpomene narrowed her eyes at the devil that had ensnared her comrade, and breathed words of power beneath her breath, feeling her divine magic flow through her body. She raised her voice, and in mocking tones directed threats at the fiend. It turned to look at the source of the calls, and its eyes went wide as a horrible vision appeared before it. With a strangled yelp, it dropped its chain and fell back, almost colliding with the shaman. Brienne took the opportunity to smash another pair of orcs.

The party continued to fire from above, attempting to pick off the devils while the birds continued to swoop across the battlefield, emptying their deadly plumage toward the adventurers. Pock glanced down at the fray and called upon Rill Cleverthrush to shield his friend. A golden aura surrounded Brienne which sparkled in the eyes of her foes, causing them to squint through the brilliance.

Unfortunately, the devils were still able to find purchase with their swirling chains, and two hooks pierced Brienne, holding her fast. She gave a mighty roar and flung the bonds aside, panting with the exertion.

By this time, the birds’ feathers had pinned Wun Way and Pock, who were both beginning to gasp with the effort of staying conscious. Glancing over at Pock and the others, Wun Way called out to Brienne, “We can’t take much more!”

Herself beginning to feel the extent of her exhaustion, Brienne set herself in a defensive pose and called out, “Melpomene! The scroll!” Just then, another bolt from Nissa went sailing through the air and struck the shaman in her flank. With a deep grunt, the orc’s concentration slipped, and the wall of fire flickered into nothingness. Nissa cried out in triumph right before a pair of feathered barbs sank deep into her chest, sending her sprawling across the floor. Pock cried out and dove to assist her, but was struck as well, and toppled to her side. Wun Way saw the motion from the corner of her eye and sang out a desperate healing spell, not daring to breathe until she saw her friends stir and clamber back to their feet.

“The scroll, Melpomene!” Brienne repeated, fighting off another assault by the devils. “It’s the only way!” The aasimar nodded to herself and feverishly searched her cloak, locating the crisp roll of parchment they had taken from the wizard’s study what seemed a lifetime ago. The spell was beyond anything Melpomene had attempted before, but she could just begin to make out the general shape of the mental components necessary. The words swam before her eyes as if she had had too much to drink, but she knew she needed to read them if they were to survive this.

“Ready!” she cried out.

“To Melpomene!” Brienne roared, readying herself to break from the fray. Atop the other tower, Wun Way fired a last shot at the deadly birds before launching herself at the ladder. Pock peeked over the edge of the parapet and concentrated, creating his divine weapon next to the chain-devil and sending it careening into its leathery flesh. The gnome cried out happily, even as a firebolt from the shaman’s fingers punched him squarely in the chest. Pock’s smile stayed on his face as he fell backwards, eyes rolled back.

Nissa watched her fellow gnome fall back, and glanced down at Brienne, thick in the middle of the orcs and devils, then to Wun Way, just now reaching the bottom of her ladder. “No time,” she muttered, then turned to Melpomene. “I need to drop him,” she blurted, hoping Melpomene would catch on. “No time to climb.” With that, she dove for Pock’s unconscious form, grunting as she hauled his armor-laden body to the edge of the tower. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she tilted him into the open air. She did not spare him a second glance as he tumbled to the earth below; for this to work, she needed to get down, herself. She jumped for the ladder and half-climbed, half-fell down the rungs.

Brienne chanced a backwards glance, and her heart nearly stopped as she saw Pock’s body hit the earth. She checked another blow, then extracted herself from the brawl, charging for the fallen gnome. She arrived at his body just as Wun Way did, and she saw his chest rise slightly with his breath just as Nissa jumped the last few feet off her ladder. Brienne glanced up into the misty sky and saw Melpomene unfurling the scroll fully and taking a deep breath. The fiends and orcs had started their charge to the damaged group as the fallen angel plummeted earthward again.

~~

Archivist Report 1305-47.b (cont.)

Archivist: *does not notice ale flowing over report* Is the work of a vigilant always this enthralling?

Vigilant: *does not seem to have heard* No no no no no no no no no no…

~~

Brienne found herself holding her breath as she watched the beautiful form of Melpomene fall like a comet. She placed a hand on the body of Pock, bracing herself for the teleportation spell.

Nissa held her leg, sucking in deep breaths as she assessed the damage. She didn’t think it was broken; most likely just sprained. Once they returned to Daggerford, she would need to find a professional healer to be sure.

Wun Way’s breath caught in her throat as she stared up. The sight of the imposing aasimar hurtling toward her, flowing hair buffeted by the wind, glowing face scrunched up as she deciphered the scroll, would be with her ‘til the day she died.

Melpomene felt the intense pressure of this moment. As air rushed by her face, she smiled. All spotlights were on her, and this was her time to shine. If she could only make out that last part of the spell… She didn’t dare look away from the scroll. She knew the ground was fast approaching, and that she couldn’t spare a split second to stare at the oncoming earth. Her usual performance bravada cracked, and her smile faltered. This last line was not making sense! Melpomene’s eyes grew wide as she scanned the scroll again, thinking a full reading might jog her intuition and help her complete the spell.

She was on the last word when she hit the ground.

~~

The shaman grunted in a close approximation of a laugh. “How nice of them to bundle themselves up for us.” She called out to her underlings, “Strip them of their weapons and bind them! A quick death is too good for these monsters. We take them to Guthran!”

~~

Archivist Report 1305-47.b (cont.)

*span of several seconds without sound or motion*

Archivist: What the f-

*Report terminated*

[sockablock]

Something New for Me and You

• (start) (prev) (next) •

Chapter 7:  The Light of Early-Morning Winter

“Here,” Molly said as he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of teacups, “it’s passionflower. It’s supposed to be calming, which I think we could probably use right about now.”

They were all seated around his and Fjord’s coffee table, sprawled atop a sea of technicolor cushions and blankets. Those, along with the bright floral wallpaper, plush carpet, lace doilies on the TV stand, and deeply gaudy 15-foot tapestry to the Platinum Dragon hanging on their left, only added to the general feeling that this living room had been decorated by a colorblind, rules-blind, shame-blind maniac with too many tastes, too much funding, and altogether too much free time.

So, Mollymauk.

He finished passing around the cups and took a seat on the floor next to Yasha. “Careful,” he added, “they’re still hot.”

“It smells very nice.” Caleb noted. He and Nott were also on the ground, across the table and leaning against the couch where Fjord rested, hands on his ribs, head in Jester’s lap. Beau was perched on the armrest of the sofa opposite them.

“Thank you, dear,” Molly said. “I rather think so too.”

Jester nodded enthusiastically. “It’s really nice. Where’d you buy it?”

“I didn’t, actually. It was a gift from a…a bar patron. She said she got it from some exotic tea shop.”

“Exotic?” Beau echoed.

Molly shot her a grin. “According to the owner, all of the flowers were grown in a graveyard.”

Fjord nearly spat out his drink. “How long’ve you been making this in our kitchen?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh, months.”

Fjord gazed morosely into his cup. “Spooky.”

“I think it’s neat,” Molly shrugged. “I’d love to visit that graveyard, one day. Meet the owner.”

Nott eyed her drink suspiciously. “How’s this supposed to calm you without any alcohol?” she demanded. Her gnome disguise had long faded by now, leaving behind a goblin girl in a tattered hoodie. There was a crossbow casually resting next to her on the carpet.

“Tea has soothing effects,” Molly said. “Look it up.”

She considered this. She took a swig, then made a face. The others drank too, with varying degrees of satisfaction (Caleb, Yasha, Jester, Beau) and disgust (Fjord).

For a while they just sat there in silence, nursing the graveyard tea, listening through the walls to the distant sounds typical of apartment life, trying to wrap their minds around what had just happened. Each one of them looked like they had just run a marathon and gotten pummeled at the end—Beau and Yasha were bruised to hell, Molly had a thick bandage wrapped around his palm, Jester’s dress was torn and Nott’s covered in mud and Caleb’s entire body smelled like a forest fire.

And all of them were acutely aware that if not for a certain blue cleric, there was a chance that Fjord might not have been sitting with them in the living room, tonight.

Thankfully, he was. And he was also sighing now, turning to the rest of the group. “So…” he said slowly, “should we maybe talk about…what just happened?”

Then he gestured vaguely over to Molly’s bedroom door. “And about what to do with Toya? She’s unconscious now, but when she wakes up and realizes that we’ve suddenly kidnapped her—”

“We didn’t, though,” Beau said immediately. “We stopped someone who was trying to kidnap her.”

Molly pinched the bridge of his nose. “Technically…I suppose you’re right,” he said, “but I don’t know if she’ll see it that way. She was part of the troupe, but nobody actually had custody of her. We found her on the streets, for the gods’ sake. But Kylre was her constant companion. Probably her best friend. What he was doing might have been ill-conceived and suspicious and wrong—

“—and creepy,” Beau added.

“—but out of all of us, she was definitely closest to him.”

Yasha nodded. “When she wakes and sees that Kylre is missing, she will not react well.”

“The only good part is that at least she’ll recognize us,” Molly sighed. Then he kicked the coffee table half-heartedly and slumped his shoulders. “I don’t understand why Kylre ever attacked like that. He knows us.”

“He probably felt cornered and resorted to instinct,” Yasha reasoned.

“To be completely fair,” Beau pointed out, “he didn’t actually do anything until Jester blasted him full of…of fuckin’ holy light, or whatever.”

“He threw Fjord against a wall,” said cleric responded testily. “And it wasn’t 100% on purpose.”

Fjord hesitated. “Is that…should I be thanking you for that?”

She shrugged and said anyways, “You’re welcome.”

“I just never thought he could do something like that,” Molly muttered glumly.

“Well,” Caleb shrugged and took another sip of tea. “I can understand attacking someone who tried to control me with magic.”

There was a pause, where the rest stared at him in silence.  

It took him a few seconds to notice. “What?” he asked, lowering his cup. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“What do you mean by, by…control with magic?” Molly asked.

Caleb blinked. “Was? Obviously, your Friends spell did not go over well. Do not worry, it is a reasonable reaction.”

Molly gave him a puzzled frown. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I didn’t cast any spell. I don’t even know how to do that.”

Caleb looked just as confused as Molly felt. “But you did,” he pressed. “I saw you do it. All of us did, no?”

This elicited a round of shrugging.

“If I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Fjord said. “I don’t…uh…I don’t really know much about magic.”

“Neither do I,” said Yasha.

“I know a little,” Beau admitted.

“I know a bunch,” Jester said, “but nothing about wizard magic.”

“And I don’t have Friends,” Nott added.  

Caleb rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Well, you did,” he said. “I should know. Maybe it is a tiefling thing, and you are only just coming into your abilities. Unless you have prior magical training…?”

Molly instantly shook his head. “None,” he said. “None at all.”

Nobody else caught it, but Yasha frowned slightly and turned to look at him

“I’ve got natural magic,” Jester volunteered. “You probably do too.”

“I buy that,” Fjord sighed, shifting on the cushions. “And it makes sense if he panicked at your…your mind control, or whatever. But why did he bolt from the Moondrop in the first place?”

“Oh, that one’s easy,” Nott said. “He looks like a monster. If he were there at the scene of the crime, they’d blame him.”

They paused and that sink in. Jester silently reached down and pulled Nott up onto the couch with her, plopping the little goblin onto her knee and nudging Fjord aside.

“Well alright then,” Beau said eventually. “Asked and answered.”

“Unless,” Caleb said quietly, tapping his chin, “unless Kylre was guilty. Hear me out,” he added, raising his hands quickly. “Remember, he got worried when we said that we had taken care of that strange grey creature. Like he was afraid of us, for destroying it. Not glad that it was gone, or relieved it was no longer rampaging and threatening his home. Why? Perhaps because he thought we knew something, and we were coming after the source next.”

They took a moment to consider this.

After a while, Molly shook his head and shrugged. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Maybe that’s possible. But it’s awful that we just left him there. Even if we had no choice. It still feels like we abandoned him.”

Caleb nodded solemnly. “Understood,” he said.

“I hope they are not too hard on him,” Yasha sighed. “The best case would be they just arrest him and release him with Gustav when everything is over.”

“That would be ideal,” Fjord agreed. “Especially if he is innocent.”

Molly leaned back glumly, resting his head on the pillows. “This whole thing was a mess,” he mumbled. “And now I’m bleeding and exhausted and covered in mud.”

“You could take a shower,” Jester suggested. “It is your house.”

He cracked a smile at that. “I might. All of you can as well,” he added, “since we’re rather filthy.”

“I feel fine,” Nott said immediately. “No need for any of that.”

As Molly shot her a skeptical glance, Fjord closed his eyes and draped an arm over his face. “What time is it?” he asked.

Beau glanced at her phone. “Twelve forty-two,” she said.

He nodded. “In that case, y’all are also more than welcome to stay the night,” he said. “The streets are crawling with police right now, and I have a feeling you wouldn’t wanna run into them. Plus, it’s not the safest, afterhours.” He gestured vaguely at the room around them. “This probably isn’t the most glamorous place to be, but there are plenty of blankets and cushions in the living room, and we can grab some quilts off me and Molly’s beds. I know for sure I ain’t moving any more than I have to, tonight. The couch is it, for me. And there’s a little dwarf girl in Mol’s room.”

“Oooh!” Jester grinned immediately. “A sleepover! We can all stay out here and keep them company!”

“Yeah, sure,” Beau shrugged. “It would be boring at home without you anyways, Jes.”

“I would like to avoid the police,” Yasha said quietly. “I do not want to explain to them why I am still outdoors after the Detective Sergeant told me to go inside.”

“And it’s been a bit since our days bunking together in the old dressing room, eh?” Molly added in an attempt to lighten the mood. Yasha nodded back with a faint smile.

Caleb glanced at Nott, who had at this point almost completely submerged herself into a pile of pillows. Despite having survived two ridiculous battles today, she looked brighter—and warmer—than she ever had in their apartment.

“If you are alright with us staying,” Caleb said slowly, “then we will definitely take up that offer.”

Nott immediately nodded her agreement and burrowed deeper into the nest.

“Heck yeah!” Jester beamed. “Oh, it’ll be so much fun, we can stay up and braid each other’s hair, and tell each other stories, and—”

Molly put a hand up and gave her a weak smile. “Jester, dear,” he said gently, “normally I would be all for that, but do you think maybe tonight we could just take it easy and get some real rest? I, no joke, lost blood tonight. And I’m pretty sure we desperately need the sleep.”

Jester’s shoulders slumped, but she took in the worn-out shapes of Beau and Yasha, the wrecked ribcage of Fjord, and the ragged faces of Caleb, Nott, and Molly. Her expression turned soft and she nodded.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Here, I’ll help you get some quilts.”

Molly stood up slowly and extended an elbow for her to take, and she giggled and did.

“We’ll be back,” he said. “I’ll grab some more tea, too. In the meantime, all of you clean up! I don’t want my stuff getting any dirtier than it already has.”

• 

“Hey!” Molly stuck his head into the bathroom, nearly scaring the life out of Caleb. “Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, gesturing in a calming manner. “I just brought you a toothbrush. And you can use my razor if you need to. It’s the purple one.”

Caleb was standing in front of the mirror, examining his face and wiping the grime away from his skin with a towel Jester had launched at him not ten minutes ago. Being this careful with his personal grooming was still somewhat new to him, but he felt like he needed to make an effort in someone else’s home. His battered coat dangled off the back of the door, and his tie hung limply from one of the pockets.

“Oh,” he said, turning around. “Ah…thank you. I should be fine, but the toothbrush is appreciated.”

He took it from Molly’s hands, and then paused.

“I just…uh…I just wanted to say, there is no shame in casting magic unawares,” he said slowly.

Molly raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked into a confused smile. “Whatever do you mean, dear?” he asked.

Caleb blinked and tried again. “Just that…well…you seemed somewhat bothered before when I said that you had cast Friends. It is not unheard of, when emotions are running high, to accidentally trigger a spell. I have done it once or twice without meaning to, just on instinct. You are not alone there.”

Molly immediately opened his mouth to say something. And then he paused, and closed it again.

He met Caleb’s concerned gaze and nodded. “Okay,” he said. His tone was much more subdued than before. “That’s…uh…that’s good to know, I think. Thank you.”

“Er…no problem?”

Molly nodded. Then his expression brightened again and he said, “Hey! Hey, let me also grab you some pajamas. I can definitely find you something better for the night than muddy performance attire.”

“Er…er…I am fine though,” Caleb said, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. “I do not, uh, need anything fancy.”

Molly snorted. “You’re already wearing fancy, dear. I can’t imagine that a collared shirt and slacks are comfortable to sleep in. Let me lend you something! I must have another t-shirt and some clean boxers somewhere.”

Caleb’s ears went red. He hoped that Molly wouldn’t notice. “Really,” he said. “Really, I am fine—”

Molly shook his head and waved a finger in front of Caleb’s nose. “Nonsense!” he said. “You’re my guest tonight. I’ve got to make sure you’ve got everything you need. Besides, Beau already stole some of Fjord’s stuff, and Jester keeps a spare set of pajamas here. We managed to find a t-shirt that fit Yasha and I convinced Nott to take one from me already as well. So it’s only you left, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb considered mounting a defense. He had the words on the tip of his tongue, until he caught Molly’s pleading eyes and excited grin. He sighed and nodded in defeat. “Sure,” he said. “Ja, okay. But not anything too ridiculous, alright?”

Molly put a hand over his heart. “Ridiculous? What do you take me for?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “There are lace doilies on your TV stand,” he said.

Molly laughed. “Point taken,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then winked and vanished behind the doorframe.

Caleb looked down at the toothbrush in his hands. It was bright purple, with glittery pink flowers on it. He wondered what store in the world would carry something like this. Then he sighed again, and reached for the toothpaste.

•

“Those were, uh, those were some pretty sick moves,” Beau said over the basket of dirty clothes in her arms. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Yasha, swinging a bottle of liquid detergent in her hands, paused. “Er…nowhere, really,” she said slowly. “I just sort of…learned.”

She crouched down in front of Molly and Fjord’s washing machine and motioned for Beau to pass over the laundry.

“Where did you learn your skills?” she asked absent-mindedly, gaze fixed on the series of dials before her. “You handled yourself well in the fight. Both of them.”

She was so busy trying to decide if their clothes were dirty enough to justify using the “heavy-duty” setting that she completely missed Beau’s eyes going wide and cheeks turning red.

“Uh…nowhere also,” came the somewhat strained reply. “I also just…kinda…learned them.”

Yasha settled on “ultra-clean,” and started pouring detergent in.

“It was impressive,” she said. “Like you had been in real fights before.”

Beau snorted. “Of course I’ve been in real fights,” she said. “I’m a bouncer, remember? I might not look as tough as you, but I can handle myself in a scrap.”

“I will admit,” and here Yasha reached for the laundry basket, “I was somewhat worried about you during the battles. You are just so…small.” Then she immediately turned around and met Beau’s incredulous expression and added hastily, “Not, not in a bad way! Not that you are weak, or defenseless, or…er…” she trailed off and rubbed the back of her neck. “You are just surprising,” she finished lamely. “That is all.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Beau struggled to form a response. She settled on:

“Uh…thanks?”

“You are…welcome.”

Behind them, water started pouring out of the washing machine. Their attention instantly shifted.

“Quick!” Beau yelled, gesturing wildly. “Quick, quick, close it!”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Yasha whirled around and kicked the machine’s door. It swung shut with a loud clunk. The flood stopped, leaving them standing in a shallow puddle of foamy, soapy water.

“I’ll just…uh…get a mop, then?” Beau suggested eventually.

Yasha nodded slowly. “I think…yes. I think that would be a good idea.”

•

“Are you comfy?” Jester asked Fjord, handing him another pillow. From somewhere else in the apartment she suddenly heard the sound of bare feet slapping wetly against hardwood floors, then a strange skidding noise, then the crash of someone colliding with the hallway closet.

They both immediately elected to ignore this.

“Plenty comfortable,” he answered, giving her a faint smile. “Thanks a million again, Jes. Really. I’m pretty sure I owe you my life for gettin’ me outta that scrap in one piece.”

“Aww,” she beamed, “it was nothing.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t, though. Seriously, that was some pretty incredible magic. I mean, I knew you could heal, I’ve seen you do it with papercuts and stuff before, but…but Jester, I had a shattered ribcage. And now it’s…it’s fixed. How did you even do that?”

She shrugged. “The same way I do the other stuff!” she said. “We talked about it before, it was the Traveler! He gives me all sorts of cool powers.”

“Yeah,” Fjord said, “yeah, I remember that. I just…I didn’t know he could do…all that.”

“He’s a god, silly,” Jester giggled. “He can do anything.”

Fjord nodded slowly. “Right. Right, of course. Hey, uh, just out of curiosity, how much do you think he—”

“Alright!” Molly announced, entering the living room. He was now in his silk pajamas, being trailed by a very reluctant, very embarrassed-looking Caleb dressed in an oversized rainbow t-shirt and what appeared to be a pair of long, rainbow tie-dyed pants of indeterminate material, completely covered with images of smiling cat heads. They were obviously meant for someone taller, and completely obscured his feet.

Fjord had seen these pants before, worn by Molly unironically a few months ago. Jester had never seen this much color on Caleb’s body before.

Nott emerged from her cocoon of blankets under the coffee table and gave him a cursory once-over.

“Well…” she said eventually, “I’ll support you if this is how you want to dress from now. It’s very…flashy.”

“You. Look. Amazing!” Jester declared, running over to admire the outfit in closer detail. “Where did you get these?”

Molly grinned. “I have no idea,” he said. “That’s the best part, really.”

Caleb had his hands on his face now, to prevent anybody from making eye contact with him. “It was the most tame thing in Mollymauk’s closet,” he said dejectedly. “It was either this or a suit made of sequins, some sort of leather harness, lederhosen, or a vampire cloak.”

“Or paisley,” Molly added helpfully. “There was a lot of paisley.”

“Right,” Caleb mumbled. “That too.”

“I’m making this my new phone background,” Jester said, reaching for her cell. “I’m going to take photos and then print out copies and then staple them to every telephone pole in this city.”

“Please no,” Caleb protested weakly. “Just…no.”

“Let’s spare the poor man and just keep some blackmail images for ourselves, eh?” Molly suggested. “Some things are better kept private, after all.”

Jester laughed. “Okay, okay,” she said. “But I wasn’t kidding about the phone background part.”

Then Beau and Yasha emerged from the hallway as well. They were also dressed in baggy t-shirts, but their shorts were much more tame and definitely had come from Fjord. Strangely, their feet were soaked. As they approached, they both stopped in their tracks and stared at Caleb.

“You look like a pride parade threw up on your ass,” Beau said. “And then a cat shelter.”

“Do those belong to Mollymauk?” Yasha asked.

“Can we please just go to bed?” Caleb groaned. “Please? Lights off and nobody looking at my legs?”

Beau snorted. “If I know Molly, it’s not the legs he’s—”

She was cut off as Yasha pointedly nudged her with an elbow and shook her head. Beau pouted, but relented.

Molly gave a cough and glared at Beau. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I think maybe going to bed is a good idea. 2AM seems like the perfect time finally get some sleep, huh?”

“Amen to that,” Fjord called from the couch. “I’m not talking to any of you anymore, until I’ve had a full eight hours.”

Jester yawned and nodded. “Sounds good to me,” she said. “Besides, I used a lot of magic today and I’m pretty tired.”

Molly waltzed over to the wall and shut the lights, letting a quiet blanket of darkness settle over the apartment.

“Good night, everyone,” he grinned. His eyes glimmered red in the gloom. “Sleep tight. And don’t let the goblins bite.”

“Fuck you,” Nott grumbled. Her voice was muffled by her pillow fortress.

And then, with that, the group finally settled in for well-deserved late-night—early-morning—rest.

•

Today 2:28 AM

Molly Tealeaf: well, what a mess eh, mister caleb? Molly Tealeaf: im so sorry the night didn’t turn out the way id hoped Molly Tealeaf: and im sorry we ended up having to fight two insane monsters Molly Tealeaf: if im being frank, it was a load of bullshite Molly Tealeaf: an quite a bit happened that I really could have done without Molly Tealeaf: including that magic nonsense you were going on about earlier Molly Tealeaf: but hey! Molly Tealeaf: i AM still happy you decided to come Molly Tealeaf: perhaps i’ll get to sing for you another time Molly Tealeaf: and nice moves! Molly Tealeaf: where’d you learn to cast spells like that? Molly Tealeaf: don’t worry, I know I won’t be getting an answer ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Molly Tealeaf: good night, sleep tight Molly Tealeaf: I hope my living room floor suffices!

 •

“Hey, asshole! Hey, hey, asshole, get up!”

Molly groaned loudly, shook his head, turned over, and awoke to see a mouth full of razor-sharp, crooked teeth hovering about four inches above his head.

It smelled like hot spit, and death.

As Molly took a moment to recover from the abject terror coursing through his body, Nott tapped her fingernails impatiently against her knee. Eventually, he rubbed his eyes and managed to sit up.

“What the fuck,” he asked groggily.

She pointed to the TV set. The rest of the group were already awake and gathered around the screen, peering intently at whatever was playing at the moment in the dim light of early-morning winter.

Molly followed their gazes. It was the morning news.

—a scene of carnage last night at the Moondrop & Fletching, where during the establishment’s 25th Anniversary Performance, a member of the audience transformed into a creature that immediately began attacking the other patrons. After a brief battle, it was subdued by the brave members of our city’s Crownsguard—

“Hey, that’s a lie!” Jester frowned, but was immediately shushed by the rest.

—of this morning, clerics have confirmed that the main suspect, owner Gustav Fletching, is innocent. The real culprit, identified by police as one of the performers, was captured at around 1:30AM not three blocks away, hiding in a Menagerie Merchant Company warehouse along the Eistus Marina. This individual reportedly masqueraded as a common lizard-man among the Moondrop’s other performers for two years, concealing his true identity as a Nergaliid. Better known as “devil toads,” Nergaliids are fiendish creatures originating from the wastelands of Xhorhas—

“What?” Molly shouted.

“Hang on, hang on, shut up,” Beau said.

—a common feeding pattern for these terrible monsters. Police are now working with monks of the Cobalt Soul to investigate if this was a singular event, or if it was in any way connected to the recent string of skirmishes along the Xhorhastian border. This is Cora Underbough, reporting for the Daily Crier from the King’s Hall. Stay tuned for more updates—

Nott lowered the volume and set the remote back down onto the coffee table.

“That’s why I woke you all up,” she said. “That, and I was starting to get bored.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said, rubbing his eyes. “Very…informative.”

“A what?” Molly repeated. “He was a what?”

“Nergaliid,” Beau said. “Open your ears.”

Molly shot her a half-hearted glare. “I heard what she said,” he muttered. “I was just…just expressing my shock.”

Yasha nodded slowly. “I admit…I did not realize what he was either. I always thought…I mean…he told us he was a lizard-man, and we believed him.”

“Are we sure that he really is a, a, a nerg-thing, though?” Jester asked. “What if it’s just the city looking for a goat to scrape?”

“A scapegoat?” Fjord asked.

“Yeah, that one.”

Beau shrugged. “It’s possible,” she said, “but to be completely honest, if the Cobalt Soul is involved, then it’s probably the truth. Those fuckers hate lying, even for the government. It goes against their beliefs, and stuff.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Beau gave another shrug, this one more evasive. “Dunno for sure,” she said lightly. “I guess it’s one of those things I just sorta picked up. Through like…social osmosis.”

Caleb understandably did not seem convinced, but he dropped the subject.

Molly sighed. “I just…I just can’t believe any of that. I mean…it seems wrong, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it feel like—”

And then he paused, as a wave of, of…something suddenly washed over him. It felt like he was being engulfed by sensations, his vision blurring and his hearing fading. For a split second, his mind was flooded with an inundation of knowledge, of information, of foreign memories that told him: that’s it, that’s exactly it, how could you have missed it? The large stature, the ragged speech, the glowing eyes and thick scales and long tongue, the way he clung to living things and held Toya close, of course it was a Nergaliid, of course it was, how did you miss that—

He shook his head. He blinked a few times, and saw his friends staring back at him with extremely concerned expressions.

“Are you…alright?” Yasha asked.

Molly hesistated. He waited to see if any other intrusive thoughts would strike, and when none did, he gave her a faint smile.

“Of course I am, dear,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” Beau said, “maybe it’s ‘casue you just completely spaced out and you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and—”

And then, the door to Molly’s room opened.

A very small dwarven girl in a long white dress came out, rubbing her eyes and looking thoroughly bewildered.

She met the gazes of the group sitting in the living room. She saw Molly and Yasha, and her confusion grew.

“Um…” she said softly, voice breaking like gravel underfoot, “…um, where am I? What’s going on?”

Molly glanced over at Yasha. “What time is it?” he asked quietly.

She checked her phone. “Almost seven.”

Molly nodded. “Do you think you could shoot the whole gang a text? See what’s going on, maybe if we can get a meeting together? If the news is right then Gustav should be out by now. I feel like…I feel like we all need to have a chat.”

Then he turned towards Toya and gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll fill you in on everything, dear,” he said. “But first, maybe you’d like some breakfast?”

He nodded to the rest of the group. “You all, too. I make great blueberry pancakes.”

•

💚 ☕ ☕ 💚

[illusioneddrawer64]

First Meeting AU

UF Chapter Three: First Meeting

PDJLF DQG PBVMHUB PHHW DJDLQ

A/N: Almost similar, but different headcannons-by using two readers' self-insert (available for anyone who wants to insert themselves to this amazing fandom; both male or female) as being Dipper and Mabel's cousins. Y/N means 'your name'. Additionally, the story is cut in conversations and statements. I do not own Gravity Falls or Steven Universe. UF belongs to MiniJen. Enjoy!

"Come on you guys!" Mabel called back to her brother, and their two cousins.

"Hurry up! I wanna meet those magical ladies that Soos was talking about!"

"H-Hold on!" Dipper exclaimed.

"I'm on my way!"

"Yeah, I am also out of breath too!" replied (male: y/n).

"Seriously? You guys are tired already?" asked Mabel teasingly.

"(Female: y/n) and I are a way ahead of you two"

"Heh-this is what happens if you two boys spend too much time with your noses in a dumb book instead of having fun like Mabel and I do!" exclaimed (female: y/n).

"We're not!" Dipper puffed.

"Exactly-this is wwaayy different from our P.E class; this hill is a lot steeper than it looks to be!" protested (male: y/n).

"Yeah, whatever you slowpokes say" Mabel deadpans with a good-natured laugh.

"I am guessing that cuz should give out her 'Mabel Approves Work-out Plan'!" (Female: y/n) cheerfully said.

"Yeah-only with ten packets of sugar each morning, it is guaranteed in pump you up with endless energy, or your money back!" added Mabel with a smile.

"You girls are spending too much time with Grunkle Stan" Dipper said as he laughed at their humor.

"Well-anyways we made it-whew! Do you think that there is a group of magical ladies up here?" (Male: y/n) questioned.

"I do sure hope so! That would be so cool! Way cooler than my boyfriend turning out to be a bunch of gnomes, at least." Mabel stated.

(Female: y/n) chuckled at the wild ride memory.

"And of-course hopefully less dangerous" Dipper puts in.

"Right on, Dip-but even if these ladies aren't real, we can try to find something else interesting up here" (Male: y/n) said.

"It only makes sense considering how this weird this town turning out to be" agreed Dipper.

"Heh-you boys are the weird ones out here, ya dorks" Mabel jokes.

"Not any weirder than you two are" Dipper retorted, gesturing Mabel's and (female: y/n)'s combined creative craft project, which (male: y/n) notes that it is very 'colorful' shish kabob.

"We all are weird!" Mabel proclaimed enthusiastically, swinging the supposed shish kabob.

"Yep, indeed we are-hold on, have you heard that?" (Male: y/n) said who suddenly brought his voice very low.

"What-you mean the wind?"

"No-wait…shhhhh. Can you hear that?"

"Maybe it's that squirrel again! I bet he wants another hug!"

"Well, not after you nearly suffocated him last time-I highly doubt that"

"It is neither that-besides the rusting is pretty loud to be the wind…"

(Male: y/n) approaches where the sound coming from. "Curious…very, very curious"

So…what? Do you think it is a scary monster or something, waiting in the woods to gobble up four random kids for dinner? Well to be honest, Dip and (male: y/n) would be dinner-I'd be desert 'cause like I said earlier I am full of ten packets of sugar per day!"

"Come on Mabel this is serious. What if there is something out there?"

"If it is-I would say: Take Me to Your Leader!" replied (female: y/n) humorlessly.

"I'm sure it is nothing, it's probably just-". Mabel was cut off by a loud shout.

"Lion Wait! Where are You going?"

Before all four can react, a giant pink blur came out of nowhere from the woods, frightening all four.

"Well, there is something-you know what I'll say: RUN!" exclaimed (male: y/n).

The supposed pink creature chased all four-until it pinned down both Dipper and (female: y/n) with both paws.

Both children grimaced at their certain situation and braced of what-yet-to-come. But only saved by last minute timely rescue.

"Lion, Stop that! What have I told you about attacking people it is rude!"

Dipper and (female: y/n) breathed out a sign of relief and both are pulled up by (male: y/n).

Mabel's eyes sparkled at the lion's pink fur.

"Hey you guys okay?"

All four kids see their new founded-friends: sitting at the front was a short stout boy with a red shirt with a star on it along with jeans, behind him was a girl who looked bit taller than the boy with framed glasses at her nose.

"Um…yeah, thanks?" Dipper said, disbelieving that a wild animal is under the young boy's care.

"You're welcome! Sorry about that though; 'Lion' can be kinda…overprotective sometimes…"

"This is your lion?" Mabel asked with an excitement. "You are so lucky! And he's so cute!"

"You do remember that how he nearly killed me and (female: y/n) just few seconds ago, right?" Dipper asked sharply.

"Aw…" Mabel gushed. "And he's soft too! Like a walking cotton candy, but with teeth!"

"I know, right? He makes a good pillow too! I'm Steven by the way. You already meet Lion, of course. And this is my friend Connie."

"Nice to meet you! Even though it was an accident."

"I'm Dipper and the girl who is losing herself inside your, uh…lion's mane is my sister, Mabel" Dipper grinned with sudden amusement. "And those are my peculiar cousins-(female: y/n) and (male: y/n)."

"Interesting-very, very interesting" (Male: y/n) states who had pulled out a pair of glasses to examine Lion.

"Likewise, it is nice to meet you too!" (Female: y/n) notes while petting Lion who gained an interest in her.

"So SOFT!" Mabel exclaims, which (male: y/n) chuckles at the amusement.

"So what you guys doing up here all by yourselves anyways?"

"Yeah, the only thing up around here is the temple, and if you wanted to go there, then there is much easier way than climbing up the hill, you know."

"Temple?" Dipper interest perked, along with (male: y/n) taking notice.

"Yeah, the temple! It's where me and the Crystal Gems live."

"The Crystal-what?" Dipper questioned, only to be interrupted by Mabel. "Too…Much…Softness…"

"Whoa! I love your sweater! It's kinda like my shirt! Well…kinda…"

"I guess it is!" Mabel agreed. "I'm glad you like it. All my sweaters are handmade by me and (female: y/n) truly!"

"You know, if you really wanted one, we can make one for you-with no extra charge!" (Female: y/n) joined in.

"Oh yeah! Maybe you two could even make matching pairs for three of us at the same time! Or me and Connie! Or all six of us!

"Oh my gosh!" Mabel squealed.

"That is a great idea!" (Female: y/n) exclaimed.

"This sounds awesome! We all can be sweater buddies!"

"Wait, wait, wait" Dipper proclaims. "A minute ago…you said something about…the Crystal Gems…who are they?"

"Oh, right! The Crystal Gems are Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and me! We use magic from our Gems to fight monsters and protect humanity and stuff."

"So… the rumors about magical guardians living up here are actually true?" Dipper asked a bit skeptically, unsure if Steven was actually being serious or not. (Male: y/n) took off his glasses and puts his hands behind his back.

"Believe it or not, they are. Steven is proof of that."

"Wow-Really?" stated (Female: y/n) who is equally amazed as Mabel.

"Aw, yeah, well…I'm only half magic. My dad's a human, but my mom was a Gem. See?"

To show the twins what he meant, Steven lifted his shirt up a bit to reveal the rose quartz gem upon his navel.

"Whoa…" both Dipper and Mabel with their astonished cousins said in equal awe upon examining the pink gem.

"Unbelievable…" Dipper muttered in amazement upon realizing that the gem was actually real and not just a decoration.

"Sparkly…" Mabel whispered with a stunned expression, her eyes reflecting the shine of Steven's gem as it glistened in the afternoon sun. "What does it do?"

"The Gems tell me that my mom used to use it to do lots of stuff. But… I'm still learning how to use it. So far I've used it to make a shield and a bubble. In fact, the bubble was how me and Connie met!"

"Uh… yeah…We got trapped in it for several hours and we nearly drowned at the bottom of the lake. Other than that, it was a pretty good day."

"No worries-every person has every good days, and even bad days" (Male: y/n) said.

"Plus, we beat a giant worm monster and saved the town!"

"Heh, yeah, this town has some weird stuff going on in it"

"Finally! Someone else notices how strange this place is!" Dipper exclaimed, excited that he was not alone in thinking that Gravity Falls was a noticeably odd little town.

"I've been saying that since we got here. We've been here less than a week and already we've faced off against a bunch of gnomes stacked together into a giant monster."

"Who knows, what other days bring ahead" (Male: y/n) gestures across the woods and the lake. "Indeed, who 'Nose'?" tapping a side of his nose humorlessly.

"I learned a valuable lesson there," Mabel said with a joking frown. "Never go out with gnomes in disguise."

"I second that notion" (Female: y/n) added.

"Oh, you guys met the gnomes? Yeah, they can get a little crazy when they don't get what they want… One time they stole my donut and I spent all day chasing them down to get it back! The weird thing was they didn't even want to eat it; they wanted to use it as a wheel for the little gnome car they were building. It was actually kinda cute, even if I never did get that donut back…*sign*…d'oh"

"So you two have only been in Gravity Falls for a few days? Did you just move here?"

"No, we're only here for the summer," Dipper clarified.

"We're staying with our Great Uncle Stan down at the Mystery Shack." Said (Male: y/n).

"Wait, Mr. Pines is your uncle? That's so cool! The Mystery Shack is one of my favorite places in Gravity Falls, along with the temple… and the lake… and the Big Donut… and Funland Arcade… and Greasy's Diner… and-"

"I think they get it, Steven," Connie interrupted with a giggle. "What a coincidence, though. We were just on our way down to the Mystery Shack before we ran into you guys."

"And we were on our way up here to check out the giant eight armed woman!" Mabel said, referring to what her and Dipper now to knew to be some sort of temple thanks to Steven.

"I have to agree, isn't that crazy? It's almost like… fate, or something!" stated (female: y/n).

"Or it was Lion just going through his rebellious stage-Aw, Lion!"

"Gross!" Steven stated. Lion had licked him in perfect, equal measure.

All six laughed together because of the funny moment. Little did they know-summer had started, and their meeting was only a beginning of their adventures.

A/N: All credits to you, MiniJen for this favorable chapter. By paying homage to Universe Falls Three Year Anniversary Extravaganza-thank you for this wonderful crossover. ;)

On the side-note: the self-insert characters of course have a place upon the Zodiac Wheel. Feel free to review to share (through tumblr or on this fanfiction story review) creative ideas and thoughts of what symbols they (you/readers as self-inserts) can represent.

[redsky123love]

Why do you have a Stripper Pole in your Room? Chapter 10- Why the pole was sticky: Part 1

"So, on a scale of one to ten, where do you think your number is on the friend zone for us?" Marinette asked the blonde girl standing in front of her bakery. It was earlier in the morning when Marinette left her home to walk to school, only to be stopped when she saw Chloe parked in front of her house.

"I'd give it a three." Chloe said with a smirk.

"Shockingly, you're not wrong." Marinette chuckled. "I'm still not getting into the car with you."

"Why not, we should be friends!"

"Because you made my life a living hell since middle school." Marinette growled.

"And I am sorry, which is why I am willing to drive you to school every day. Maybe even more." Chloe said. Marinette looked up at the sky and begins to think.

"Being my partner, I should make amends with her. I know she can be a bitch, but she isn't 100% a bitch. She's like 98% a bitch. No, come on Marinette! Be the bigger person, besides if I turn her good, maybe the rest of my school life won't be shit." Marinette thought before looking down to Chloe to say:

"Fine, you can take me. But just this once, I normally like to walk." Marinette said as she climbs into Chloe's limo, once inside, Chloe turns her head to the left and sticks her tongue out to the blonde male from afar that was holding flowers in his hands. She then climbs in and takes a seat next to Marinette. Once the car starts up and turns the corner, Adrien grips the flowers in his hands, then throws them to the ground.

                     "That bitch is so dead..." Adrien growled.

                                                      (School)

Everyone...AND I MEAN EVERYONE! Was shocked to not only see Marinette come out of Chloe's car, but also to see the two sitting next to each other. This pissed off Adrien, Alya, and even Sabrina! Nino was just in the corner, trying to avoid this hate circle, but knowing his luck he knew he would be dragged in eventually. When the teacher came in and started the lesson, Chloe begins to text Adrien.

C: Enjoying the view from down there?

A: I will murder you in your sleep

C: Jealous I see

A: Chloe...I don't get jealous, I get pissed!

C: Oooh! Kitty is going to try to claw a bee?

A: When I am done with you, your going to be crying like the spoiled bitch you are.

C: Bring it on!

                                                         (Lunch)

"Oh my god Marinette! I ordered sushi just for us!" Chloe said as she, Sabrina and Marinette sat down at a table that already had food on it. Marinette was blushing a bit at the sight of many people already staring at her. Including Sabrina, who was giving her death glares. The servers Chloe had ordered in set a plate of high-class sushi in front of her.

"Wow, Chloe this looks nice." Marinette said with a smile.

"Anything for my new bestie!" Chloe said. Around the corner of the courtroom was Adrien, and by god, preteen girls all over the world were about to lose their minds today. Walking over to the table Marinette gasp at the sight before her. Adrien was standing in front of her, wearing a black tank top and white jeans. Exposing those muscles he always hid...somehow. His body was covered in sweat, which was actually good because it made him shine in the sunlight. His hair was a bit messier, resembling Chat's hairstyle a little. He wore a little bit of eyeliner to made his green eyes pop more. The mere sight made all of her blood rush to her face.

"Hello Adrien..." Chloe growled before breaking the chopsticks in her hand.

"Hey Chloe, I see you and Marinette are having lunch. Mind if I join?" Adrien asked in a deep seductive voice.

"Sorry Adrie-kins, its a girls lunch out." Chloe said in her bitch voice. Sadly, that didn't stop Adrien from taking a seat next to the red face girl. Looking straight at the girl of his dreams, he smiles at her and said:

How are you Bugsy?" He asked.

"F-F-F-FINE!" Marinette said, which was a little funny. A couple of days ago, this stuttering thing had disappeared when she learned who Adrien was. Now, its back and she didn't even know why. Behind the two was Nino and Alya, both recording the event in case shit went down.

"Adrien, we were having lunch..." Chloe growled as her left eye twitches.

"I'm sure Marinette wouldn't mind if I feed it to her. Would you Marinette?" Adrien asked before sticking his long tongue out to her, revealing a black tongue piercing with a tiny neon green cat head print on it. It was then, out of the blue, Marinette's life flashed before her eyes. All of the happy and bad memories of her family, friends and being a superhero. Then her world went black, she didn't know if it was because Adrien made her want to lose all sense and become the mother of his children at that very second, or it was because she was falling for him ALL over again. She didn't know, all she knew was a river of blood gushed out of her nose quicker than she could react, making her faint after losing blood. And oh yes, there was a lot.

"OH! OH! HOMEGIRL DOWN! CALL 911!" Nino shouted in shock at the sight of Marinette blooding a puddle around her face. She squirted so much blood that it fell on Adrien's paints and was staining her pink jacket. Ayla drops her phone before shouting:

"OH MY GOD! YOU KILLED MARINETTE!" Ayla shouted horror as she runs to her friend's aid. Nino, who for some weird reason, was pinching her nose to stop the blood flow.

"Girl I got you!" Nino said as he tries to ignore the bullshit going on behind him. And that bullshit was Chloe and Adrien fighting.

"Congrats, you just killed my future wife!" Chloe shouted in anger.

"Future wife!?" Adrien chuckled. "Marinette is straight you jack-ass! And if she was lesbian or even bi, you would be the last person she'd fool around with!"

"Newsflash Adrien! 87% of girl is at least bi-sexual curios in high school or college! Which means my chance's of hooking up with her are as high as yours! Maybe even high since she can actually talk to me!" Chloe said as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"So Marinette is dying..." Nino said to the two blondes. Only for his words to fall on deaf ears.

"Marinette is mine! I will be DAMMED if you hook up with your crusty pale ass!" Adrien shouted. This made Nino sighed before shouting out:

"MARINETTE IS ABOUT TO DIE! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! HELP HER!" Nino shouted at the two, making them look at the girl to see her turning pale. Adrien is the first to drop to his knee's and get Marinette over his shoulder. Seconds later, the four teens rush to take Marinette to the medic room, ignoring all stares at they did this.

                                                   (Nat's house)

"Why do you have blood on your pants?" Gabriel asked his son. Since the two decided to go together to get Nat back, Gabriel decided to pick his son up from school. To his surprise, he already regrets doing it.

"Don't ask." Adrien muttered as Gorilla drives up to a tiny house decorated with wind chimes and glass gnomes. It was a cute house in a nice neighborhood, although Adrien was a bit surprising, he always pictured Nat living in an apartment. Gabriel and Adrien walk over to the door and knocked on it. It didn't take long for Nat to answer the door. She looked completely different from her work wear. No makeup, which showed off her two pimples and colorless lips, her hair was down to her shoulders and she was wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt.

"Hi Nat!" Adrien said with a smile, making her gasp before closing the door in their faces.

"Well, that was rude." Gabriel muttered. Seconds later, Nat reopens the door, this time with make-up on and business bodycon dress yellow dress. Adrien's eyes widen at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, that was like two seconds." Adrien said in shock.

"I have skills." Nat said as she steps to the side to let the two in. To Adrien surprise again, her tiny home was quite nice. Small living room, wooden theme living room with a plasma TV and a glass coffee table. Her house looked like one giant room, with the kitchen to the left and her room behind the corner. The only thing that was a separate room was the bathroom.

"Nice place!" Adrien said as Nat presses her head against the back of the door frame. As Gabriel and Adrien take a seat on her couch, she goes over to the kitchen and prepare's coffee for her and Gabriel. Once done, she gives him a cup before asking:

"Why are you two here?" She asked.

"Two reasons..." Gabriel started. "One: I need you back. And two: If I fire another one...I might be put on suspension from highing new assistance."

"What? You only fired one." Adrien said.

"As far as you know." Gabriel muttered. Nat closes her eyes and sigh.

"I can't take your offer."

"Why not?" Adrien said.

"Adrien, you're a smart boy and you know your father can be hard too...you know." Nat said, making Adrien nod his head.

"Yes but if I have to train another prissy 20 somewhat year old, I will kill them." Gabriel growled, making Nat sigh.

"Gabriel, the stress you caused me is something...I don't need right now." Nat said.

"You seem fine." Gabriel said, making Nat shake her head.

"No, I am not...at all." Nat said in shame.

"What's wrong?" Adrien asked.

"Adrien..." Nat started. "I am...well...obviously a woman. And as a woman, we tend too...want things. But some of these things we want, we need to get at a certain age before it's gone for good."

"What?" Adrien asked. Nat sighs before saying:

"Okay, never mind, I am no longer on your payroll so I can say it...I am pregnant." Nat said. The cup in Gabriel's hand falls to the floor as Adrien gasp in shock. "Yes, I am having a baby."

"WHAT!?" Adrien shouted.

"Ugh..." Nat groaned.

"Who's the father?" Gabriel asked.

"No one, well someone but no one important. I went to a sperm bank." Nat said.

"Why!?" Adrien asked.

"Because I just turned 37 years old, my oven is breaking down and I just wanted a kid!" Nat growled at the two.

"Why would you quit when you needed the job!?" Adrien shouted.

"Because your father was stressing me out and that caused pain to the body!" Nat growled at the boy.

"How far are you?" Gabriel asked.

"About a month and couple of days. I would have been sooner, but I had an accident." Nat said in shame before looking over to Adrien.

"What?" Adrien asked.

"Remeber the question as to why the pole was sticky?" Nat asked.

"Yea! Fun night!" Adrien chuckled, making his father give him an intense stare. It then hits Adrien what she was talking about. His smile disappeared and his eyes widen. "Oh yea..."

"Yea..." Nat muttered.

"What happened?" Gabriel asked with a small hint of worry.

"Nothing..." They both said, both now avoiding eye contact.

"You two are hiding something." Gabriel growled.

"We are hiding nothing! Pfft! What makes you think we're hiding anything?" Adrien said with a weak and nervous chuckle. He then looks over to Nat. Opening his mouth, he asks:

"So...is it..." Adrien asked as he points to Nat's stomach.

"Possibly." Nat said in shame. It didn't take Gabriel long to piece the hidden puzzle pieces they were hiding together.

"Nat...are you pregnant with an Agreste?" Gabriel asked. Nat stands up from her seat and literally walks out of her own home. Adrien was about to do the same, but was stopped when his father grabbed him by the end of his shirt.

"Explain?" Gabriel growled.

"An extremely long story short, I gave Nat your sperm after getting drunk one night and taking her donated sperm after thinking it was lotion. I then proceeded to dance on the pole naked and ram myself into a wall thinking I was Chat Noir after jumping down my stairs twice. When Nat found out, I gave her the sperm you keep behind the painting of mom." Adrien said in a quick manner. Gabriel, still trying to process everything that was just said, stands up from his seat and says:

"Were getting rid of the pole, your grounded and forbidden to attend school for a week."

"That sounds fair..." Adrien said in shame.