#boldly going...to the edge of sanity

[curlygrant44]

"I'm not the original," Curly reminds them, suddenly uncomfortable with the title and a feeling of importance he doesn't think he deserves at all. "There was definitely at least one before me..."

But the conversation has clearly moved on and all he can do is keep moving on with it.

"We can start with a tour. If you'd like, engineering is down the hall and you could look at a map there so that you know what it should look like before we proceed..."

Context is going to be important, considering that they're about to end up wandering aimlessly, and there's no telling where they'll end up...

It has been far too long a day for Peregrine.

He hasn't slept in at least 26 Earth hours. He knows because she's been checking the clock regularly to register her overtime for possible compensation, which he really needs in exchange for having to correct every small movement her captain makes. The edges of their vision are a little blurry now but they're still well alert enough to recognise the two blips on the radar. One is small, politely ship-sized, while the other is... quite frankly monstrous. He lets out a low whistle, then spins out of his chair, the hand that skims across the desk for the radio coming up woefully empty. "Dock." She commands the captain sharply, marching out of the cockpit before the captain even gets a chance to roll his eyes.

"WOLF!" The shout echoes off the cramped walls alongside their sharp footsteps. "We're docking! Get your ass in gear! Where's the fucking radio?!"

( @surprise-its-safety-violations @curlygrant44 )

[curlygrant44]

You look delicious as hell, can’t blame the Jim man for takin a taste.

Flashes of red. Red outside, red inside. The burning, the itching, the ache, the gnawing inside him. All red. Red like the glimmer on the knife, red like his screaming, like his bitten tongue, like the hot wet thing slipping past his teeth oh god- All at once the half-remembered memories of his nightmares of another life hit and Curly doubles over, retching, clinging to the arm of his seat in the cockpit to avoid falling into the mess he makes of the floor as he chokes on bile. Dimly, he can hear @cptjimmy asking what's wrong with him...but he can't do anything but hold on for dear life as the words sear themselves into his brain. Can't blame the Jim man for having a taste...

[curlygrant44]

Do you ever look in the mirror and realize you barely recognize the person looking back, and you're not even sure you care anymore?

Asking for a friend

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken trust, pt.6/finale

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five 

Summary: Inside the fold, Y/N and the Darkling face off.

Warnings: angst, fluff sprinkled on top, indicating smut

========================

When she was a child, Y/N feared the darkness. Every night she would lay awake with a candle by her side, too scared to close her eyes. She feared the unspoken horrors that occurred under the cloak of darkness, of one day finding herself in peril as well. The fold fueled such fears, especially when the boys in the orphanage would speak of the Volcra. She had heard the descriptions, the vile appearances and inhuman deeds they’re capable of. They haunted her when she closed her eyes, wondering if that’s what killed her parents.

Y/N still fears the dark, just of a different kind.

She fears the darkness that resides in humans, the kind that’s lurking under the surface yet remains invisible to the naked eye. At any point, the darkness could surface and once it does, it would swallow anyone who stands in its way. Perhaps that’s where her trust issues stem from, the corruption of human hearts. People are wicked, using everything, even love, for their selfish desires.

In truth, she should have seen it before.

Aleksander Morozova should have been a clear danger for her heart right from the moment they met in that dark tent where she wondered how anyone could be comfortable in such an environment. A powerful, handsome man with a silver tongue and a weakness for her had seduced her by simply paying attention. He looked at her like no man ever before – like she was the only one for him, a source of eternal sunshine.

She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be deceived.

A woman with trust issues and a fear of darkness fell in love with a man who was darkness incarnated. He embodied all she dreaded and yet she couldn’t see beyond the mask of perfection he always kept in place. A part of her wondered if he ever showed who he truly is in those intimate moments they shared.

Throwing his head back, Aleksander laughed. His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath before it quaked with a new laugh erupting from deep inside.

“It’s not funny!” She pouted, trying to glare at him as if the sound of his laughter didn’t make her feel like she’s in a dream.

“You know I adore that pout”, Aleksander smirks, pinning her against the wall.

Breathless, her lips part just in time for Aleksander’s to take advantage. He gave a low, throaty chuckle once her knees turned to jelly and she collapsed against the strength of his arm behind her back. He bent, put his other arm beneath her knees. His mouth never leaves hers as he carries her to the bed. He abandoned her lips only to press them on her neck and she couldn’t believe how easily he swayed her.

Before long she could bear no more kissing. She ached all over and she pulled his hair to better meet his mouth. She fastened on his lips hungrily, greedily, ready to feel him inside her, around her, to completely numb her senses.

“Aren’t we eager today”, he teased her as he slowed down, determined to drawl out every moment he had with her.

“I can either be angry with you for laughing at me”, she trails off, her eyes flickering to his lips. “Or you can make me forget about the poor Grisha I flashed in your map room.”

Growling, he inhales sharply, “As amusing as it was to see you both scream, I prefer when you scream for me when we are alone.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “I wanted to be spontaneous! How was I supposed to know someone else would be in the room?”

He picked up a lock of her hair from across her neck and held it up, letting the dim light of the fireplace play though the strands. He held it to his nose, then to his lips.

For the first time he could ever remember, he was completely content.

“What do you want us to do?” Ivan asks, finding the change in his general terrifying. He could see the Darkling is enraged, losing control and a Grisha powerful as he is could be lethal in such circumstances.

“You’ll do nothing”, Aleksander snapped as he mounted his horse. “I will go after her.”

He looks to his loyal Grisha with narrow eyes, aware he’ll return undoubtedly changed by whatever transpires inside the fold. Whether he returns with his Sun Summoner in hand or with her body in his arms, the Darkling would be different.

During his time with Y/N, Aleksander relied on her for happiness he long forgot about. He held onto her for as if she was all he had and she still abandoned him. They all do so once they see how far he’s ready to go in order to protect those he loves – his people….and her. He would have done anything for her.

This is his kingdom, but she’s not his queen anymore.

“We shall await for further instructions at the camp.”

Nodding, Aleksander turns away from them with a dark look on his face. For the first time since he created the fold, he will step inside and he didn’t know who would emerge victorious. If he dies, he won’t be around to care, but if she does? He was sure he will never be whole again.

He kissed the corner of her mouth boldly, waiting for a sign of resistance. Her hands pushed weakly against his shoulders but even at his slight touch, her eyes closed in surrender. 

Seeing her so, Aleksander smirked before he kissed her cheek, her ear lobe. Then, as she gasped for breath, his mouth came down on hers. His tongue sweetly touched the tip of hers and she drew back, startled. He smiled at her as if he understood how strange such affection is to her.

“Someone will see us”, she whines.

Shrugging, Aleksander’s smile grows wider, “Let them see.”

“Don’t you have a reputation of a hardass to preserve?” Her lips press into a thin line as her eyebrows rise, tantalizing him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He ran his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He was better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him.

Parting in desperate need of a proper breath, he looks at her rosy, swollen lips with complete resignation.

“My reputation means nothing to me when you’re with me. You are what I want my reputation to be.”

Panting, Y/N felt like her lungs would explode. She had been running from the edge of the fold, deep into the darkness she once feared. She ran because she wasn’t sure if Aleksander was furious enough to disregard his own safety by following her inside.

Lips quivering, she pulls out the flask Mal packed for her. Taking a sip, she frowns at the watered down taste of alcohol. She made it clear she wanted nothing but water, yet Mal disregarded her wish. Shaking her head, she smiles anyway. If Mal was with her, she’d thank him for the liquid courage. She’d have agreed to a bottle of whiskey now, lost in the dark.

Swept away in her thoughts, she gasps at the growling in the distance. Her heart nearly stops as a dark, looming shadow passes above her. She whips around as the growls come from behind her as well.

She passed sixteen markers, but she hoped to get to the eighteenth. She planned to get as close to the middle as humanly possible, but wasn’t this just it? If she kept going, nothing could guarantee her safety and she was deep enough inside the fold to at least try. 

Every night she laid awake in the past year was spent with her strengthening her light, her control. 

This was it – she could do it. 

She had to do it.

Releasing a shaky breath, Y/N folds her hands before her. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath as she parts her hands at the palms.

“I wouldn’t do that”, a painfully familiar voice sounds and her eyes open wide.

“Or you’ll kill me?” She laughs, unable to stop herself. It’s a laugh made from pure anxiety and hurt, one that made her feel like she’s mad. Her habit of laughing when she feels like she’s got nothing left to lose came rarely; the first time it happened was when she learned her parents have succumbed to the very fold she’s in now. She reckoned this would be the last time.

“I don’t want to but, if you do not submit to me –“, Aleksander starts, coming closer slowly as if she was a doe and he the hunter. Every sudden move could frighten her and he didn’t want to face what happens in that case.

“Kill me if you must but I will not submit to you, or any man who wears his crimes like crown jewels!”

Raising her voice had drawn the Volcra, the growling growing louder.

"Is it so wrong for me to want to save you?" Sniffling, Y/N swallows thickly. She couldn’t cry anymore, there were no tears left to cry. She’s dry, inside out. “Things could have been different, you know? You didn't have to fall so far.”

Lifting his chin, Aleksander took a step further in her direction. Catching the slightest shake of her head, he pauses, arms raised in mock surrender.

“You made me love you”, he speaks through gritted teeth, “To depend on you.” He clenches his jaw, his patience wearing thin. “Now you’re trying to take the last piece of my sanity with you.”

“You don’t have to do this”, she tries meekly, “We can still be magnificent. Be the man I fell in love with, please.”

“And then what? We’re supposed to play house while they’re killing our people?!” Aleksander spat, barely holding himself back. “They wouldn’t stop until they kill you right before me and any children we might have!”

Eyebrows knitted together, Y/N’s mouth opens at the words spoken. There was a moment when Y/N realized she’d misinterpreted her darling Darkling’s actions, his words, his expressions from the moment they met… as if he’d been speaking a language she couldn’t understand… that moment was the moment her heart broke…She could hardly speak in her shock when she learned he had lied to her, but this shockingly defining moment was much different than that first moment.

“Children”, she breathes out as a smile forms on her lips, one he found confusing.

All this time, Aleksander had been using the fold as a way to protect his people and yet, he failed to realize it is exactly what they need to destroy.

“We don’t need the fold”, her smile widens, “You are the fold, my darling Darkling and I am your Sun.” Her lips quiver, her entire body trembles and she still comes closer to him without fear. “With the two of us, we can create and destroy this fold anywhere in the world and today is our chance to demonstrate our power to all those who’d dare to defy us!”

Lips parting, he shakes his head. “What are you saying”, he sneers, still angry at her for defying him.

“I’m saying it doesn’t have to be one way or the other”, she chuckles in disbelief, “We can both destroy the fold and win this war. Every war.”

The growling is near, close enough for the hair to stand on the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Don’t”, he orders as her hands touch, “Don’t you dare!”

Shakily lifting her head, Y/N smiles, "I love you".

Before he has time to comprehend the weight of her words, his world was set aflame by a blinding light exploding all around him.

She screamed out as a bright light emerged from her entire being, enveloping her like a lover’s embrace. It is the kind of brightness that enchants the eyes to open all the wider as it warms the skin.

She never felt the warmth like this, not even when Aleksander’s lips gave her breath or when his arms gave her a reason to believe in him. This warmth is different, like the sun had incorporated itself into her soul and is finally shining through.

She looks to her hands, opening the fists that glow an ethereal light force she never experienced. Her light is like sunlight, it comes as woven strands, free and united, and flowing as it reveals and solidifies, making the world of nightmares around them into something so beautiful. 

Her eyes meet Aleksander’s dazed gaze, her smile wide but his lips are set in a firm line. 

She could feel her soul ripping as she pushed the light further from them, toward the edges. The pressure in her head grew, erasing the smile from her lips. Her legs barely kept her standing as she stumbles. She could feel a wet liquid running from her nose to her lips, the metallic taste making her eyes widen.

“You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up!” Aleksander shouts, trying to make her see sense but she shakes her head.

“I have to do this! For us!”

He could see a vein pulsating across her forehead, the blood gushing from her nose and it slowly became clear to him – he might not have been able to kill her, but seeing her like this convinced him he doesn’t have to. She’ll do it all on her own.

Reaching for her, his hands wrap around her wrists firmly. “I love you too”, he rests his forehead on hers, amplifying her power. He could feel her smile for a split second before she closed her eyes.

Gasping for air, she felt her insides burning and before she could stop herself, Y/N’s bloodcurdling scream echoed in the fold, effectively stopping his heart in fright.

As her scream dies down, Y/N goes limp in Aleksander’s arms.

Her light disappears, another one taking its place as he lowers to his knees, holding her close to him. Looking up, he almost cries as the blue skies above shine a light on his face. 

“You did it”, he croaks, shaking her slightly. “Solntse? Solnechnyy svet?!”

Unmoving, Y/N laid in his embrace as if she had simply fallen asleep, but Aleksander knew she was hanging by a thread.

“Lyubov’?” His voice breaks the self-imposed sternness, his fingers clutching the fabric of her kefta…He didn’t even realize she kept it. 

She must have put it on inside the fold, he realized.

Now, in the light of day, he finally saw the black kefta he ordered to be made for her – black with golden traces of the light she brought in his life. It was fitting she’d be given powers of light for she was the embodiment of lightning, illuminating stormy skies he couldn’t navigate through. Not on his own.

“Wake up”, he whispers. “I need you”, the raspiness of his voice and the cracks are enough testimony for the break inside his chest.

“I can’t survive without you”, he bowed his head down, a choked sob escaping him.

“I love you.” Aleksander whispered into her chest, breaking down when she didn’t say it back. Y/N always chose to say ‘I love you’ instead of goodbye, explaining goodbye was the last thing she ever wanted to tell him and he understood now. He never wanted to tell her goodbye, but maybe that’s necessary too. Maybe life is about learning a better way to say goodbye, learn to let go of the ones you love with nothing but love.

“Aleks”, she tries but the words are stuck in the back of her throat as her need to breathe becomes direr.

“Saints!” He presses his lips as he looks up at her, just as breathless as he was the day when he first saw her. “What can I do? Tell me how can I help you?!”

“All this time I’ve blamed you”, her hand rests upon his cheek, “For pulling me into the dark”, she pauses, “But I was wrong.” Wetting her lips, she manages a small smile, “It was me who brought out your dark side.”

She averts her gaze, hating the vulnerability in her voice as he takes her hand in his, inspecting the ring he gifted her with a crooked smile.

“None of it matters now”, he rests his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am and I never want to feel like this again.”

“Look at me.” He’s not asking, rather demanding and she can feel the subtle difference just as she can feel his warm hand wrap around hers.

“Gladly”, she chuckles as he helps her sit. None of her hate for him remained. Love…hate, it was always a fine line to walk on and she finally settled on a side – his side.

Saying I love you is the bravest thing he has ever done in his life, for it took every ounce of strength and courage to openly expose his feelings to the love of his life, to put his heart on the line time and time again after all the times she walked away. He knew he didn’t deserve her as she’s always been too good for him, but he swore he’d spend the rest of his life building himself up to be the kind of man she’d be proud of.

“I love you”, he kisses the palm of her hand, giving her enough time to say it back.

“And I love you. I promise you, we will be unstoppable. Together, hand in hand, nothing will dare stand in our way.”

As soul meets soul in a lover’s kiss, the two embrace in the midst of a desert made of ruin they would find a way to rebuild. Their story is far from over, but this time around, they’ll write it together – as equal parts of a whole.

 Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @subjecta13-thefangirl @aquamariene-me​ @savannah-elliott @auggie2000 @daybleedsintonightfa11 

[curlygrant44]

After the information -- reliable or not -- that Jimmy has weed, he can't just shrug it off. Just on the off-chance that something has gone wrong...

He starts at in the common area, and then sweeps through the ship methodically, one room after another, asking around with anyone he meets.

No one's seen Jim recently, which means he's either still in whatever hole he slunk off to hide in, doing god knows what, or...

Well.

He can't get to Jim if he's hiding, but there's one place no one else would see him that Curly might still be able to check.

But as much as he dreads the possibility of red lights and blaring alarms, familiar nightmares that sparkle out of the corners of his vision now and then even in his waking hours, he's confronted with nothing more than mundane, placid green.

He checks the closet.

The case is there, locked, numbers scrambled.

Curly sucks in a breath. He...he won't take it. He's just going to check. To make sure. Maybe the other Jimmy was lying.

Three little numbers, and the case opens.

The gun is there.

The bullets are there.

He closes it again, locks and resets it.

If Jim isn't here, then...maybe he's somewhere both more and less obvious. He'd been avoiding his own quarters and staying in Curly's, but maybe he's upset about something. It's just as plausible as whatever hole he's found to lurk in the rest of the time -- it's just more accessible.

The gun is safe in the cockpit, and that's a comfort.

Now he just has to answer the question...if there's more than one ship that's melded...does that mean there's more than one gun?

As he makes his way to the hall with the crew's quarters, he's haunted by the question; he can check, if Jimmy really is incapacitated. It shouldn't be that hard, he just has to get him to sleep...

When he steps inside, he can tell immediately that something is up; Jimmy is slumped on the floor, halfway onto his bunk, face pressed into the covers as he makes soft, pathetic noises.

"Shit...alright, Jim. Let's get you into bed. C'mon..."

It's not the first time and it won't be the last that he's had to manhandle Jimmy while he's out of it. He knows just how to lift him, just how to coax with soothing noises, how to settle him on the bunk and how Jimmy's going to struggle while he tries to strip his sweat-soaked clothes off of him.

All of it is familiar and once again he can lie to himself, can pretend this is his Jim, that nothing changed.

Like this, he can almost believe it.

Jimmy finds himself lying on the cold, grated metal floors of the Tulpar in one of its many hallways. He finds himself staring at the wall and all its twined and trailing pipes. He doesn't remember how he got there, and he can't say that he cares.

It's cold, he's cold, as if death itself as breathing down his neck. Jimmy shivers, curling himself into a tighter ball and wrapping his arms around himself as he tries to keep the cold at bay. He shivers as he lets his eyes slip closed.

They're all gone.

He's the only one left.

He fixed it.

It's all okay now.

He's so tired. He just needs to sleep a little.

Jimmy lets his mind drift away into the comfort of sleep.

It's all over now.

Curly will be so proud...

.

..

...

....

.....

......

Jimmy is suddenly startled awake. By what, he doesn't know. He's no longer in that cold, quiet hallway. He's sitting in the cockpit illuminated by bright green light, and he doesn't feel cold. He actually feels like he's burning up.

Jimmy unsteadily gets to his feet, wobbling back and forth feeling dizzy.

Maybe he's just too hot? Yeah, that's probably it, or he's sick. He laughs to himself. It's a cold and empty sound to his ears.

He slowly shuffles back to his quarters and collapses halfway on the bed, his lower half hitting the floor.

Jimmy is incapacitated.

[racarnate]

⁞☀⁞ @sanpatron​​;

of all choice establishments he has had the pleasures of indulging himself this one in particular, the golden dawn resort provided a most impressive surplus of immediate amenities. the casino as one of their more ( if not most ) prominent addition drew a myriad of faces as it did the impressive masses from wards all around. even the most unsightly and unfortunate could openly wager themselves here be it a test of sanity, battle of wits or merely wishing to stand themselves against unthinkable odds. rare as the fabled diamond in the rough there were of course more losers than winners where many found an end to their ambitions be it at the edge of a table or before one of these machines. hah, despite their circumstance humans truly were fickle if not foolish creatures outright. just where did they summon forth the tenacity to press on when 'unfairly' overruled by the shackles of destiny itself? a wonder that ozymandias still entertains for even should he have been torn from the very roots of divinity he was sired he remains splendorous in all right.

for certain, when another man seems to be garnering some attempt at subduing his golden majesty by way of sudden inquiry. verily has he watched those who commonly come and go within these halls. ah, perhaps he had even sighted this one cleanly kept yet almost professionally burly looking fellow once or twice lingering around the bar? although it matters not for when the glossy covered issue of some clothing line or another is clasped shut betwixt his palm just so does his gaze turn sidelong towards the other so boldly addressing him seemingly without reason. a very blessing in itself then, that the great king he has learned to keen an ear towards the people even should they not be his own. he makes a fair proposal it seems after all, a deal that he can surely permit in passing should his own high demands and expectations be immediately met of course. the smile that crinkles his very lips could very well issue command without the need of words, however through the ages in being reborn once, twice.. again he finds most require of him to be plain spoken and given the sheer confidence of this one ozymandias finds nothing more fitting, more absolutely certain than turning the mere makings of this proposal into a challenge. he absolutely would not model for any base individual or their supposed top clothing line after all. the suit he sports is nothing special in particular, however more often than not the illustrious adornments strike special sense into those who are fortunate enough to even share the same room with him. he smirks all too knowingly.

❝ so certain are you? were it that i do not take doubt in such claims then, should you truly acknowledge and wish to bask in my radiance by having me wear your choice of clothing then i expect nothing but the greatest for you make request of a king and i shall not be adorned as anything but! now then, i do believe a prompt viewing of your products are in order before i permit it. ❞

[curlygrant44]

*Curly blinks for a second, taken aback...and then laughs softly, running a hand through his hair.*

I'm not used to apologies from you...any of you...

*There's something fond in his expression for a few more seconds, nostalgic, familiar, like things are okay and none of the horrors have happened yet...before it fades, brows drawing together into a pinched frown, arms crossing. Closed off, defensive. A stranger once more.*

I guess that means everyone knows, by now...have the two of you also been...you know...? I didn't realize you knew each other so well; I guess that's where he's been disappearing to.

*Curly doesn't look angry, exactly...but he sounds bitter, and there's a telltale hurt in his eyes that any Jimmy would know if he were looking.*

*It's a rare enough thing for Curly to wander around lately, as reticent as he's been. It might have something to do with his Jim barking at people who talk to him...or maybe it's something else entirely.*

*Whatever the case may be, even for a captain, there's no avoiding chore rotations, and inevitably crossing paths with people on his way to and from...it seems he's missed more than expected while he was otherwise occupied, though. One of the Jimmys is wearing a collar now, which isn't something he's ever imagined before...and which he's going to have a hard time forgetting.*

Uh. This...might be a sensitive topic, and you don't have to answer...

...but what's with the, uh. You know.

*He gestures to his own neck, eyes still fixated on the band of leather that Jimmy is wearing.*

@curlygrant44

[ It takes him a second to even think what the man’s getting at- but as soon as it clicks, his face goes red and his nervous expression is barely hidden. ]

Oh, uh. This thing? Gift from a… friend, figured it helped people tell me apart.

[ He quickly looks up the captain. The other Curlys look a little more… put together isn’t the right word, but it’s the one he’ll use. Given just how exhausted this one seems, he can gather just who this one parallels. ]

Your buddy, actually. Pretty sure he was fucking with me, but he hasn’t asked me to take it off, so I see that as a damn challenge.

Honestly, I’m a little surprised to see he hasn’t got you in one yet… god knows it’d get some use.

[ As soon as it slips out, he tenses. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not- he’s still accusing the two of doing something he’s been fervently denying himself. ]

Ohh, that was too far, wasn’t it. That, uh- that didn’t- I didn’t say that.

[divineecelestial]

Out of Your League — Three

PAIRINGS — BUCKY BARNES X READER

SERIES SUMMARY — IN WHICH BUCKY BARNES GAINS A CRUSH ON A WOMAN SO OUT OF HIS LEAGUE.

CHAPTER TWO 

CHAPTER THREE — A competition and ground rules.

Feedback would be greatly appreciated! This isn’t my best writing but I absolutely adored this scene.

Bucky savored the bleakness of the midnight breeze, the cloak of spilled moonlight that shrouded over the hectic streets of New York. The bustling night never depleted, always brimming with vivid vitality that became his background noise as he became suffused with his clamored thoughts. From the balcony, he could see his hometown’s intensity of colors and sounds. But, as he sipped his beer with a relaxed nonchalance, the door creaked open. He was welcomed with the wondrous spectacle of you in an elegant satin dress with reflective blackened stilettos. Your sleek stilettos clicked as you wandered beside him.

There wasn’t an exchange between you for a concise moment as you both basked in the gentility of the view. You placed your arms on the polished railing beside him, concealing your mouth as you chuckled. “You aren’t supposed to laugh,” He exclaimed, his cheeks flushed. He knew exactly what you were thinking of that made you ignite with jubilance. “I’m so embarrassed.” You had tried to remain impassive, but the recollection of him attempting to hide his sticky situation was enough for you to perch your head on his shoulder while you shook with laughter. 

Your mirth eased and you collected yourself. “Don’t be,” You dismissed his shame with a small wave of your hand. “I’m flattered, truly.” Your voice was airy, humorous as you disregarded the severity of the predicament. He was appreciative of your supposed indifference, but he processed the remainder of your sentence.

He glanced down where you were reclined your head, the warmth of your skin seeped through his blouse. You seemed distracted by the aesthetic of the town. “You’re assuming it was about you?” He questioned, keeping his voice light and stoic. Undoubtedly the dream only contained risque images of you, but he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of reading him so easily. But it always seemed as if you were one-step-ahead of him, unraveling him with ease. 

Your hair artfully flowed with the small breeze that caressed your exposed skin with a frigid gentleness. “No, I know it was about me.” You corrected, your voice indisputable but melodiously sweet.

He chuckled with unhurried ease. “That’s a bold assumption.”

You straightened, reeling on your heels to face him entirely. “Oh, please. Spare me the bashfulness, James Buchanan Barnes,” Your intense eyes glimmered with the moonlight, exposing a fierce saturation.  “I’ve seen the way you look at me.” You were awfully observant, keen with indistinct details and you had him deciphered.

He brought the rim of his bottle to his soft lips. “Don’t flatter yourself, doll.” His words were seamless and suave, but his hands shook slightly. 

You smiled and it was painfully beautiful. “I also know I’m the only person you call doll. It’s cute.” Pride oozed off your tongue as you spoke, somewhat boastful with your observation. You were correct, though. He hadn’t called anyone else that gushy nickname for as long as he could remember, but you always responded positively with the name so he continued. 

He removed his eyes from the city’s bright lights and finally turned towards you, the actual view on that balcony. Your satin dress sculpted your frame, dreadfully tight while it accentuated your curves. He swallowed the unsureness coursing through him as he witnessed your elegance entirely now. Your necklace traveled down to your decolletage, aglitter with concisely carved diamonds. “Narcissism isn’t a good look on you.” He lied straight through his teeth. He thoroughly enjoyed your conceited behavior. 

You inched forward, your voluptuous physique was taunting him. “On the contrary, I think it’s my best look.” He couldn’t deny that statement because it was definitely accurate. There was something delectable about your self-assurance, confidence that lured him further away from sanity and much closer to finally touching your bare skin. 

He shook his head, completely amused by your certainty. “Is there a reason you’re bugging me?” 

“There is, actually.” You reached for his bottle, yanking the beer from his loose grasp. “Spend tonight with me.”

His steadiness on the metallic railing stumbled, nearly collapsing onto the floor. He wasn’t certain if he heard you correctly. “I—” He attempted to speak, but he choked on his words. 

You inclined your head, a sultry glimmer reflecting in your eyes. “I can show you all my favorite spots in the area,” Your eyes glimpsed towards the hundreds of towering buildings in the distance as if they were beckoning you. “Come on, it'll be fun. You do know what fun is right?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Yes, I do know what fun is. I have it all the time.” His voice wasn’t convincing.

You raised your eyebrows, grasping his forearm with your jeweled hands. “So, there shouldn’t be an issue with you having some fun with me.” You whined childishly.

He contemplated the proposal, pondering on the variety of possibilities he could endure if he accepted your suggestion. “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with Sam or Natasha?” He inquired with a slight abrasive edge. He wasn’t necessarily jealous, or that was what he tried to convince himself, but he wasn’t particularly fond of how much time you were with Sam. 

Your expression softened. “No, I wouldn’t,” You boldly admitted. “Bucky, I want to spend tonight with just you and only you.” He didn’t respond immediately. This situation was unfamiliar. A beautiful woman who was the center of tabloids, photographed everywhere she visited, seemingly blessing the floor with each step she made, choosing him over everyone else. He was your first choice and he didn’t know that was possible.

Bucky’s eyes were heavy with adoration and he tore his gaze from you, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.” He pleaded, almost desperately. His stomach was aflutter, his heart seconds from tearing his chest open.

You recoiled, surprised with the sudden change. “Do what?” 

He watched the hundreds of vehicles drive through the crowded lanes. “Make me feel this way. This isn't easy for me. I’ve never—” The confession wasn’t irate or miserable. He was nervous, unable to finish the sentence. This vulnerability was unknown to him. “Not like this. But, you matter to me. A lot.” His hands clenched around the banister, his heart beating like never before. Here he was confessing his emotional attraction to you, New York City’s socialite who was too fucking pretty for her own good.

Your mouth curved into a docile smirk. “I know,” The wind breezed between you both and he could smell the fragrance of your perfume. “Which is why I haven't completely charmed you into being wrapped around my finger just yet.”

Bucky couldn’t contain his laughter. “Completely?” He asked, his shoulders moving with his mirth. “I don’t think I can handle anymore, then.” 

You chuckled beside him, cherishing the aroma of his cologne. “My point is, we have all the time in the world. There's no need to rush into anything. You were brainwashed and tortured for almost a hundred years. I don't blame you for needing to take things slow.” 

He released a breath. “I don’t know how long I’ll need,” He apprehensively admitted. “I can’t ask you to wait for me.” He couldn’t ask you to remain devoted to him while he slowly recovered. 

As you looked upward at him through your lashes, your expression transformed into a dreamy softness. “It’d be my pleasure to wait as long as you’d need.”

The multi-colored array of city lights illuminated you from behind, giving you a radiant halo. He didn’t understand how someone was this breathtaking. “You make it impossible to say no.” 

You beamed with your sparkling teeth on display. “One of my many talents.” 

“I’m guessing modesty isn’t one of those talents.”

With a scoff, you pushed yourself off the banister. “Of course, it isn’t.”

He followed after you, clutching your arm with delicacy. “So, we’re just friends, right?” 

The gleam in your eyes was anything but friendly. “For now.” 

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

You leaned against the doorframe, looking at him with a teasing gaze. “Because you have no idea what I have planned for us.”

He raised a brow. “Us? I like the sound of that,” He mused, “but it also sounds like you're not going to make it easy for me.”

You threw your head back as you gently laughed, the sound echoing through the night. It was enough to have the palms of his hands become damp. “Not a chance,” He would be lying if he said this hadn’t made him thrilled for whatever it was you had planned. “So, come with me tonight. Tonight, let's pretend that we're the only two people in the entire world.” 

He pretended to consider the offer, despite knowing he would’ve dropped anything he had planned to spend an entire night alone with you. “All right, you’ve convinced me,” He stepped closer, dangerously close and his eyes remained fixated on your alluring gaze. “Let’s make some ground rules.”

Intrigue colored your face. “Is this a competition? Because if so, be prepared to lose tragically.”

“I wouldn't sound so confident. I'll have you swooning in no time.”

His thighs brushed against yours. “We’ll see about that.” 

His eyes glanced at your lips. “No kissing.” 

You licked them, coquettishly biting on your lower lip. “You’ll regret that. I happen to be an amazing kisser.” Your breath tickled his mouth teasingly. 

Unintentionally, he glimpsed down where your breasts were pressed against this chest, enticingly on display. “No s-se—” He trailed off, he couldn’t think properly as you leaned forward, completely aware of you where doing. 

“Sex?” You finished for him. “You can say the word, Bucky. But I'll be a good girl and behave. No sex.” Your words coated in an undescribable naughtiness. 

Your interlaced your hands with his, his warmth and coldness from both hands shrouded you with arousal so thick you were certain he must have noticed. “No jealousy.” 

Your glossed lips sparkled as you smirked. “I like a challenge.” 

With a surge of confidence, he tenderly cupped your smooth face. “And most importantly, try not to fall in love with me so quickly, doll.” If you wanted, you could connect your lips with his, disregard this competition within a blink of an eye, but you were determined to make his life a living hell.

“I could say the same for you.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip and you slowly enclosed your mouth around his thumb, sucking softly. 

He appeared as if he was seconds from collapsing into your erotic touch. “With the way you're looking at me right now, I'm definitely failing.”

TAGLIST 

@mielfromvenus

[nitannichionne]

Saving Superman (Henry Cavill Fan Fiction/XReader) Part 3:

PART 3: EVERYBODY NEEDS SOMEBODY

Your heart is racing as you ride up the elevator with Henry...alone. You decide to break the silence with a question. "Why were you waiting for someone to say your name?"

"It was an experiment of sorts," he confessed. "After that lesson in humility when I stood under the Superman billboard at Times Square, I just thought I'd try it again."

"But you were a vagrant," you argue. "That's not fair-"

"Maybe not, but I was rewarded by you."

"Me?"

"I stood out to you. You realized it was me." He chuckled softly.  "You found me."

"How could I not?"

"Very easily," he muttered.

The elevator doors opened, and he leads you out by the hand. He takes you to a suite.

"Nice," You are truly impressed.

"Thank you," his voice is almost a purr. "So...?"

"So..." You swallow hard as he approaches you. "So what?"

His smile was almost mischievous, his blue eyes sparking as his canines showed. "You found me. I'm basically yours. What do you do now?"

You swallow hard. He isn't saying this, you think.

"Well?" He drawls.

"You need a bath and a shave." That was the truth.

"Well?"

You take his hand, and lead him to the bathroom. You place your hands on his chest and push the oversized jacket open, smoothing your hands over his chest and to his shoulders where he simply shrugs the jacket off, making it land with a thud on the tile floor. He looks at you expectantly, a naughty smile tugging on his lips. Ah the game is afoot!

You take another deep breath to steady your hands as you begin to unbutton his shirt. You stand there, under his gaze, avoiding it so you can do the task at hand. He has a t-shirt on underneath, and your mind spins at the fact that it's next. You push the shirt off his shoulders the same way you did his jacket and you stand there for a second. He raises his eyebrows expectantly and you put your hands under his t-shirt on his back, allowing your hands to splay over it and hooking your thumbs under the bottom edges so you can run your hands over him while pulling the t-shirt up and over his head. He bends to help you and stands at full height again, making you realize he is closer than he was before.

"And...?"

You decide it best to look in his eyes while unbuttoning his trousers, taking particular care when unzipping them. You couldn't really avoid touching him, and he responds instantly to your brushing him, grazing him gently. He sucks a breath, not in pain, and sighs in relief. It then dawns on you that it had been five days-maybe longer-since he'd been here in comfort, but also five days without female company, companionship... you slowly slide the trousers down his legs, and realize that there is an item left to attend to: his underwear. And even though it had been five days, he still smelled...male, intense, good...a small moan escapes you before you could stop it.

He caresses your hair as you reach up to the waistband. You trace it, trying to gain the nerve to do what you really want to do, and he must be expecting you to do. You slide your cheek gently up his thigh and put your hands under the garment, caressing his hips as you spread your fingers to caress him, to pull him to you. With nothing but cotton fabric between you and him, you breathe hot air over him, teasing him with your lips, but giving yourself a very explicit impression of what lies underneath. His moan turns into some sort of sighing hiss.  You like the sound. Hands on his hips, you finally pull the fabric down to his ankles, and he steps out of all of it. He stands nude before you now, and you realize you are panting lightly. You're excited, you feel him, and you want him...

"I really need a shower."

You respond by standing and turning it on, setting the water to something between warm and hot.

"I can't reach my back," he says softly. "Will you help me?"

You nod yes but don't realize what he means by that until he starts undressing you. He places his hands on your chest and pushes your jacket off your shoulders so you can shrug it off. He palms and cups your breasts, running his thumbs over the tips, and then boldly places his hands under your shirt on your stomach to run his hands over your torso while helping  you out of it. Again his fingers linger on your nipples and you strain to not go weak in the knees. He makes short work of your jeans, and slides them down your legs, but then stops to reach up and pull your panties down too, paying you the same favor you did him as he does. You gasp softly as his breath is like fire between your legs. You want more, but you can't speak, seeing what must be to come in your mind. He finally slides up your body to full height. You lean against him, unsure if it's modesty or need, but he runs his hands over your back, and cups your derriere to align your hips with his own, not leaving much to the imagination of hardness, his length, his size... You suck in a breath...oh, God...you feel your body completely respond: your lips slightly part in an effort to breathe normally, your heart is racing, your butterflies have happily settled at the pit of your stomach, sending the fluttering sensation between your legs and you open up to him, body anticipating more...you know you're wet, and he hasn't even kissed you!

And instinctively you feel he knows all of this...he steps into the shower and pulls you in after him, dragging you against his body. The water is calming, soothing...until his lips finally descends on yours.

You open your mouth instantly, nibbling his lower lip to get him to bend down just a bit more. When he does, he plunders your mouth with his own, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth, and you respond by sucking his tongue. A growl escapes him as he braces you against the shower wall, and you moan at the combined sensation of his mouth against your neck, cascading like the water is over your breasts. He swirls the water around your nipples, creating a mini-whirlpool effect, and makes your knees go weak. He goes lower...lower...you hear your own half pants, half moans reverberate off the shower walls...

"Ah!" You start to sink as you feel him kiss you intimately, and he braces against the shower wall you to keep you in place. There is no composure to have. There is no hiding. You moan loudly and wantonly, grabbing his shoulders as he drives you mad with the indecision of pulling him closer to bring you relief or pushing him away to gain some sanity.

You're in a daze. You are trembling against the wall, and you are grateful for the support. He seizes a washcloth and soaps it up, washing your body quickly. Instead of rinsing you off, he squats to pick you up and rubs his body against yours, effectively soaping up his chest and stomach. "Wash my back."

"Huh?"

"Wash my back, love," he murmured. You take the washcloth, and begin only to feel him lower you onto him. He stretches you, but you're more than ready. He feels so good, and as relief washes over you, he says, "My back, love?"

You begin to wash him, up and down in long strokes...and you realize that he is matching the rhythm of your strokes with his own. You go slow and he slowly lifts and then pulls you down, thrusting deeper. You quicken the rhythm and so does he. You try to keep going but it's too much and you succumb to his tempo, helpless and bound by desire. You gasp and whimper with pleasure as he builds to climax after climax, until finally you are helplessly and mindlessly riding him to the one that pleases you both.

He allows you to slide down his body. "Dry off, love." You aren't steady, so he gives you  a light slap on your rear. Weirdly that steadies you. You dry off as he lathers up to shave. As he does shave, you dry him, making him smile in the mirror. As he rinses you make your way to the bedroom.

You are not sure what to do now. You are weak, your legs don't feel strong enough to go anywhere. He is who he is and you know that this is...unreal...a step away from reality, but you start trying to tell yourself you need to go and deal with what you've done and you are not sorry about...

Until he picks you up from behind and throws you on the bed.

"Henry?!"

"Yes?" He begins the whole process again, except this time horizontally. You want to get away, you want to run and maybe even hide...but then he kisses you...his lips sear that sensitive skin on your neck...you arch to him pleadingly, giving into your basic needs, your carnal senses...and he is meeting them, feeding that hunger you silently keep to yourself, that no one met. Caution is thrown to the wind. Pleasure is the principle. You just. Don't. Care.

[curlygrant44]

Hey captain.

I need a moment to talk to you about... things in relation to your psych eval.

- @nurseanya404

*Curly looks vaguely uneasy, glancing around the room...but there's no sound of footsteps, and after a few seconds he relaxes.*

I...sure. Yeah.

*He runs a hand through his hair restlessly. His fingers catch on a tangle and when he tugs, a few strands of hair come loose that he distractedly drops to the floor. It's...not like him to be so scattered like this.*

What did you need to follow up on?

[curlygrant44]

I'm glad your mom was supportive, Daisuke. You deserve that kind of care.

Make sure that you tell me, or the other Curly, if anyone starts harassing you. Okay? I know some of the Jimmys like to joke about things they shouldn't to get a rise out of people...

Ur trans dude? That’s totally freaking rad dawg! Did u jst find out or have u like been knowing and stuff? Do u want me 2 bake something 2 celebrate? :D

ayy thanks kid- rad, was it?

ive known for a while ^-^ thankfully ive always looked pretty androgynous so :]

my mom was really supportive too!! helped me bind and stuff.

yeah, you can bake something!!!!! never gonna say no to baked goods!!!!

[evoedbd]

Red

Summery:   Vivienne gets a wake up call when she finds Nadia holding Silvana on the edge of the roof. Finally, her father's words make some sense, and Vivienne acts on her unspoken threat. So this is basically my take on what might happen after ep 9. I'm so sick of reading all the assumptions that Vivienne is going to royally fuck things up or cheat or some other funky stuff. So, I took it in the opposite direction. ********************************************************************** Red. It was a word Vivienne was intimately familiar with. It was the barrier she put between herself and a lover. It was the only word which could turn her dominance to soothing without question. It was the word Vivienne used when she was trapped, speechless at the potency of invasive questions delivered from delectable lips. It was the full stop, move on. A non-negotiable end of current conversation. Red was the wall between her and discomfort. It was the colour the cape she wrapped around her shoulders when her skin could not bear the brunt of strangers leering or cold breezes. It was the colour of her favourite pair of high heels which helped accentuate her long legs and ample hind quarters. It was the colour of her toxic lipstick, her final line of defence and her control over any who would take the kiss she never truly wished to offer. It was the fate of those who didn’t take heed when they heard Vivienne Tang was poisonous; a viper in human skin, a seductress without a heart, one who would use her body to disable her prey, then claim whatever she desired from them, before leaving them cold, alone and robbed. Red was the colour of emergency sirens, the flashing which accompanied alarms. It was adrenaline, the fire Vivienne wished could burn eternal. Red was anger. It was passion. It was roses, devotion, and romance. Red was everything Vivienne had tried to embody, yet never truly had. Red was the unattainable hovering above the palm of her hand, only to become a ghost should she try to touch it.

Red was the only thing Vivienne could process.

It was the blood roaring in her ears, rushing through her veins as her pulse spiked. It was every alarm screaming in her mind as tainted white threatened to consume her. White suit jacket with nothing underneath. White suit pants sculptured to the woman wearing them. Blonde hair, which turned to shadowy black at the roots. The illusion of light where only darkness lived. White was Nadia. Gorgeous, tall, blazing Nadia. She was a creature of passion and violence, a demon who gladly defiled those too weak to endure the heat of her flames. This was the woman who pursued Vivienne with more ruthless intent than she could ever recall in her life. Nadia was an animal who violated secret after secret, digging deeper and deeper into Vivienne’s head without ever communicating. Nadia was the temptation, the demon with the offer of Vivienne’s lifelong desire. Nadia was also the monster holding Silvana on the very edge of the roof.

There was an old saying, “Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning”. It spoke of bad weather, of hard rains and storms. Perhaps it was why the morning skies were scarred red, bleeding into fiery orange clouds against the skyline of Paris. It felt right. It was the only sunrise worthy to compliment Vivienne’s emotions; the dangerous storm brewing within. Perhaps the world had known this was coming. Perhaps Earth had wanted to warn Paris to hide.  Maybe it was warning the people to lock their doors and bar their windows, to hide from what was to come.

All it took was one look into Silvana’s normally comforting dark hues for Vivienne to snap. She finally fucking exploded. The fear in Silvana’s eyes was the final spark. Vivienne didn’t see the shutdown, startled fear she had when Inez had pushed Silvana to whisper red. It wasn’t the same adrenalized fear seen when guns had been pointed at them. No, what Vivienne had seen was far worse. It was the acceptance that fear was the only reaction, that it was valid and birthed by truth. Silvana’s expression was the fear of someone trying to decide what they feared more. Which fear would claim them? It didn’t matter what she was scared of. Silvana was afraid, and it was enough to make Vivienne act.

Red heels seemed powered by flames as Vivienne closed the distance, her usually controlled expression twisted into something devoid of sanity. Dark eyes became the shadows of hellhounds, perfect lips contorted into snarl to rival the devil himself. Pale features became the mask of the reaper, gleaming beneath the shadows of inky hair.

Her father had told her time and time again not to levy idle threats. He had mocked her, even taking Silvana’s poppy to prove a point. He’d shown her no respect, but he’d taught her something. Never levy idle threats. Nadia had pushed every boundary, continuously showering Vivienne in gifts and flattery that would have lured the seductress away under any other circumstance. Nadia had taken the bait as Vivienne played her role, dragging Nadia’s focus away from The Poppy, away from Silvana. Even as Silvana raged, Vivienne played the game. She thought herself in control, even when Silvana spoke of Nadia’s threats to her. Even in the darkness of the catacombs, in her moment of surrender, she never considered herself as anything but in control. It was a moment she allowed herself to be blinded, to scream how she belonged to another. Then, she’d boldly staked her claim once more, taken control with screamed delights and unspoken threats. Still, she’d been foolish. She had given Nadia one final chance. She’d given Nadia a glimpse of what laid beneath composure and seduction. A glint of the savage darkness Vivienne had never fully given into. One single warning. “Do not threaten Silvana again.” No promise was made, no threat was given. Just that single warning, delivered by the slip of Vivienne’s mask. Nadia had not taken heed, and just like Dean, she had pushed the boundary further. Vivienne was smarter now; more invested than ever before... and Nadia was not her father.

If Nadia wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, Vivienne was all too happy to oblige. Vivienne hadn’t cared to process how she had crossed the distance, nor when Nadia had turned. Before a word could be spoken, Vivienne’s hand had shot out, grasping the opened edge of Nadia’s silken suit jacket. Her grasp was vicious, fingers briefly skimming the naked breast beneath as her fist tightened. The barest tease just a blink before she pulled Nadia close and kissed her.

It was not a chaste gesture, nor was it gentle. It was heat. It was lips and tongue and teeth. It was clashing; violent and sloppy. It was makeup smearing as Vivienne channelled all her rage into a single kiss. It was hatred, the cumulation of months of violated boundaries and tense relationships exploding. It was passion. Nothing else could describe how Vivienne’s spare hand captured a fistful of hair, as close to the roots as possible. Pulling. Demanding. Dragging Nadia’s lips into the perfect position as Vivienne’s tongue plunged into the caverns of the defiler’s mouth. A tongue bearing her lipstick. A wicked tongue which worked to trap her poison behind Nadia’s teeth, down her throat, along every tastebud. Anywhere and everywhere.

There was one moment, a single second in time where Vivienne’s mind echoed with her own words. So many times, she had refused to accept death as the solution to a problem. She had forgiven deeds unforgivable in order to cling to that last semblance of humanity; to prevent herself crossing that dark, unspeakable line everyone in the criminal world faced. She had seen what happened to those who crossed it, even for a second. The darkness on the other side followed them. Haunted them. It was her line in crime. The one thing she couldn’t even fathom doing, even at her most enraged. Then, there was the darkness. Love would have its sacrifice, yet it offered one single mercy: the choice. For Vivienne, it was not even a choice. This woman had crossed the one line Vivienne could no longer forgive. She had gone after Vivienne’s family; she had gone after Silvana. The woman who walked in darkness to follow a light Vivienne thought dead. The Angel who brought worlds to life for all to enjoy, who captured beauty in ways nobody could see until she opened their eyes. Nadia had ignored all the warnings and gone after Silvana.

This time, Vivienne had been unable to put words to her threat, but it was no longer idle. The Viper’s coils tightened, pulled back into an S position as she waited for the perfect moment. Then, Vivienne claimed her penance in blood. Her teeth framed Nadia’s lower lip for a fraction of a second before Vivienne bit down. Hard. Harder than she had ever bitten in her life.

The Poppy didn’t kill, but this was not the Poppy. This was Vivienne Tang.

Even as she bit, she drove her fist forwards, plunging the fangs of her Viper Ring directly into Nadia’s heart.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Nadia’s quiet grunts of alarm were piercing compared to the heavy breaths escaping Vivienne. The seductress heaved and huffed, withdrawing from the kiss with blood staining her teeth, her lips and her chin. Her composure was long gone, shattered along with the mask of indifference. Humanity only showed in Vivienne’s gorgeous form, otherwise she was everything people said. Heartless. A seductress, leaving her prey helpless as she claimed what she wanted. A viper with incurable venom.

Nadia groaned, trembling as her legs gave out. She flopped, suspended only by Vivienne’s grasp on her jacket. Her skin was warm against Vivienne’s curled fingers, so painfully soft in ways only a woman could ever be.  In the past, it would have been precisely what Vivienne hunted for.  That softness beneath silken ropes; tangled in knots that Vivienne had created to ensnare her willing victim.  Now, all she longed for was for the warmth to return to Silvana’s dark eyes.  To see chocolate hues unburdened by fear, or doubt, or that awful, unspeakable pain Vivienne was beginning to realise she had put there; that she continued to cause with her own inability to be a normal human being, to be the partner the artist needed.   Vivienne also knew she was precisely what Nadia needed.  With Nadia, she could have been perfect once more.  She wouldn’t have had to gaze into that pain, to spend hours fighting with it in her mind.  She wouldn’t have been burning inside as she tried to understand, or tried to change every behaviour she had created to survive.   Even as she stared down into Nadia’s eyes and saw the potential, she couldn’t choose that easy road.  Every moment Vivienne thought she could step onto that golden pathway to her dreams, she realised the path had turned to muck. The road she was choosing was going to hurt, perhaps she would lose what she was fighting for, but to let Silvana go… it was more unspeakably terrifying than anything else.   She thought that nothingness was her biggest fear, yet it paled in comparison to the moment she had seen Silvana on the edge, the crushing moment she believed she was about to lose her.

Vivienne turned her gaze to Silvana, expecting to see horror etched on her timeless face.  Instead, she found Silvana on her knees, trembling from the adrenaline flooding her veins.  Despite everything, Silvana’s eyes were calm.  Fear had faded, leaving only the endless pool of warmth and acceptance. Of course, Silvana wasn’t afraid of her. Silvana was, perhaps, more insane than any woman she had met and yet the only one who could keep her grounded.   Silvana, the one woman who could endure her kiss, the woman who actively poisoned herself for the chance to kiss her. Silvana was the only one who had seen those shadows in Vivienne and had loved them instead of run.  They were not a negative she tolerated; they were a part of Vivienne that Silvana had begged for.  Silvana had expressed how she wished Vivienne’s poison would flood her veins, until her own body changed to accept it.  Never had Silvana asked Vivienne to leave her life behind, or to change the core of who she was.  She constantly gave to Vivienne, always asking instead of just trying to take.  The only reason she didn’t know what gifts to give Vivienne, because she would never push the boundaries Vivienne had set. She didn’t know things by Vivienne’s own design and did her best to accept the blindfold instead of violating the trust she was given.   Perhaps the light Vivienne was chasing would drive her blind, but as Silvana had pointed out, sight was only one of five senses.  The Gilded Poppy, Vivienne’s family, was enough to enrich her life beyond what she had sought.  And Silvana… she was worth whatever price Vivienne had to pay to keep her.  She was worth enduring discomfort, worth uncovering and facing her true fears.  Silvana was worth letting go of everything for.  All Vivienne had to do was let go.  And so, she did.  With one final look at Nadia, Vivienne Tang let go.

It was not the end Nadia had expected, not an end which would be spoken about for generations of criminals. Not that burst of life before sudden death. It was near silent. Quiet, on the rooftops of Paris as the Sun rose in the sky. There was no fanfare when Vivienne released her jacket, nor when her body fell into a heap. It was... peaceful.

[safrona-shadowsun]

The Victim’s Eye

{A follow-up in response to @nixalegos​’ story here, and a prelude to the Visions of N’zoth events to come. Thank you for reading if you do! }

Thread the loop, hook, knot. Thread the loop, hook, knot. Sometimes Quintin Delaurac would wake before dawn and thread his bait, just to have it neat and ready. There was nothing like the smell of the sea before dawn and the sentimental quiet of the harbor. A true treat for a fisherman. No matter what fishing holes and great catches he’d found out in the world, Quint always found himself back at Stormwind’s harbor. No longer so much the resident bum, he’d made a small name for himself with his local fish fry. What’s more, he had an actual date for the first time in years. He’d kid himself to think some classy elf could actually be into him, but it was a new year, and sometimes you just had to cast out your line and take a chance. He’d felt bad, not remembering her name in the moment.

Yet, his mind rolled further into that thought, detailed what he considered the exotic lines of the elf’s face, that lavender skin, the wind of her braid. Why the hell couldn’t he remember the name of someone like that? 

No...that was wrong. He hadn’t spoken more than three words to her. But he knew her office like the lines of his hands…

He was no damned thief, not anymore, he told himself, though memory was already seeping in past implanted imagery to show him glimpses of what had really transpired in elapsed time. He was--

Quintin felt the thin, sharp pop in his ears, or his brain, telling him something was wrong. Then his perception of his world crashed back into dreaded reality. There was no fishing bait in his trembling hands, and the sea did not roll out beyond the metal cage containing him as he thought. The wolf was back to anxiously pacing in his own skin, his cursed sensitivities picking back up the ungodly hum of a continuous thread of dark, black magic. Sand was coarse between his toes, and his feet were blistered, mouth dry. He was starving, but moreover god’s damned terrified of what was happening outside of his prison.

Briefly, he remembered depending on the Wolf he normally subdued deep inside, and it made a terrible mess of everything, futilely thrashing himself into the cage bars until he passed out. No, now Quint knew it was a time to be in control, to observe, to recall, to remember. Figure out what happened to his Rum.

Something crept out of the humming darkness beyond his cage, and Quint felt the Wolf growl in his throat, ready to snap. But the monster that wrapped its little hands around the metal bars this time seemed impish and weak, and a little comical with its long, pointed nose.

 “Heeeey guy…” it squeaked out quietly as it could. “You just sit tight. Boss is takin’ care of everything.”

“...the fu---”

An explosion deafened all noise, red overtaking the violet plumes of darkness that obscured his sight. Quint felt the panic rise at the back of his neck as his ears popped and sound slowly re-established itself.

 “Okay, weird little dude. I need you to let me out now. Need to find Rum.”

“...seriously? Kid I know you been out here for a while but its not the BEST time for a drink--”

“My DOG. Rum’s my dog. Just gotta make sure he’s okay. Especially now seeing as everything’s BURNING.”

Through the acrid veil of sand-swirled smoke and fire, a hooded silhouette stepped up boldly toward the altar that was the centerpiece of the enclave ruin. “Found you. Time to put an end to your little operation, mindraker.” A layer of animosity drove the words, spat in Common, a disdainful challenge. "The Courier no longer requires your services."

Quint decided he liked this voice even less than the one that had gone poking around in his head.

“So anytime now, you can let me out,” the fisherman muttered to the imp, but to his horror, the thing was burning the lock with its own tiny, sharp hands, fusing it closed. He was never getting out of there now. 

“What in the hell?? Let me out!”

“No can do,” the imp replied, darting away to the next cage Quint realized was nearby. Another voice, calling in what had been blackness, weeping. “Trust me, kid. You all are gonna be safer this way.”

"Interesting.” The single word slithered in and around the air, caught up in the darker fog that still encircled the space. Hollow, invasive and sinister, it was a voice that immediately induced shivers in Quint. It was familiar in ways he didn’t want it to be. “I am afraid my stance remains unmoved. But perhaps you may consult with my...assistants.”

An edge of structured pleasance lifted the normally monotone voice, and at once Quint convulsed. The Wolf clawed inside with a frothing desire to ravage, triggering his shift from Man into Worgen as if on cue. Others within their cages around the altar began to bellow out, rattle their cages with a triggered rage. The imp had managed to solder the locking mechanisms of each prison, save for two.

Manic, screaming and entirely not themselves, the duo of prisoners charged the intruding figure, and hell began to break loose. A hell that Quintin was not there to see, lost, subdued within his own body by the suppressing force, or his own tired, shattered will. Another explosion sounded, the far away sound of bellowing words in a language he could not decipher if his life depended on it. Quint waited in some restricted limbo as his body thrashed itself against metal bars, back into the sweet hold of sleep.

All he wished to do was go back to the docks, and fish.

When Quint next came to, plumes of varying color were rising off the sand, the darkness of the enclave penetrated by a noon-day, hot Uldum sun. Others stirred in their own cages, equally as disturbed, as violated at the mind as he had been. Slowly, Quint rocked himself in place within his cage until signaled rescuers would find them, and finally free their languid bodies from their prisons.

“Thread the loop...hook...knot….thread….thread the loop...hook….knot….” It was the repetitive mantra that kept Quintin Delaurac alert, an uphill journey back to sanity.

Reunited with his mastiff, Quint clung to the beast of a dog like a child, thankful for slobbery kisses. A brief respite before another rush of coming madness. He would only learn later that his captor had escaped. The paranoia clung in his airways, the eldritch tongue scarred to the folds of his mind like a dreaded song he could not forget. 

When would be the next time a word was spoken in that empty, mind-drilling tone and make him succumb?

[curlygrant44]

Right. Jokes, he's...full of those...

...maybe I just need to take my mind off everything. That's all. Light activity is good for that.

Thank you.

Hey, uh...this might sound really weird, but has your Jimmy ever...talked about killing you? Or said anything about how he did it before and regretted it?...

I don't know what to think anymore, first the dreams and now this...

@curlygrant44

he's jokingly threatened it... Not anything serious though.

[winchest09]

Shatter Me - Chapter Five

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4159

Summary: The Winchesters were your world. After joining their hunter ranks, you quickly became attached to the brothers. After a successful hunt, you insist on going out celebrating with the boys – only for a loose end to catch up with you. You’re trapped in a world without hunger, thirst and the Winchesters. With the brothers beside themselves, they make preparations to say goodbye until Dean starts to connect to you through his dreams. Little do they know that you’re much closer than they think…

Chapter warnings: 18+, Mentions of alcohol, anger, death, grief, upset, angst, violence

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying this fiction so far. I really hope you enjoy this next chapter. Few things are revealed. Hopefully, you’ll get them! Also, i think i’ve sorted the tags now. So please let me know if your tag, didn’t tag.

Please let me know what you think, feedback is my fuel! Comment or reblog, i’ll love you guys forever!

Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)

Shatter Me Masterlist  

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

Chapter Five

“Dean” You whimpered louder, frantically trying to feel his hands through the barrier. You stared into his mossy green orbs, your heart pounding frantically in your chest. You saw him smile at you, his eyes crinkling as his mouth grew wide. God, how you’d missed him in such a short space of time.

“We gotta get you home sweetheart” Dean shouted through the force field “We need to get you out of there”

“Gee, you think?” You sassed, causing Dean to smile. Hope sparked in your chest, Dean had come to take you home. You’d just got to escape whatever prison you were currently in. That scared you. You had no idea who or what was keeping you here, you didn’t know how to break the barrier and you knew you couldn’t walk through it. So you tried to find a loophole, a weak point in the force, Dean mirroring your every step on the outside. You were trying your best to stay calm, trying your best not to panic but your efforts to find an escape were starting to look fruitless.

The cold was biting at your skin, your tears were burning your cheeks and your teeth were chattering due to your temperature drop. The silence you were filled with was deafening. You needed to focus. Looking back up at Dean, hoping he would give you the motivation to keep going, you noticed how he was starting to look a little faded, as if his form was flickering.

“De?” You questioned, his green eyes catching yours.

You saw how he tried to speak, you saw how his form was starting to fade, that Dean hadn’t got the strength to stay. Your chest grew tight as your breathing came erratic. You pushed your hair out of your face as you looked around for anything that could be of use on the ground. All your eyes fell upon was a thick broken tree branch and you knew that it was better than nothing. With all you had, you picked up the branch and swung it behind you, planning to use all the momentum you could to smash the barrier and get to Dean.

With one heavy swing, a forceful scream leaving your lips, you swung the branch with both hands towards the force field. With a loud blow, you were projected backwards into a tree, your escape weapon snapping into pieces and a searing pain travelling up your left arm.

“Son of a bitch!” You cried as you held your arm, eyes desperately searching for Dean. He had gone. “No” You muttered as you looked around you “No!” You screamed, knowing once again you were alone.

However you couldn’t focus, you had a searing pain in your left arm that appeared to be more than a strained muscle from launching a tree branch. Looking down to inspect the damage, you felt your skin burn as thick black cracks appeared on your skin. Creeping from the edge of your wrist to the middle of your forearm. You panicked and you tried your hardest to claw at the dark marks but it was of no use. They had scarred your skin and they were throbbing, a constant reminder of your attempted escape. It felt as though someone was carving into your flesh with a hot knife and you could only curl downwards into your knees as you sobbed, willing the pain away.

You started to question your sanity as you held onto your arm. Did you really see Dean? Was this place messing with your head to make you believe that he was there? Was this place helping you to hurt yourself?

“I’m going crazy” You choked out through sobs “This place…it’s messing with my head” You whispered into yourself, wanting to believe more than anything that the Winchesters were trying to save you.

With a jolt, Dean wakes from the floor, looking up to see Castiel leaning over him. Clearly agitated, Dean slapped the angels hand away from him as he tried to get up, annoyed that he’d been woken up when he was so close to getting to you.

“Cas, what the hell?!” Dean snapped

Cas stepped forward, concern etched in his features “Dean” He uttered in his gravelly voice.

Dean shook his head “No dammit, why did you pull me back, Y/N was right there!” He enraged only to have his brother interrupt him.

“Dean!” Sam interjected, his voice strong, his arm on Deans ensuring he looked his way “We had too, look at Y/N’s arm” He exclaimed, his hands gesturing towards your body.

Dean frowned before glancing towards your body, his eyes landing on the dark, defined cracks on your left arm. He whipped around to your left side, his fingers gingerly touching the marks that you wore on your skin, his brow creasing in concern and confusion.

Sam edged forward gingerly, Cas at his side, both of them equally concerned for Dean’s welfare and your own.

“What happened in there Dean?” Sam said softly, not wanting to antagonise the situation further.

Dean’s eyes flickering from the cracks in your arm to your face before shaking his head “She was behind a barrier. I couldn’t get to her but I saw her. I saw the desperate looks in her eyes as she banged against this force field” He closed his green eyes, squeezing them tight as he tried to remember every visual detail “I told her we needed to get her out but we couldn’t find a loophole. The last thing I remember was Y/N going to pick up a branch”

Dean sighed as he held your left hand in his, his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose as his mind raced a million miles per hour.

Castiel stepped forward to the right side of your body, opposite Dean, before glancing down over you “Whatever she did, it has affected her physical form”

Dean stared at Cas, waving is hand over your injury “Can you not use your angel juice to fix these?”

“I cannot heal these marks Dean” The angel shook his head slightly as he gestured over your body “I’m sorry, I wish I could” He said with sincerity.

There was a pause of silence between all three men, all of them looking at you and the fresh wound on your arm. It was concerning. The boys naturally knew they had a race against time to save you, as your body would slowly deteriorate without food or water but knowing something is causing your skin to crack? That was added pressure on an already stressful situation. The boys didn’t know if the cracks were superficial or if they had any lasting effect on your body. They didn’t know if they were slowly killing you and it was all a bit disconcerting.

“I’m not letting her die on me” Dean boldly stated, his eyes trained on your face, determination set upon his face. He turned to face his brother as his plan formed in his mind “Sam, call Rowena”

Sam just nodded as Dean turned to walk towards the door “A witch got us into this mess, a witch can get us out of it”

Castiel just looked between the brothers, determined to help anyway he could “I’ll speak with the angels, see if they’ve heard of anything like this”

Dean nodded, grateful for his friends help “Ok, good” He agreed as he tapped one hand on the doorframe as he went to leave the room. Only to have Sam stop him in his tracks.

“Where are you going?” Sam probed, curious.

Dean just ticked his jaw to the side as he tapped on the wooden door frame “To read every book I can find on curses, sleep spells and death omens. There’s got to be something Sammy”

With that Dean left your room, half jogging to the archive room to dig out what he could, to see what could help. He knew Sam would attack the library books so he’d start in the archive. Castiel and Sam were left a little stunned by Dean’s admission, considering he was the one that hated doing any kind of research. But this was research that could save your life and Dean would stop at nothing to save you.

Castiel frowned as he stepped to be by Sam’s side “I don’t understand, Dean hates researching”

“Yeah” Sam half laughed before his face fell, his lips in a tight line as he kicked the floor, his hands on his hips “…but he loves Y/N”

Down the hallway, in Dean’s bedroom, the snow globe sat on his bedside table. Nothing but a bedside lamp to the left of it illuminating the room. As the boys went about their business, each with a task to save you, a familiar blue hue illuminated the globe. It projected a cold tone in the dimly lit room and with a small spark of white light, a fracture had appeared on the glass of the globe. The boys hadn’t realised that the deep, dark cracks you wore on your skin, had affected more than just your body.

 You shivered as you made your way back to the cabin. You couldn’t remember which direction it was so you just turned in the opposite direction of the barrier and hoped for the best. The cold was starting to seep into your bones and with your new injury, you needed and wanted to keep warm. You were taking everything in as you walked, the trees, the snow and the sky. As you came to a clearing, the cabin clear in view, you turned your face up towards the stars. It was only then you noticed a strange yellowish hue shining down through the darkness. It was mild, barely noticeable but it was definitely there. Was the sun trying to rise? You couldn’t make sense of it.

As you stood there in the silence, staring into the sky, you tried your hardest to focus on your surroundings. There was no wildlife here, you hadn’t seen a single creature, not even a fly. That had you curious, what had driven the wildlife away? How were you going to survive with no food? With that thought, you headed inside the cabin, the old wooden planks creaking under your booted footsteps.

Closing the heavy door behind you, you looked around and started to study your surroundings. If you were trapped here, then you needed to learn everything you could about your prison. There had to be a clue somewhere which would tell you where you were and more importantly, how to escape. As stood at the entrance of the cabin, you noticed the kitchen to your left and a set of sofas and a fireplace to your right. It was open plan it seemed, the living room and kitchen combined. Shivering once again with the cold, you headed over to the cobblestoned fireplace and thanked your lucky starts that there was firewood available. It took you only a few tries but you managed to get a fire going to which you warmed your hands in front of it. You quickly grabbed at your left wrist again however, the pain getting too much.

You stood and glanced towards the two shut doors of the cabin, you needed warmer clothes or at least a duvet to keep you warm but first you were desperate to find some sort of pain relief. You scoured the kitchen cupboards but to your surprise, they were all bare or they wouldn’t open. The fridge had nothing inside it and panic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. How can you survive without any nutrients?

Wondering if there was a stock cupboard anywhere, you explored the rest of the cabin. Opening one door, you noticed a bathroom equipped with a freestanding bath which looked oddly inviting. Again you looked through the medicine cabinet to find it empty. You frowned, how can you be in a cabin which has absolutely nothing? Choosing to go through the last door you had yet to explore, you walked into the bedroom. You were astounded at what you found, it looked like a five star resort. There was a queen four poster bed, covered in throw pillows and fur blankets. To the left of your entrance, there was a window seat, looking out over the snow again adorned with fur blankets. It would be cosy if you came here of your own will.

Unfortunately, there was no storage cupboards or closets to be found and you ran your uninjured hand through your hair in frustration. So, you grabbed some of the fur blankets off the bed and headed back to the living room. You curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, wrapping the blankets around you as you wrecked your mind trying to think of a way out of here. You know it felt familiar, you were starting to feel like you’d seen this place before, you just couldn’t put your finger on it just yet.

 Sprawled out across the tables in the library, the boys were surrounded by old documents, text and books. They had pulled out everything that had anything to do with sleeping, curses, cracks and witches. However, eight hours in, the boys had only a few notes on what possibly could by the course. There was nothing solid, there was nothing exact and unbeknownst to them, they were missing a vital piece of information.

Dean grunted in frustration as he threw a freshly read book away from him “It’s been hours and nothing” He scowled, rubbing at his scruff “When’s Rowena getting here?” He questioned, short and sharp.

Sam opened and closed his palms over the book her had open in front of him “She said she was wrapping something up and she’d be here as quickly as she could” He encouraged.

“Yeah well it’s not quick enough” Dean chided as he popped a cap off a fresh beer.

“Dean, we’re doing all we can” Sam tried to reason, gesturing to all the books around him “We’ll find a way to save her” He affirmed.

Dean just shook his head, both hands encasing the beer bottle “Yeah and what if we don’t?” He questioned, voice laced with emotion.

Sam just stared at Dean, trying to contain his frown but his lips going into a thin line. He looked away from his big brother, knowing that he was right but it was something he didn’t want to think about.

Dean noted Sam’s reaction and just nodded as he thumbed the label of his bottle. He wanted to be positive, he was trying his hardest to be but knowing your stuck somewhere without him, crushed his soul. He heard Sam started to tap away at his laptop, following up something from the latest book he was looking at but Dean just shook his head. He needed a break and he needed to see you again. He needed to rescue you and he couldn’t do that from out here.

“I’m going for a lie down” Dean suddenly announced, the wooden chair dragging across the floor as he did so.

Dean made his way to the entrance of the corridor, bringing the neck of the bottle to his lips as he devoured its contents. He needed to sleep.

“Wait, Dean, have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?” Sam called after him, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes.

Dean just rose his eyebrows “That something to do with being high?” He asked, wearing a befuddled expression.

“What? No Dean it’s where you can control your dreams” Sam shook his head, confusion littering his features as he tried to work out how his Dean’s mind worked sometimes. He pulled his notes together and held them out to Dean “Just take a look at this, it’s gonna take some practice but if you apply these methods before you go to sleep, you may be able to hang in there a little longer”

Dean took the notes from Sam’s hand and nodded. He took note of the look of hope in Sam’s eyes and he appreciated his effort. He lay his empty beer bottle down next to Sam before slapping his brother on the shoulder in thanks. Taking the paper in both hands, he flipped through the notes, noticing there were more than a couple of pages “I’m gonna need another drink” Dean muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. He could always count on Sam to give him an essay instead of the few points of knowledge he needed.

Grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the kitchen, Dean made his way to his room, the notes underarm. Sitting down on his bed, he poured himself a fresh glass of whiskey before starting on the notes. For something that sounded ludicrous to him, the idea of lucid dreaming started to appear very interesting. Then again, he’d do anything and try anything, to spend more time with you. An hour later, Dean had gone through the document twice over. Some of it was enough to send him into a deep sleep itself but he had highlighted some of the methods it took to take control over his dreams.

Leaning back on his bed, he extended and retracted his arms quickly before loosening his shoulders and settling back on his pillow. Closing his eyes, he sighed “Ok…lucid dreaming” he muttered “Let’s do this”

You were cuddled up on the sofa, watching the embers of the fireplace dancing through the air. You tried so hard to concentrate on why this place felt familiar to you. You’d never been in a cabin in a snowy bio-me before. Not one like this anyway. Had you seen it online maybe or in a holiday brochure? You lent your head against your good hand, tapping your skull with your fingers. You’d been in some predicaments before but this was something off the scale.

Three loud knocks echoed through the house which startled you off the sofa. You started, wide eyed at the door before backing away as you sore the door handle wiggle. You noticed the fire poke at the side of the cobblestone fire place and held it with both hands, it was better than nothing. Holding it strongly in front of you, you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to burst through the door.

With a loud creak, the log door swung open and you stood in shock, your weapon dropping loosely from your hand to the side of you. You had to blink several times to ensure that this was real, and not another figment of your imagination.

“Y/N” He whispered, his voice husky.

There he stood, Dean Winchester. His dark jeans, his red and black flannel shirt, his dark shirt. The green eyes and the relieved smile. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination, he was your Dean and he was here, standing six feet in front of you.  

Neither of you wasted anymore time as you rushed towards each other, your hands tight around his middle, your face buried in his chest. Dean’s arms wrapped around you tight. One arm around your middle, the other entwining itself in your hair as he placed his head on yours. His heart was racing a million miles an hour. He smelt your perfume, he felt your skin through your clothes, that you were real.

Your hands came around to ball against his chest, fisting his shirt. He smelt like Dean. Whiskey, mints and gunpowder. You had never been so grateful to be in his arms and you squeezed your hands even tighter. Dean smiled through his relived tears that were threatening to fall as he moved his hands to either side of your face.

He gently pulled you from his chest as he held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your free falling tears. His green eyes bore into yours “I thought I’d lost you” He whispered as he held your gaze, your heart pounding against your chest, butterflies turning your stomach. You just shook your head, unable through emotion to speak. On that, Dean just pulled your forehead to his lips and placed a firm but gentle kiss. A kiss that lingered before he rested his forehead against yours.  

Dean was fighting against every feeling he had. He kept glancing down at your lips but he was telling himself that it was just the emotions of being reunited with you after thinking you had died. Softly, he changed his stance and pulled you back into his chest, resting the side of his face on the top of your head. He never wanted to let you go.

“Please tell me I’m not imagining this?” You whispered into his flannel, your hands still fisted in tight balls.

Dean frowned as he pulled back away from you so he could see your face “Imagining? No Y/N it’s really me”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in relief and slowly released yourself from Dean’s grasp so you could look up into his eyes “Thank god” You sighed, your eyes closing. You moved to pick up the blankets that had fallen to the floor when you rushed to Dean “I’m ready to get the hell out of here. Where ever here is. Where were you guys?” You questioned “Where’s Sam?”

Dean proceeded to move a step closer to you, holding a hand up in confusion at what you’ve just said “Wait do you not remember how you got here? Do you remember anything about what happened?”

You shuffled back a bit, your head slightly tilting at Dean’s question. You could see he was worried about your confession. Shaking your head, you brought your hand up to curl into your hair “Do I remember what happened?” You repeated “I remember travelling in the impala with you and Sam, we were going to the bar, and then I wake up here” You take note of Dean’s throat bobbing as he took in your explanation. He dropped his head to the floor to avoid your gaze as he ran both hands over his face.

You grew concerned, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of your stomach “Dean” You voiced softly “What happened to me?”

Dean looked back at me, tears shining in his mossy eyes “We-”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter” You interrupted, not wanting to hear what he had to say. You wanted to go home. You wanted to deal with it at home. “All that matters is that you’re here and I’m gonna go home, right?” You fussed, walking towards the window of the cabin.

“Y/N” Dean said softly, his one arm reaching for you.

You moved the curtains out the way and frowned “Wait…where’s the impala?” You questioned turning to Dean.

He grew more and more concerned as he was starting to realise you had no idea where you were “Y/N…I” He started, his heart breaking for you.

“How did you get here? Did Cas zap you?” You quizzed, your Y/E/C eyes boring into Deans. You didn’t like how he was looking at you. You didn’t like the look he was wearing on his face. He had tears threatening to fall, the laughter lines weren’t there and he was still reaching out for you.

Slowly, Dean made his way to you, encasing both of your hands in his “Sweetheart, I need you to sit down” He spoke softly, as he guided you to the couch.

As you sat down, your eyes brimmed with tears “What’s going on De?” You urged.

Looking down at your encased hands, Dean confessed “We don’t know where you are or how I’m even here”

You scoffed, your brow furrowing “That’s ridiculous”  

Dean’s eyes snapped back to yours. He had to make you believe “I know it sounds crazy but it’s true. I’m pretty sure I’m lucid dreaming right now and for some reason, my dreams are connected to you”

You deepened your frown as you pulled your hands from Dean’s, rolling your eyes “Very funny Winchester. I’m cold and I’m bored. I’ve been stuck here for half a day and I’m ready to call it quits”

Dean shook his head in disbelief “Half a day? Sweetheart, you’ve been gone nearly two days”

You snapped, standing up off the couch away from Dean “Jokes getting old Dean. Come on, I want to go home” You whined.

Dean just stared into your eyes as he gently reached for your hands “Y/N, I need you to listen to me” He said softly, his voice husky as he attempted to pull you back down on the couch “You are home. In the bunker. You’re just…”

“What?” Your stomach flipped at Dean’s tone. He wasn’t lying. This wasn’t a ruse.

Dean looked up from your hands, hating the response he was having to give.

 “Unresponsive”

A/N - So...there we go! Really starting to snowball now...hope you’re ready for the ride! What did you think?

Any feedback would mean the absolute world to me so if you have the time, i’ll love you forever!

Also if you want to come along for the ride let me know - TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Shatter Me Taglist:

@squirrel-moose-winchester , @witch-of-letters , @flamencodiva , @couldabeenamermaid  ,  @31shadesofbrown  , @jamielea81

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Tapes

The Mystery Shack was quiet, a rare treat for the hectic household. Waddles was enjoying the silence, glad to be back in his old home. He enjoyed the scratches behind the ear from Mr. Pines and the belly-rubs from Mrs. Pines and the couch in the living room back in Piedmont, but the pig felt comforted by the sounds and smells of the cabin in the woods of Gravity Falls. It was like being hugged by an old friend or a family member unseen for too long. While he slept in the old armchair, the only human in the house sat on the floor, watching the pig sleep.

Ford shook his head and chuckled under his breath, craning his neck to look at Mabel's pet. It was cloudy outside, like it might rain soon, but for now the weather was dry. Ford turned to face front again, facing the TV, as he sat on the carpet with a big box out in front of him. At the end of last summer, when trying to help Stan regain his lost memories, Ford had dug out some old home-movies of the twins going on adventures, building the Stan O' War, and battling ghost pirates. When it was time to depart for the sea, in the chaos of it all, the film reels Ford had kept hidden away over the years had been haphazardly shoved into a box that was then tucked by the TV. Reorganizing the movies seemed like a nice task to take part in with everyone else in the Shack gone.

Carefully as to not ruin the tapes, Ford laid out each reel on the carpet and started to read the labels. Some were neatly written in his mother's handwriting, while others were quickly jotted down in Stan's chicken scratches or in Ford's little cursive writing. Quests to find the Jersey Devil, adventures to discover Atlantis, and progress of their beloved boat all laid out on either side of the old scientist, and Ford held his cleft chin with a six-fingered hand when his eyes averted back to the cardboard box and discovered VCR tapes.

Ford began to read the labels. Well, all the labels there were, anyways. Some of the tapes were blank and intrigued Ford the most, and so to discover what they were and how to best organize the home-videos, he randomly selected a tape and slipped it in the VCR player. He turned on the screen and pressed play on the player. After a quick second of nothing but static, Ford smiled at seeing his grandnephew sitting at the desk in the attic-bedroom that separated the younger twins' beds.

"Welcome to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained." The boy said, taking advantage of the night as he sat in his orange t-shirt and grey shorts. "Today, Gravity Falls' Anomaly #13: The Modius Chicken Strip."

Ford made himself comfortable, his knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs, as he watched the twelve-year-old give a small investigation about said chicken strip. It seemed like the kind of thing Ford would've done at Dipper's age. His mind began to wander when the Dipper on screen said,

"Well, that concludes Gravity Falls' Anomaly #13: The Modius Chicken Strip." He pulled the strip out of the basket and munched on it happily. "It's infinitely delicious."

Suddenly, catching Ford's attention, some small creature sped by the camera, knocking it over and sending playing cards all over the floor.

"Whoa! Hey! What the…? Ah!" Ford watched as Dipper aimed the camera at his sleeping twin sister. "Mabel, did you see that? Wake up!"

"Never. Let me sleep forever." Mabel moaned as she turned her back on her brother, making Ford chuckle. Yup, she was definitely related to Stan.

"Some creature just jumped out of nowhere!" Dipper explained. "It's eating out leftover Summerween candy!"

That got Mabel's attention. "What?!"

"Look!"

Ford peered at the screen as Dipper turned the camera to where a small monster was nestled inside an old tire and eating the children's Summerween candy. The scientist's eyes widened with wonder and disgust as he saw a…

"Ew, it's like a… naked little man." Mabel said it best and Ford privately agreed with her, its sharp teeth, beady red eyes and lack of sanity making it apparent that it wasn't human. Ford honestly didn't know what it was. A rabid gnome? A gremlin?

"Okay, this is now Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained, #76… uh, That Thing." Dipper announced to the camera as he showed a title card to the one-man audience.

Ford edged himself closer to the screen as Mabel tried to get the monster to drop the basket of candy, but he only licked it creepily and the static appeared again, but was soon replaced with Dipper wearing some sort of makeshift armor out of stuffed animals and had clubs and a trash can for weapons.

"I'm gonna capture him for science." Dipper said boldly.

"And for candy!" Mabel added from behind the camera. Sweet Lord, how similar were Mabel and Dipper to Stan and Ford?

"Get this on tape in case I die or whatever."

Ford laughed and watched with a smile on his face as Dipper slowly crept up to That Thing and tried to trap it. Using a club to edge the candy closer, he waited until the monster grab the treat and Dipper just barely missed it with his little trap. That Thing climbed up the ceiling, the bucket of candy in his sharp teeth, and Mabel tried to hit it with a stuffed toy that only fell back on her as she yelled, "Die, mutant, die!" The creature ran out of the bedroom and the twins followed, the camera losing focus for a moment as the kids ran down the stairs. That Thing pounced on Dipper when they reached the living room and the video cut to the monster sitting on top of the fridge. Eventually they chased it back into the living room to then have it be distracted to the TV. Ford laughed at the irony, seeing how he was just as drawn to the TV screen now as the monster was to whatever movie he was watching.

The film cut away and made Ford laugh again to find the children sitting and eating candy as they watched the movie with the monster, to whom Soos confused for Stan. That was the end of the tape and it soon poked out of the player. Ford rewind the tape as he looked for a new one to watch. That same pride he had for his nephew when he read the boy's entries in Journal 3, when Dipper saved him from the spaceship, and when Dipper graduated middle school last month returned strongly in Ford's chest. The same could be said for Mabel, too. The logical part of Ford told him to only glance at the tapes so he could know how to organize them best, but his softer side told him to enjoy watching the tapes he didn't know existed until three minutes ago.

The second tape showed Dipper holding the camera as he stood in town. "Alright, ah… welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Today we investigate Gravity Falls' Anomaly #82: This Guy." Dipper panned the camera to a balding man with a mustache reading a newspaper and sipping coffee in a bowling alley. He looked like he was an employee on his break. "Sure he looks normal, but if he's so normal explain why he's always facing left."

The video cut away to many shots of the man always facing left, and Ford had to admit that his behavior was very abnormal. He held his chin in thought as the man was so inclined to run and walk backward to avoid being seen by his right side.

"Literally, I've been following him around for weeks, and I've never once seen the right side of his face. And neither has anyone else." Dipper explained. "But why? Mabel. Theories?"

The camera panned to Mabel as she pulled out a bunch of drawings of their theories and narrated through them. "Theory One: he's hiding an embarrassing sunburn. Theory Two: half-man, half-lizardman. And Theory Three (my person favorite): he's normal, and Dipper's just crazy!"

"That's not a theory! That doesn't count as a theory!"

Mabel and Ford both laughed and Dipper walked into the bowling alley, giving Mabel control of the camera as he managed to convince the poor guy that it wasn't on. Dipper tried to get the guy to show his right side by passing shoes and giving Dipper his fallen wallet, but in the end it looked like the boy was going to give up, until the man was about to pick out a bowling ball and Dipper shoved him by the shoulder, revealing the right side. Ford gasped as half of a robotic man was missing, revealing little green jelly-like creatures that committed suicide as soon as their cover was blown. The robot was disassembled, caught fire, and set off the sprinklers in the bowling alley.

"Well, that concludes anomaly #82!" Dipper said as he and his sister ran for their lives. "Uh, I think we might wanna burn this tape!"

Ford shook his head, seeing how the boy must have forgotten to, and he rewind it before selecting another tape. The old scientist had seen many things in his inter-dimensional travels and within the magnetism of Gravity Falls, but anomaly number eight-two might be best left alone. Regardless, he had no intention of burning the tape. Ford picked another tape at random and slipped it into the VCR player. He chuckled at seeing Dipper's abnormally-large head being crushed by his sister's fingers.

"Hello, I'm Dipper Pines. The girl trying to crush my head in Mabel."

"I'm helping!"

"Today on Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained - okay that, that's enough - today, we investigate Anomaly #23: Grunkle Stan's Secret Tattoo."

Ford's heart sunk uncomfortably as the camera panned to a board full of Stan's back and shoulder and ideas of what the hidden symbol could be. Clearly, Stan was very careful to not let anyone see it, and today the children were going to try to figure out why and what it was.

"What is he hiding? A college prank? Secret symbol? Or something stranger?" Dipper asked the camera. "Stan claims it doesn't exist, but today we're gonna find out."

Ford was deaf to Mabel trying to show what was under her bandage as he thought about the "tattoo". Stan's scar was a painful reminder of everything Ford had done to him, of all the things Ford did to his brother over the years, like refusing to thank him after saving him from the Nightmare Realm, letting him live on the streets for ten years, and erasing his mind. He had called Stan up to Gravity Falls, he had demanded Stan take the first journal and get as far away as possible, he had refused to let Stan destroy the book, and he had kicked Stan into the hot symbol, burning through his clothes, killing his flesh, and leaving him tagged like an animal.

Ford rewind the tape when he saw Dipper hiding on the roof from an angry uncle and picked up another tape to watch. He had just pulled out the tape with Stan's scar when the door opened and closed and Waddles perked up. Mabel came into view and the pig ran into her arms. She giggled at having her cheek licked and hugged her pet tightly.

"Hi, Waddles. Did you have a nice nap?" Mabel looked up and her smile grew. "Hey, Grunkle Ford! Whatcha doin'?"

"Hello, Mabel." Ford greeted as he carefully stacked the already-watched tapes and picked out a new one to watch. Hopefully the next one wouldn't shove his mistakes back in his face. "I'm organizing these videos."

"Oo!" Mabel said and put Waddles down, who retreated back to the armchair and curled up for a nap.

The brunette pulled put out a blue sweater-in-the-making, some yarn, and a pair of needles from behind the armchair and sat next to Ford on the floor. The old scientist smiled down at his grandniece and started the next video.

"Welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Anomaly #54: The Mailbox."

Mabel's eyes widened and she gasped, "You found Dipper's tapes! Hey, I remember when we found that mailbox."

"You do?" Ford asked as Dipper explained how the mailbox had no house or address.

Mabel nodded and scooted closer to Grunkle Ford as she knitted a sweater. Ford smiled, sat with his legs crossed, and had Mabel in his lap as they watched Soos slip a letter into the mailbox. Mabel looked up to see Ford's shocked expression when the tail of the mailbox lifted on it's own and a new letter was inside the mailbox. The thirteen-year-old girl laughed and continued to watch Dipper and Soos test the mailbox.

"What did I shave into my head this morning? 'A baby duck holding a paddle ball.' Dude! It knew!"

"What?!"

"Ask it more questions!"

"When is the end of the world? '3012'. Huh, we got awhile."

"Who's my dream-woman? Whoa! Hot tamales! Save that one for the archives…"

"What is the exact time and date of my death?"

"Did aliens built the pyramids?"

"Or… what is the meaning of life?"

"What are marshmallows made out of?"

"Or… who wrote Journal #3?!"

"Who wrote the journal?! WHO WROTE THE JOURNAL?!"

Ford's face suddenly felt hot as his nephew said, "We're finally gonna get the answer to the greatest mystery in Gravity Falls!"

Mabel laughed over the tape of her destroying the mailbox by trying to mail a video of her shoving gummy worms up her nose at remembering her twin's old obsession. "Oh, man! I almost forgot how crazy Dip-Dip was to find you! He spent half of last summer obsessing over who wrote the journal."

Ford smiled gently at remembering the excitement Dipper had when he first met his great-uncle. While Mabel had happily shaken his hand, claiming his extra finger made it more friendlier than normal, Dipper had nearly thrown up over discovering who the Author of the Journals was. Not only that, but the author was a family member - his long-lost Great Uncle Stanford - and would grow closer to him as time went on.

Ford rewinded the tape and looked down at Mabel pleasantly. "I can imagine it was thrilling to have such a big mystery solved."

Mabel nodded. "At first we thought it was Old Man McGucket, but then we found a memory that explain that he was your assistant. We kinda hit a roadblock after that, but I know Dipper never stopped thinking about it, even if he was dealing with Time Baby, an angry Love God, or a level-ten ghost." Mabel picked up a tape and said, "Let's watch this one next!"

Ford let her slip it into the machine since the episode about the mailbox was done resetting, and they watched an episode in which Dipper and Mabel tried to find The Hide Behind. Ford let out a soft "ah" when he recognized the page in Journal 3 that told of a "mysterious creature always just out of sight". First, Dipper did some interviews to confirm from locals if The Hide Behind was real or not.

"The Hide Behind?" Manly Dan asked and Ford smiled fondly at seeing who had once been a teenager and built his home was now a grown man with his own kids, three of which was cutting a tall tree down behind the lumberjack. "Oh, he's real alright, REAL AS MY BEARD!"

"I remember Boyish… I mean, Manly Dan." Ford told the girl in his lap. "He and his father built this house. Well, mostly he built the house. Dav Corduroy wasn't as young as he once was, but Dan was more than up to the task."

"Wendy's dad built the Shack?!" Mabel gasped.

"Yup." Ford chuckled.

"Dad…"

"It's comin' down!"

"DADDY'S DOING A MOVIE!"

Dan yelled without even looking behind him as a tree was falling and threatened to crash his house. "He's doing a movie now…"

Ford and Mabel both laughed as the tree fell on top of their house and then the video cut to an interview with Lazy Susan. A flash of lightning and then the sound of thunder occurred while the pair of Pines watched the home-video of Lazy Susan spinning and Grunkle Stan grunting that the people of Gravity Falls were literally the dumbest people in the world. Literally. And to prove a point, the video cut back to Lazy Susan pointlessly spinning on one spot.

By the time the video about The Hide Behind had ended, it was raining hard outside. The drops of water drummed on the roof and the thunder and lightning were distant enough that they were not afraid of a disaster occurring and could enjoy the sights and sounds of the summer storm. Ford and Mabel both awed at the dark figure that hid behind Dipper as he walked away. Ford's eyes were as wide as saucers and he grinned.

"Incredible! Dipper managed to get the Hide Behind on camera!"

"Wait until Dipping Sauce finds out!" Mabel said gleefully.

While Ford rewinded the tape, Mabel suddenly jumped up and ran off. Soon the sweet smell of popcorn wafted from the kitchen and into the living room, and Mabel soon came back with a big bowl of popcorn.

"What good is watching movies without snacks?" Mabel asked as she held up the bowl to her Grunkle Ford.

He smiled. "I agree, my dear. Thank you." He popped some pieces into his mouth and the teenager resumed her spot on his lap and continued to work on her blue sweater.

Ford inserted the tape just as the door opened and closed once more. Dipper walked in, wet from the trip home, and pulled his blue journal out of his vest to make sure it was dry. He sighed with relief to find that it was, looked at his family in the living room, and said, "Hey guys, what are you watching?"

The teenager's eyes widened when he saw himself appear on the screen.

"Welcome to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained. Anomaly #42: The Tooth."

"Oh, no!" Dipper panicked, his hands over his signature pinetree hat, the hat he had traded with Wendy when he left last summer and had gotten back when the twins arrived back in Gravity Falls. "No, no no!"

"C'mon, Dipper!" Mabel whined as the camera panned to giant tooth, scaled by Mabel.

The video then cut to Dipper playing the tuba. The boy groaned and held his face, covering his eyes, as Ford marveled at his grandnephew playing an instrument by the lake.

"You play the tuba?" Grunkle Ford observed and turned to find Dipper clearly uncomfortable. A bit confused as to what the boy was embarrassed about, Ford said, "Don't worry, Dipper. I can play the piano."

"You can?" Mabel awed as she watched the screen and saw her twin brother examine the giant tooth.

"Your great-grandmother taught me before Pa made Stanley and I take boxing lessons." Ford explained and cringed. He made himself promise to never refer to Ma as a great-grandmother again; it made him feel too old.

The video cut to Tate McGucket in his tackle-shop as Dipper and Mabel interviewed him. Dipper sat in the armchair with Waddles and petted the pig to give him something to do other than watch in humiliation.

Ford stared and pointed to the TV. "Wait, is that Fiddleford's son? Tater?"

Mabel nodded. Sweet Lord, the four-year-old boy was all grown up. A man now. Yes, Ford was well aware he had been gone for thirty years, but to see Dan and Tate had changed so much really showed how much time has passed. Then again, they weren't the only people to have changed. Pa was gone, Ma was now a great-grandmother, Shermie had grandchildren for crying out loud! Shermie's son, whom Ford had seen as a baby when he was in high-school, had children of his own. So much time had passed in the long years Ford had roamed the dimensions after the incident. He became so lost in his own thoughts that he almost didn't catch Mabel's response to his question.

"Yeah! He's a nice guy! Isn't he living with McGucket now?"

"That's what I heard." Dipper said from the armchair.

Ford nodded in agreement, having heard from his Fiddleford recently, and the old scientist tried to focus on the home-video.

"I'm here at the lake to investigate. I brought Mabel for backup."

"And I brought Bear-O, my adorable childhood puppet! Hey-Oh! Ain't that right, honey? 'Did somebody say "honey"?!' Haha!"

"Nope. Creepy. Bear-O's creepy. Everyone hates Bear-O."

"'But Dipper, who could hate Bear-O?'"

Mabel had asked in her Bear-O voice.

"I can think of a few people."

While the screen showed just how much people hated Bear-O, Mabel glanced up to see what her Grunkle Ford thought of her childhood puppet. She grinned, mistakenly taking his look of disgust for a look of delight, and said,

"Aw, see, Dipper?" The brunette said. "Grunkle Ford doesn't hate Bear-O!"

Dipper was too busy sitting in misery to argue as he watched the pair of twins paddling out onto the lake, thankfully without the creepy bear.

"Mabel, I have seen many disturbing things among my travels across the multiverse," Ford narrated. "Very little makes my skin crawl anymore, but somehow Bear-O has managed it."

"Thank you, Grunkle Ford!" Dipper sighed.

"Boo!" Mabel yelled as she resumed her knitting and watch as bubbles started to come up from the lake.

"Dipper, look!"

"They're over by that island!"

Ford leaned forward a little to see if his old theory of a giant head being disguised as an island was true. He had never taken the time to fully investigate, the idea coming to him in the midst of building the portal, but now he wondered if he was going to receive some answers thanks to his niece and nephew.

"We have to see what happens. What was that?" The camera glitched and something was rumbling. "Oh, no! What's happening?!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! ROW, ROW, ROW!"

Ford, Mabel and Dipper watched as the camera was sat in front of Dipper, facing him and the island, and watched as it emerged from the lake and yelled in a horrible voice; the island was in fact a giant floating head with a missing tooth.

"HOLY MOSES!" Ford yelled in shock.

"IT'S GETTING CLOSER! KEEP ROWING!" The camera glitched and soon the little audience saw Dipper looking for the camera. "I dunno. I've been looking for... there it is."He picked it up and explained, "Okay, after it attacked us, that giant head-thing just sunk back into the lake, and it lost another one of it's teeth trying to eat our boat! But the important thing is, we survived. Barely."

"Huh, yeah… 'Did somebody say "Bear-ly"?'"

Ford and Dipper both yelled in horror and Mabel scowled as she worked on her sweater angrily. Ford rewinded the tape and caught the sound of his nephew groaning in misery. He turned as much as he could with Mabel in his lap to find Dipper shielding his eyes as much as his hat could.

"Why did you have to look at those stupid tapes?" He groaned, embarrassed that his old idol had seen his amateur Guide to the Unexplained.

"Dipper, I thought you made those videos to show people the weird stuff or whatever." Mabel said as she worked. "Why are you getting so embarrassed over it?"

"I dunno, I just…" Dipper lifted his hat a little to uncover his eyes and he hugged his knees as he sat in the armchair with Waddles. "It's nothing but stupid aggression of an adolescent. I guess… I guess when I made them I never thought that one of the greatest investigators of anomalies would ever watch them."

Ford watched the teenager carefully and something dawned on him, something that nearly made him throw up. When Ford returned to his home dimension, he had his journals in his possession. He had opened Journal 3 and assumed that he'd skip a page or two from where he left off and resume documenting his research and findings in it, but he had found that his nephew had written and drawn on it. At the time, Ford was immensely angry about everything changing and needed to vent, so he passed off Dipper's recordings as pointless diary entries and spent all night spilling his aggravations onto the pages.

Dipper and Mabel only had the journal a handful of times after that. Ford had asked Mabel to record what she had discovered about unicorns and then Ford gave all three of the journals to Dipper to "look after them" while he hunted down the Mothman for some money he owed him, when in actuality Ford wanted to thank the boy for his loyalty and understanding by letting him look at his recordings, completely forgetting the harsh judgment he had indirectly delivered to Dipper by saying that being a twin was the only thing they had in common. If Dipper hadn't read Ford's rant then he most definitely did when the journal was restored and found just before summer ended.

Obviously, things were different than that first night Ford was home. Dipper and Ford had grown to be very close and the old scientist saw just how similar they were. It was a shame that Dipper never had a chance to read what Ford had written about his nephew before they threw the book into the Bottomless Pit. Ford had taken the time to read Dipper's last passage and wrote his own farewell, which contained something that Ford had mistakenly never taken the time to tell the young man. Ford had hoped that the old feeling of needing to earn his approval had died months ago, but clearly Dipper still felt the need to prove himself worthy to his hero. Ford was determined to make sure that Dipper knew that his fears were unfounded.

"Dipper," Ford said softly and the thirteen-year-old looked up at him. "I… I am flattered that you think so highly of me, but please understand that I hold you in the highest regard. You are far wiser at thirteen than I was at thirty and have a bright future ahead of you. And, for what it's worth, I'm very proud of you and your work, and I'm glad you recorded it so I could see it."

Dipper pressed his lips together and Ford was uncertain if he was trying to hold back a squeal or tears. He somewhat got his answers when Dipper wiped his stinging eyes with his arm and cleared his throat. "Th-Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

Ford gave him an encouraging smile and turned back to the VCR when it ejected the tape. "Unfortunately, this is the last one. Shame really, I've really enjoyed Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained."

"Let's make another one!" Mabel cried out and turned to Dipper. "What do you say, Dipper? What anomaly number should we work on?"

Dipper opened his journal and turned to the latest page. "I think I have just the oddity…"

"Hello! I'm Dipper Pines, here with one of the greatest investigators of anomalies of all time and achiever of twelve PhDs, Dr. Stanford Pines!"

"Thanks for the introduction, Dipper."

"Hey, how come I don't get one?!"

"Mabel, you're so spontaneous that you don't need one."

"I'll take that as a compliment!"

"Today we're here to investigate Anomaly #168: the Mothman. He owes Grunkle Ford some money and has been avoiding him ever since."

"But today we're gonna make that creepy bug pay him back! No one cheats a Pines!"

"You are definitely Stanley's niece."