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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 4 years ago

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Allotrope pt. 7 (FINALE)

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader Warnings: Smut. Angst, and then more angst. Authors Note: This is it, the final chapter of a story I am so completely humbled to have been able to write. This story means so much to me and has truly helped me grow as a person in so many ways. I hope that by the end of this, it has helped you, too, in some way. Junmyeon deserves the world and I wish I could thank him enough for being my muse. Thank you for reading. prev. Words: 15k.

Panic. Absolute panic is the only way your brain can comprehend the raw energy bouncing around in your gut. Feelings of elation and terror swirling inside the confines of your organs, their chemicals mixing to create something bubbling and new, growing rapidly inside of you so thick and uncomfortable you feel as though you may burst. With your arrival home, you slam the door too harshly, sliding down against the sturdy, cool weight of it and grasp your head in your hands. Head between your knees, your brain gently reminds you, a message in the form of a memory of Junmyeon the last time he said these words to you, present for the last attack. Saying ‘I love you’, no less from him, was the last thing you would expect to trigger one, but that was the irony of having panic attacks; sometimes you never know. You concentrate intently, calming your breath enough to listen for the sound of your watch, reliably ticking away there on your wrist. It is one reason you prefer to wear an analog one, other than your preferences for their history. Tck, tck, tck, tck, rhythmically you listen, breathing deeply over the span of three seconds, releasing carbon dioxide in the following three. Over and over until your heart is beating normally again. Softly, automatic and easily ignored within the safety of your ribs. Then, to clarify and accept, you admit the thought into the quiet space of your apartment. “I love you, Junmyeon.” Reflexively, your fingertips raise to shield your lips, hovering a centimeter away. Your heart beats a little faster with the admission but is easily pacified without much effort. A smile grows on your lips behind them, amusement consuming the panic and coloring your cheeks in a blush for only inanimate objects to see. It feels silly to look around your apartment, knowing there is no one to hear your confession. The following morning you can’t say you feel less terrified of it, your acceptance of the thoughts and ability to keep moving forward derailed somewhere as your mind raced into the future instead of sleeping. Conscious thoughts considered at first all of the possibilities as you had settled for sleep. Good things. Things like a confirmation of his feelings, a mirror of your own, and further ahead such as living together full time and eventually, hopefully a union of your love with matching golden bands on your fourth fingers, or a child you could only hope would have his cheeks and a head full of fluffy black hair. To growing older together and doing whatever pleased you so long as you were together. No doubt your brain decided, all of those beautiful moments were hopes planted without seeds, and you were stuck to watch a barren field grow nothing at all over time. Your fears and anxiety began to take them all away one by one, these hopes for the future you might never have at all, pulled backward through time like you were falling through a nightmare. Forced to see a life of fulfillment and love only to slip back through those times to relive the same life without any of the joy. You awoke this morning, barely able to call it waking at all, full of heartache. Your chest felt so heavy you even skipped your lecture and called out of work. Upon hearing of your absence Soohyun even offered to bring you something to help you feel better, assuming you were sick. No texts that required an answer came from Junmyeon, either. Only one bidding you to sleep well. When you ignored Soohyun’s text and the second day produced the same results from you, his persistence became annoying. You were perfectly malcontent there on your couch in the same pajamas you wore yesterday, and perhaps the day before, too. With hair unwashed, sagging in the bun atop your head and a three-hour old mug of half-drank black coffee in your hands. There on your couch you scrutinized every aspect of your life and felt nothing at all. Soohyun let himself in of course, as he always did when he felt it was necessary. You knew by the sound of the keys outside of the door and the weighty footfalls of his frame it was him. The one person you trusted to see every ugly facet of you because although he was extremely dear to you, he is not the one that makes you feel like his existence is your tether to the world, and therefore, not as scary to face. He says nothing at all. Uncomfortably in the silence, you listen to him close the door, toe off his shoes, and set something in a plastic grocery bag on the counter. He opens your refrigerator and pops the lid on something. You remain silent still, listening to the domesticity of him opening cupboards in your kitchen and the sound of noodles being stirred and plated. The sounds toy with your head, recalling memories of another man doing the same thing, but vivid imagery came with those memories. The sound of the plate gently clacking against the microwave platter and the door closing, buttons beeping and whirring. Stuck in your memory of him, you whip your head around, too enticing to see if it’s really your lover standing in your kitchen and looking back at you with a smile and his arms folded across the thickness of his warm chest. If this is all just a dream. The reality is half the same, the setting, but the way you do not find Junmyeon’s eyes or smile, but Soohyun’s face full of surprise but also worry rip the air from your lungs with a sob. You’re not even sure when you started crying, but the tears continue to blur your vision. “Oh, Y/N.” Soohyun’s cologne fills your senses as he crosses the room to you. He takes the cold coffee cup from your hand, wincing at the stiffness of your fingers as he plucks them gently from the handle, and wraps your wilted frame into his arms. He holds you like this, coaxing out the agony of your bleeding heart. Minutes pass like this, and after your sobbing has quieted to a sniffled dripping of crystal tears from your lashes, Soohyun sets you back onto the couch cushion, “Care to tell me what’s going on?” Your knees automatically rise to your chest and your arms find their way around the top of them. The rational part of you knows talking to Soohyun is what you should do, but it doesn’t make it any easier to persuade the chaotic petulance you feel. Your thoughts internalize, eyes fixated on the basket of blankets in the far corner of the living room, fingers rolling a stray thread from your pajamas around and around. “Y/N, try not to let your head get you all worked up. What’s going on?” your best friend urges, placing the weight of his large palm against your forearm. The action seems to ground you to reality. At least enough to make intentional, purposeful movements. Your eyes find his looking at you as they always do, with so much pure acceptance. “I love him. Really, Soohyun-“ you pause, brows knitting tightly for emphasis, “Like… I’m really in love with him.” The smile that he answers you with irritates you minutely, “Ah, I see. Well,” A pauses lapses between you until he thinks of what to ask, “What is it that’s scaring you about that?” It takes a full ten seconds before you answer, “A lot of things, but mostly because I don’t want to tell him and scare him off. I don’t think I could stomach chancing it just for him to know my feelings, Soo.” Your best friend draws a breath, nodding. Then he stares at you, “Okay. What else?” “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m being ridiculous?” you ask, peeking at him. He laughs a little, “In a minute, but I want to hear it all first. We can work on it all one piece at a time,” he reassures, batting your hand away gently when you take a half-hearted swat at his arm. “I don’t know what to do, Soohyun,” your throat bobs, constricting the words with anxiety as you admit it. More tears well at the edges of your eyes, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself. “I’m afraid, even if I tell him and even if he says he loves me back, I keep thinking for how long?” you voice, croaking the words. Another breath, “How long will I feel so happy and lucky but,” another breath, “how long can I take being suspended on a wire like that waiting to fall? It can’t last forever.” Soohyun coos, even though his expression is sheepish as if he hadn’t meant to slip, “Sorry.” “I just,” you sigh, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand, which Soohyun reaches to replace with tissues, “I feel like it’ll all go away someday. He will get tired of me or there will be some fight or something and I don’t want to hurt him or lose him. I keep having this nightmare that I’ll wake up one day at he won’t be there. That it’ll be like he never existed at all. “But you want to love him,” Soohyun confirms softly beside you, gently tugging until you’re sinking down to lean against his arm, no matter how gross your hair might be. “Yeah.” He hums briefly, considering, “Are you scared of being alone?” Truthfully, “Not really. It’s more like I’m afraid to start a life with him, because it’s so hard to go back to being alone if it doesn’t work out. To feeling that kind of heartbreak.” “What do you mean? Like permanently living together or sharing bank accounts and bills and stuff?” he asks. “Yeah. Like what if we bought a house together and then he decides ten years from now he doesn’t want to be with me anymore and then it’s too expensive for me to own a house alone so I’d have to sell it and find my own place again and it just gets really tangled. I can’t imagine being able to do anything other than just be heartbroken. How does a person move past someone like him?” Soohyun’s silent chuckle is given away by his bouncing chest, “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, but-“ You cut him off, “No, I’m thinking about the future.” He pokes you in the cheek, “Let me finish, please. What I was going to say, is that I think you’re most afraid of the emotional damage that would cause you. I also think you need to look at this from your own perspective.” Raising your head, your confusion is evident after his last statement. “I mean,” he begins, “You’re saying this but what if it isn’t Junmyeon who isn’t happy ten years from now? Have you ever shared a life with someone like that? How do you know if you will be happy or not? And I’m not just talking about a house or bank accounts, Y/N.” Soohyun squeezes your frame as if to emphasize his point, “I’m talking about personally. Are you going to be okay sharing every aspect of yourself with someone else? If you want him to be that future with you, he will be closer to you than anyone has ever been. He will be the one who knows your deepest and darkest moments. Have you two even talked about all of those important things? What plans do you each have for your lives? Marriage, kids, politics, things like that.” Both of you pause and Soohyun sighs, “What if you don’t want to be together anymore at some point. How will you handle that? Do you think you’ll stay and be miserable with him if you wanted out?” “That’s impossible,” you correct. “Anything is possible, Y/N,” he says quietly. Shaking your head, you ignore him and lift your head from him with a face full of resolute determination, “I am telling you, that won’t happen.” Saying the words aloud, they feel right and sure as they form on your tongue. “Okay. Just saying, you never know.” It doesn’t help. He feels you stiffen at the thought, “But I also think he will be the one who has nothing but acceptance and support for anything you may need. He will be the one you lean on and cling to for the rest of your life.” Now that thought is something that blooms warmth in your chest and more tears to your eyes, but in a good way this time. You have already experienced that with him. Every obstacle you thought might scare him away he has done nothing but been patient and supportive of you. However, there’s a slight unease with the phrase ‘for the rest of your life’ that tinges the edge of the sweetness with fear. “Yeah, well,” you comment through the bashfulness, swallowing the anxiety that wants to raise your voice. He laughs, “You can’t argue with me!” The dull thud of your fist lightly thumping him on the chest brings you back to square one, unable to quell your worries for long, “But truly, Soohyun, honestly what if he doesn’t love me the way I love him? What if he doesn’t love me enough? I’m not worried about how much I love him.” you sit up suddenly, eyes wide and hands flurried, “I mean, look at him. He’s a celebrity, and a gentleman and too go-“ Soohyun’s hand clamps over your mouth immediately, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Stop thinking it in your head, too. Let me tell you something in case you have forgotten,” He stares at you pointedly to be sure you’ll keep quiet as he slowly removes his hand, “He may be a celebrity but do you remember what happened in those first few times you met with him?” “A lot of sex,” you comment dryly, and he smiles. “Well sure, but I remember you telling me so much about not the celebrity but the man with so much love and comfort for others and nothing but bleak loneliness and sadness for himself. About how easily you saw through him and how he told you he struggled with anxiety and his own self-worth. And,” he pauses for emphasis, “How you were there for him every time since you began this relationship. How you have helped him ease his own fears and doubts. Y/N, he needs you, too. More than you think. I think you see through him so easily that you sometimes dismiss his own feelings, even if you don’t mean to.” It helps. A lot more than you’re willing to accept right now while the anxiety still has hooks deep into you, “Thank you.” Soohyun smiles at you, “I think you just need to give it some time. Just because you realize you love him,” he makes explosive gestures with his hands, “Like really love him, doesn’t mean you have to go straight into making plans for rings and a mortgage and babies. Take your time, take it slow.” “Take it slow.” You repeat after him, nodding, lips in a pensive straight line. _____________________________________________ The following morning you wake feeling refreshed physically. Soohyun made sure you showered and that you slurped down a bowl of japchae and a few pieces of kimbap while he started a load of laundry for you. He made you clip your nails while he made you some tea and painted your toenails for you while you binged a new episode of your favorite show. He even made you take a nap, tossing your weighted blanket over your frame and leaving you to a peaceful slumber, locking the door behind him as he left. You’re a bit alarmed that you slept all afternoon, evening, and night. Checking your phone, you realize nearly 15 hours had passed. 05:17a, your phone reads, forcing you to hiss at the harsh light when you turn it over to check the time. You don’t have work until 10, but decide you can’t sleep any longer. Two unread text messages are awaiting you when you open the app. One from Soohyun wishing you a good night and to please call him if you need anything. The second is from Junmyeon, wishing you to sleep well and that he heard from Soohyun not to bother you because you’ve had a rough couple of days. He is worried that you’re so exhausted. Chewing your lip, you send Soohyun a simple thanks, and decide to see if Junmyeon is free to come over and see you later. You don’t want him to worry too much, and if you’re being honest with yourself, even through the anxiety, you still want to hold him and be near him. His response comes while you’re at work, just having woken up you assume. He tells you if he can finish recording before midnight he will come over, but stresses that he doesn’t want to keep you awake. During a quick break, you take a moment to assure him you’ve slept enough and will be wide awake. You don’t forget to add that you would really like to see him. Work goes by in an easy blur. You splurge on a fancy coffee and an extra shot of espresso to keep you awake on your way to the subway station. There is plenty of time to do some cleaning, make a meal and get a long hot shower. You even have time to wrap up an assignment for your worst class, feeling sour but proud that all of the time you spent unable to sleep, you managed to at least get ahead in a class that was otherwise the bane of your existence. When eleven thirty rolls around and you haven’t heard from him, you believe he isn’t coming. A very tiny but loud part of your brain says that’s fine and that you were afraid anyway. The bigger, softer and sensitive part of you misses him to such a degree that you sit on the couch wearing one of his hoodies, leaning on your palm and fighting off sleep with only the light of the table lamp beside you for company. You wake to the sound of the door clicking shut. Blearily, you squeeze your eyes shut at the harsh light from the lamp as you hear someone behind you. With a stiff neck, you turn and crack one eye open to see your favorite person trying his best to stay quiet. He smiles at you when he notices you’re awake, approaching you as he rounds the couch, draping his palm gently over your hair. “Hey,” he coos quietly, voice tinged with affection. Without much thought, you open your arms to reach for him, and he bends down to you. Still sleepy, it takes your mind a moment to realize he has lifted you into his arms as you pass the bathroom door. Your body melts into his familiar body with your arms around his shoulders. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you inhale the faint scent of his cologne, still fragrant enough from this morning. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. “I missed you too, sweetheart.” He murmurs into your hair. He feels you take a deep breath against him, chuckling at the sigh of content that follows. Slowly, he deposits you among your unmade bed linens and pecks your forehead with his lips. A sound of protest rumbles in your chest, your lower lip falling outward in a pout. “Let me shower and I’ll come to bed,” he says, stripping himself of his sweater and tossing it into your clothes hamper beside the door. You hum with acquiescence, “What time is it?” Quietly, through your sleep-laden eyes, you watch him with a soft fondness that settles in your chest. Junmyeon sits at the foot of the bed briefly to peel off his socks and slacks, “Three twenty, sorry I’m so late.” Twisting himself just enough to reach, he kisses your lips. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to see you.” He looks at you for a moment with a lopsided grin and thankful eyes. His hand settles over yours in your lap, rubbing his thumb over your skin. Then, his warmth is gone. Your eyes drift shut again while you wait for him. You’re not sure what kind of sleep spell you are under when he finally crawls into your bed with you, but your body automatically seeks his warmth, asleep but with consciousness floating at the edges. Your boyfriend sighs, wrapping you in his arms and placing his lips in your hair. Snuggling closer, you let your arm fall over his ribs, settling your face into his naked chest. You mumble again, tongue loose in your spellbound stupor. When your brain finally makes sense of your words, you freeze, bolting upright as if cold water had been doused down your spine. Junmyeon groans beside you, already half asleep, “What’s wrong?” “I-“ you begin, covering your mouth with both hands and staring at him. Heat floods your cheeks, worry turns your bones to steel, “What did I just say?” He peeks at you with one eye, lips set in a confused line, “What?” He tries to pull you back down to him by the sleeve of the hoodie. You watch him for a moment longer, realizing he didn’t seem to hear you, “You didn’t hear me?” His slight annoyance at your outburst seems appropriate evidence that he did not in fact hear you at all. “Was I supposed to? I didn’t hear you say anything,” he confirms. “No,” you shake your head immediately, running your hand through your hair with a deep breath to calm your beating heart. “Will you lay down then? I just want to hold you and go to sleep, please.” His request is simple enough. You do as he asks, but it doesn’t stop you from lying awake for what seemed like the rest of the night. Finally, you fall into unconsciousness somewhere around the time the sun begins to open its eyes, easing into slumber as shapes outside your window begin to take form. You dream of Junmyeon. You dream of his hands and his voice and the relentless overwhelming feeling of good he gives you. You dream of his lips on your neck and his fingers blazing a fire under your hoodie, crawling up and up and up until his palm gently takes the globe of your breast in his hand and he moans. Dropping your lips open with a sigh, you can feel your pulse in your core. Your hips seem to roll back of their own accord, body singing without conscious effort in your sleep. “Fuck, I want to get woken up like this every day,” Junmyeon groans. Confused, you will your body to pause, and snap your eyes open. Oh. Whatever dreams you were having must have manifested physically, grinding yourself into your boyfriend to satiate the need. You turn your head just slightly, smiling into a kiss your lover steals the moment the opportunity presents itself. His palm has not forgotten where it lays, giving another squeeze and a soft pass of his fingers over your bud. It pulls a moan from your lips, bowing your spine to push your ass harder against his aching erection where it presses between your cheeks. The delicious friction makes you squeeze your thighs together, further surprising you when you realize how slick you are. “Good morning,” he coos with amusement. You have no time for words- you need him badly, and you need him now. It appears he doesn’t know how wet you are yet, so you show him. His brows furrow in concern briefly as you remove his hand from your chest beneath the hoodie. The expression morphs into a grin when he realizes what you’re doing while you drag his hand down into your panties. You watch, open-mouthed in anticipation when his face mirrors surprise at the first easy slide of his fingers through your soaked folds. “Holy shit,” he whispers, biting at his lip when he sinks two into your heat without any warning. He gives you one deep pump and you absolutely keen, feeling like you’ll burst. “Junmyeon, please,” you beg, falling onto your back the moment he hears your plea, sitting up to find a proper position. He shifts onto his knees quickly and removes his hand from your core. When he lifts his fingers and pulls them apart, you both groan at the thread of your arousal that stretches between them in the sunlight. Flexing your hips at the loss of contact, your lover pulls his attention back to you, working quickly to pull your hips up onto his thighs. He pulls your leggings down alone, just so he can marvel at the state of your panties. Embarrassment floods your cheeks and you push the hem of the black hoodie down in an attempt to cover yourself. With what you would call a soft display of possession, Junmyeon makes a sound of warning in his throat, gently pushing your hands away as he confesses, “You have no idea how hot this is.” “It’s embarrassing,” you whimper back to him. Your body feels hot, too hot. You’ve seldom been this turned on in your life, to the point of tear-inducing hysteria if you don’t find release soon. He smiles at you, his eyes tearing away from the sight of your mess to look directly at you. “I promise you this is nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re amazing, look at how wet you are.” Junmyeon can’t help himself while he talks, eyes drifting back to your cunt and two fingers petting down your folds over your underwear. “Don’t need to see it…” you whisper, throwing your arm over your eyes. He hums, “You’re right. I’m sure you can feel how messy you are.” The two fingers he used earlier find their way beneath the material, pushing it aside to fill you again. “How does it feel, sweetheart?” he asks when you cry out. “I feel like I’m going to burst,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still, meeting his fingers for every deep thrust. Your statement peaks some interest in your boyfriend. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and his thrusts become slower, almost exploratory as he pets them against your walls. The palm of his other hand lays just above your pubic bone, resting the weight of his hand there, but you barely notice. Being filled by something has you reeling in bliss. A second later, he must find what he’s looking for. His digits set an unexpected pace, spearing you in a delicious tempo. You feel so good, “So fucking good, oh my god Junmyeon, yes!” He’s hitting some spot inside of you that spins that coil in you tighter and tighter until you’re right at the edge. Then his fingers are gone, but you’re screaming. Your eyes open and Junmyeon groans in awe at the fluid that has suddenly ruptured from you. Just briefly, but even in your pleasure, embarrassment is stronger. You clamp your legs together tightly, whimpering at the electricity that fizzles in every nerve of your body. “I’m sorry, that was-“ you begin, cut short by the feel of Junmyeon’s lips on yours and his tongue begging for entrance immediately. He's leaning over you now, fingers deftly yanking your panties down and off. You moan into his mouth when you feel the burning length of his cock lay against your dripping core. His lips leave yours just enough to speak, “Never be sorry. I’m happy I could make you squirt.” You smack him in the back, “Shut up!” you complain, still embarrassed. “You are incredible,” he reminds you, hands full of his hips while he pulls his own back precisely enough to tip himself at the perfect angle. You’re well practiced now with each other, able to satisfy efficiently with little to no error. You’re comfortable to give and take from each other without need for conversation, like now. Junmyeon doesn’t ask if you need him to fill you- he knows. He doesn’t ask how you want it and you don’t ask him if this is okay for him. It’s written plainly between you in the blood heating your faces, the sounds spilling between your sweating bodies, the eager yet affectionate way you’re holding onto parts of each other. It's clear in the way you let yourself relax back into the mattress with eyes closed and blissed out. In the way he leans protectively over your body with his own, needing to be closer and closer still when he laces his fingers into yours with both hands. In the way your panting moans grow in octave as your orgasm approaches and roars through you as you pull your hands away only to pull him down, flush atop you while you ride it out. It is clear in the way he, too, seems to melt into your frame, even as he tenses and moans salaciously against the column of your throat when his peak follows. Neither of you say anything for a long moment, catching your breaths together in post coital bliss. You break the moment, feeling sticky and needing to get the bedding in the washing machine as soon as possible. Junmyeon whines the entire time, refusing to get off of you until you nearly roll him off of the bed completely. Grumbling cutely, he helps you strip the bed and takes the wad of linens from you with a kiss. He finds you in the bathroom when he’s finished, stripped and waiting for the showerhead’s water to turn warm. You invite him in with you, washing in content. You don’t speak, but your actions are loud. Loving, in these small moments of care for each other. When you’re finished and dressed and the coffee pot is started, Junmyeon collects your favorite mugs from the shelf and opens your medication, delivering one small pill to your palm with a kiss to your forehead. The affection of it squeezes your heart and drifts a smile across your face at the progress of such an event. Months back, him even knowing these pills existed within your life caused you extreme anxiety. You watch, reminiscing with a small smile, as he pours your coffee first, always the gentleman, before his own. He trails you back to the bedroom in silent happiness, where coffee mugs are placed on bedside tables and new bedding is waiting to be put on. Junmyeon helps you remake the bed, pulling you down into the soft thickness of the comforter when you’re finished. He forces you into his arms against your fake, feeble protesting, humming his comfort once you finally give up and settle into his warmth. Movement beyond the sheer curtain covering the windows catches your attention. “I think it’s snowing,” you murmur, lifting your chin to look at Junmyeon. Your boyfriend turns his head, exposing the expanse of his neck to you, calling you to place a gentle token of affection there with the pink of your lips. He smiles when he feels your lips against him, but lets you out of his grip to rise from the bed. He picks up his coffee and goes to the window. You join him, curious if you had been right as he moves the curtain with the back of his free hand. Surely enough, there are soft, chilled tufts of snow drifting by quietly, down to the street below. You watch, smile broadening at the pretty sight. Junmyeon seems to have gone still and quiet, and you turn to look at him with the feeling of his eyes on you. As if broken from a spell, he blinks at you, cheeks flooding with a delicate pink. He busys himself taking a swig of his coffee and leaning over to place his mug on the dresser beside the window. “You okay?” you ask, smiling at him with a gentle laugh. Your hand rises to his arm where it still has the curtain raised, and you hear him audibly sigh. “Y/N,” he whispers, swapping his arms so he can tug you against him. Wrapping your arms around his middle, you accept his needy invitation for cuddling with your face buried in the fabric of the sweatshirt he wears. You’re content, serotonin hydrating your heart with the sound of your name on his lips. Turning your head, you let it rest against his chest, hearing his heart beat and watching the snow drift from the top to the bottom of your window. “I love you,” Junmyeon says quietly. You realize suddenly how fast his heart is beating in his chest, and you’re frozen in a moment of time. When you lift your head, agonizingly slow, he meets your eyes with a mix of emotions. Some apprehension, curiosity, fear, affection and devotion- all flitting across the galaxy of his dark eyes in a myriad of microseconds. You feel lightheaded, remembering to breathe. It takes several seconds to swallow and gather the strength to speak. “No, you don’t.” His brows shove together and the stars in his eyes die a little, confused, “Yes, I do.” Shaking your head, you break away from his grasp, standing back to look at him. You want nothing more than to run back into his arms and let his words be true. You want to let yourself believe it is that easy. But you have to protect yourself, you need to have time, “You don’t mean that,” you say with more conviction, refusing to meet his pleading expression. Then, he steels his spine, feet planted firmly to the floor, and he sighs in frustration, “Y/N. I. Love. You. It doesn’t mean you have to say it back right now, or at all, or that we have to do something about it. It just felt right to let you know.” You lower your head and close your eyes as if that will help to do something, although you don’t know what. To stop the thoughts racing in your head or the pounding ache of your heart or the tears welling in your eyes or the fear turning your gut sour. To block out the truth of his words or to just let go. “I just,“ you try, exhaling deeply, “I think you should leave. I need to think.” Junmyeon frowns. Of course he is sad, but he does what you ask. His feet move quietly toward the door and you hear him don his shoes and shut the door behind him. He does not slam it, and you almost wish he did. It would make your guilt so much easier if he yelled at you or slammed the door. It would make the echo of his words, said with such blinding genuine care, feel a lot less like a wish whispered down a hollow well. Later that evening, you’re drunk. Drunk and sad, stumbling around in the snow in the park outside of your apartment building. You deliberately walk through a stick drawing of a heart and two initials, feeling rotten and lost and impulsive. Your feet carry you to a messier scene. More snow, divided by a plow, sprayed with dirty water from shoes and cars at the edges of the street in ugly clumps that look the way your heart feels. Annoyance settles over your frown. Your hands are toasty inside of your coat pockets but you have to keep removing one or the other to wipe at your chilled nose. You keep walking, and eventually pass a storefront with industrial steel and wood. It’s the sushi restaurant you went to with Junmyeon back in the spring. Looking up from your parade of snow-kicking, you see one of your favorite parks, with tall iron lamps glowing with their halogen bulbs. The light casts shadows across the small snow drifts, as if painted black with patterns of bare tree branches. Walking closer, a serene calm possesses your weary bones, calling you to take a seat on one of the benches- a small smile tugging your lips at the sound of the snow crunching under your weight. For the hell of it, you twist slightly, snuggling back into the lofty chill of it. The flakes fall slowly around you, still watching the shadows dancing across the untouched white. There’s something soothing in the blanket of silence around you- even in the middle of the city. A stolen moment like this at- you check your phone- three forty in the morning. You let your mind wander, until another presence interferes with your thoughts, unwelcome. Steeling yourself to tell someone off, your head turns slightly to the left to see a tall, skinny man standing under the next lamp with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. Then, he stoops down and collects a handful of snow, packs it into a tight ball, and immediately hurls it at you with half-hearted effort. “Ow, what the fuck?” you groan aloud, flinching away to shield yourself as he does it a second time, stepping closer. He sighs, “Don’t even act like that hurt. I could’ve thrown it harder.” You know this voice, watching for confirmation as he shakes the icy snow from his bare hands and pats them on his jeans. The sharp jawline of none other than Oh Sehun cuts through the shadow, and he is wearing a frown when you finally see his face. He simply stares at you for a long moment before he gives up and his frown deepens, “Fuck it.” In jeans probably more expensive than what you make in an average shift, he sits down on the snow covered bench beside you, hissing at the cold and wet feeling that surely seeps into his skin. You say nothing in reply, still enjoying the tingling buzz of alcohol in your veins, and the bite of chill at the tip of your nose. It’s another five or ten minutes before Sehun pipes up, “Care to tell me how you’re feeling right now?” When you face him, he’s watching you with a mix of apprehension and tenderness. “I’m feeling a lot of things,” you say, sniffling. You elaborate with a kick of your feet through the fluff of snow on the ground, “I’m worried, and scared and happy and disbelieving, to name a few.” Sehun hums, narrowing his eyes and squaring his jaw, “Do you feel inferior or unworthy? Do you not see how much he loves you?” Your mouth twists thoughtfully, “I feel like someday I will stop being enough. Someday I will stop being what he needs and loves. It’s happened before, and Sehun I’m-“ you choke, swallowing around the lump, “I’m so irrevocably in love with him that I am terrified of what that moment will feel like.” “What if that moment never comes?” He watches your face without judgement, and you appreciate him all the more for it. Clearing your throat, “How can I know it never will? I just need time to work up the courage.” He nods, “That’s fair, I suppose. As long as you know he is so disgustingly in deep with you.” His mock discomforted teasing pulls a quiet smile from you, and with it, a yawn. “Come on, let’s get you home. He wanted to come find you himself, but I didn’t think you’d want to be overwhelmed right now.” He pushes against your shoulder, urging you up, “I’m freezing my ass off out here.” “Did you track my phone?” you wonder, complying as he takes your shoulders and dusts the snow from your coat with his hands. He nods, “Come on, I brought the car. Should still be pretty warm.” _______________________________________ The following two days go by in a blur, and the uncertainty you feel ebbs away from your bones wearily, too exhausted to hang on. You go about your routine, you have to in order to stay afloat. You wake, go to class, go to work, shower, maybe do some homework, and then fall into a barely stable state of unconsciousness for a few hours before you’re up to do it all over again. In the back of your busy mind, you wonder, almost without feeling, if this is the moment. If now is the time, so soon, that Junmyeon has decided he is bored or you’re not worth this kind of trouble. You chew your lip instead of the end of your pencil, letting it tap against your cheek repeatedly. What if he is heartbroken by your refusal to accept his confession in the moment because fear made you yank up your walls just as he said the words? What if he has decided to pull his own walls up higher than you’re able to reach. What if this is the end? What if this is just the beginning? What if what if what if, the phrase parades around your thoughts like a vicious merry-go-round. You hate it. On the table, facing down to not be a distraction, your phone buzzes gently. Luckily, the sound it creates on the wood surface doesn’t disturb the other library patrons attempting to study. Stretching your back and twisting your tired neck, you pull your coffee closer, taking a sip and reeling at the warmth of it in one hand while you check the notification with the other. It's your security camera app. A clip of video featuring one fluffy-haired Junmyeon entering your apartment with his key and dropping off a manilla envelope. He lingers briefly beside the kitchen counter, fingers playing with the string of the envelope before he lays it down gingerly. Something seems odd, as if he doesn’t want to leave. After a few seconds, he looks up to the camera, possibly as if he knows you’re watching, gives a tight-lipped smile, and leaves. It leaves a strange feeling in your gut, normally he texts you when he is dropping something off to you. Perhaps now, since the camera was his idea, he doesn’t need to. You’ll see it from your phone. You release your lip from your teeth, soothing your tongue over the deep indentations of your teeth. Looking around, the library suddenly feels like an empty cathedral instead of a cozy place of coffee and books. It is the middle of December. Not many students linger this late in the afternoon so close to the holidays. With a sigh, you accept that your spell of focus and studying is over. Dogearing the page, you pack your bag and head out into the wind and setting sun. You don’t have work this evening, but a bath and a glass of wine to yourself sound like the perfect combination to hope for a restful night’s sleep. Entering your apartment, you eye the envelope on the counter, right where your boyfriend left it. Part of you wants to open it immediately and sate your curiosity. Part of you is apprehensive. There is a weighted feeling of importance coming from such a mysterious package. Perhaps after your bath and wine, you’ll have a second glass at the counter while you open it. Perhaps the first glass will calm you and give you enough courage to face whatever is inside. Decidedly, you do just that. Your phone even coos your favorite instrumental playlist from the counter in the bathroom, deliberately out of your reach. The gentle notes of the piano relax you into the warm suds, breathing deeply while you swallow, cheeks full of a simple white zinfandel. The weight of the chilled goblet in your palm feels just as comforting as the cozy swirls of lavender around your nakedness. Wrapped up in your favorite pajamas and wine refilled, you hold your breath when you reach for the package, swiping it from the counter to open from the comfort of the couch. You set the wine glass on the coffee table with extra care, keying up your anticipation. Peering inside the envelope, a handful of smaller envelopes peer up at you from inside. Odd, you muse, curiously letting them slide from the manilla onto the coffee table. There are six pieces, each labeled with a number, otherwise appearing identical. You take the first in your hands, and open it after another sip of wine. Immediately, you’re met with the familiar sight of Junmyeon’s handwriting. Letters, your mind answers for you. These are all letters. Reading the addressee line, more specifically these are letters he has written to you. ‘Ah… where to begin,’ the first sentence reads. ‘Would you know what I mean if I talked about that feeling you have when you are in someone’s presence and it feels right? Except perhaps a little more? Knowing that in time, you will feel complete while with that someone, but it’s not right away? That feeling of looking forward to building a completeness in your life with that person. That feeling. I met someone last night who gave me that feeling. That feeling that I immediately knew I would be whole with her someday. At first, it was scary. Altogether so vexing and complex I couldn’t do anything other than feel totally stunned every time she came close. I felt terrible for my behavior in those first few minutes. The weight of the passage of time pressed against my ribcage the longer we sat at the table, the less of an unknown length to be spent in her presence was so jarring to me it took all of my resolve to pull it together and start a conversation with her. I’m not usually one who believes in the phrase ‘meant to be’, but I absolutely could not shake the feeling of this woman and the few simple words we shared. I liked everything about her. Beyond the physical, too. The expressions that passed over her face. The fire of her personality and the air of dignity and resolute calm that seemed to carve a home in her bones as she worked. Everything I could assess about her as a person from my seat at the table, I couldn’t look away. She seemed to understand there was some sort of cosmic interference between us. All of the moments where I knew for a fact she wasn’t watching me, the depth of her eyes would catch me in the act of watching her work. They would settle on me, and sometimes I would be overcome with the weightlessness of space, or what I imagine it would feel like. Vast and unending, and at peace. We played a sort of game when I realized, with a great complexity of emotion, she knew who I was. It was more than just my name, and that was not something I had anticipated. The way she spoke to me and looked at me, as if by no great feat, I were just myself. Nothing more, nothing less. Not an idol, but a person. I briefly wondered if I knew her from childhood, but could not gather any substantial evidence in my memory. I did something that I’ve never done in my lifetime. Of my own volition, even. The thought of separating from her without knowing if I would ever see her again was something that I couldn’t accept. As if burned or suffocating. The feeling that causes you to move without thinking to escape discomfort. I invited her to the hotel we were staying in while our dorms were being moved. Normally, I might consider that a ridiculous notion, one I didn’t think I would ever hold myself to entertain while in this industry. And yet… regardless of our intentions if the answer were yes, I needed to know if there was a mutual itch to scratch, only sated by one another. Even without the recollection of her presence still so fresh in my mind, my skin, my bones, I think I could remember with perfect clarity how much she was able to move me. To feel as if I could move mountains with my bare hands as long as she kept looking at me. It's terrifying, and elating. She fell asleep easily, tucked adorably against my side. I hardly slept, too wound up with thoughts racing across the sky in my mind, seeking constellations to tell stories foretold about she and I. Hoping for more minutes with her. Hoping that minutes would turn into hours, to days, to years… To a lifetime. I fell asleep, my mind too exhausted to continue coherent thought. When I woke, she was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t be sure why. Whether it be her own schedule or that we hadn’t detailed what exactly our coupling was supposed to be. All I know was what I am feeling. Sadness, disappointment, even slight shame. Not that what we had done was wrong, but that I couldn’t hold on hard enough to keep her here. I have no way of contacting her, and without knowing her thoughts, I refuse to be the kind of man who shows up where she works. Perhaps she doesn’t want to see me again. I will go about my routines, wondering whether or not I’d hurt her, whether or not she felt regret. I will spend however long it takes, wondering if I might ever see her again, and feeling a hollowness in my chest I hadn’t know was there all along before I felt her filling that void so perfectly.’ You don’t realize at first that you’re crying by the end of the letter. Tears quietly slip from your eyes, and your hands tremble just enough to make the paper move noticeably, the bottom of it smattered with a few wet drops. Clutching the page to your chest, you let your head roll back and your lungs inhale a deep breath. Your heart hurts for him, nearly a year ago as these words he has written make themselves known to you. His thoughts and feelings that first night you met last December. You ignore the question of why he wrote these letters but know exactly the reason why he has given them to you. It feels too easy, too surreal that he knew someday you would question, and he kept these as an investment. Proof of his truth. Pain aches bitterly in your chest at how you pushed him out a few days ago. At how deeply and complexly he knew right from the start how much you mean to him. You empty your wine glass in a series of greedy swallows, needing your empty goblet as an excuse to stand up and breathe for a moment. Wiping your eyes, you have an idea and know just where to put these letters. From the top shelf of your closet, you pull down a small box, running your palm over the black leather with a smile as you place it on the coffee table. You move to the kitchen, returning to the couch seconds later with the half-empty wine bottle. You open the box and a small smile touches your features when you see the items inside. Not many, yet, but small tokens of memories and affection shared between you and Junmyeon. The tickets to the museum back in September, four polaroid photos taken on his camera in his room during a visit. The card he wrote you back in October, along with the bloom of a flower from the same day pressed between it. Obscurely and without his knowledge, a balled-up piece of paper with lyrics he wrote for his solo album on. Somehow, he deemed them unworthy, but you love the authenticity of them and his handwriting. You smile, letting your hand stir a few of the pieces before you set the lid back on it, deciding these letters will join the contents of the box when you’re finished. After pouring yourself another glass and carefully folding the first letter back into its packaging, you open the second. ‘Now it’s April, and somehow, on an errant walk with the peace of my own thoughts, I found you again. At first I hadn’t been sure it was you, or that my eyes were not playing tricks on me. After several minutes of short-circuiting, I was sure it was you on that bench. I hate to sound overly poetic, but you were too picturesque, as if the sun and all of the spring had been placed there just for you. As if you commanded the very season to flourish around your perpetuating serenity. Part of me was torn, not wanting to disturb the scene. The greater part was unwavering in my desire to approach you, if not just to have your eyes find mine briefly. I am too selfish to let you go this time, unless you explicitly demand it. Still, I had to steel myself, apprehensive of your intentions that morning. Luckily, your warmth toward me didn’t waver, and while I wanted to ask outright the questions that so often plagued my mind lately, I refrained. I couldn’t let the joy of the moment be ruined by bitterness. Your stomach growled, and I remember the comfort of falling into step beside you naturally as we walked. The colors of the season are more vivid in my head, and the sharp contrast of your red dress to the green everywhere did nothing but serve as an excuse for me to look only at you. While the food was worth the price, my stomach churned uncomfortably with the questions I needed answers to. The same questions I felt coming from you, and the confusion and hurt and desire. When you finally told me it was not a good idea, I felt my heart crack. Looking back, I wasn’t pleased with myself when I hissed out my reply. The pain was too momentous to control. That was the turning point. The conversations that followed as we went out onto the street. It dawned on me then, that with my own anxiety and shortcomings, you had your own self-doubts. You made it clear that you saw me as the stars, and yourself little more than a spectator of them, out of reach. I realized in that moment how similar we are, and an overwhelming need to know more about you passed through me. I am always thankful and comforted when I think back on that conversation. The relief I felt when you told me you didn’t regret it and that you wanted me as badly as I wanted you. Still want you, for the record. You defended me from even myself so vehemently, all while fighting the idea of indulging in the moment. Not just for your own benefit, but mine, too. It was clear how much you worried over thoughts for the future, and the consideration of my feelings and your own thereafter. I’m very thankful, but I’m sure that must be exhausting. I desperately want you in my life, no matter how busy that is, and I am holding my breath in hope that you’ll want me in yours just the same. The sex… by far, has always been indescribably real. Connecting with you in such a fashion, well, I won’t touch on it, because that isn’t what this is about. Even though I can count our meetings on one hand, this one is my favorite, so far. Not just because of the sex, but the conversation, and the connection I felt with you through all of the planes of existence. I won’t lie, it was insurmountably frightening the moment you looked at me in the shower. More than my face, or my eyes. It took you one second to permeate the deepest center of my heart, and I could feel the warmth and safety of your soul holding mine. Oh my god, I am so cheesy. We shared tender thoughts, and with them, pain and suffering. I like to think it was necessary in order to move forward, and I find myself wanting to grow more and more with you. Slowly, if you accept that. I don’t want to rush into things, and I want to understand you better. I want to do this right. Even in the small, intimate moments while we ate dinner and just laid together, were blissful. I found myself unable to conjure any worries about problems I face, and even the physical manifestation of my anxiety… with you I had no sudden urge to run away and hide it. I had no feeling other than pure acceptance knowing that you were seeing a flaw of mine. You rolled with it, completely and utterly acknowledging of my existence as a person and not just an idol. Perhaps that is why I feel so strongly so soon, and why I am so cognizant of it, rather than terrified as I should be. When I woke the next morning with your scent and your warmth still beside me, I was happier than I anticipated I would be? That sounds so peculiar, I know, but I was- even with the chaos that soon unraveled thereafter. Still, wrapped up in new feelings and rushing to meet a schedule, I scolded myself when I left you standing in the elevator lobby without any way to stay in contact. If there are and powers or fates in this life, I am wishing for them to bring us together again. One way or another, I will find you again.’ Immediately, with as much delicacy as you can muster in your need to keep reading, you fold the pages of the second letter back into it’s envelope with a smile on your face. Reading Junmyeon’s thoughts on your meetings was not what you had expected this package to be. It is a wonderful gift, and one you now know he did for you, even all of those months ago. The third letter is on a different kind of paper and the ink is blue instead of black, but the differences only make you smile at the possibility that he was still thinking of writing this for you when he might have been somewhere else in the world. ‘Even at thirty-eight thousand feet, I am still thinking of you.’ Reads the first line, and you smile knowing your intuition was spot on. ‘I’m thinking of the third time I saw you. Standing still on the dance floor, with brows furrowed cutely and looking around for something. Until you quickly looked up at me, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks when you smiled. The way you jumped as if I had shocked you, I felt it too. All night it drove me crazy the way I could feel this tether to you. Even in a space full of others, at the club, in the car, at the karaoke room- there was a strange sense of presence. As if I could see and hear everyone, even participated in conversations, but from underwater? Suddenly I noticed that perhaps that is how my life has been all along, but the moment we would touch would be as if everything around were in such perfect clarity it felt like I was there for the first time. I know that sounds crazy. It drove me crazy, but I gave you whatever emotion space you wanted. I didn’t push what we were, didn’t try to pressure you into acknowledging the tension between us as more than sexual compatibility. Then, in the darkness of that awful karaoke bar, I broke. I knew Jongdae wasn’t a threat- he has a girlfriend. I knew everything was fine but found myself exiting the room to look for you anyway. Then, you provoked me and I can’t help but wonder if you wanted me to be the aggressor all along. If you wanted me to be the one to break first and make a claim. I’m not upset about it, really. It worked out in the end, right? Still, the thought of you being with someone else the way you’ve been with me is very painful. Luckily, I was and still am confident in what we have. That it is profound. The moment you spilled the truth I felt high. Not like a drug high but untouchable nonetheless. Powerfully, cosmically existent in that moment, and all I could do was kiss you. I knew it didn’t mean we had jumped from point A to point Z, but A to B was still progress forward. I can’t help but smile when I remember the cute, embarrassed way you tried to explain that to Jongin later on. Take no mind- I am not looking to rush into a relationship. I am happy with small steps, and to finally have your contact information.’ You’re smiling and laughing by the end of this letter. You feel a little bit better, and a whole lot more in love with the man who wrote these. Part of you in a little sad at how short this third one is, but he has spoiled you, and you consider his schedule and lack of privacy in writing these. Quickly, with the woeful glee of having to put down the best book of all time, you rush to relieve your bladder of the wine you’ve consumed this evening. A very small wedge of your consciousness notes the way your mood has shifted for the better at this simple and thoughtful gift. At the confirmations of his feelings and his thoughts that you’ve spent months trying to guess. You realize that perhaps you were not communicating as openly as you thought you were. A lot of guessing and assuming about one another over the last year makes you feel a little bit silly, but you smile nonetheless at the progress and growth you’ve done. Situated back on the couch comfortably, you fold the third letter back into it’s envelope with a contented hum, replacing it in your hands with the fourth. This one feels heavier and thicker, with more pages. ‘You are my girlfriend now, as I write this letter.’ He starts, and you can clearly conjure the image of a grin that would be warming his cheeks as he wrote that line. ‘Progress, and good progress at that, feels very fulfilling. Although my schedules keep me from seeing you as often as I would like, I feel satisfied with being able to contact you regularly while I go about my business. The weeks we have spent getting to know one another, talking and texting and video chatting have been nothing short of a blessing. It makes me realize how much people, myself included, can take this kind of simple connection for granted. I spent some weeks without a way to contact you, so I do my best to be more thankful for it now. In the last few weeks, it has felt like war with ourselves and what we could be, and I sincerely apologize if I ever seemed frustrated at you- I am not, and never was. You have always been right to be cautious and you are so considerate of my feelings and then your own, even if the consideration isn’t a good one. It doesn’t matter now, and I can’t say I am regretful that we spent time weighing those things out. It may seem silly or superstitious but I feel like our relationship is deeper and we have a better understanding of what we are to one another now that we have been through that together. Had we rushed into it without more concern, I might be wary of how strong we are. I was embarrassed when I called to tell you about the incident with the interviewer in the States. There was a lot happening and I was not sure on what was going to come of us yet. I was very surprised by how strong the repulsion to lie about us felt, and I failed to keep it off of my face and out of my professional life. Looking back, especially after calling you, I am sorry if it caused you any panic. I had a long discussion with the managers and Mr. Lee when I got back, but it was after I had talked to Jongdae on the plane about it, and he gave me a lot of good advice on how to deal with it publicly. Please do not misunderstand or have doubts about what I told you- I was never pressured or given an ultimatum about you. I told them that being with or without you was not negotiable before it even began. Typically, I am not the one to speak up in such a momentous conversation, but I have only ever been so sure about something twice in my life. First, about being a singer, and second, about being with you. In the end, I was told it would only be a problem if the behavior continued. Eventually, we would have to go public, but I am free to keep my private life as such so long as I can maintain my idol publicity separately. Still, I needed some space from the familiarity and constant reminder of stress. I left, without telling anyone where I was going or for how long, to blow off steam. The shock was pleasant when you told me you were accepting of a relationship. I was happy and thought perhaps you had talked about it to Soohyun, the same way I talk to Sehun. Those two are ridiculous. It helped melt the stress I’d been feeling with work. My feet carried me to your apartment anyway, now that I knew how to get there. Even if I wanted to refrain or resist, I knew you, in any form, would be the balm of relief I needed. I was prepared to hold you and talk and just let your presence ease away the anxiety. The last thing I was expecting was the gift of news you wanted more. I had been back and forth with it in my own head, whether or not I should have even told you. Since the beginning of our perpetual theories concerning the start of a relationship, I knew there was something you were not telling me. Don’t take it the wrong way- I don’t hold it against you, and I don’t expect you to tell me everything right away. Earning enough trust and comfort with me to tell me when you’re ready is enough. That is not the reason I didn’t want to say anything at first. More that you seemed… tense or stressed about your own internal deliberating. I’ve seen first-hand, you’re the type to put others before yourself, so I didn’t want to burden you with that. It felt like taking advantage of you to do so. Then, with the simple confession of wanting this, of wanting me, and wanting me with you, it changed. I trusted you enough to let you in. You wanted to help me, and I am incredibly grateful. You’ve always wanted to help me, and I would be a blind fool if I ever considered that were not a priority for you, even from day one. By the end of the conversation, I felt more connected with you than I ever had before. I’m certain, at least in some sense, that was a bonus in the way you helped me relieve that stress. The way you took care of me, so to speak. Even the sex that followed seemed to have more weight or meaning. That it was more than just sex? When we settled into your bed I had a moment of realization that it was the first night I was sleeping in your bed with you, and that we were in a relationship. I was so exhausted, but I tried my best to remember every detail of your space. Although the way I woke up wasn’t that pleasant, I slept the best I had in weeks. I think I owe that to you. What happened thereafter, I know we’ve talked about it at length and that you’re okay, but I feel like part of your love language are words of affirmation. With that in mind, I will say again that you will never have to be sorry for struggling. I understand, at least to some extent, what you’ve been through. It makes my heart ache to know you’ve been through a similar pain to mine and the perpetual, vicious cycle of hate and doubt and fear within your own head. When I think about it, you amaze me. Having been through that, and perhaps to people outside of you and I, you might appear mysterious or standoffish. Sehun’s words, not mine, but only at first I assure you. I realize it is how you greet the unknown parts of the world, to protect yourself. But then to get to know the caring and tender way you hold those close to you. Be it myself, Soohyun or even now Sehun and the rest of my members. The way you talk about memories of your Father. It fills me with such relief and that feels selfish and wrong. To be thankful that even after all you’ve been through, and to understand it so completely, that you still love. I understand it so well how you’ve guarded yourself and it takes work to peel back the walls layer by layer to let someone else care about you the way you care about your people. I will never push you, but please, please know I am working as hard as I can to gently peel back those layers and to earn enough trust to let me love you the way you deserve, even if you might not think you do. I know that there will be days where you look at the world as if everything is hateful and ugly, and I understand that I might not be able to help you. I really do, but I will never judge you for that. I will encourage you to continue with therapy and taking your medication and to love the world and to let it love you back. Hopefully, one by one, those instances of hate are less and less, replaced by better ones. I will protect you with everything I have and I am scared, too. Afraid that one day when the glimmer of idol life dies and I’m not in the spotlight, that everyone who has ever looked at me with adoration will turn away. That the name Junmyeon will never shine the way Suho does. I know I am not perfect. I never have been and I never will be, and that’s okay. It took me a long time to get through that, with therapy and my own medication. There was a lot of unhappiness and innate anxiety in understanding that when I am retired and finished, I will not be alone. That there will be other people, eight specifically, going through the same thing, right there beside me. Hopefully you will be, too. I remember the bliss of the rest of that morning. The pure, natural contempt to be in your apartment with you, such a place that has you so deeply instilled in every piece I never wanted to leave the safety of it.’ You feel a lump, but don’t let the tears fall from this letter. Looking back on Junmyeon’s last words to you, you wonder if somewhere within this letter is the time he first decided he loved you. He didn’t explicitly write it, but the way he wrote it gives you a sense that it was somewhere in these words. The fifth letter begins with the echo of a phrase you remember hearing him say the first time you woke up with him in his bed. ‘I’m happy. More specifically, I am happy with you. As worried as I was about having you over to the dorm for anything at all, I am pleased how much you fit into that space with grace and ease. Looking back, my worries were baseless. Every challenge I think you’re facing with me and my schedules and my members, you accept them and seem to move through them all without issue. It's relieving to be able to let you share even this part of myself. I know it has been something we’ve been back and forth on since we met, but I had been scared of the idea of sharing a part of Suho for once, instead of Junmyeon. Not that I doubted you- simply that I was uncomfortable, and not ready. With a sudden clarity it makes perfect sense why you were not keen on me being in your space, either. I’m happy we’ve moved past those fears. All of my members accept you, if you couldn’t tell. I have to take care of them, too. I couldn’t be selfish in inviting you into a home that is not only mine without considering their opinions. Even the members that weren’t present were on board with my invitation and happy for us to be where we are. Somewhere in this last week, I think I realized I love you. I’m not sure when, but somewhere between finally going to your apartment and today, I know it. I’m making a promise to both you and myself that I will tell you in person for the first time. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us if it is any other way first, and I know you enough now to be sure I’ll probably be the one who says it first. I don’t even know if I’ll ever give you these letters, or when really they became less of a journal and more of a letter of confession. You can probably tell by the well-worn pages that I’ve read these several times by now. You might laugh if I ever tell you how many times I re-wrote them, too. Y/N, my sweetheart, I can’t even begin to describe how fond I am of you. Please tell me if I ever become overbearing or suffocating in my love for you. Were it not for the reprimanding I’d get, or the fact that we would have to go public (something I never want to put you through), I would shout it from the rooftop and scream it during every ending comment I make, on every stage in every part of the world.’ The fifth letter might be short, but it is sweet and you feel a bigger pang of guilt at having pushed him out knowing how much he loves you, now more than ever. You desperately want to call him. To have him back here in your arms and to tell him you’re sorry and confirm exactly how he feels is the same. Instead, you tell yourself to calm down, and read the last letter. It’s getting later, but you know he will still be awake when you’re finished and there is absolutely no way in hell you’ll be able to sleep without him tonight. So you quell your racing heart with a simple text. It doesn’t give anything away, and you hope you won’t have to wait long after you finish reading the last for him to show up at your door. ‘Please come over.’ You can’t hit send fast enough, and settle right in to reading the final letter. ‘This letter is a little different, because I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to write individual ones. I’m doing my best to remember the last few months with you and all of the memories we’ve made. I worry I’ll forget them if I don’t write them down soon enough, and I don’t know when these will ever make their way to you. I’ll give you all of the ones I’ve written so far once I think you’re ready to read them. I have a feeling a day will come when I tell you how I feel, and you’ll hide. I won’t be upset with you or judge you, I know it’s terrifying, and I think having these letters will be helpful. Perhaps once you see how well-worn some are, and how clearly I’m recalling the moments, you’ll know I’ve written them all with you in mind. How I am always thinking of you. How I love you. For weeks it has been hard not to tell you how I feel every time I open my mouth in your presence. Some moments smaller or bigger than others, but none any less meaningful than the one before it. I think my favorite, of all the adventures we’ve had over the summer, is dinner. The way you described summer and the magic of it- I don’t think you realized how much of that magic came from you. As if your smile were the spell that kept the world from falling asunder. Maybe it was because it was so close to the moment I first realized my feelings for you, only a week later, but it doesn’t matter. I enjoyed the museum a lot, too. More than a typical museum, the fun that we shared, even when things went a little sideways was still full of care and laughter. I don’t know if you could feel the culmination of my feelings brimming over in the rain later that day, or in the way I held you as if you were the world. I hope you felt it. Sometimes I was nervous when I would reach home with my bag and realize there was something else I left back at your place. Not that I minded, but I didn’t want you to feel like I did it intentionally or that I was invading your space. In hindsight it seems to have been perfectly natural, and I remember how shy you were to give me a key to your apartment. That surprising gift was unexpected, but one I keep close. I don’t know how many times I’ve thanked you for letting me have one and letting me be there whenever I want to. I hope you don’t mind if I thank you once more, honestly. You may not know this, but more than just for spending time with you- it is a safe place for me. It’s somewhere I can go and don’t have to hide and I can get away from the members and the constant reminder of the never-ending chaos of idolism. I can sleep and it is silent and if I’m lucky, you eventually appear beside me and I sleep better than I ever do at home. I can remember your fear leading up to Halloween about meeting other people at the company and being in the presence of new people as my girlfriend. I can also remember the taste of you right before that party, but I don’t want to have any… issues, while I’m writing this in the dance studio, so I won’t write about it. We’re working on choreography for some of the new tracks and brushing up on old favorites today. It’s never been a question I thought to ask you, but I’m curious what song is your favorite. I have a feeling, knowing the way you react to me as my alter ego, if Obsession is the answer. Things are going well with promotions. Perhaps I’ve complained a little too loudly about not getting to see you as often to our staff, but I was so shocked when you showed up to our stage yesterday! It was very thoughtful of them to invite you, and I was impressed none of the members got wind of it. What happened thereafter backstage… I hope you understand how much you mean to me and that I never wanted to pressure you like that. We were pushing boundaries all over the place, and while I was admittedly nervous at first to engage in sexual play with you while in that role, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I did it for you. It was all about you, and I can’t help but feel like I overstepped and perhaps instilled some doubts about us in you. Please know that was never my intention and I just as connected with you as I always do. I was, and still am thrilled to know you only want me. We both know I can be a bit jealous and possessive, so hearing that was delightful. However, I meant what I said- if it is mutual, I’m okay with it. Healthy, even, to have a little bit of adventure. Please don’t feel guilty about it, it kept me excited too. It’s good for us to talk about all kinds of things, even hard to swallow topics. I’m proud to be able to communicate openly with you, and I think it makes us stronger.’ You sigh, sad to see an end to his thoughts on paper, but feeling a sense of relief at his sentiments about your latest shenanigans, just days ago. Checking your phone, it appears that Junmyeon has read your message, but not responded yet, and you worry if he will or if he is upset. No, that can’t be right. Exactly as his letter has said, he knew a time would come that you would need to have some sort of evidence of his love when he finally told you. This is precisely what you needed him to say, and that he could already tell, even those months ago, that you might need this kind of investment to understand the truth is another piece of his love on its own. This collection of his feelings is so warm and whole that it brings more tears to the brim of your eyes, and you’re faced with the absolute truth that there’s no way he is upset with you. He was strategically waiting for you to return his feelings and the idea that you shoved him out makes the tears fall. You’re surprised to hear when the door opens and closes behind you, and when you turn around to face him, knowing it is him, he only gives you a dazzling smile as he slips off his shoes. Your boyfriend. Your Junmyeon, the one who, as crazy as that may seem, loves you as much as you love him. Gingerly, you set the last letter down, noticing it is still clutched in your fingers. “Hi, sweetheart.” He greets you from the entry. Marveling at him, you’re not convinced he is even real and standing here in your home looking like everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you’ll ever need. He grins, with the apples of his cheeks dusted rose from the cold sitting high and warm on his face. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he whispers, “That good, huh? No words?” You want to punch him for it, but perhaps softly, with your mouth. It doesn’t register for several seconds that you’ve been holding your breath, until you let it out and drag in fresh oxygen. It's enough to spur you into action, bounding from the couch and into his arms, uncaring if your tears stain his scarf. He doesn’t seem to mind, either, by the way he adjust so your arms wrap around him from inside of his unzipped coat. “Are you alright now?” he wonders aloud, not exactly looking for an answer but curiously chirping nonetheless because he wants the verbal confirmation that you are in fact, just fine. When you look up at him from the warmth of his sweatshirt and scarf with eyes full of magic, he is lost and in love all over again, until finally you say what he knows. “I love you.” You announce proudly to him, and the immediate gratification you feel melts any tension from your shoulders. His expression morphs into unbridled happiness, curling his lips into his mouth and scrunching his brows together as if the words were the sweetest thing he has ever heard. “Say it again,” he demands, “I’m selfish and I want to hear you say it again.” You smile, “I love you, Junmyeon.” He absolutely giggles. The pure glee that captures him as you step back with barely concealed impatience while shrugs off his coat and scarf is infectious, or maybe it’s the light and joyous sound of his laughter. In seconds he has scooped you into his arms and kisses you. You can feel his heart pounding right out of his chest where you’re pressed against it. When he breaks for air, he asks you, “Did you like them?” Setting you down on the couch, you refuse to part from him when he gets comfortable, crawling back into his lap and holding his face in your hands. Just to look at him and make sure he is actually here, you let the warmth of your hands flood his skin and he smiles up at you as if you the only thing in the universe worth looking at. There’s no rush to make it more than what it is, and you realize you haven’t answered his question. “I am beyond words to explain how much they mean to me.” You look behind you briefly to see them on the coffee table. “And,” you begin, moving some of his hair from his eyes, “I am so sorry.” His brows furrow together immediately, trying to hush your apology, but you press a finger to his lips before he can do more than groan in disapproval. “I mean it, let me apologize,” you coax. Only when he has settled do you remove your finger from his lips, tickled by his constant puckering to hiss it. “It took me reading these letters to finally learn that all this time you’ve done nothing but look out for me. You have always been there for me, taking all of my doubts in stride with a calm confidence I sometimes took as shallow or lukewarm feelings, and for that I am so sorry.” “In these letters you’ve told me about your own anxieties and fears, and I want to assure you the way you’ve always done for me by saying I will never turn away from you.” You hold his face again, gently cupping his cheeks and smiling sadly at the cute way his cheeks squish his face, “Ever.” You kiss his puckered lips and continue, “I am sorry I ever doubted you, even if you tell me I don’t need to be. It doesn’t feel fair that while I had all of these issues, you were there with nothing but faith, proclaiming with a profound clarity that we would both make it out on the other side, even if I couldn’t see it.” “Stop it,” he fusses gently. “No,” you poke the end of his nose and continue, “So I want you to know how sorry I am and that I promise you when I say I am in love with you- I mean it.” He smiles, “Can I talk now?” Grinning in return, you nod. “I didn’t write those letters to make you feel bad about yourself for having doubts or fears. It’s normal, and I didn’t always have just blind faith. I had my own doubts about how much you felt our connection and how deep your feelings for me were.” He rewards your silent attention with a quick, chaste kiss. “The answer is probably not, but do you know how protective your head is of your heart?” His hand rises to prod at your forehead gently. He explains further, “All of the defense it has created to keep you safe so you don’t get hurt again is not a bad thing. I just had to be patient, steady and sure about my feelings towards you. I knew you would figure it out.” “Looking back over the last year at the progress we’ve made, at least to me, has really made us stronger. Look at how far we’ve come, Y/N. Not just as individuals, but together. I don’t know if it looks the same as mine, but I imagine the colors of your world feel a lot richer with me in them, right?” He looks at your eyes for confirmation, and you nod, “It’s the same for me, too. You make me a better person, and I love you. The good and the bad and the sad and that’s okay. Relationships don’t have to be just good stuff all of the time. There is so much more complexity involved, but we’re supposed to be in it together.” “I know that now.” You affirm, laying your head on his shoulder and snuggling further into him. “Good.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. Already, you want to reread the letters. After a few silent moments pass between you listening to the sound of quiet happiness, you lift your head from his neck to look at him. “Can I tell you something?” you wonder aloud, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He looks up at you and hums, “You’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?” It pulls a smile to your lips as you nod, ensuring you have his full attention. Remembering the contents of the letters, you have to tease him as you admit, “My god you’re cheesy!” You’re now sure the sound of your mutual laughter is one of your favorites. It takes a minute for both of you to quell, settling into a pile of happiness. Once more, for good measure, you feel the urge to tell him again. Taking his cheeks in your hands again, you dip your head until your forehead rests on his and a kiss is granted to his lips. “I love you.” End.

#allotrope #junmyeon x reader #suho x reader #junmyeon smut #suho smut #exo fanfiction #exo smut #junmyeon angst #suho angst #junmyeon fluff #suho fluff #exo angst #exo fluff #exo x reader #junmyeon fanfic #suho fanfic #exo fanfic #junmyeon x you #suho x you

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howtotrainyouragents · 3 years ago

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Things I Noticed in the Hamilton Film

Soooo, I was supposed to have posted this last year when the film first dropped, and I forgot...

Anywayyyy, things that were new, from the album, or was obvious to everyone but me. This is literally just me listing details I loved for my own keepsake later on

I hope this film’s success (and the play’s hopeful continued success on stage), shows that Broadway plays can and should be filmed for everyone

Lin Manuel Miranda is a brilliant writer, scriptwriter, musician, rapper, singer, and a genuinely lovely person, but I think my favorite part about him is his acting. He has such a pure naturalness and sincerity in his acting. He nails microexpressions/gestures and sometimes I forget that he’s acting

E.g., Lin’s devastation after Washington kicks him out

There’s some songs I wondered what their purpose was, but watching it I understood. For example, Story of Tonight sets up the purpose of the revolution. Like, My Shot is Hamilton’s ‘I want’ song, but Story of Tonight is all of the revolutionaries ‘I want’ song, and that’s why it comes up again for Laurens and Hamilton at their ends

Samuel Seabury’s acting was gold

In Right Hand Man the way the backup stage/cast lights up as they sing ‘not throwing away my shot” and Hamilton agrees to work for Washington

The fact that Helpless ends with “You’ll be a new man” because Hamilton is still so obsessed with his own ascendency

HOLY FUCK RENEE ELISE GOLDSBERRY

They way they start Satisfied, it’s like Angelica doesn’t know the true extent of her devastation until she gives her toast and says “satisfied”. Like, she knows what she’s done but she’s still thinks this is fine and this is for the best, and it’s not until this moment that the weight of it fully hits her. By the end of it, it’s like she’s barely holding it together for this toast

Towards the end of the song, Eliza kisses her cheek and Renee’s expression is like she’s about fall apart in that very moment from the sheer overwhelming joy and pain

So in Helpless when their talking about letters, Peggy does a cute random shimmy while handing Eliza the letter. But then in Satisfied we see that she’s doing the shimmy to the beat of Satisfied, meaning that she knows how Angelica feels and knows about the love triangle

I’m trying really hard not to scream about the rewind of all the dance and action in Satisfaction but please know I am internally screaming about this forever.

Almost forgot, Burr and Hamilton were friends at one point. Burr shows up for his wedding to wish him well :(

I wasn’t gonna scream that much here, but LESLIE ODOM JR.

Leslie’s smile- amused and scoffing disbelief- when singing about Hamilton in Wait for it

Speaking of Wait for it, the way the whole cast is waiting on stage and the balconies as Burr sings. and the way the dancers shift to Hamilton’s direction when Burr talks about him

Also the lighting creates boxes on the stages, like Burr is trapped. But then this reappears in Your Obedient Servant

I never knew the lyrics were “This is commonplace, 'specially 'tween recruits” and not “’tween corps” in Ten Duel Commandments...makes more sense

I think there’s 10 people in that line up in Ten Commandments

The way Stay Alive conflicts Hamilton’s precious notions of sacrifice, and forces him to shift his focus from dying to legacy

The mimic of the bullet in Stay Alive

The way that Eliza is also so excited about the war and the scholars in The Schuyler Sisters and that excitement goes away after she has the actual risk of losing someone she loves because of the war

Who’s the choreographer because DAMN (btw it’s Andy Blankenbuehler)

Also the dancers lifting up other dancers for whole bars? Incredible

The way women are interwoven into the story of the war, singing the chorus and setting the scene and rejoicing with the soldiers at the end

The fucking red lighting in Yorktown. Also, the shot in the song’s pause is one of the best shots in musical history.

The fact that ‘black and white soldiers wonder alike if this really means freedom’ ‘not yet’ is a commentary on slavery and the line is said by Washington

The brilliant way What Comes Next undercuts the gravitas of Yorktown .

Also, King George loses more and more of his costume and moves around more as the show goes on. Also, blue lighting with “I’m feeling blue” hahaha

Lafayette and Hercules getting the same letter about Laurens + Hamilton’s sobbing. And Laurens’ singing ‘there will be more of us’, referring to the future generations who will fight and win abolition.

Nonstop:

Burr’s disgust while Hamilton rants. Hamilton’s pouting then childish glee at the beginning

Burr stays at the bottom of the staircase after Hamilton climbs it. Also, Jefferson descends the staircase after Hamilton ascends it, indicating their statuses

The refrain of “How does a....” shows up in Nonstop as Burr’s “How do you write...” (other characters sing their own personal refrains but Burr sings this), and it’s like this ongoing, jealous, incredulous questioning of how Hamilton became so successful, and part of the answer of how he did it is that he doesn’t stop writing and working.

Regardless of which sister he ended up with, love was never gonna be enough for Hamilton

The way Daveed Diggs jumps and dances and dives across the stage in just about every song he’s in. The man truly deserved the Emmy

Jefferson’s being surrounded by his slaves because he sucks

Hamilton’s costume goes from white --> brown-->blue-->green-->black and someone with more color scheme expertise needs to dissect this for me please

The fact that even Burr peaces out when it comes to the affair, like, nope, this is too messed up even for me

An in-universe explanation as to why the Ten Duel Commandments and Phillip’s count is the same is that Hamilton’s killing (metaphorically and literally) in order to stay alive is a part of their family’s DNA.

Anthony Ramos is phenomenal at playing 9 years old then having to switch to 19

The fact that Phillip was probably so determined to defend his father is that this is after the Reynolds Pamphlet and everyone was humiliating and scorning Hamilton

The Room Where it Happened

Hamilton is like an apparation to him, and Burr is both scared and begging the ghost to reveal the truth

The fact that this song is a plot song and a ‘i want’ song and a villain song all at once. Also, the song picks up speed to signal the shift from historical recounting to ‘i want’ song

They replay the beginning where Jefferson/Madison call for Hamilton

Jefferson being the one to ask “Don’t you remember Lafayette”, and there’s like a slight change in his demeanor that’s more Lafayette then Jefferson

Burr, Madison, and Jefferson discreetly talking to each other in Washington on Your Side representing their nefarious schedming. Also, Daveed Diggs keeps Jefferson’s limp even without the cane. Also Madison is angry at Hamiilton when he says “the bill of rights, which I wrote!”

One Last Time:

How perfectly the Bible verse reflects Washington’s opinion of legacy. The younger men are obsessed with preserving their own memories in history, but for Washington, his legacy would be that everyone would be safe and at peace.

Washington’s practically crying at the end

Hamilton asking Washington here to teach him how to say goodbye because Hamilton genuinely doesn’t know how: people left him before he could ever say goodbye

We Know: Jefferson’s pure WTF face when he says “my God...”. In this reaidng, Burr definitely threatened him (I didn’t always intepret that way when listening). But Hamilton’s still an idiot.

Hurricane: Once again, Lin’s facial expressions. The way the the chorus stands around and watches him. But also the freaking brilliant way that the dancers mimic the hurricane, and Burr and Maria are the only other people in the hurricane with Hamilton. But at the end, it’s just Hamilton and the desk

Reynolds Pamphlet: The way Washington can’t even look at him, but Angelica gets in his face to yell at him. Also, Jefferson hands a pamphlet to the conductor

This reading, Phillippa Soo sings Burn with so much rage and fury and that is pretty much my favorite part of this entire film

Hamilton’s face at “Alexander, did you know?”

The fact that Angelica narrates Uptown because it’s too intimate for Burr or anyone else to narrate. Eliza’s changing facial expressions as she slowly lets him in. The way Hamilton just completely breaks down and sobs

The Election of 1800:

Jefferson shaking his head when Madison suggests Hamilton

Burr’s falseness is hilarious. He hands Hamilton a pamphlet.

Jefferson’s look of resignation when Hamilton is making his decision, then starts dancing around when he’s won

The close-up of Burr’s face falling when he realizes who Hamilton has voted for

The whole “runner-up becomes VP” thing made me think about if we could have had Hillary Clinton as VP, and I made myself sad.

Your Obedient Servant: I always saw this song as a reflection of the custom, but I never fully appreciated how it reflects their relationship: their relationship has completely disintegrated, but their working to maintain this false appearance of friendship/civility that no longer has a place in their relationship.

Also, Burr’s increasingly incensed and it does not help that Hamilton sends like a 12-page letter and the dancer even teases Burr

The guy who gives Hamilton Burr’s duel challenge plays Charles Lee. Karma

The World Was Wide Enough

Burr’s POV then Hamilton’s POV, like this story has become less and less about Hamilton and he is no longer in control of who’s telling his story

The shot of Eliza walking away and in her wake, it’s Burr shooting

Burr’s alone in the stage, finally realizing the world (aka the stage) was wide enough for the both of them, but it’s too late. Also, in part foreshadowing his own future: that he had the world before him regardless of Hamilton, but he was completely ruined after this duel

I definitely cried at ‘the orphanage’. Also I interpret the gasp at the end as her breaking fourth wall and seeing the audience and realizing that Hamilton’s legacy has continued even to today.

#hamilton #i know it's cool to hate hamilton now #but i dont #so forgive me for putting this on your dash #agent report #agent h

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littlemonstersau-blog · 5 years ago

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The Feels Awaken, Interlude 2: One Rogue Thought

Written by @jkl-fff

PART I - PART II [Interlude] - PART III - PART IV [Interlude] (you are here) - PART V [FINAL]

——————————————————————————————–

Bill, putting DVD back in case: Well, now you’ve seen ‘em all (until they finish the new ones, of which only Renegade 6 will be stupendous, and that largely thanks to everyone dying—much pathos by meatbag standards, much comedy by mine). So … Whaddya think, Fordsy?

Ford, taking in a deep breath: I think … I think I’m personally going to make a working lasercutlass (with SCIENCE!), drive to wherever the hell George Dufas lives—

Bill, helpfully: That would be Skyjogger Ranch, not too far north of San Francisco. I know, because I know lots of things.

Ford: Alright then, I’m going to drive to Skyjogger Ranch, and then I’M GONNA SHOVE MY HOMEMADE LASERCUTLASS RIGHT UP HIS SCRIPT-SPEWING ASS AND ACTIVATE IT!

Stan, startling awake in easy chair: Wha?! Huh?!

Ford: THAT WAS THE BIGGEST WRECK OF TRAINS THAT WERE LOADED WITH ASS-SHIT THAT I’VE EVER SEEN! [rises to his feet, stamps around, gestures emphatically] AND I’VE BEEN TO SEVERAL DIMENSIONS WITH EXTREMELY SHODDY RAILWAY INFRASTRUCTURES AND BOOMING, FERTILIZER-BASED ECONOMIES! MEANING SEVERAL DIMENSIONS WITH FREQUENT AND NOTABLE WRECKS OF ASS-SHIT-LOADED TRAINS!

Stan, rubbing eyes: Yeah, we picked up on your meanin’ there. [yawns, scratches self] What time’s it, anyway?

Bill, grinning at this development: What’d you think of the acting?

Ford: WOODEN! FLAT! LIFELESS! LIKE THIS FLOOR!

Bill: All George Dufas’s fault. Those were all highly acclaimed, highly trained actors, and highly gifted actors. He insisted as Director they act like they didn’t know how to. Like I said before.

Ford: WHAT?! WHY?! RRRAAARRRGHGHGH!

Stan, yawning: Moses, it’s past midnight already …

Bill, egging it on: Heh. And the depiction of non-human meatbags?

Ford: MOSTLY INFURIATINGLY RACIST CARICATURES OF HUMAN MEATBAG CULTURES—er, “human cultures”, I meant just “human cultures”—AND BLANDLY UNIMAGINATIVE OR INSUFFERABLY ANNOYING (LIKE JERKJERK)!

Stan, heaving himself upright: Hey, Sixer?

Bill: Hehehe! George Dufas’s influence again. And the use of the Force? The lasercutlass duels?

Ford: THE FIRST WAS SO UNDERUTILIZED AS TO BE FUCKING POINTLESS, THE OTHER SO OVERDONE AS TO BE SHITTING BORING! THEY MADE SWORDFIGHTING WITH LASERS BECOME BORING! HOW?! WHY?!

Stan: Sixer?

Bill: Hahaha! Still George Dufas! And the script?

Ford: THE SCRIPT?! WHAT SCRIPT?! THAT WAS USED, BARGAIN-PRICED TOILET PAPER! RRRAAARRRGHGHGH!

Stan: Sixer!

Ford: WHAT?! … Er, sorry. What?

Stan: It’s past midnight. Meanin’ it’s bedtime. You comin’ or what?

Ford: Gah! I couldn’t possibly sleep now! I’m too enraged!

Stan, shrugging: Well, I am. So … keep the nerd-ragin’ at, y’know, an “indoor voice” level of volume. ‘kay? [kisses him goodnight, shuffles out]

Ford, momentarily taken aback: Um … Where was I?

Bill, helpfully: The script. Which was also George Dufas’s fault. Basically, the whole prequel trilogy is a case study of what happens if you give a man who had one or two good ideas in the past— when there was an entire team of more talented people to shoot down his one or two thousand bad ideas and sculpt the few good ones— complete creative control of a project.

Ford, remembering how disgusted he is: No, it’s a case study of what happens if a tornado picks up a barn full of diarrhetic animals— A LITERAL SHITSTORM—hits a warehouse of blank paper, then some fuckwattle decides to gather up the pages and use it as a script! It made exactly 0.0 sense as a story! According to SCIENCE! itself there wasn’t even a measurable amount of sense made in this story! And, believe me, I understand that writing isn’t easy, but they had … How long exactly to work on the scripts?

Bill, promptly: Almost exactly16 years to work on the first one, then almost exactly 3 years for the second one, and another 3 for the third.

Ford, trembling with self-control: S-sssixteen years for one script? And that mmmakes … t-t-twenty-two years total to come up with … with that p-pile of hot, fffffuck-juggling shhhhhhhhhhhit … [loses it, explodes] OH MY VARIOUS ENTITIES OF COSMIC POWER FOR WHOM THE TERM “GODS” COULD REASONABLY BE USED AS A SHORTHAND, EVEN IF IT IS SOMEWHAT MISLEADING!

Stan, from the other room: Indoor voice!

Ford, stomping around: WE COULD COME UP WITH A BETTER PLOTLINE FOR A PREQUEL TRILOGY IN ONE NIGHT THAN THAT MOVING BAG OF NEGATIVE FUCKGUZZLE DID IN TWENTY-FUCKING-TWO FUCKING YEARS! AND Y’KNOW WHAT?! [takes Bill by the shoulders] WE WILL, GODSDAMNIT!

Bill, disbelieving: Really? You wanna do something with me?

Ford: AND IT’LL HAVE COMPELLING CHARACTER ARCS, AND SUBTLY DEEP WORLDBUILDING FOR THE GALAXY, AND THE FORCE’LL BE SHOWN—

Stan, from other room: IF YOU DON’T KEEP IT DOWN, STANFORD PINES, I’LL COME OUT THERE AND SHOW YOU MY FORCE RIGHT UPSIDE YOUR FOOL HEAD!

Bill, excited: Mabel left a bunch of … of arts and crafts stuff upstairs. We can use those for this! I’ll just … just run and get them! Hang on! [scampers up the stairs]

Ford, suddenly alone: … wait a minute … [stops short, looks around deserted room) What the freeze-dried hell am I doing?

Stan, grouching back in: What you’re doin’ is bein’ a pain in my ass—a loud pain in my ass!

Ford, almost panicking: No, I’m … about to write better plots for the prequels? With Cipher? I think?

Stan: And? What’s the problem?

Ford: And I don’t … I can’t trust him! That is the problem!

Stan: You can’t trust him to help write what is essentially gonna be a Cosmos Conflicts fanfic? [rolls eyes] C’mon, Sixer, it’s not like he could write anything worse than what we just watched. You were just goin’ on about that.

Ford, faltering: No, I mean, he’s still planning to takeover! No one can trust him, so what am I—

Stan: Just be the scribe yourself; that way, you maintain creative control of the fanfic and he can’t take it over.

Ford: I mean the planet! Er, the galaxy! Gah, no, the dimen—

Stan, deadpan: Oh, yeah, that’s a real dilemma right there. Can’t have Farth Bill takin’ over that nerdlinger galaxy, or we’ll hafta write a whole ‘nother generation of whiney Skyjoggers masterin’ the Force to confront him.

Ford, irritated: Damn it, Stanly, you know what I’m talking about!

Stan, rubbing eyes: Look, I’m gonna share some Old Wisdom™ I learned as a professional conman with you. And which, in fact, you yourself told me rather recently. [lays hands on brother’s shoulders, looks him in the eyes] You don’t hafta trust someone to work with ‘em, ya dumbass. And don’t hafta trust ‘em to be nice to ‘em, neither, ya dumbass. Or even to like ‘em, ya dumbass. You can do all that, while still not trustin’ ‘em … ya dumbass.

Ford, blinking owlishly: … What? I told you that? But—

Stan, slowly: Listen, I didn’t trust Bill at the start of the summer, but I still talked to him. Still interacted with him and was nice … ish and such. And only a week after? I had him workin’ for me. [gestures dismissively] Yeah, he caused some trouble at the start, but I didn’t lock him up ‘cause of it. I was patient with him, I showed him I’d work with him, and I showed the l’il bastard he can’t beat me at my own game— I always got an eye on him, so he can’t get anything major past me. And now? He’s just like any other employee I’ve ever had (except for Soos) … Slacks off and shoplifts about the same amount, too.

Ford: … And you’re bragging about that?

Stan, smugly: Heh. Yep. Think about it, Sixer. For him, that’s huge progress.

Ford, reluctantly: I guess, but—

Stan: Listen, you don’t hafta trust Bill. Okay? You know already he’s up to something (or so you’re convinced, anyway), so he can’t trick you. You’ll be suspicious of absolutely everything, so he won’t be able to get something past you in the middle of, say, writin’ your stupid, nerd fanfic. Or talkin’ ‘bout an anomaly. Or just havin’ a civil conversation every now and then. Okay? This gettin’ through that metal plate in your skull? I mean, it should be able to since—not to put too fine a point on it—you suggested it to me not too long ago.

Ford: I don’t … need … to trust Cipher … to be nice to him …

Stan: Exactly. And—Moses on a moped!—his name is Bill. [turns, goes to leave, pauses in doorway] And for fffffuck’s sake, keep it down while you two do whatever. Some of us are tryin’ to actually sleep.

Ford, standing lost in thought: … can’t believe it … so simple … really have been a silly, old fool not to see it all along …

Bill, returning: Sorry that took so long. I got buried in an avalanche of Mabel’s spare sweaters while digging this stuff out. [unloads an armload onto the table, pulls up paper and pencil] Where do we start, Fordsy?

Ford, a little overwhelmed: Um … honestly, I’m not sure …

Bill: Hmm … Well, what’re the big problems that gotta be fixed? Let’s start with that. What made you mad in the movie?

Ford, after only a split second of thought: Midi-chlorians firstly. Those go, because the Force is a mystical power-energy thing— damn it all!—and not some sorta bacterial infection!

Bill, making a note: Good. Good. How about that Rule of Two? Speaking as a megalomaniac, I can say it’s stupid to only have one agent working for you. You’d get nothing done!

Ford: Um …

Bill: What? Oh, Yog-Sothoth’s sixth soleus, that was a joke.

Ford, deciding to believe that: R-right. Um … None of that immaculate conception or prophecy crap, either. That’s gone. Came out of nowhere, served no purpose, we don’t need it.

Bill, making a note: What, you don’t like the idea of Space Jesus? How about rewriting the romance so that it doesn’t just … happen, y’know? So that there actually is a romance, and not just two straight characters who bone ‘cause they’re the opposite genders?

Ford, getting excited: Moses, yes! And rewriting Otherkin so he isn’t some whiney kid who just … just does stuff because the plot needs some action! We could do that for all of them! We could make it all as great as it deserves to be!

[hours and hours of excited fanboy collaboration transpire …]

#little monsters au #bipper #stan #ford #stancest #a bit #also a lot of swearing #the feels awaken #writing #fanfiction #also this is the chapter that was left out of the illustration lottery #by pure chance #only one more to go!#submission

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dreamseersystem · 5 years ago

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How I Met Bill and Dipper

First to start as a note. I can visit worlds and dimensions, mostly when I sleep. Most of the events occurred during the "dreaming" cycle, but I always lucid dream.

It all started in the end of 2015 for me. When I first found myself running from Oryan (a crazed Celestial Asshole that was bent on owning me) yet again and Alcor (of the Transcendence Timeline) sent me through the portal. He... Gave his life to save mine and the niblets. Nydia and Nall (children of another Dipper and Mabel I knew before this). He used the last of his magic before transferring it to me to change them into dragons in the scape and erase their memories until we were safe. He then casted a spell to seal away my magic and hide me from Oryan. The side effect was, which I didn't find out till I woke up, was that is made me appear as a 14 year old female. He pushed me through the portal and sealed it behind him. I didn't wake up till a few days later in the dimension.

I found out later I basically landed naked on Dipper and Soos carried me back to the shack after wrapping me up in his shirt. During my time asleep, Bi was watching through his Windows. I sensed this, still having some powers despite being sealed and watched him in return. He sensed me and I faded into a healing sleep.

When I woke up it was a week before Dreamscapers. I spent that time finding out how the dimension differed from canon and really the only thing was me. One night before a few days Gideon would summon Bi, he decided to enter my scape to spy on me, got caught by Nydia and we talked. He was interested in me and all so we made a deal. He was allowed in my scape while I was sleeping and he wasn't allowed to attempt any possession and whatnot. He had some idea I was familiar with the timeline and it was also stated I would not reveal anything about the future in the agreement.

Dreamscapers went about the same, just me disappearing until the end, telling Bi that not everything is what it seems, and Gideon Rises went the same except when leaving Gravity Falls I was on the bus too... The barrier stopped me from leaving and I was thrown out of the bus. One of the shards got me really bad, and Bi offered a deal, he'll save my life for the ability to possess me. I made the terms more fair, only saying when I give him permission or sharing the body and I wouldn't be removed from it.

Need to say he used it to his best advantage. Causing trouble for me with Dipper and Mabel. He left me alone at nights only because I was helping Stan with the portal. I decided I would help a bit since I would be going by my own smarts and not what the future was. That way he got more rest.

We had a hate relationship. I played with him and got the upper hand a lot. He hated me and resented me. At the same time, Dipper got over his crush for Wendy and found out he had one on me instead. By Sock Puppets, both were interested in their own ways. Bi was more possessive, Dipper was more loving. Bibae's reason for making the deal with Dipper then was to mess with his feelings for me. I know for a fact now it was because he was jealous.

As the portal came closer to getting done, I knew I had to make plans to protect Bi from Ford. Meanwhile, after Dipper's bout of possession from Bi, we found out he could see Bi like I could in the scape. Which caused more conflict. They were always fighting. Bickering even worse than they are now. There was a few times they got along... But not really until the Northwest Party. He got pissed that a ghost would be Dipper's end and threaten to throw his ectoplasmic body into a dark abyss of the Nightmare Realm. Needless to say, I had to stop him and let Paz do her thing.

Since Bi started possessing me, some of my powers were able to leak through the seals, tho not enough to let Oryan find me. I was able to devise a way so Ford couldn't detect Bi. But the downside was he couldn't fully possess me anymore. Well, downside for him. It was something we talked about because we knew he would be back. But, he agreed it was necessary since he didn't want Sixer knowing he was back yet.

The day he came back into this dimension was... Taxing. Dipper got mad at me because I sided with Stanley. We had a fight... That night I went out onto the roof and just me and Bi were up there listening in on Stan and Ford. When they went to bed, Dipper came up and we talked. He realized he made a mistake and he should have trusted me. We all were tired at that point and fell asleep on the roof together. Mabel took a picture of me and Dipper and somehow caught Bi between us. It is a cute picture. Might have the drawing I did still somewhere. Have to find it.

Ford was smart. He traveled to a few dimensions that heard rumors about me. Saw certain symbols that matched my seals. He never trusted me. Even when I offered him information I normally wouldn't give. But he was too fascinated by me to shun me. So he would talk to me and ask me questions which I only vaguely replied to at the time. I met some Fords... Only my first Forddad was good... The rest... I won't go into it here... So I was wary.

When Bi finally revealed himself to Ford, he sent me away to not know what was going on. I think he suspected even then that I was talking to Bi. He got Mabel to get stuff for the barrier, tho Dipper tried to make light of it. He didn't think Ford was possessed in the basement like Ford thought at first, he was scared that Ford found out. And almost did with the brain scanner. I, meanwhile was busy with my own thing and planning for the barrier. I knew it would go up somehow. I was setting up a place to stay out in the woods. And by the time I came home the barrier was up. I couldn't go in because of not only my connection with Bi, but because of the powers I didn't know of yet that laid dormant.

Ford had me sent away then. Dipper pleaded for me, but he would not be moved. By this time the power that was unsealed was starting to overwhelmed me, whisper thoughts into my head, losing control of who I was. The darkness that had once consumed me was returning. I let Bi's talk of revenge sway me. So I knew what to do. Bi never had to use Blendin except in changing a few things in the past to make everything fall into place. But a part of me knew what was happening. I was able to drag Ford and Dipper into the Dreamscape and place a protection spell on them to prevent harm. I warned them that I would lose myself and the next day Weirdmageddon began. I was the one whom convinced Mabel to give the rift over. I'm the one that broke it.

I remember bits and pieces myself after this. Bi told me most of it. But I was... Not feral, but I lost myself to my own darkness. The insanity that once drove me to do very bad things. Bi said to him at the time I was very... Bad ass but scary. Tho he wasn't scared of that till later. He let himself at me like how he wanted to from the beginning. Causing pain and suffering. Stuff he regrets now. He did it to purposely hurt me. During one of these sessions I started to feel and know who I was again. I remember seeing Ford being tortured. I remember seeing Dipper waving his hand across my face as he removed the chains. I remember him hiding me behind a pillar and running off with his sister into the pyramid. I remember Stan and Ford switching clothes...

I snapped out of it then... I wanted to warn Bi, but I knew I couldn't. So when Bi entered the scape, I did too. I remember mostly the fire. Calling out to Bi as the fire surrounded him and Stan. Him yelling that I was stupid and needed to get out of there. Me refusing. Bi said he felt fear for the first time in his life then. He actually did care about me in his own way. Just never was shown how.

He used the last of his power to send me out of Stan's mind. He told me later that Stan asked him why if he had energy left... Bi had simply said... "Because at least they can still have a future."

I woke up outside the scape and everything was falling around us. Bi was shattered. By the time we were on the ground we saw the rift still open and didn't know why... Then I remembered. I had a shard of Old Bill left inside of me. Any Bill was connected to the rift. I knew what I needed to do. I told Dipper to get everyone in the circle and activate the zodiac. I was able to use that power to Ascend. I turned into the Ascended form and shattered myself on the barrier, causing it to break and send a power surged throughout the dimension. Thus causing the transcendence. I ended Weirdmageddon only to start the era of magic. I remember everything fading to black.

Dipper said it was calm then. That I was gone. Stan had lost his memory. And everyone was shaken. He cried for me. But somehow he knew I would return there. Stan had regained his memory because of Mabel, and all that was left of Bi was a stone statue. Summer ended, but the adventure wasn't over yet. That would be five years later.

Dipper: I'll take it from here for the interval.

After they were gone, everything hung just felt out of sorts. The world was changing and didn't know how to handle it. I went back to school as the nobody. Parents said the events should just be forgotten and just focus on dealing with school. Neither of us really forgot our summer. I was focused on seeing Astra again. I knew he would return. I spent five years sticking to the books, dealing with Mabel's crazy adventures. Not getting into those here.

When I just had graduated, I had a huge fight with my parents that night and went to bed. They couldn't understand why I would want to go back to Gravity Falls. To the Supernatural. Mabel said she was just leaving and acting like she is on a road trip. We both wanted to go back. It was that night I suddenly saw Astra for the first time in five years floating right above me and making me fall out of bed. He "convinced" my parents to let us go to Gravity Falls and we left within a day.

Astra: This is where I continue off. Those five years... Happened in a night in reality. It was like watching from beyond. I remember the scape... Shapes forming around me... Seeing Alcor in the space between life and death and explaining what he did. Seeing Old Bill one final time, the last piece I knew of then passing beyond. Being surrounded by the Flock as they recognized me as their new master. Feeling myself reform. It was different than the other times. Usually when I died I would appear back in my own scape awaiting for another portal to open... Another world to visit... But I was still in this world. I haven't returned to my scape. I was still in the dimension's scape. It was surreal... Something had changed... I didn't know what then... I guess from the transcendence. I still don't know why...

We returned to Gravity Falls. I made a deal with Ford about protecting the shack. For you see, I was weak and only Dipper was able to see me. I made a deal to claim the shack as my territory so I could appear in reality and be grounded there. It took a little time but I was able to claim the town too. I appeared to people and made deals under the name Alkaid. I created my demon self you could say. Our Alk didn't split from me till way after. I even got our Gideon on my side by healing his mother. By then I had an inkling of what was to come to GF so I made a deal with him that he would start a protection squad to watch over the supernatural.

Then I found Bi... Well what was left of him. His statue. Took me awhile but I found it. It was then I met Axxie for the first time. He told me that I couldn't wake him up until we had a way to split his power, so he wouldn't go mad with power like before. I had an idea then. Time Baby owed me a favor. So I went to the future and claimed a Time Wish. Used it to bring Liam to our time without changing the events of the past. I was able to devise a spell to split the power Bi had and share it with Liam. Liam was all for it, he wanted to see his brother again. So we did it and Bi was awaken in human form and Liam gained a human form as well.

To say Bi didn't take to the new look was an understatement. He hated it... Resented me, Dipper, and Liam... Whined, threw fits, screamed with rage as we had to limit his use of powers to protect ourselves. Ford didn't help by bullying him a lot. Shenanigans occurred. Axxie decided to take a more physical form and hang about to tease him too. I tried to reason and teach. Bi... Hit me only once then. We were on the roof that night and I brought up if he truly hated me for now... That maybe if I could have taken his place back then... He slapped me... Said that I shouldn't say such things. He told me... He didn't hate me. He was just... Confused and it felt odd having a human body of his own. He never had feelings like this before... And it confused and frightened him. We talked more and slept on the roof that night. The next day I saw him talking with Dipper. It took awhile... He was still getting used to everything. But soon he and Dipper found out they cared for each other too. Tho they still had their spats. Like even now. We bonded in a special Celestial marriage ceremony and found out Dipper was a Forest Guardian soon after.

Then Dipper's parents came for a visit. There was no warning. Even I didn't See it. But they came and demanded Dipper and Mabel return home and rid themselves of any magical taint. They called me a monster and said I brainwashed them. That I would condemn them. That I was evil.

I don't remember much then... I shut down... I always do when people call me things like that because I start believing it. Bi held me and Dipper fought and yelled at his parents. They left... We were hurt... They had joined the new group of Anti-Magics that was going around. The Pure Ones. The Untainted Ones they called themselves. We vowed to protect the town then. And to support each other. It wasn't a few months later in reality I found out about soul bonds and we realized that we were connected like that. And the rest is another story.

There isn't much more to it. We had more things that happened afterwards, stuff that happened with ex friends... Personal things. I won't talk about Old Bill. I'm... Not ready for that story yet. Too painful still. I did say something about him before ages ago. But that's all I want to talk about it for now. Bill, Dipper, and me have triplets together. And many more through our other mates. We are still happy and care for one another very much. Tho Bill is a lazy ass these days lmao.

And that is that.

#Astra txt #soulbond #soulbonding #bill cipher #dipper pines #Our story

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andrewmoocow · 7 years ago

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Gravity Soul chapter 8: Last of Medusa’s Minions, the Pines vs the Witches? (originally posted on June 15, 2018)

AN: Well after some fun with Excalibur, why don't we follow it up with some of our characters being put in mortal danger by being pitted against Medusa's minions?! Yeah, I won't be very kind to our ragtag group of heroes going forward and trust me, it won't be pretty. 20-8-5 6-18-15-7 9-19 1 3-15-23-1-18-4 20-8-5 23-15-12-6 9-19 1 13-15-18-15-14 20-8-5 13-9-3-5 1-18-5 19-9-14-7-12-5-13-9-14-4-5-4 25-5-20 1-12-12 15-6 20-8-5-13 1-18-5 5-1-19-25 20-15 3-15-14-20-18-15-12

"I usually start off my mornings with a cup of coffee with cream." Excalibur stated as the Mystery Meisters continued on their way to Kishin Cipher's lair, much to their displeasure. "Then in the afternoon, I sit down with a cup of tea. And then in the evening-" "Booze? Seems right for an old guy like you." Stan snarked before he was cut off. "FOOL! For your information, I change into my pajamas and settle down for some well-deserved sleep." Excalibur cried. "Does he ever shut up?" Soos asked Black Star, who simply replied by putting on the Excalibur face and declaring "Unfortunately, no." "So what is Excalibur exactly?" Dipper asked Stein. "He can switch between a sword and some weird looking animal thing, but is he a demon weapon or not?" Stein simply mused for a moment before giving an answer. "Why it's simple Dipper, he actually inspired their creation and modeled after him by the sorcerer Eibon." "Who's Eibon?" Mabel added just as inquisitive. "Another one of the Eight Shinigami Legions and the Great Old One of Knowledge." Maka stated. "He once helped us against Asura but now it seems he's gone MIA." Kid added. "One has to wonder where he's gone now." "Wait guys, be quiet!" Wendy shouted making everyone stop. "Did anyone else hear a frog croaking?" They all scanned the area for any amphibians before the chittering of mice was heard along with a wolf howling. "I don't like the sound of that." Liz stated before she felt Blair's cat form clinging to her leg. "I'd remember that chittering from anywhere!" the Monster Cat cried before a small childlike person with pink hair, black-and-white striped clothing and a hat resembling that of a mouse's head stepped into view, followed by three similar looking ones. "Are those the Mizunes?" Soul wondered. "Then that must mean the others aren't too far behind!" Crona added before two more people came out. One was a girl with silvery hair, a black dress with a white polka dot pattern & an orange hat and the other was a muscular man with fangs, black-and-white striped pants and a red glow in his eye. "Well look who we have here. We've been following you all for quite a while." the girl said. "Yeah, what she said!" the taller man cried. "Don't think you're gonna get away so easily!" "Hey, isn't that the big muscly man from the Skull Fracture?" Mabel asked. "What do you want with us now?" Tsubaki demanded answers as to why they're here. "Simple, after Kishin Cipher fired us we decided to win his favor again by getting rid of you!" Free declared. "Not all of you, but the two kids and the old guys." "Is-is he talking about us?" Mabel fretted clinging as she and her brother clung to one another. "Well if you want us, then no dice big boy!" Stan declared putting up his fists while Ford pulled out a magnet gun. "Don't worry Mr. Pines, we'll stand by you!" Soos added. "We already said we only want the Pines!" Eruka reiterated her comrade's demands. "Now Free!" "You got it!" the werewolf shouted and began to wave his arms around. "Wolf, wolves! Wolf, wolves!" he chanted before clenching his fists and spread them out. "Frigid Jailhouse!" With those two words alone, the very air around everyone sans the Pines turned cold and began forming into some sort of a prison cell. "Well what do you know, trapped behind bars again." Gideon snarked. "This is no time for jokes Gleeful, we have to help Dipper & Mabel before we're put in cold storage!" Kid reprimanded the boy unaware of his own pun. Looking around, the Shinigami spotted Excalibur and picked him up by the torso. "Dipper, catch!" Kid then tossed the Holy Sword over to the young Pines twin before Free's attack completely froze them all solid, only leaving the family and the weapon to face the minions of Medusa. "Wait, Excalibur?" Dipper wondered staring at the annoying sword. "Didn't you say you wanted your own weapon like a sword?" Ford reminded him of Stein's explanation of Demon Weapons. "Besides, we might need him more then ever, regardless of how annoying he is!" "FOOL! You are indeed right Sixer, I might be an valuable asset to your crusade against Bill and Asura!" Excalibur shouted in his usual loud arrogant tone to which everybody in the area, even those frozen in the Frigid Jailhouse, responded by making the Excalibur face. "Well what are you waiting for boy, grab onto me!" the Holy Sword demanded leaping into Dipper's hands. "But don't I need to be worthy to wield you?" "It doesn't matter now, do it!" Dipper finally relented and grabbed Excalibur by the hat and he transformed into his weapon form. The other Pines gazed in awe before turning to face the witches. "Before we begin, why don't we make things more fair?" Eruka offered before looking at the Mizunes. The mice witches started snapping their fingers & chittering in harmony before two of them stacked on top of each other & forming a child-like figure around Mabel's height while the other three took on the form of a girl wearing clothes patterned after the Mizunes' attire and still wearing their mice hats. "Wait, they can do that?" Ford exclaimed scratching his head. "Now then, charge!" Free ordered and the two groups ran at one another ready to fight, Dipper against Eruka, Mabel against Free and the Stans against the Mizunes.

Meanwhile high in the treetops sat Giriko and Mosquito spying on the action. "Didn't Bill already fire those losers? What are they doing here?" the chainsaw wondered. "I suppose this is their attempt at winning the master's favor, especially at how they managed to contain the rest of their party." the former steward of Arachne pointed out staring at the subzero prison of the remaining Mystery Meisters. "Who knew such a fool could be strong enough to contain the son of Death and some of his strongest Meisters?" Giriko commented. "In fact, why did we need to be here? Let's just get outta here and let those guys murder them!" He was then quickly shushed by Mosquito. "Of course you gotta ruin my fun." "It's likely those five will lose anyway, especially when the boy has Excalibur in his hands." Mosquito stated eyeing the sword in particular. "Wait, that's Excalibur?!" Giriko gasped as the battle finally began. "Don't they know that he's too goddamn annoying to fully synchronize with?!" "I suggest we save the conversation for later my boy, but right now we watch." the Bloodsucker declared ending their debate and watching the witch's lackeys face the Pines. Returning to the fight, both groups were evenly matched. Dipper & Excalibur faced Eruka, Mabel against Free and the Stans versus the Mizunes. "Why are you even after us? Do you have something to gain from working with Kishin Cipher?!" the boy cried clashing the sword with the frog witch's tadpole staff. "He promised us freedom from Medusa when we originally met him in exchange for taking you out." Eruka explained smacking her foe in the face with her staff. "But we were wrong. He was just so utterly cruel and petty that he fired us just because Free lost an arm-wrestling contest." "Hey, that ninja kid was tough!" Free exclaimed as he tried to grab Mabel, who dodged him by swinging in the air with her grappling hook. "But how did you meet him anyway?" Ford asked while he and the tall Mizune fusion tried to push each other back while gripping each other's fists. "It all began one day..."

Gravity Falls, May 2013 It has been a few weeks since Maka Albarn had defeated Asura with the power of courage and now with Medusa potentially deceased & nowhere else to go, Eruka Frog, Free and the Mizunes decided to travel the country in search of a new purpose. Their newest destination was a town in Roadkill County, Oregon surrounded by a large forest that proved to be the perfect hiding place. "So glad we're all getting into nature." Free said roasting a kebab made out of acorns, mushrooms and a few dead squirrels over a campfire. "Yeah, the scenery really brings a nice atmosphere, wouldn't you agree Mizunes?" Eruka remarked and the Mizunes chittered in agreement. "But I just don't know what that thing is doing here." She pointed to a nearby statue of a triangle object wearing a top hat and sticking its arm out. "Probably just some dumb tourist attraction." "Why does it have an eye?" Free wondered also looking at the triangle while munching on his dinner. After a while, the group decided to turn in for the night. "So who gets to put on the fire?" the frog witch asked. "Allow me!" the werewolf made the campfire go out with his ice magic before closing his eyes and laying on his back. "Night gang!" And so the former witch's goons all fell asleep as the stars shone brightly over them. But mere hours later, Eruka woke up and glared at the statue of the triangle still with its arm out. "Okay, what is up with you?" she exclaimed trying her best to not awaken the others. She marched over to the triangle and took a knee to face its eye. "Seriously, what's your deal? Are you some kind of ancient relic or just some tacky photo op? Give me an answer!" "I'm sorry, what did you just call me?" a deep voice furiously rung out scaring the witch. Suddenly, a pale-skinned figure with golden hair and three eyes appeared in front of her and she started screaming in fear of this new being. "Hey, you got some nice pipes there girly! Perfect screaming volume!" the stranger complimented her. "And those shrunken pupils are a nice touch too!" "Free, Mizunes, help me!" Eruka ran away & cried out for her comrades but they couldn't hear her and continued resting. "Sorry Kermit, they can't hear you! Wanna know why?!" the monster said. "BECAUSE YOU'RE ON MY TURF NOW!" The entire area turned monochrome and Eruka was pulled back. "I suppose you must be wondering who I am?" "You're Asura, aren't you?" the witch whimpered. "Close but no cigar Slippy, call me Kishin Cipher!" he proclaimed. "While Asura was in some random void after Scythe punched him with courage, he ran into yours truly, Bill Cipher!" Kishin Cipher then transformed into that exact triangle statue only it was yellow and had a bow tie. "You may remember me from when Lord Death and his eight butt buddies beat me up and locked me in the Nightmare Realm or when I unleashed the apocalypse on this little town. But sadly all good things had to come to an end when some old man punched me in his mind." "So you both came back by fusing?" Eruka asked. "Exactly cheeks, and I've got a plan." Cipher stated putting an arm around her neck. "You see, there are these couple of kids that I want dead so that they won't interfere with my schemes. So I want you and your idiot friends to find me one of these three journals and bring them to me." He then spawned a flaming image of a damaged book with the number 3 on it. "So do we have a deal?" "But wait, what do I get out of it?" Eruka wondered contemplating Kishin Cipher's offer as he shifted back into his regular form. "Simple Michigan. Freedom." he declared. "Think of it, no longer will you have to be Medusa's punching bags, I can give you anything you want! Money, fame, riches, infinite power, even your own galaxy!" "Come to think of it, that does sound enticing." the frog mused tapping her chin in deep thought. "Okay, it's a deal." She finally took Kishin Cipher's hand and they shook, sealing the deal. "Welp, that takes care of it! Well what're you waitin' for?! But if you fail me, there will be consequences!" he exclaimed preparing to disappear before stopping to make one final statement. "Okay just a second. Strike that, reverse it. Thank you." He finally disappeared leaving Eruka standing alone in the dark forest before Free appeared from behind, spooking her. "Hey, what're you doing up and out here so late?" he asked. "Was it about the triangle?" His cohort sighed and finally confessed. "I made a deal with the guy that statue was supposed to be. It turns out he was some kind of demon that unleashed some kinda bizarre Hell on Earth last year and fused with Asura." "So wait, you actually shook hands with this thing?" the Immortal Man asked stepping up to the statue and touching it. "Yoohoo, Mr. Statue Man! You awake in there? My name's Free, a friend of the girl you made a deal with!" he cried tapping on the stone shape and accidentally cracking its eye. "Oops, I am so sorry Mr. Statue Man! Let me fix that for you!" He used his own saliva to fix the crack, but to no avail. "Apologies for using that to help you out there." "Can you pay attention Free?!" Eruka shouted. "When I spoke with Kishin Cipher, he told me he had a plan that involved a book he needed to gain more power." she explained. "Oh, you mean the one Doug has?" Free remarked. "Wait, who's Doug?" the witch asked. "He's just some guy I met that got that book from a bake sale. Reviews movies in his spare time." "Well, let's go see this Doug then. C'mon Mizunes, we got a job to do." Eruka woke up the mice and went on their way to perform their mission.

"So you actually made a deal with him?!" Dipper cried continuing to clash Excalibur with the frog's staff. "It was the only way we could finally have freedom!" she responded. "Besides, I wished we could be as tight-knit as you are." "Get back here you!" Free cried trying to catch Mabel, who kept swinging away from him with her grappling hook. "Try and catch me first!" she shouted pulling a candy bar out of her sweater pocket and throwing it in his face. "Oh hey, I was getting' hungry. Thanks kid." "You're welcome, but I'm still gonna have to beat you anyway." Mabel answered walking up to him and delivering a small punch before taking notice of his unique eye. "Hey, why does it say 'No future' above your eye, and why is it a different color from your other eye?" she asked. "Oh yeah, that." he stated sitting down. "This eye actually used to belong to the Grand Witch Mabaa and I stole it because a bunch of my friends dared me to." "So what happened? C'mon, you can tell me." Mabel asked smiling sweetly at him. "Wait, why you being so friendly with me? I mean, I froze your friends solid and I think my co-workers are gonna kill your family." Free said with a surprised expression. "I just want to be a nice person, even if some people are jerks to my friends." the girl stated sitting down next to him. "Now tell me more about that Grand Witch lady." "Okay, so I did succeed in stealing that eye but instead of killing me, since I was an immortal werewolf, Mabaa instead locked me up for the next hundreds of years where I even forgot my own name until Eruka freed me under Medusa's orders." Free explained. "And before that, I tried to escape by digging my way out with spoons like in the movies!" "It didn't work?" Mabel remarked. "It didn't work because they all served chopsticks." Free responded. "Now anyway, after I was bailed I served Medusa for quite a while until she bit the dust. We all thought she was gone for good until she came back in the body of a little girl, long story, and we were all forced to work for her again until she died again." "I know Medusa's a pretty terrible mother from Crona but how terrible of a boss was she?" Mabel wondered. "Just as awful. Makes me wish I was indebted to someone else now, preferably less abusive toward their minions." That was when Mabel got an idea. "I have a suggestion, why don't you hang out with us? I promise we'll be much kinder to you guys." "That sounds like a great idea! But I'm not sure about it since you're friends with the Academy's brats." Free remarked. "Promise me big guy, we can make it work."

"Tiny little bastard, ain't ya?!" Stan cried trying to dodge the two-body merged Mizune while Ford clashed with the three-body merged Mizune. "We need to create a diversion so that one of us can melt our companions' ice prison. Got any ideas Stanley?" Ford asked. "Okay, how about I face these Mousekewitzes while you do the melting part?" the con artist suggested. "But that leaves the question of how." "Simple, I crank my magnet gun up to eleven to meddle with its melting point." Stanford stated. "Did you simply get that off the Internet? That sounds like something out of one of those fact sites that says can openers are good for opening doors!" his brother commented. "Just trust me on this one Stan, our friends might catch hypothermia if they're stuck in there longer!" "Well, if you say so Sixer." Stan gave in before facing the pair of Mizunes. "Hey Speedy, Itchy!" he called distracting the mice witches and beginning to run around in circles. Meanwhile Ford got to work on melting the Frigid Jailhouse by stabbing the bars in the opening into the ice and cranking its power to its highest level. Pulling the trigger, Ford activated the gun's magnet pulse and it began to make quick work of the ice, to the point where he could barely see Waddles wiggle his snout. "Bingo, it's working!" "Wow Ford, guess the web is useful for something after all." Stan commented before he suddenly started screaming in pain, looking down to notice a thin, small laser jutted straight through his chest coming from the Mizune's face. Covering his wound, the great uncle turned to notice that the two fusions were no more and in their place had merged into something taller and dressed more revealing. "One of the old men is down. Now onto the rest of the family." "Stanley no!" Ford cried rushing to his brother's side. "Please speak to me, did that thing shoot you through the heart?" he asked. "No, none of my organs were stabbed." Stan said weakly while his older brother cradled him in his arms. "Just keep melting 'em Sixer and hopefully the kids will come back to save us." He finally passed out just as Dipper rushed to his side as well. "What's happened to him Ford?!" "That mouse thing struck him down while his back was turned and he's bleeding out! But thankfully she missed his vital organs." Ford stated beginning to shed a tear for his brother. "But still, if only it were me that took that laser." Dipper put a comforting hand on his shoulder as Eruka stepped forward. "So you care for each other that much?" "More than anything. What about you guys?" Dipper answered. "We only saw each other as coworkers, barely having enough time to relax especially when working under Medusa." Eruka stated. "Makes me wish we could have someone that we could call a family." She remorsefully looked down at the ground before Dipper took her hand. "How about we be your family?" "You really mean it? But we tried to kill you guys!" Eruka and Mizune were both taken aback by the boy's offer. "You did tell us about how bad of a boss both Medusa and Bill were, but Soos is a much better boss than they ever will." Dipper explained. "Speaking of which, think you can help us unfreeze our friends?" "We'd be happy to help, but we're gonna need to wait for Free to come back, since this is his doing." Eruka answered before suddenly, they heard bushes rustling followed by the Immortal Man stepping out with Mabel on his back. "Hey guys, sorry to keep you waiting!" "Meet my new friend bro-bro!" Mabel exclaimed jumping down to hug her brother. "Let me guess, is it because he's a big muscular wolfman?" Dipper snarked. "Kinda actually, but despite being an evil minion he's actually a total dork." the sweater girl stated. "And he loved that candy bar I threw at him as well!" "Who doesn't love chocolate?" Free added munching on his sweet. "So anyway, think you can help us get our friends out of that ice?" Dipper asked the werewolf. "Sure, just give me some time on this one." Stepping up to the partially melted ice block. Free wound up his fist and shattered it with a single punch, freeing its prisoners who were now shivering as a result. "Oh man, thought we were all gonna become ice sculptures in there!" Wendy exclaimed before spotting Free. "Hey, you look familiar." "Hands, or paws, in the air Free. We have you surrounded now that you've sealed your own doom." Kid coldly stated aiming Liz & Patty at the wolfman while the others took up arms when Dipper & Mabel rushed to defend their new friend. "No wait guys, don't fight them!" Mabel cried. "Are you kidding us Mabel, he tried to freeze us!" Black Star exclaimed before Dipper shushed him by pointing Excalibur at him. "Let us explain."

"So you're saying they all got screwed over by Bill and want to join us for revenge?" Spirit wondered as the crew were gathered around a makeshift campfire to warm themselves. "Yes, I originally made a deal with him to give us freedom in exchange for a journal he wanted but we were fired thanks to a certain someone!" Eruka stated before glaring at Free. "Oh come on! I just wasn't trying that hard!" "Incredible, a witch and a werewolf!" Ford muttered to himself writing down about the two in Journal 4. "One swiped the eye of a being known as the Grand Witch and the other is gifted in some form of mathmatics-based spells." Finishing his entry, he looked forlornly at his brother who was being taken care of by Stein. "Now hold still Stanley, this injury went pretty deep." "Yeah I know Frankenstein. Just be gentle, will ya?" Stan asked. "So sorry, this happened to you Mr. Pines. When I heard about it, I thought you would've died!" Soos cried feeling concerned for his father figure. "Yeah, must've been pretty nasty." Wendy added. "Thanks guys, nice to know you're still sticking by me." the con-artist thanked them with a hug. "I still can't believe it! Have we all gotten weaker or our enemies stronger?" Soul wondered aloud. "It's most likely the latter Soul. Kishin Cipher is not holding back from here on out and we're going to need to try our hardest to stop him." Maka answered. "Which would also explain why that taxidermy monster from the Northwests' home was able to knock me out mid-resonance." "FOOLS! We can't say for sure whether he is getting stronger, but I can assure you his forces definitely are." Excalibur commented. "Besides, have any of you ever seen Free pull off a move like that?" he asked the DWMA students and they replied with a nod. "Excalibur's got a good point everyone, we should watch ourselves." Kid reiterated the Holy Sword's point before grimacing. "I can't believe I just said that about him." "We can only camp here for a few more minutes, then we can get back on track." Tsubaki announced walking over to the fire to put it out. "Tsubaki's right, if we stay out here longer Bill could be invading our minds." Ford agreed. "Now then, let's get moving!" "Not so fast friends!" Mosquito announced with he and Giriko stepping into view. "Well, it seems Medusa's flunkies have finally betrayed them. I'm honestly not surprised given her personality." the Bloodsucker commented before a large golem rose up from behind. "Just when we thought tonight couldn't get any worse, of course more of you guys had to show up!" Stan exclaimed as everyone took up arms. "Now what do you want?" "Simple, to eliminate you all and take the old man & the scythe." Mosquito proclaimed. "We have been watching you all this entire night, particularly your battle earlier." he explained. "Now then, shall we begin?" "We won't back down this time Mosquito, and we aren't going to be detained like last time!" Maka shouted grasping onto her weapon and the Mystery Meisters began charging at the duo, ready for another battle.

Sorry to keep you waiting! Again, writer's block. Hopefully this will keep you tided over while I get back on one of my other stories that I've kept under the bus for a while. Oh yes, we're finally returning to my One Punch Man/Villainous crossover Black Fist! Until we meet again Fanfiction, take it easy.

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whatadaze · 7 years ago

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Moon lovers xmas prompt modern AU? What if Hae Soo's apartment is next door to So's and they've co-existed just as neighbors passing in the hall, but he's noticed how her cheating ex has moved out (because So notices everything about Soo who are we kidding) and she notices that he's spending xmas alone so she ends up inviting him over for dinner. :)

She was losing it.

She could feel her fingers becoming slick against the cardboard box, and it didn’t help that it obstructed her view of the hallway.

Just a few more steps.

Just a few more and-

The sweat on her palms were beginning to win and she felt the box give way against her fingers, but as she closed her eyes to brace herself for the impending crash, Soo was surprised to be met with…silence.

She cracked an eye open, and gasped when she saw the person standing in front of her. He had his arms wrapped under the box and grabbed it from her before nodding his head.

“I’m guessing you’re the new neighbor?” he asked, already walking over to the door.

Soo rushed in front of him, and quickly entered her passcode in before pushing the door open. “Yeah,” she said, kicking the other boxes to the side. “You can just place the box here….Thank you.”

The man shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I-I’m Soo, by the way! Hae Soo.” She stuck a hand out towards him, but the man responded with a flick of his brow. His eyes scanned the apartment, lingering at all the boxes scattering around the floor.

“I have to wake up early in the mornings, so if you can be courteous after midnight, that would be much appreciated,” he said, his eyes finally falling on her. “The previous neighbors didn’t seem to believe in silence.”

Soo retracted her hands and awkwardly crossed them in front of her chest. Although this man—her neighbor—irritated her, she didn’t want this move to start off on a bad note. So instead, she sent him her brightest smile and nodded her head. “Of course! You won’t even know we’re here.”

He raised a brow at the mention of we, but didn’t question her further when he saw another man enter the apartment, a large plastic box in his hands. Soo’s eyes widened as she rushed to his side.

“Be careful!” she cried out. “That’s my make up! Place it down, gently.”

“I know I know!” the man gritted, placing the box, gently, down onto the floor. He brushed his hands and let out a sigh. “We only have a few boxes left and then we’ll be done. The heat is killing me-”

His eyes fell on the mysterious man standing in the middle of the living room and he turned to his girlfriend.

Soo straightened up and clasped her hands. “Oh, this is our new neighbor! Mister…”

“So. Wang So,” the man said, making his way to the door. He turned to Soo before stepping out of the apartment. “So we’re in agreement, right?” he asked, eyeing the man beside her. “I’m not picky about a lot of things, but that’s definitely one of them.”

“Of course! Not a peep.”

(Five months later)

“How long?”

“Soo…”

“I said,” her voice gritted out. “How. Long?”

“A-A month,” he uttered. “But it didn’t mean anything! I was…I was under a lot of stress and she was there and…it was a stupid mistake! You have to believe me.”

“It was a mistake? That you made over and over again for a month?” she asked. “And you expect me to believe that? I…I can’t be with someone who will constantly make mistakes like this.”

“Soo, please…”

“You should leave,” she said, her voice growing quiet. “I’ll have your stuff packed by tomorrow morning so just…just go.”

So heard the door slam shut and he stacked the papers scattered around his desk. He tried to forget what he had just overheard. Not that he did it on purpose, but they were yelling. There walls were connected—it was pretty much unavoidable.

So the bastard cheated, huh.

He knew her boyfriend seemed a little…off, but never knew he was the type to cheat on his own girlfriend. So knew it was none of his business, but he had to admit, he felt a bit bad for the girl.

Yes, she was too peppy at times, but she didn’t deserve that.

No one did.

So let out a tired sigh, and shut his laptop. It had been a long night, and as he glanced at the clock, the time confirmed that he should definitely be headed to bed.

When So left his apartment the next morning, he noticed the stack of boxes outside of her apartment and a large suitcase. When he returned that night, the belongings were gone.

That was two weeks ago.

So had found his mind sometimes drifting over to his neighbor. The girl was too peppy and too cheery for her own good. He didn’t know why he cared, but one night when he was taking his trash out to the dumpster, he saw her. She was standing in front of the dumpster, a small box in her hand.

He had never seen her like this before.

Her hair was tied up and she was clad in sweats and a t-shirt, much different from her usual attire. Her eyes seemed to be lost in thought and So made an attempt to make his footsteps a bit louder as he approached her, not wanting to startle her.

When that didn’t seem to get her attention, he let out a light cough.

Soo jumped up and turned around, her body relaxing when she saw who it was.

“Oh…hello,” she muttered.

So raised the bag in his hand. “I’m just…taking out the trash.”

She nodded and a small smile appeared for just a moment.

“Me too,” she whispered, glancing down at the box.

She didn’t make an attempt to move and So walked around her before throwing his bag into the dumpster.

“Well are you going to do it today?” he asked, glancing at the box. “Or are you just going to stand there?”

“I don’t-”

So doesn’t know why he did it, but something about seeing her like this irritated him. He knew she was better than this. She wasn’t some girl who sulks around some cheating bastard, and the box obviously contained some remnants of him. He had to admit, the look on her face when he grabbed the box from her and threw it into the trash was priceless. It was a flicker of her usual self.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “That’s the second time I’ve helped you with a box.”

“I can’t believe you…I was going to do it!”

So rolled his eyes and began to walk back to the building. He heard her footsteps behind him as she quickened her own steps to catch up to him.

“If I didn’t throw it away for you, you wouldn’t have done it,” he said, stopping in his steps. “And you needed to do it.”

“I’m sorry, but how do you know what I need to do? We barely know each other!” She cried out. “We’re just-”

“Neighbors?” he finished. “I know. But I was sick of hearing you crying at night, so now that the last traces of him are gone, you can move on now. Right?”

Her eyes widened in surprise but he resumed his steps, ignoring her as she called out to him.

Soo plugged in the cord and watched her small Christmas tree come to life.

The colorful lights flickered and she tapped a finger on the small bulbs. Christmas was her favorite holiday of the year, but today was different.

Lonely.

Soo slowly stood up and scanned the empty living room. She wasn’t planning on putting out the tree, but the box was just taunting her. It had for weeks. She had it stored in the coat closet months ago, and when she saw it collecting dust, she had decided to make use of it.

Ding dong. Ding dong.

“That was fast,” she mumbled.

As she dug into her purse for her wallet, she quickly made her way to the door.

“How much was it again?” she asked, pulling out some bills. “It must be tough working on Christmas and-”

“Yes, it must be very tough,” the voice replied. “So tough that he seemed to have dropped it off at the wrong apartment.”

Soo looked up from her wallet and saw her neighbor standing at her doorway, the bag of chicken in one hand. He lifted it up to her face and waved it in the air.

“So I was right,” he said. “This was yours.”

She nodded her head, dumbfounded by her neighbor.

“Don’t worry about the money,” he continued. “Think of it as a Christmas gift.”

He waited for her to take the bag, but seeing that she remained motionless, So carefully grabbed her hand and handed her the plastic bag.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, sending her a quick wave before shoving his hands into his pocket. He turned and began walking away from her door, and Soo finally found her voice.

“W-Wait!”

He stopped in his steps and turned around. He raised a brow in question and his eyes flickered down to her neck as she swallowed a mouthful of air.

“You should eat with me,” she said, raising the bag. “I ordered way too much, and you paid and…and it’s Christmas! Come eat with me.”

She motioned for him to come in, and stepped aside from the doorway.

“Please,” she muttered, her eyes falling to the floor. “No one should be alone on Christmas.”

So crossed his arms and leaned against her doorframe. Normally, he would’ve rejected her offer and inform her that he actually enjoyed spending the holidays alone. The holidays were one of the few times in the year that he was able to rest his mind and be at peace.

Was he willing to sacrifice one of those precious days for the girl next door?

Just then, the girl in question turned around and was already making her way into her kitchen. “Lucky for you, I ordered the set menu that came with two jjajangmyuns. It was cheaper that way. I was wondering how I’d finish it all but now you can have the other one.”

He watched as she began to set the table and before he knew it, he found himself slowly stepping inside before hesitantly shutting the front door. He scanned the area and noticed that the layout of her apartment was exactly like his but the similarity stopped. Unlike his barren walls, her walls were full of pictures, paintings, and other decor. There were funky throw pillows on her sofa and a large white fuzzy rug spread out on the living room floor.

Yup, they couldn’t be any different.

And normally, So avoided anything that was different from him. It messed up his groove and quite frankly, made him feel a bit uncomfortable.

But when the girl who had been living next door to him all these months motioned him to sit down, he found himself abiding to her. And despite the fact that she spent most of her time rambling on and on about who knows what rather than actually eating, So found himself listening to her.

And normally, So never made any attempt to get to know any of his neighbors and they never seemed to bother him either.

A silent mutual agreement.

But of course, Soo was different.

And he didn’t know if it was the whimsical air of Christmas that seemed to change his mind tonight but slowly but surely this girl next door who had been pretty much a stranger to him was beginning to become more than just the girl next door.

#It literally #took me 2 years #to finish this #from my drafts #lol #omg #i suck #looool #sosoo #moon lovers

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generic-hufflepuff1 · 7 years ago

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GRAVITY FALLS AU (my ideas for reverse falls)

So first things first gravity falls is infinitely calmer and less strange. (But still far from normal)

Dipper and Mabel are now part of a rich and classy family (stanley pines got very rich) and they live where the nortwest family home would be.

Dipper is like a bootleg version of himself still smart and dorky but money has given him confidence (not romantically). He finds the second journal and sommons the demon ( he does not lose his curiosity combined with his newfound god complex he believes he can handle it) the demon that appears is not bill cipher but will cipher. The two of them set up a contact. Will agrees to teach dipper everything he knows (especially how to gain supernatural abilities) in exchange dipper has to help will keep gravity falls fairly normal (in my mind will is as reverse bill as you can get he has the powers of bill but has good intentions) so dipper of this reverse falls is nearly as powerful as will or bill but is driven by a contract to protect others.

Mabel becomes almost a carbon print of the normal paciffica but is far more creative and slightly less mean. She suggested that dipper run a magic show in order to get more money and spread his fame.

Will cipher is the brother of bill cipher but is opposite in every manner. He is far more introverted and less exentric and flashy. Bills purpose is to spread weird and have fun. Wills purpose is to prevent weirds corruption and protect people. Will was summond to reverse falls and bill to gravity falls and each began to push their agenda through the pines family. (I have a fanfic about how when bills weirdness was spreading through gravity falls will came and contained it within gravity falls)

Stanley pines is very rich due to gambling and decided to live in gravity falls so that he can try to find his missing brother.

Stanford pines' research into extra dimensions lead to him becoming lost in realites (becomes friends with rick)

Neither stan knows about will cipher

Soos works for his father at their family pizza place and is a total health nut.

Wendy is a typical teenage girl. As in the classic cheerleader popular type. (Dipper is constantly trying to ipress her because he wants her to like him, he believes they were meant to be, the most powerful guy and the most popular girl). Robbie is a jock.

Grenda and candy were recruted by mabel in order to help run the mystery show (dippers preformance) and quickly became friends with the rich kid (mabel finds there normality entertaining and they find her imagination and vision intoxicating)

Old Man McGucket is the one who finds the first journal but but because of a freak research accident (psychological engenering) his mind got wiped and now its just lying around somewhere by his house.

Paciffica northwest is now like dipper from the original universe. Dorky and fun but far more confident. Her family own a tourist attraction they call the weird shop (think mystery shack). In this universe she finds the third journal. And uses it much like dipper does in the original universe. Dipper often stops by in order to pic up anti-weird supplies. He and paciffica often work together in order to contain the weird (will totally ships it). And over time the two of them befin to realise that they have a thing for each other, but neither of them would ever admit it, dipper could never imagine his family approving the relationship and paciffica refuses to believe that she has a crush on that stuck up brat.

Gideon Gleeful works part time at the weird shop and when mabel came in one day (helping her brother) he absolutely lost it. From then on he attended every single one of dippers preformances just in hopes that he could see mabel. Also he's supper dorky in this universe.

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rum-and-shattered-dreams · 8 years ago

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Oh Boy... I’m Finally Writing This Thing... Heroism is Subjective - Prelude

The fic that goes with this AO3 Link Summary: An AU fic where what Ford was hiding under his sweater was a last-ditch method of defeating Bill once and for all. With all other efforts exhausted and time running out on the containment of Bill's chaotic devastation, he knows what must be done and that there's no chance he will make it through alive. The only problem is that for first time in thirty years, he doesn't want to merely survive for the sake of repairing his mistakes, he wants to live. Notes: This is a fic I had originally started in the (relatively) short hiatus before the finale. Going back to try to work on this has been rather difficult since I had to put myself back in that mindset of not knowing so many things including how the series would end. I've tried to stay true to the original AU idea as much as possible so I'm sorry if there are inconsistencies with canon or disappointments because certain things from canon (cough cough The Shacktron cough cough) aren't included. (Though, apparently I did get in the ballpark with the appearance of a giant robot and totally nailed that Bill was showing Ford visions with that promo shot of him looming over a galaxy. But the funny thing is that I actually tortured Ford less than canon did which, believe me, is saying something O_o.) Additional note: This fic is purposely vague about everyone's future families so readers can headcanon what they like as far as who married whom. I wanted to keep this as much of a gen fic as possible so have fun filling in the blanks with whatever you like. And now for the main attraction, several thousand words of solid pain. Please accept a complimentary virtual hug and box of tissues...

December 2043 Dipper had barely climbed out of his slush-spattered SUV when a flash of pink and purple slammed into him and powerful arms wrapped around his neck. Mabel's quilted coat sleeves squished against his cheeks as she squealed in delight, "Dipper!" "Ha ha, good to see you too, Mabel" his greeting squeaked mid-way through with an extra squeeze of her arms. He returned her overzealous death-grip of a hug before having so much as a moment to survey his surroundings. Seemingly out of nowhere, two more sets of arms wrapped around the twins as the joyful voices of his parents parroted Mabel's enthusiastic greeting. "Mom! Dad! You made it!" he remarked, "How has Florida been treating you?" "Pretty decently," his father answered, patting his back. "Oh, be honest, dear," his mother added, "That last hurricane had us huddled up in a closet and wishing we were back on the west coast." "I'm glad you didn't end up with any damage to the condo," Dipper commented, soaking in the warmth of his parent's arms surrounding him and his twin. In that moment, television producer and paranormal researcher, Dr. Mason Pines, shed the constricting exoskeleton of professionalism and reveled in the nostalgia of his childhood and the love of his family. The group released each other and Mabel and his parents took turns hugging his family members as they emerged from the passenger and back seats. Dipper smiled as he watched the moody are we there yets of a long drive melt into gushing about the warmth and fluffiness of the scarves Mabel had made for everyone. "Not everyone can say they have a scarf made by the designer!" "These are so cool! Everyone back home is super jealous that I have an M.Pines original!" He turned back to the SUV, ready to pop open the trunk and unload his family's luggage but a shaky hand on his shoulder triggered a pause. "Hey kid. Good ta' see you again." "Grunkle Stan!" Dipper whipped around, catching his wobbly great uncle in his arms. "Grunkle Stan, I thought I told you to stay inside where it's warm!" Mabel scolded him with an outstretched finger and pouted lips. Her concerned "You could have slipped and fallen!" and "Why didn't you at least use your walker!" faded as he waved a hand at her dismissively. "Psh. I get around fine without that rickety thing. 'Sides, I got impatient. Couldn't wait any longer to give you this," he joked, wrapping an arm around Dipper's neck and rubbing his gnarled knuckles in his hair. His voice creaked and rasped, weathered by a blur of holidays, summer vacations, and, Dipper suspected, from the source of the smoky musk clinging to his hair. His arms, once a powerhouse of punches, felt bony and thin beneath his sheepskin coat, his grip retaining less and less strength with every playful choke hold and noogie, yet, Dipper played along, bending nearly halfway over to surrender. "Aw, I'm glad to see you too," he said, giving his great uncle a few moments of triumph before carefully freeing himself from his grip and wrapping both arms around him. "What is this, a hug?" Stan grunted, as he always did. "Yeah. Yeah it is. You got a problem with that?" Dipper joked. "Smart mouthin' me, huh? I'm proud of ya, kiddo," He replied, patting Dipper's back. "Proud 'a ya both," he added, reaching up to pull Mabel into the hug. He released them, stepped back for a moment to appreciate their presence before him, then threw his arms around them again, holding them tightly for a moment and releasing them with some reluctance. Stan took turns hugging and greeting the others with two hugs each while Dipper and Mabel unloaded the trunk. After handing out suitcases and bags to every open hand offering to carry something, Dipper closed the trunk, shouldered his messenger bag, and rolled his own suitcase along the ice-spotted path cleared between snowdrifts, looking ahead to a familiar sight. Thirty years had brought Dipper and Mabel growth, failure, new family members, exciting technology, and a dusting of gray hair but one thing remained constant, a rock where he and his family could tether their drifting rafts every holiday season, The Mystery Shack. Blanketed in snow and nestled between towering conifers, the only change the shack had seen, repairs aside, was thirty years ago, when anything too reminiscent of a certain demon had been stripped from the structure. Amber lights flickered through orange and green stained glass, inviting the visiting family in from the biting flurries drifting down from a blanket of clouds above. Even so, Dipper's shoulders sagged as one mournful memory threatened to drown out laughter fueled water balloon fights, celebratory fireworks shot toward the horizon, snowball fights in the forest, and monster movie nights spent together in the warm glow of the television. He tried to smile past it but his sagging posture betrayed him. "Hey, Dipper, It's okay," Mabel whispered to him, her shoulder tapping against his as the lag in his stride allowed her to catch up, "I know it's still hard for you sometimes." "Yeah, kiddo. It's... It's rough sometimes," Stan added, his head lowered and one arm locked with Mabel's for support. "I try to remember all of the good times but sometimes..." Dipper trailed off, his vision locked on a cleanly shoveled square in the snow where a stone engraved with the words "Heroism is subjective." marked the center of a tan and brown mosaic depicting a zodiac circle. "Yeah, me too, kid. Me too," Stan agreed softly, his voice hitching between words. After a pensive pause, a smile lifted his cheeks and he looked up to Dipper, wagged a finger at him and added, "But save the spiel of asking me if I'm okay staying here. I'm just as fine with it now as I have been the thirty-thousand other times you two have asked. Soos and Melody have been takin' good care of the place and of me too, if you must know." "I'm glad to hear that," Dipper replied, shifting the strap crossed over his chest. "Me too," Mabel added, resting her head on Stan's shoulder for a moment. She had become closer than ever to him in the five years preceding her fashion line's explosion in popularity. Thanks to his offer to live in the Mystery Shack for as long as she liked, she was able to quit her day job and focus on her designs. With his experience in running a business, he helped her set up her own and ran the administrative portion until she could afford to hire an assistant. Despite his protests to any form of repayment, he regularly received new coats and sweaters in the mail along with lengthy, hand written letters, drawings, and cards. "Oh, by the way, Grunkle Stan," Dipper said with a light grunt as he hoisted his suitcase onto the porch, "Thanks for coming all the way down to LA for the graduation ceremony. We were all so happy you could make it." "Well, of course! I had to be there for the two of us, ya know," He answered, nodding toward the mosaic. "Yeah," Dipper replied with a melancholy smile, holding the door open for his sister and Great uncle, "He's still with us everyday, isn't he?" "Damn straight! And if he ain't, when we meet again, I'm gonna yak his ear off with thirty years worth of stories. Yer gonna have to bury me with one'a Mabel's scrapbooks so I can show him all the photos." "Heh, yeah," Dipper muttered with an awkward laugh. It was hard enough losing the grunkle who made him feel less alone, who threw aside his work to play their favorite game together, and who praised him for being who he was. He didn't want to so much as imagine the inevitability of losing the grunkle who taught him how to fight, who gave him the strength and confidence to follow his dream, and who sent him letters every week when he was struggling with anxiety in his first year of college. Yet, as much as Stan joked about the topic, he certainly had luck to spare in continuing on year after year. He'd kept his promise to his brother that he'd live a long and happy life, that he'd defy death out of pure spite, if necessary, to live for them both. Every hug became two hugs, one from each of them. Every family event was met with twice the pride and enthusiasm. Yet, he still allowed himself space to grieve, space to rest, space to sometimes simply not feel up to doing anything, and space to be himself. It only took Mabel saying, "He'd understand," and Dipper adding "He'd want you to do what makes you happy and keeps you healthy," once for Stan to concede. Though it took time, they all learned to find a balance between loving their lives and respecting the family member torn from them too soon. Dipper shook the thoughts away, settling himself into a lighter mood, and glanced around the Mystery Shack's hallway, a smile spreading on his face as he lifted his head, sniffing the air like a cat waiting for its dinner. The smell of fresh baked cookies intertwined with the sound of Soos and Melody's laughter lilting from the kitchen's open door. Stan whispered something akin to an apology to his walker before sitting on it's knit-covered seat with a groan. He looked up to Dipper, noticing his audible sniffing, and said with a wink, "That's my recipe they're using in there, ya know." "Your chocolate crisp one?" He asked, brushing the rapidly melting snow flurries from his shoulders, "No wonder it smells so good-" "Hey Dipper," Mabel elbowed him gently, "You know..." her gravely whispered tone dispelled his attempt to lighten the mood. "I think the kids are all old enough that we could tell them what really happened that summer... If you want." "You think so?" he asked, tugging his gloves off, "I guess it would be good. We don't want to keep secrets, right?" "Yeah." She shrugged off her coat and hung it on a peg beside the door. "Grunkle Stan? Do you think you'd be alright to tell the story?" She bent down to help him wiggle one arm out of his coat, "I know it's tough for you but you're the best at keeping all the pieces together." "I guess so," he answered, slipping his other arm out of his coat and handing it to Mabel, "I mean, you two are right. It's not fair to keep this from them. They hear about him from me sometimes, they deserve to know who he was and why it's important to me to hug them for him all the time." He looked up to the twins and smiled, "I mean, he is a part of this family too right?" The twins nodded in unison, Mabel's answer of "damn right," overlapping Dipper's, "Of Course." "After dinner then. Everyone will be together. That'll be a good time to tell them what really happened to Ford."

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crossroadsdimension · 8 years ago

Text

Lucky!Ford ch 2

So, uh...you guys remember that drabble I posted a while back for the start of Forduary? I’ve decided to keep going with it. Just...gonna pick up right where we left off with Ford getting dropped into the attic right in front of Dipper. Heh heh.

@howtotrainyournana, I know you’re gonna want to read this. @leukaraii, @blankrslate07, and @happy-fazzbear-ponies2 might be interested in it, too.

Here we go!

Dipper’s wordless shriek quickly turned into mile-a-minute questions and excited babble -- mostly the latter. Ford was only able to catch “Are you the Author of the Journal??” out of the excited, stumbled-over mess.

“Y-you know about my journals?” Ford asked in surprise, looking down at the boy who was looking up with bright, eager eyes at him. He heard footsteps slam down on the stairs below them -- someone else was coming up.

“Yeah!” Dipper scrambled over to his bed and pulled a familiar red and gold book out from underneath it. “I-I found it in the woods on my first day -- wait, did you say journals? I’ve only got the one! Does that mean that there are more hidden around Grav--”

“Ford?!”

Ford turned his head sharply at the gravely voice, for a second expecting to see a one-eyed mirror with a golden fish embroidered on an eyepatch. He blinked in surprise when he saw that the fish was on a fez, and two normal eyes were staring back at him, wide with shock.

Dipper trailed off and looked at the old man, blinking in confusion. “Y-you...you know him, Grunkle Stan?”

Ford and Stan -- for it was Stan -- stared at each other for a moment. Stan in Filbrick’s suit -- something that Ford was sure he had buried in the back of a closet somewhere -- and Ford in his survival gear, black from head to toe, and still carrying his weapons.

A moment later, Ford found himself trapped in a bear hug from his brother.

“You’re okay!” Stan let out a laugh that carried and released so much all at once. “You’re okay….”

Ford blinked a couple times out of surprise at Stan’s show of affection, and he saw three figures standing in the doorway -- a little girl who appeared to be Dipper’s age wearing a sparkle-covered sweater, a red-headed teenage girl, and what looked like a hairless gopher (how one happened to have come to be here, Ford had no idea).

“Uh...Grunkle Stan?” Dipper asked.

“What’s going on?” the girl asked in confusion. “Who’s this guy? And why does he look like Grunkle Stan?”

“I don’t know, he just dropped into our room from out of nowhere -- literally! Some kind of...portal, I guess, opened up in the ceiling and he just dropped right through it! There was this teenager with him too, and he was wearing some kind of armor and he knew who I was without me having to say anything!” Dipper waved his hands about. “It was so weird and awesome at that same time!”

“Portal?” Stan repeated. He let Ford go and looked at him with an odd expression, eyebrows furrowing together into a confused frown. “I’ve been working on your damn machine for thirty years and you find someone who can get ya home?”

“Machine?” Dipper repeated. He frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Grunkle Stan, what’s going on?”

“Yeah!” the girl spoke up in agreement.

“Come on, Mr. Pines, you’re not going to leave us hanging, are you?” asked the redhead in typical teenage fashion.

Stan snorted and looked around the room. “Yeah, yeah. Well, cat’s out of the bag now, I guess.” He clapped a hand on Ford’s shoulder, a wide grin appearing on his face while Ford still stood as stiff as a board. “This is my twin brother. The real Stanford.”

The hairless gopher gasped. “Another Mr. Pines?!”

“Wait, what?” the teenager blinked in confusion as Ford’s eyes widened -- partially because what he had thought of as a hairless gopher was actually human, and partially because of something else.

“You stole my name?!” he hissed at Stan. “Stanley, why did you--”

“Did you really expect that this house would still be standing after 30 years if you weren’t around to pay the bills for it?” Stan shot back. “I had ta find a way to get you back, and I wasn’t about ta just let this place fall apart and find a new spot in town.” Stan’s brow was furrowed in a frowning glare of sorts. “Besides, there was that monster machine in the basement, and I had ta work on it.” His face relaxed, and he shrugged. “So, I faked my death, basically became you, and that’s the end of that.”

“Stanley, that machine is extremely dangerous -- don’t tell me you turned it on--”

“It’s not working yet!” Stan shot back. “I should know -- I know the ins and outs of that thing, and I’ve been working on it for the last 30 years! All the stupid thing does is throw sparks. And now, all that work’s been for nothing because you got to go and find a way back here on your own! Couldn’t you have done that sooner?!”

“Like it’s possible to meet a World Jumper on purpose!” Ford snapped in reply. “I’ve been relying on natural rifts between dimensions to go from one to the next; I wasn’t ever expecting that I would ever be given a route home, much less one from someone who travels across dimensions as a job!”

Stan jerked back at that.

“Was that who the guy in the armor was?” Dipper frowned, then pulled a pen out from somewhere and started chewing on the end. He pulled out a notepad and started writing, as though he was taking notes on the conversation. “I wonder how he knew who I was, though….”

“What guy?” Stan demanded.

“A-a teenager in this blue and green armor who dropped through the portal with -- Dipper cut himself off as his eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, the Author of the Journals is my Great-Uncle!” He squealed loudly again and started writing in his notepad more vigorously.

“Wait, this guy’s the Author?” the girl asked as Stan looked between the two of them sharply.

“Great-Uncle?” Ford repeated, blinking in surprise.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Stan motioned to the two kids. “They’re Shermie’s grandkids. Dipper and Mabel. Twins, too -- like us.”

“Sh-shermie...Shermie has grandkids?” Ford looked down at the two of them with wide eyes.

“And Dipper, what was that about a journal?” Stan turned to look at Dipper and frowned disapprovingly, hands on his hips.

Dipper ducked his head, hands gripping the notepad and journal underneath it a little more tightly. “I found it at the beginning of summer.”

“Hand it over, kiddo. It’s too dangerous for you to be carrying that around.” Stan motioned for Dipper to hand the journal over.

The boy held it tightly to his chest for a moment, reluctant, but when he saw the look Ford was sending him over Stan’s shoulder he reluctantly handed the journal over to Stan, who handed it to Ford.

“How was it that you didn’t know he had this?” Ford frowned at Stan as he hid the journal away in his coat.

“I wanted to keep the kids away from that junk; they went behind my back!” Stan motioned to Dipper. “What number was that one, three?”

“What does it matter?” Ford replied tersely.

“Because number two might have been found too, dum-dum.” Stan poked Ford in the chest. “Did you really think that hiding them was a good idea, you idiot?”

“Hid them?” Dipper frowned. “Why did you hide them, Great-Uncle Stanford?”

Ford’s eyes narrowed at the question. “I had my reasons.”

“Uh huh.” Stan folded his arms across his chest. “Considering how you were acting thirty years ago, I wonder how much of that was because you’d gone nuts.”

“Hey!” Mabel suddenly popped up between the two of them. She looked up at Ford and smiled sweetly. “Hi, I’m Mabel.” The smile faltered a little. “And I’m really confused. Could you fill us in a little on what’s going on? I mean, Grandpa never said we had another grunkle.”

Ford looked down at the girl -- his niece! -- for a moment, his mouth pressed thin and his brow furrowed. After a moment he sighed. “Oh, all right.”

“Can we start with what happened between you guys?” the human/hairless gopher asked. “Because it sounds like you’ve had a lot of drama.”

Stan snorted. “That’s one way to put it, Soos.” He went over and sat down on Dipper’s bed; Ford moved to stand with his back to the window, hands behind his back as Dipper sat down next to Stan and the other three sat down on what Ford guessed was Mabel’s bed. “If you really want to know the full story, it started back in 1960-something, when we were kids.”

Ford rolled his eyes, but Stan kept going, ignoring his brother...mostly. The mention of the Stan o’ War caused his mouth to tighten up a little at the memory, but he managed to keep his emotions in check -- especially when it came to the incident with the science project later.

“West Coast Tech?” Dipper frowned. “Dad said that they were a hoax school that just wanted to be known for getting really, really smart people in. A lot of the people who have graduated from there are really stuck up -- he has to work with a few of them.”

Ford jolted a little in surprise at that, losing his composure rather quickly. “Wh-what?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Mabel put a finger to her chin and cocked her head to one side slightly. “Didn’t he tell us one time that he was just about ready to deck a guy over something that he’d said that turned out to be completely wrong, only for some other guy to end up getting the blame?”

“Yeah.” Dipper nodded. “The boss didn’t want to get sued by the guy’s parents for firing him or something like that.”

Ford couldn’t believe what it was that he was hearing. He shook his head slowly as Stan snorted and the teenage girl and Soos rolled their eyes.

“Sounds like someone needs to grow up,” the teenager commented.

“You said it, Wendy,” Stan agreed. “Maybe I oughta find this guy and deck him myself.” A sneering grin crossed his face. “Or, y’know, lighten him of a few bucks. That place is majorly expensive -- I bet he uses hundred dollar bills for tissues.”

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper and Mabel both yelped at once.

“You could get our dad fired if you do that!” Dipper yelped.

Stan snorted and waved Dipper off. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Ford didn’t get to go to his nerd school and he thought I was the one who broke his machine when I hadn’t, so Pa kicked me out.”

“That’s horrible,” Wendy muttered. “I’d like to find your old man and deck him one for that -- you don’t do that to kids!”

“You can deck his tombstone back in Jersey -- the old man died a couple years back. Could’a gone to the funeral, but…” Stan shrugged. “Ma’s still around, though -- she’s living in one of those old folks’ homes somewhere. I’ve got the address somewhere in the house. Anyway, I roved the country for a bit after that, met some people, picked up a few skills, that kinda thing. Then Ford contacted me, and I came up here.”

Ford got the feeling that Stan was glossing over a few points.

“What about you, Great-Uncle Stanford?” Dipper looked over at Ford.

Ford shook his head. “Ford is fine, Dipper.” His expression soured. “Well, after I wasn’t able to get into what was at the time my dream school, I was forced to fall back on the last option that I had.” He was going to have to look into West Coast Tech and see if what Dipper was saying was true, obviously; for now, he let the comments about WCT slide to the back of his mind. “Backupsmore. In a place like that, I had to work twice as hard. I got my Ph.D a year ahead of schedule and received a grant for any future research I could undertake.”

From there, Ford launched into a rather dramatic retelling of events: how he had decided that, since he was an anomaly himself, he would study anomalies -- and that Gravity Falls was a hotspot for them. He described how he had hit a roadblock, decided that building a portal to another dimension was the best way to solve it, and called up his old college friend Fiddleford McGucket in order to get his help.

He saw looks exchanged between the others at the mention of Fiddleford; Ford decided he’d look into that later as well and filed it into the back of his mind next to WCT.

Then came the day they’d tested the machine, and Fiddleford’s running out on him. Ford left Cipher out of the tale, simply saying that something had gone wrong and he needed to shut down the project and hide his research materials.

“It was at that point that I managed to locate Stanley and request he come up here,” Ford said. “I had been planning on giving him a portion of my research so that he could take it and hide it somewhere I would never know about it, but he apparently had other plans.”

“Well of course I did!” Stan snapped back. “Ten years without contact from anybody and you suddenly show up out of the blue with ‘Please Come’ and nothing else?! I wasn’t expecting you to just push me away again, that’s for sure!”

“So...why the portal thing?” Mabel asked. “And how come we didn’t know that the Shack has a basement, Grunkle Stan? I haven’t seen any stairs to the basement!”

Stan muttered something about a vending machine, causing Ford to look at him sharply.

“I hid the entrance behind a bookcase, Stanley,” Ford said pointedly.

“Well, not anymore. Did you really expect me to be able to keep the house without paying the bills?” Stan frowned back at his brother.

“You mean, the Mystery Shack is--”

“A cover so that you could get Mr. Pines 2 home?” Wendy finished Dipper’s question.

Soos hid his face in his hands as he started bawling. “That’s so beautiful, Mr. Pines!”

“Mystery Shack?!” Ford repeated. “Stanley, what have you done?!”

“I did what I had to do, okay?!” Stan snapped back. “Conning people is the only gig I know -- you try living out of the backseat of a car for ten years, Poindexter! You try to find a living, jumping from job to job and never knowing if you’re gonna find a place to call home again!”

The attic fell silent at that. Even Soos stopped bawling as they all stared at Stan with wide eyes. Well, everyone except for Ford, who frowned grimly instead.

“Try that for thirty years,” Ford said shortly.

Stan’s angered face fell in an instant, eyes widening at Ford’s words.

“After the fight that led you to push me into the portal, I have been traveling from dimension to dimension, never staying in one place for too long because there are bounty hunters after every single version of me from here to the Nightmare Realm. There are people out there who would be more than willing to find my head and bring it to--” Ford cut himself off and shook his head; they didn’t need to know about Cipher; this was his burden, not theirs. “The point is that my life hasn’t been easy, either. If you think that you can one-up me on how bad each other’s lives has been, think again.”

The others all stared at him with wide-eyed expressions; Soos seemed to be gnawing on his fingernails as Dipper gripped his pen tightly.

“Whoa,” Wendy said.

Mabel looked at Ford with a concerned, furrowed brow, then slipped off her bed and came over and hugged him about his waist. “Well, you’re home now. So you shouldn’t have to think about it anymore, right?”

Ford looked down at his niece with an uncertain expression, then nodded a little. “No, I...suppose not.” His eyes flicked up towards the door of the attic, and his expression hardened. “Which reminds me.”

“Reminds you of what?” Dipper asked.

“I have a portal to dismantle.” Ford slipped out of Mabel’s hug and strode out of the room and downstairs, nose crinkling up in disgust when he saw how much Stan had changed what had once been his place of research.

Stan moved down the stairs after him and went through a swinging door that was on the other side of what had started as a lab and had been repurposed into a living room. Ford frowned at the dinosaur skull that was being used as a table as he passed it…

...and stepped into a gift shop.

This was the last thing that Ford had wanted to see.

“Stanley, what the he--”

“Watch it.” Stan sent a pointed look at the door Ford had just came through. “Those kids are twelve, you know.”

Ford gritted his teeth as Stan hit the buttons on the vending machine where his bookcase had been, opening the hidden door to his basement lab. “What the heck have you done to my house?!”

“Did what I had to.” Stan shrugged. “And hey -- I’ve got some good money coming in anyway, and people like the place. So I’m not planning on putting a stop to it anytime soon.”

Ford brushed past Stan as the door to the basement opened up, and he flew down the stairs and into his basement lab. Of all the things that Stanley could have done, turning his house into a -- a tourist trap had to be the worst thing possible. He had chosen this location because he wanted to be alone, not because he had wanted to be bothered!

At least Stanley had had enough sense to keep the portal away from the children, if their confusion about the mention of the machine was any indication. Although, that hadn’t kept Stan from tinkering with it.

Ford felt a chill run down his spine as he entered the one room that he had hoped never to see again. He moved passed the security cameras and other controls and paused at the door leading into the larger part of the laboratory.

The dark, dead, triangular portal rose up over everything.

“You know, I questioned your design choices for that thing after a while.”

Ford jumped and whirled, only to see Stanley standing back by the entrance into the lab. He frowned.

“I mean, if ya had come through it, you’d have landed flat on yer face because of that drop,” Stanley added. “You have a thing for triangles now, Ford?”

Ford’s shoulders stiffened at that, eyes narrowing. “Had.” He turned and walked into the main portal room, Stanley trailing behind him. “Go back upstairs, Stanley. I can handle this myself.”

“Yeah, no. You’re just going to throw all this out when it can be reused, like that old science project.”

Ford paused at that, turned and looked back. “What?”

“Yeah, see, there’s this thing that people are going on about called recycling now and--”

“No, no, not that!” Ford retraced his steps and frowned at Stan. “You saw me throw it out?”

Stan scratched his neck, averting his gaze from Ford’s. “Well, yeah. I didn’t leave Glass Shard Beach right away. Did ya really think that I’d hoof it as soon as Pa kicked me out?”

Ford hesitated at that, looking at Stan with an expression that was mixed.

Stan noticed, then snorted and moved around Ford. “Well, we’ve gotta demolish this thing, right? I can think of a few parts I could use to make sure my car still runs, and I bet that Soos can find a way to use some of the other bits. Could get a pretty penny for recycling the metal, too.” He pulled off his suit jacket and shirt, revealing a sweaty undershirt and a pot belly that Ford hadn’t expected to see on his brother.

“Stanley, a lot of this technology wouldn’t work well with Earth--”

Stan grabbed a part of what looked like metal and yanked off a strip of silvery material.

“...is that duct tape?”

“Well, yeah. Best thing to hold stuff together when it’s falling apart, y’know?” Stan grinned at Ford. “Come over here and give me a hand, huh?”

Ford’s fists clenched. “You attempted work on my portal and used duct tape?!”

Stan finished pulling off a strip from the base of the lever and looked over at his brother, grin fading. “Come on, Ford, did you really expect that I would have been able to afford ta get this thing looking like new when I’ve only got a third of the instructions?”

“You didn’t hide the Journal?!”

“Course not! I wanted to get you back! Why would I hide the damn thing that would help me get you back, huh?” Stan waved his arms about, the length of duct tape flapping in the air and following his hand’s movement.

“Because I told you that this was dangerous!” Ford motioned to the portal wildly. “You saw what happened! This machine could have very well ended the world!”

“Then why’d you build it in the first place?!”

“Because I didn’t know any better!”

The basement echoed with Ford’s yell; Stan stared at him with wide eyes.

Ford took a moment to collect himself, breathing in deeply for a moment before relaxing. “If you want to help me, then fine.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a short baton before flicking his wrist; the baton expanded into a large staff before what looked like the large head of a sledge hammer expanded out from one end.

“Whoa.” Stan stared with wide eyes.

Ford hefted the hammer over his shoulder and stalked over to the main part of the portal, muttering math calculations and scientific compounds under his breath as old memories resurfaced. Stan turned and watched him as Ford gripped the hammer’s handle tightly in both hands.

He stopped in front of the thin tip of the portal that was buried into the ground, lifted the hammer off his shoulder, and swung.

The metal crumpled under the head of the hammer, and the entire portal groaned as Ford jumped back, bringing the hammer with him. The entire triangle listed to one side, then collapsed slowly, colliding with the rocky floor and causing the entire room to shake.

“Hot Belgian Waffles!” Stan yelped, trying to find his footing as the shaking subsided. “You got beefy, Poindexter!”

Ford grunted, letting the hammer head hit the ground and leaned against the handle for a moment, looking the toppled portal over. Then he picked up the hammer again and started towards the toppled triangle.

There came the sound of running feet as Ford slammed the hammer against the triangle again.

“Grunkle Stan, what -- whoa!”

Ford let the hammer down and looked back sharply at Dipper’s cry. Upon seeing the boy standing a short distant away from the entrance into the basement lab -- along with Mabel, Soos, and Wendy -- he glared at the group of four and pointed back towards the entrance. “Back upstairs, now! This is no place for children!”

Dipper backed up a couple steps at Ford’s barking tone.

“Go back up, Dipper,” Stan replied. “We’ll be up later. Stay in the house, don’t let anybody in, and don’t go runnin’ out in the woods for no reason. You got me?”

Dipper hesitated, then nodded a little.

“It’s cold down here,” Mabel commented. “I’ll make hot chocolate for you when you’re done!” She turned and disappeared from sight.

“So that portal thing was real,” Wendy commented. “Sweet. Why are you taking it apart?”

“Because it is dangerous and highly unstable.” Ford hefted the hammer again, then swung it at the portal again, denting the metal. “Now, I would appreciate it if you left.”

“All right, all right. Mr. Pines, mind if I crash here for a while?”

“Do what you want, Wendy,” Stan called back.

“Thanks. Come on, Soos.”

“S-sure.” As the larger man left, Ford could have sworn that he heard him mutter, “This is nothing like what I had written in my fanfictions….”

Ford looked over at Stan with a pointed look and raised an eyebrow. Stan shrugged.

“They’re curious kids who don’t know any better, what do you expect?”

Ford sighed irritably. “I expect them to have sense. Now are you going to help me or not?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna help, Poindexter. Don’t give me that look.”

Time Break

Stan and Ford tore the portal to pieces in a matter of hours, but there was still tension in the air even as Ford gave the remains of the portal one last slam with his hammer.

“So, uh….” Stan looked over at Ford as he leaned against his hammer again for a breather. “What now?”

“Now?” Ford replied crisply. “Now I recover my second journal and reclaim my house. What month is it?”

“June. The kids are staying here for the summer.” Stan’s shoulders sagged. “So...yer gonna kick me out, huh?”

Ford was about to respond, but then the World Jumper’s voice echoed in his head again.

“And get to know your great-niece and nephew while you’re here? It wouldn’t do if they simply knew you as the strange man who lives in their basement and plans to kick out their other great-uncle at the end of the summer.”

Ford paused, looking away from his brother for a moment. During the time that it had taken them to tear the portal apart, he had seen the work that Stan had done in order to keep the portal together. It had looked shoddy, to be sure, but it had done its job of holding everything together.

If he was completely honest with himself, he would have admitted that there were times when he had done something similar on his travels with whatever materials he could find.

Still, he was angry that Stan would attempt to do this, but...if he was open to revealing his feelings….

“First, I need to find my second journal,” Ford replied. “Then I’ll consider any possible future actions.”

Stan relaxed and let out a sigh of relief, even though he didn’t seem to register the fact that it was relief. “Okay. Good. The kids are gonna want to get ta know ya now, anyway. Wouldn’t want ta keep ‘em in the dark, right?”

“I...suppose not.” A smile flickered across Ford’s face. He had a niece and nephew. He hadn’t expected to return home and discover that he had more family than when he had left.

“We’ll have to see about cleaning up this garbage later.” Stan kicked one of the dented metal plates that used to cover the inner workings of the portal. “Man, thirty years of work, down the drain. Doesn’t exactly seem right that it never got used ta bring ya back.”

Ford’s smile disappeared abruptly as he frowned at the comment. “If it had been used, it would have created a rift in space and time and who knows what kinds of monsters would have followed me through. Gravity Falls would have been placed in the hands of a Weirdmageddon.”

Stan snorted, but he looked serious. “I would have still gotten you back. And you and that nerd brain of yours would have still thought of a way to fix it.”

Ford tapped the bottom of his hammer’s handle, and the staff shortened as the hammer head folded in on itself. Snatching the short baton out of the air before it could fall to the floor, he hid it away in his coat again. “Maybe. But even I have my limits, Stanley.”

“Really? Considerin’ how we were as kids, I’d have thought you didn’t think you had any. Especially with how ragged you looked when--” Stan cut himself off, appearing suddenly uncertain. “How did ya end up like that, anyway? Was there someone already houndin’ ya fer your research or somethin’?”

“...something like that.” Ford took one look around the large room, nodding in satisfaction at the large pile of metal and other materials that were scattered around the room and bludgeoned to the point that it was hard to tell what they could have been used for in the first place. Then he turned and started back upstairs, leaving the rest of the machinery intact.

For now, anyway.

“Yer not gonna tell me everythin’ about what happened back then, are ya?” Stan came up behind his brother as they started up to the main floor.

“Some things are best left buried where they were,” Ford replied grimly, not looking back.

There came a grunt from behind him. “Got it.”

The tone in Stan’s voice almost made Ford stop on the stairs...almost like there was something about Stan that hinted at how he might know more than he let on.

Ford shook his head and kept going up, back into that abomination of a room that Stan had turned part of his home into.

He was going to figure out something to do with that abomination after he’d gotten his own affairs in order. There had to be something that he could do about Stanley….

#cross' fanfiction #gravity falls #pines family #soos #wendy #lucky!ford #if someone can draw Ford swinging his giant magic sledgehammer I could die happy #seriously picturing him swinging that and seeing the look on stan's face afterwards had me giggling so much when I was writing that bit #we've gotten a lot of stuff out into the open with this long chapter #next chapter we get to tie up some loose ends #guess who's getting a visit from The Author! XD

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videogamelover99 · 8 years ago

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YOUR ONE-SHOTS FOR THE HUMAN BILL AU HAVE HEALED ME AND MY SOUL! I noticed you said you like prompts, and I'm internally screaming. Prompt: what if Mabel and Dipper were playing video games and Mabel basically makes Bill try? Hehe, thanks, and love!

Thank you so much for your support! This was really fun to write, so here you go.

“No, you gotta go into the grass!”

“Why the heck would I wanna do that.”

“So you can catch more of them, duh.” Mabel leaned over Bill’s shoulder and watched as the demon lazily pushed buttons on her 3DS. He didn’t look very interested, which was a shame because Rock and Paper was her favorite Pokemon game in the series. Too bad Bill wasn’t feeling the same way.

“This is boring.”

Dipper shot her an I-told-you-so-look, which only got Mabel more determined to find something Bill would actually like. The demon meanwhile caught his fiftieth caterpie of the day, adding it to his party and remarking offhandedly: “Besides, you do realize this whole game is a tribute to systematic animal abuse for cheap entertainment of the masses.” The girl stared at him.

Dipper cringed, frantically gesturing for Bill to stop talking. Of course, the demon did quite the opposite. “The whole economy is based on a sport where a bunch of ten-year-olds with parental issues make their pets RIP THEIR OPPONENTS’ PETS INTO PIECES OF FUR AND BLOOD for the SOLE PURPOSE of acquiring MONEY AND SOCIAL STATUS. It’s like dog fighting, but with a whole lot more societal corruption involved.” He regarded the console with a contemplative look. “Come to think of it, this thing seems a lot less boring now.”

“Oh, I knew that.”

Dipper stared at his sister. Bill whistled appreciatively. “Wow, Shooting Star, gotta say I’m impressed. Who knew you had a dark side in terms of pointless human entertainment.”

The girl shrugged, chewing on a lock of her hair. “None of them actually die though, right? Besides, it’s not like it’s real or anything.”

“Weeell, there’s a dimension I’ve come around to a couple of times that’s solely dedicated to blood sport. Gotta say, those guys know how to party. The only reason I didn’t conquer it is because of the smell. The stench of decomposing animal flesh tends to get old after a while, and I’m pretty sure Kryptos barfed like, twice-” Dipper was starting to feel his lunch coming up for an encore. How did Mabel look so calm? She was listening to the demon in mild fascination as he gestured broadly with the 3DS still in his hands. “And then Pyronica claimed Xandar was having terrified flashbacks to his arena days. The guy looked completely indifferent, not sure what she was on about. And I thought they would like it-”

“CAN WE PLAY SOMETHING ELSE PLEASE.”

…

“Just gonna say ahead of time man, no one’s ever beaten Mabel at Mario Kart before, not even Soos. She’s nuts.”

“Kid, I knew the guy who invented racing games. He had a horrible sense of humor, by the way.”

“Of course you-”

“WHAT? NO!”

“Ha! Gotcha while you were distracted! Thanks, Bro-Bro.”

“Shooting Star, you’re gonna pay for that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you a batch of Mabel Juice to cheer you up after you lose.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you…HEY, STOP THAT. WHERE ARE YOU EVEN GETTING THESE? I DON’T EVEN LIKE TURTLES.”

#bill cipher #mabel pines #dipper pines #human bill au #prompts #fanfiction #bill spends the rest of the day moping about his loss

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evan-rosier · 8 years ago

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✩

Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? - MarleneWho threatens to leave but never actually does? - MarleneWho actually keeps their word and leaves? - No one actually leavesWho trashes the house? - Marlene knocks things over when she’s angryDo either of them get physical? - NoHow often do they argue/disagree? - She is constantly arguing with him about absolutely everything. Who is the first to apologise? - Evan, because Marlene isn’t going to.

Sex:

Who is on top? - They take turns, mostly Evan thoWho has the strangest desires? - Probably MarleneAny kinks? - Yes, for sureWho’s dominant in bed? - EvanIs head ever in the equation? - Hell yesEver had sex in public? - Yes, they have no chill. Like none at allWho moans the most? - Pretty evenWho leaves the most marks? - MarleneWho screams the loudest? - No one screams, but Evan is louder Who is the more experienced of the two? - Marlene for sureDo they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? - All of the aboveRough or soft? - YepHow long do they usually last? - Never that longIs protection used? - Yes (Au, not well.)Does it ever get boring? - Definitely notWhere is the strangest place they’d have sex? - Idek where to start here

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? - Evan plans to have lots of children, Marlene’s not so sure (Tho, au wise, she get’s herself pregnant without telling him that she’s no longer taking birth control soo…)If so, how many children do your muses want/have? - I don’t know if they ever talk about how many they want, but they end up, again au wise, with five or six depending on the auWho is the favorite parent? - Both Who is the authoritative parent? - EvanWho is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? - Marlene,Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? - MarleneWho turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? - Both, they’re very supportiveWho goes to parent teacher interviews? - Both or just Evan if Marlene can’t get out of workWho changes the diapers? - BothWho gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? - He brings the baby to her even if she wakes up firstWho spends the most time with the children? - Evan? Marlene is an auror, they work long hours so…Who packs their lunch boxes?- Evan Who gives their children ‘the talk’? - Marlene for the girls, Evan for the boysWho cleans up after the kids? - EvanWho worries the most? - MarleneWho are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? - Marlene

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? - Marlene is basically a catWho is the little spoon? - MarleneWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? - Marlene, when they’re at family dinners, or ministry events, or at the market. No chill. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? - Both of themHow long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? - Forever and everWho gives the most kisses? - EvanWhat is their favourite non-sexual activity? - Arguing with each other about stupid shitWhere is their favourite place to cuddle? - Where ever they happen to beWho is more likely to playfully grope the other? - BothHow often do they get time to themselves? - Pretty often. They make time for each other.

Sleeping:

Who snores? - Marlene, when she’s drunk. Evan won’t let her live it downDo they share a bed or sleep separately? - ShareIf they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? - She’s practically on top of him almost all the time. Including meal timesWho talks in their sleep? - Evan? Marlene thinks its hilarious and tries to get him to admit to weird things while he’s sleepingWhat do they wear to bed? - Nothing most nightsAre either of your muses insomniacs? - Marlene goes to bed really late all the time and keeps Evan up, but no. Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? - NoDo they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? - Yes. It’s hard to tell who’s limbs are whoseWho wakes up with bed hair? - Marlene, and Evan thinks it’s adorable Who wakes up first? - Evan and he just kisses her Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? - Evan. PancakesWhat is their favourite sleeping position? - Marlene on top of him, or curled up next to him. Who hogs the sheets? - No one really can tho, because of the cuddlingDo they set an alarm each night? - NoCan a television be found in their bedroom? - NoWho has nightmares? - Marlene. Evan wakes up with her and calms her downWho has ridiculous dreams? - Marlene, and when Evan does something she doesn’t like in them, she blames him in real life bc she’s ridiculous Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? - The dogsWho makes the bed? - Magic, unless it’s Marlene’s bed then it never gets made What time is bed time? - It depends when they have to work. Sometimes it’s neverAny routines/rituals before bed? - Have sex? Make out? Snuggle? IdkWho’s the grumpiest when they wake up? - Marlene

Work:

Who is the busiest? - MarleneWho rakes in the highest income? - Marlene? But not by much since Auror pay is shit. Are any of your muses unemployed? - NoWho takes the most sick days? - Evan, so he doesn’t have to work on her days off.Who is more likely to turn up late to work? - Evan, and no one caresWho sucks up to their boss? - Marlene, she likes MoodyWhat are their jobs? - File Clerk and AurorWho stresses the most? - MarleneDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? - Marlene enjoys hersAre your muses financially stable? - Yes

Home:

Who does the washing? - MagicWho takes out the trash? - MagicWho does the ironing? - MagicWho does the cooking? - Take outWho is more likely to burn the house down just trying? - Marlene Who is messier? - Marlene Who leaves the toilet roll empty? - MarleneWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? - MarleneWho forgets to flush the toilet? - No oneWho is the prankster around the house? - MarleneWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? - Marlene loses everything and Evan has to help her find it bc it’s somehow his faultWho mows the lawn? - MagicWho answers the telephone? - They don’t have oneWho does the vacuuming? - MagicWho does the groceries? - EvanWho takes the longest to shower? - MarleneWho spends the most time in the bathroom? - Marlene

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? - noHow many cars do they own? - noneDo they own their home or do they rent? - rentDo they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? - In the cityDo they enjoy their surroundings? - Marlene does more so than Evan. Evan wants to move out to the country What’s their song? - All of the trashy love songsWhat do they do when they’re away from each other? - Think about when they’re going to see each other next/ go about their lives. They might be a bit co-dependent Where did they first meet? - The ministry How did they first meet? - Trying to find sweets Who spends the most money when out shopping? - Both? They dont’ really think of money as an issue. The spoiled brats. Who’s more likely to flash their assets? - MarleneWho finds it amusing when the other trips over? - MarleneAny mental issues? - NoWho’s terrified of bugs? - No oneWho kills the spiders around the house? - Evan Their favourite place? - Marlene’s bed, their pub and Evan’s officeWho pays the bills? - They have their own flats, tho Evan does buy her groceries sometimesDo they have any fears for their future? - That’s like all Marlene has Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? - EvanWho uses up all of the hot water? - Both of them, together, when they’re not using the shower for it’s intended purpose Who’s the tallest? - EvanWho’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? - BothWho wanders around in their underwear? - BothWho sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? - MarleneWhat do they tease each other about? - Everything Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? - MarleneDo they have mutual friends? - Not many. Who crushed first? - This will forever be a debate between themAny alcohol or substance related problems? - NoWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? - MarleneWho swears the most? - Marlene

#marvan #marlene #meme #this one was super easy #lol

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profoundgardenertree-blog · 7 years ago

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