#drifting writes things

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Brotherly Advice || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: Characters talking about informed consent and societal expectations around it

Wordcount: 3003

Summary: Miranda has a lot of concerns and needs to address them to someone who hopefully isn't flying as blind as she is anymore- so Gambit really is her only option. If I hand you the means to hurt me, do you promise that you won't? AN: found family siblings have a serious chat. two emotionally wounded and fifteen dead from the collateral damage (not really)(I'M JOKING) ---------------------

She was supposed to be cleaning out her room. Miranda knew herself well enough to know that when stuff started piling up her mood got worse because of it, and she was trying to talk herself through the complicated task of getting rid of jewelry she no longer wore. It was harder than just vacuuming or tasks like that, because she very much attributed certain memories to certain pieces of her jewelry collection.

Yet she now held a pair of earrings in her hand, silently running her thumb over the stones as she remembered when she last wore them; at the masquerade ball. Since then they hadn't seen the light of day again, hadn't been worn by her even for a moment.

Because every time she even wanted to reach for them, a sting of pain pulled through her; the pain of the memory of arguing with Remy. Yes, they both apologized for their behavior, so why couldn't she shake the feeling that the things she said had hurt him far more than he let on?

He wasn't bringing it up. Should she?

She had been so mean to him, implying all kinds of stuff giving away how much she didn't seem to trust him, but that had long since shifted. Yes, she had apologized- even back then she had realised that she was taking out her own issues on him like that was in any way fair to pull.

Had she ever really truly asked for his advice and help afterwards? He had helped her, there was no doubt about that. On multiple occasions he had either kept her from completely falling apart or completely fucking up her own relationship, course correcting like a copilot stopped the pilot from crashing the entire plane into the mountainside.

But at some point she really had to bite the bullet and just talk to him about something that had been bothering her for the past several weeks now, something crawling in her mind that she needed his advice on. Only his would do, because the other people who actually had any experience with this were people she felt far too intimidated by to approach. Not with this.

It had to be Gambit. For whatever her trust was worth, she just had to put it in him and hope he wasn't going to use it against her. Miranda sighed, dropping the earrings back in her jewelry box and quickly tapping her chest in the four points of a cross. If she was going to rip this damn band aid off then delaying it was only going to make it so much worse.

How the fuck was it this difficult to find a 6'2 Cajun with theoretically no mutant hiding power in the mansion?

Miranda wandered around the hallways again until she finally heard the familiar tones of his accent as he- tried to sweet talk Shadow in the doorframe of the latter's office. Yeah, okay, Miranda probably should've seen that coming. It took everything in her will power to not massively roll her eyes at the flirty lines Gambit was throwing Shadow's way. God, how did those work on anyone?

'Like you're one to judge,' a voice in the back of her head sneered, 'you seem to be the only one it doesn't work on. Maybe you're the weird one in this set up, not him.'

She lightly shook her head, waiting until she heard the door close and slowly peeking around the corner. For whatever reason, Gambit wasn't immediately walking off, leaning against the wall near the door instead to take his cards and shuffle them around. This was her chance, her chance to... how exactly was she gonna ask any of this? She bit her lower lip in worry, just watching him for a second before deeply breathing in and out.

She went up to him feigning her casual demeanor, until she was next to him mirroring his leaning against the wall. She debated with herself once more whether she should do this or not, her brain screaming at her to please not hand him something akin to a loaded gun that he could use against her- but the growing worry in the back of her skull needed the opinion of someone with some damn expertise.

She lightly tapped his upper arm once, then twice when he didn't react the first time around. He only noticed at the second tap, ever so slightly flinching when he realised she was this close next to him. He hadn't even heard her coming up to him.

"... Can I help you?"

“Can we… Can we talk? I… You’re not in trouble, I just... I need your opinion on something.”

Gambit just looked at her, his expression somewhere between stunned and confused. His opinion on something? Miranda didn’t ask him for his opinion on things, or, well, not directly like she did right now. His brain needed a moment just to reboot and formulate a response to this.

“O… kay? Talking right now though, ain’t we?”

“Yeah, well, not here,” Miranda huffed, though she didn’t sound irritated, more worried, “these halls have eyes and ears everywhere, and that’s decisively not where I want to have a private conversation with a friend. Just… meet me at the south of the mansion near the forest line, no one really bothers to go there. In like, ten minutes?” “… Sure?”

As soon as he agreed to this meet up she vanished and presumably left, with Gambit’s confusion just growing. A private conversation about something she wanted his opinion on; that sure sounded like he was in trouble, even if she said that wasn’t the case. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. Oh, Gods above, what was he getting himself into now?

True to his word though; he showed up at the back end of the mansion where Miranda stood with her back against the wall. She was staring into the forest line with a million mile glare, with Gambit just calmly approaching her and mirroring her leaning against the wall. It was surprising how nobody noticed him moving around the place considering his statue, but he was a thief in his heyday- so maybe not so surprising after all.

“I’m here,” he said gently, though she flinched a little as he pulled her out of her thoughts, “whatcha need my opinion on?”

Her eyes observed him from the very corners for a second, before her gaze started nervously flitting all over the place. She looked at the ground, the sky, the forest line, him again and only then settled on the forest line as she crossed her arms over her chest in thought.

“How… How do I know I’m not boring him?”

His gaze had followed hers to the forest line, almost as if he was curious to see if she genuinely saw something. But at her question his eyebrows just knitted themselves into a furrow, as the red ruby eyes he possessed slightly tilted towards her. Honestly, he genuinely had no idea what she was talking about- what that was even supposed to mean. “… You’re going to have to elaborate on that one, Fifolet.”

She let out a deep sigh that didn’t seem to relief anything, pushing her head back against the bricks of the building a little so staring up into the sky was a little easier. She flickered, vanished from sight and in barely a moment later everything came pouring out; “How do I know I’m not boring Kurt, that I’m not boring to him- Am I even doing any of this right?! Like, god damn it, every serious piece of media or book I have read on the subject is constantly hammering it in how he needs to tend to my inexperience, that he needs to be this paragon of taking my explicit and enthusiastic and informed consent into the highest consideration, and he does, that’s not the problem, but like, what the hell do I do back for him?! Yes, the technical stuff I know, I know what goes were, the technicalities behind protection and to, duh, use it. But other than that?! I don’t know! It’s never brought up how I’m supposed to navigate his inexperience, how I’m supposed to navigate all of this with someone who if I tell him to jump he asks how high and then just- What do I do?! Do I just pray to the heavens above that if I ask him something he says yes because he wants to and not only and solely because I asked?!”

Gambit just stared at the forest line, desperately trying to piece together just what the hell she was going on about while praying she would stop to breathe at some point- it felt like she was venting about a question she had already asked while actually neglecting to ask it in the first place. Or at least, ask about it in a very round about way. He took a breath, slowly exhaling and giving it another thought. Protection. Inexperience. Consent.

Oh. “Whoof,” he huffed out for a moment as it cleared his head further, “alright, let me see if I actually properly followed along here. You’re saying the two of you have been… getting up to stuff, shall we say? And you’re worried about..?”

“… The focus being only on me,” she said a lot more quietly, a tremble to her voice, “The focus seems to be only on me, from what I’ve read anyway. Make sure she’s comfortable and consents to your ideas, yada yada, great. I’m comfortable, he makes sure of that, now what? He’s respectful about my boundaries on things I don’t want to try, or don’t want to try yet, because they scare me in one way or another, fantastic, now what? How do I know I’m not robbing him from some experience he would like to have because my dumb fears get in the way of it, how do I know I’m not boring him out of his mind by just.. being this completely inexperienced woman he has to deal with? I… I guess there’s only so much books and media can teach me, I need the advice of someone who actually has some practical experience, who knows what the fuck they’re doing; I’m just making this up as I go wishing with all my heart that I don’t do serious damage to my relationship along the way.”

Gambit just listened, thinking, getting a clearer image in his head of her actual concern here; one that was both heartwarming in what it was rooted in, and worrisome in how she decided to word it. Kind of like someone else he knew who had a worrisome way of thinking about all of this.

“You’re afraid you’re not “holding up your end of the bargain”, huh?”

Miranda reappeared, her arms much more tightly around herself in a hug, her cheeks burning a bright color of red as this was a topic she genuinely did not like talking about; but she nodded none the less. Even without her blushing Gambit knew very well that Miranda didn’t share things easily, let alone things that were this personal and delicate in nature, slowly turning while still leaning on the wall. His taller and broader frame easily shaded her from his side of the building, shielding her from view now that her invisibility didn’t.

“Okay, let me stress this; you not wanting to do certain things because they scare you is not maliciously withholding some kind of experience from anyone and your fears are not dumb. Discussing options and alternatives is one thing, but if either of you give a no on something then it’s completely off the table until whoever said no decides they want to put it back on the table as an option, alright?

It ain’t a tally, fifolet. Neither of you should be holding some kind of score point system or acting like either of you is in debt to the other like one of you only has one act to the other’s four, that’s not how it works, that’s not how it should work and I feel safe in betting that Kurt definitely doesn’t want you to feel like you owe him anything.

Look, all of this? It’s coming from a kind place. You’re right, there is a lot less focus on the nerves and worries of an inexperienced male partner, the fact that you want to focus on that just shows all the more that you love him. The only advice I can give you there is to ask the same questions he asks you, ask him if he’s comfortable and if everything’s alright, that’s the only way to do it.”

“I.. do ask if he’s comfortable and okay with things. I…”

“Then you’re doing fine, though these are perfectly normal concerns to have. Miranda,” Gambit said, pulling her attention back to him, “one more thing; oui, he is inexperienced, but so are you. He deserves to be treated gently and with respect, so do you. With the both of ya just starting out, there is nothing boring about just sticking to the basics if you’re still learning what the basics even are. I’m sure you have the technical know-how, but I also think you never expected to need it. So find that folder stored away in the back of your mind, give it another read through, consult some of the books in the library, and for right now, don’t bother picking up any ‘expert manuals’, alright? Ain’t a race, the both of ya should take as long as you want to just explore the starting point together. You can worry about the whole notion of “spicing things up” later on this shared journey, alright?”  

She let out a soft sigh that sounded a lot more relieved than it had before, and Gambit further softened at seeing her relax even just a little. Well.. that sure was different, he noted to himself. Miranda had never been so open and honest about something so sensitive and private to her, ever before, not to him. The fact that she had specifically requested his advice on this matter made him feel weirdly honored; because he could sense that it hadn’t been easy for her to-

His brain halted for a moment, before recalling various moments where Miranda had fully and whole heartedly insisted to him that she wanted nothing to do with all of this. How she rolled her eyes when he was flirting with Shadow, how she backed out of conversations and jokes that turned too lewd for her liking. Merde, of course talking about any of this wasn’t easy for her even when setting aside her usual need for privacy anyway.

Miranda had established herself as someone not down for any of this, and yet here was the Invisible Menace who was usually so stubbornly steadfast in her convictions; telling him she changed her mind. No, telling him one of her root ideas had shifted and changed. That something she saw as a truth she knew about herself was no longer so. She wasn’t just opening up about something private and sensitive, she was showing him a recently changed piece of herself.

Suddenly, the conversation held even more weight to him than it already did, feeling like he was handed something incredibly fragile and given the choice to shatter it right there and then or let it deepen the bond between them.

“I’m happy for you.”

Green eyes met red ones in silent confusion, while Gambit just gave her a warm and honest smile

“Ya found someone who you feel so much for that you’re wanting to explore and experience new things I don’t think you ever considered in your wildest dreams you would ever want. And it’s with the kindest soul I have ever known to walk this earth, so you made an excellent choice. I know for a fact he’s going to treat you right. So, genuinely, I’m happy for you.”

“… Thanks,” Miranda said, her mouth clearly dry from her nerves as the blush on her face still wasn’t letting up, “I… For everything. Saying you’re happy for me, helping me with this.”

“Any time, fifolet. Was that all?”

Her eyes slowly went back to the forest line, allowing herself a moment in silence to think if that really was all. No, it wasn’t. There was something more she had to say.

“Remy?”

“Mh?”

She turned to him, her eyes momentarily flitting away again before she made herself look into his ruby red eyes trying to convey her truth through them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you what a great, wonderful friend you are and that I consider myself lucky to call you my friend. That Shadow is lucky to have you, and that I look up to you. That I’m proud of you, proud of having you as a brother. Thank you for being in my life; it really is better with you in it.”

He couldn’t help it. The words stabbed through his chest like a knife to his heart, no matter that they were spoken so gently and with such warmth and truth to them. The idea that anyone was proud of him touched him right in an old wound that still after all these years hadn’t healed right. Red and black eyes started to water enough that a single tear managed to escape, and Miranda’s demeanor immediately softened as she gently pulled him into a supportive hug, not even flinching when he pressed his face to the top of her shoulder and took a breath to pull himself together.

“Petite, this was supposed to be me supporting you, not the other way ‘round,” he huffed as he desperately tried to get his emotions back in line.

“Support’s a two way street. I’m here for you if you ever need me, alright?”

“… Thank you.”

[reidphobic]

trying hard not to get into trouble (but i’ve got a war in my mind) - s. r.

in which your criminology professor is just too tempting. 3359 words.

switch!spencer x switch!fem reader, questionable age gap & power dynamic, mild exhibitionism, authority kink, brief choking, praise, semi-public sex, oral (f and m receiving), mild degradation, no use of y/n

Your bare thighs stick uncomfortably to the plastic lecture hall chair, and you shift in your seat. Still, you focus diligently on the lecture, or, more specifically, on your professor. Dr. Reid is your favourite kind of challenge, a man you can’t have, the kind who won’t compromise his morals no matter how much he wants you — or, thinks he won’t.

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on you just a second too long, flickers down to your chest before he catches himself. Toying with him is the highlight of your week, coming up with new ways to torture him, push his boundaries as far as you can before he snaps. The semester is drawing to a close, though, and you haven’t quite snared your pretty professor yet, so you’re having to resort to drastic measures.

It’s like he’s deliberately avoiding you, eyes sliding over you as if you’re not even there. You hope that means your barely-there outfit is working as intended. Dr. Reid refuses to call on you to answer a question, stuttering through his sentences and raking his hand through his unkempt curls. You wonder if they’re soft to the touch, if he likes having them pulled, if— Focus. You raise one hand, digging through your bag with the other. When his attention is finally on you, you spout off some stupid question that’s believable enough not to arouse suspicion; he sees right through it, though, knows the ruse.

Out of politeness, Dr. Reid keeps his focus on you as he speaks. His words come out rapid-fire as if he’s trying to escape you before you do any more damage. It only makes him stumble more, and his struggle is frankly adorable. His reaction as you wrap your lips around a cherry-flavoured sucker is audible, a hitch in his breath and a waver in his voice as you smile innocently around the candy. From then, he can’t take his eyes off you, watching your red-stained tongue lap at sticky sugar, fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

Leaning back in your chair, you smirk slightly, wait to draw his attention. When he meets your gaze, you spread your legs, give him a deliberate eyeful of the tiny scrap of lace between them. At that, you physically see him snap, rail against the constraints of his moral compass, finally, gloriously give in. A thrill skitters up your spine as he stops in front of your desk. “See me after class,” he murmurs, jaw clenched.

“Yes, Professor,” you breathe, licking your lips as your thighs clench under the table.

You linger as your class lets out, carefully reapplying your lipgloss while you wait for the room to empty. When you’re finally alone, you approach his desk cautiously. “You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?” you say delicately, suddenly uncertain — you might just be in for the reprimand of your life, and that’s no fun for anyone.

“If you’ll just come with me to my office,” he says tightly, staring resolutely past you as he stands from his desk. Desire pools under your skin, your every nerve alive with tension as Dr. Reid lets you into his office. The sound of the lock clicking shut falls straight between your thighs — that’s when you know you’ve got him. You sit demurely in his armchair, legs crossed as he puts as much distance between the two of you as possible, standing across the room with his arms folded protectively across his chest. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my classroom.”

You smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” you say, putting on a wide-eyed, naive look you’re sure he won’t fall for. Unconsciously, he steps towards you. 

Dr. Reid’s gaze is unreadable. “Really? That little stunt with the sucker, I— I know what you’re doing, and it has to stop, okay?” he says, and, oh. He’s the one pleading with you.

It makes sense, once you think about it. You know he used to be an FBI agent; a dangerous, high-stress job like that, it’s no surprise he’d want to shut off, hand over the control, be taken care of, entrust his pleasure entirely to someone else. “Why would I stop?” you pout. He’s close enough now that you could reach out and touch him. “I’m having so.” You take Dr. Reid’s tie delicately between your fingers. “Much.” You pull him in gently. “Fun.” You tug sharply on his tie, hard enough that he stumbles, bracing his hands on the arms of your chair.

He lets out a shaky gasp, like he’s expecting you to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole. “This is… The, uh…” He clears his throat. “The way you’re acting in my class is not appropriate, and it needs to stop,” he says. You’d almost call it firmly, if not for the near-imperceptible tremor in his voice.

You note that he hasn’t pulled away. “I don’t think you want me to stop, Professor,” you murmur. “I think you want me to stop teasing you, and you want me to give you what you want.” Your smile widens the longer he stays silent; searching for the words to refute you, but the lie won’t come. “Tell me what you want, Doctor Reid,” you purr.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “You aren’t… It’s not…”

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this,” you breathe, catching his jaw so he can’t look away.

His mouth opens, but no words come out, speechless in a way you’ve never seen him. “I… I’m twenty years older than you.”

You grin. “And?”

“I’m your teacher,” he protests, nearly a whine, and oh, isn’t that a delicious sound.

“So?”

“So?” Dr. Reid repeats, incredulous. “I can’t… have sex with you in my office!” he hisses, low as if someone might be listening in.

Your grin only widens, and you pull him down towards you, so close that his breath skates across your lips. He twitches nervously, like you’re close to breaking him, like he’s this close to doing something he’ll regret. “But you want to,” you murmur, cupping his jaw and letting your fingers trace his cheekbone. “Tell me, Professor… When was the last time you had something just because you wanted it, hm?” He shudders, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll take real good care of you, sir, I promise.”

With a strangled groan, he gives in. The kiss is sudden, harsh like he’s furious with you for pulling him in like this. Soft lips give way to sharp teeth, greedy tongues, slotting together like you were moulded for him. Your hand slides up into his hair, tangling in his curls as you kiss him harder. A moan slips from your lips when you pull away for air, and the sound seems to drive him well and truly into madness. His lips meet yours with a renewed hunger, resting a hand at your jaw when he breaks away.

Spencer (you’ve just had your tongue down his throat, for God’s sake, you’ve earned the right to call him by his first name) strokes his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing down at you with awe and disbelief written across his face. He sucks in a sharp breath when you close your lips around his thumb, lapping at it just like the sucker from earlier. “You’re trying to kill me,” he breathes.

Releasing his thumb with a slick pop, you laugh. “Is that what you think?” You stand up, press your body into his. Spencer nods warily. “You’d know. If I was trying to kill you, I’d do something like this,” you murmur, sliding your hand up his throat and pressing down softly. His eyes flutter closed in surrender, and a filthy, spit-slick grin spreads wide across your lips. “You like that? Good boy,” you say silkily, letting go of his throat as he nods. “You gonna let me take care of you, Professor?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, and when you let your gaze wander away from his flushed face and down his body, your lips part softly at the sight of him straining against his pants. You dip your head to kiss his neck, wishing you could bruise, make him yours, but you restrain yourself.

Rough carpet grazes your knees as you sink to the floor, hands coming up to work his belt open. You kiss him through his pants, slide his zipper down with your teeth. Spencer whines, and the sound sends a pulse of arousal through you. “So needy, sir,” you croon, slowly pulling him free of his boxers. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen, thick and hard in your palm, drooling precum as you lean in to kiss the tip. The salt taste of him fills your mouth and you moan involuntarily, his hips twitching as you pump his cock slowly.

Hands thread into your hair, but the touch is gentle, reverent, born from need rather than demand. Not that you’d say no to his manhandling you, but you get the sense that’ll take some time. “If you want something, it’s polite to ask,” you tease, holding Spencer’s hips when he tries to fuck into your hand.

“Fuck, please,” he hisses, and the obscenity slides deliciously up your spine. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so gorgeous down there. I want you so badly, I just— please?” Spencer whines, and he sounds so sweetly pathetic that you take pity on him, wrap your lips around his head. The moan that falls from his lips is made of pure lust, and you shiver, arousal dripping between your thighs.

You suck and lick at him, eager and teasing, moaning as the taste of him fills your mouth. Spencer trembles with the effort of holding still, not fucking up into your mouth, and his hands unconsciously tighten in your hair. “You can be a little rougher, if you want,” you say, sliding your palms up his clothed thighs and taking him in your mouth again. You moan around him as his cock bumps the back of your throat, swallowing a gag with practiced ease.

Spencer’s hand curls into a fist in your hair, your stomach clenching in anticipation. The gentle sting when he tugs just a little buzzes under your skin, and you moan enthusiastically around him, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper. “Fuck,” he whines, hips jerking forward until his cock bumps the back of your throat. Heat throbs between your legs as he twitches on your tongue, and you can tell from the sounds he’s making that he’s close. 

You double your efforts, pulling off to lick around his head and drip spit along his length. Arousal throbs in your belly, hips grinding down against nothing. Slowly, you take him all the way back in, moan low in your throat when he’s buried to the hilt. You trace your tongue across the vein throbbing on his underside, and Spencer lets out the sweetest, most desperate little whimper you’ve ever heard. “I- I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck, baby, oh, my God,” he gasps, needy and adoring.

His voice trembles as he begs, so soft you’re not sure he knows he’s speaking aloud, and the way he pleads your name, fuck. Time blurs around you, your head goes hazy, pleasure knotting itself deliciously around your insides. Spencer gives a strangled moan, a garbled sound that might be your name, and that’s all the warning you get. You swallow greedily as he spills on your tongue, twitching and moaning and praising you through short, gasping breaths.

He’s still twitching with the aftershocks as you pull off, kneeling to smile blithely up at him. Spencer’s eyes are wide, sparkling with adoration as he struggles for breath. “How was that, Professor?” you tease. “Do I get an A?”

He gives a groaning sort of laugh, pulls you to your feet. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, still gazing into your eyes. It’s disarming, and you get the distinct impression he can read what you’re thinking as plainly as if it were stamped on your forehead. “Come here, come on,” he adds, pulling at your hips and pressing your body into his. You’re almost shocked when he kisses you, hard and greedy and hungry, the most aggressive he’s been this entire time. He sanitises his damn desk three times in a class, for God’s sake — you’d half expected him to hand you a toothbrush when you stood from the floor.

And yet, he’s kissing you breathless, and his hands are tangled in your hair, and his body is pressed so close to yours that you can barely tell where you end and he begins. “Thank you,” he mutters against your lips. “That was incredible. You’re incredible. You’ve gotta let me— Come here, sit,” he says, guiding you to sit on his desk. You balance between scattered papers, an uncapped pen bleeding a black stain into your skirt. 

“Let you do what, Doctor?” you say, quiet and breathy, gazing up at Spencer with wide, adoring eyes.

Spencer smiles, and something warms in your chest at the sight. Long, delicate fingers trace along your thigh, push up your skirt until your panties are on full display. “Pretty,” he remarks, maddeningly casual. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Of course, sir. I don’t dress up for boys anymore.” You swallow, bite your lip. You decide to lay it on a little thicker. “See, I need a man.”

“Is that so?” Spencer murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Your heartbeat quickens, excitement throbbing between your legs as he drags them down. “Look at you, sweet girl. So wet. Is that all from sucking my dick?” he teases, and you shudder.

You don’t know where the sudden obscenity, sudden dominance came from, but it thrills you all the same. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “What are you gonna do about it?” Smirking, Spencer picks up your panties, lets them dangle from his fingertips, red lace starkly incongruous from the calm, studious background of his office.

After a beat, his grin turns wicked and he tucks them into his pocket. “Safekeeping,” he says, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. The movement is so tender that it stops you in your tracks, a shimmering thread of something more than simple desire stringing between you. His eyes glitter, and you know he feels it too. Then, long fingers start to work at the buttons of your blouse. “I want to see all of you,” Spencer says, bending his head to kiss your lace-clad breast as your shirt falls open.

His hand skates up your thigh, oh-so close to where you need it. “Please,” you breathe. “Please, sir. I need you.” Spencer draws his hand away and you whine pathetically, your bare thighs suddenly impossibly cold.

“Be patient, sweet girl,” he says, low and almost dangerous. A thrill skitters up your spine as he sinks to his knees, gazing intently at your dripping wet core. “Beautiful,” he mutters, so quietly you don’t even think he’s talking to you. His hands slide up to your thighs again, spreading them apart gently. “Are you gonna let me taste you, beautiful?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering at his words. He kisses the inside of your knee, works his way down your thigh. A brief, bright spark of pain flickers through you as Spencer sucks a bruise into your skin and you moan. A rush of incredibly gratifying heat washes over you when you realise he’s marking you; a hidden little secret lying just beneath your polished exterior. Spencer won’t be able to see anything else when he looks at you. 

He pulls away from his assault on your thighs to look up at you, doe-eyed. “Tell me you want this. Please. I need to hear you say it.” You shudder, closing your thighs around his head and threading a hand into his curls so he can’t drag himself any further away.

“Spencer,” you moan. His eyes blow wide at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please. I need you,” you breathe. “Need you to make me cum, sir, please. Haven’t I been good for you? Don’t I deserve it?” You bite your lip to muffle a scream when Spencer leans in, licks a broad, flat stripe along your soaked core.

He’s methodical, at first, and you know somehow that he’s carefully cataloguing your responses. His tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first and then faster, pressure mounting between your thighs. Spencer moans into you, shifts his hips, and you realise: he’s getting off on this. A jolt of arousal so strong you literally pulse against his mouth rips through you, and you feel his lips curve into a smirk.

Big, soft hands dig hard into your thighs, pulling you flush against him like he could bury himself in you. “You taste so good, baby,” he whines, pressing his tongue flat against your hole as you grind your hips forward. Pleasure curls under your skin, swelling and pressing against your organs, crowding your mind until you can’t think, can’t feel anything but him. Your toes curl in your shoes, stomach clenching as your orgasm builds and builds. Breaking away, Spencer presses tender little kisses to your inner thighs, licks soothingly over his bite mark. 

Just as you’re starting to whine at the loss, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Sudden, electric ecstasy shoots through your body when he sucks on your sensitive nerves and it’s all you can do not to scream his name for the entire campus to hear. “Oh, fuck,” you whine instead, rocking your hips in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “M’so close, sir, please— You gotta let me— fuck!” you gasp, cunt clenching as he slides two fingers into you. You’re so wet that it’s easy, a slick slide as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Look how well you take me,” he says, staring openly at the point his fingers disappear into your body, your greedy cunt parted around them as wet, obscene noises fill the room. He kisses your clit softly and your legs kick out. “You’re gonna look so pretty taking my dick, hm?”

Your mind goes blank, pleasure thudding sickly in your throat, humming in your ears. “I want it,” you whine. “God, I want you to fucking— mmm— bend me over this desk ‘n— fuck— make me all stupid for you. Oh, God, Spencer, m’so close!” you cry, tugging at his hair and writhing helplessly.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Spencer says, softly urging. “Cum for me.” He pumps his fingers, licks at your clit, gently coaxes you over the edge. Your hands white-knuckle the edge of the desk as pure pleasure washes over you. Your body slumps, weak and powerless against the weight of your orgasm ripping through you. Spencer doesn’t let up, smiling into you as you write above him, murmuring soft praises that fade into a low buzz against your pulse hammering in your ears.

Spencer’s lips and chin glisten with your arousal, still kneeling between your legs as you struggle back to your body. “That was… Shit, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand,” you giggle, testing your weight as you shuffle off his desk. Spencer leans down to kiss you, and the taste of yourself on his lips is dizzying. Pouting, you glance up at the clock hanging over his door. “I have class.”

As much as he wants to, Spencer won’t tell you to cut class, and you both know it. “Would you like to, uh…” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and just like that, he’s back to the sweet, nervous academic you’re used to. “Continue this discussion later? I’ll— I’ll be here all day.”

Your lips stretch wide in a saccharine smile as you slowly button your shirt. “Why, Doctor Reid, are you asking me to meet you after hours? How scandalous,” you giggle, pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss against his lips. “I’ll be back at six.”

[clickety-clacker]

Been seeing so many cool Clickies on my dashboard since getting into GGG, I just had to take the time to draw a few of them- plus, it was a bit of a challenge to try new styles. A lot of these guys were also super influential to how I draw and even think about Click Clack on my own time, so you should definitely check them out! Names below the cut cus it got long heehoo

Top left: @malartsorte

Top middle (holding papers): @scribblelimbo

Top right: @wishgraanted

Leftmost middle: @beastwhimsy

Middle (peace sign!): @sootnuki

Rightmost middle: @molabuddy

Bottom left: @pespillo

Bottom middle: @artuurle

Bottom right: @modmad

I know I said it already, but all of yall are super cool and I had a lot of fun challenging myself to make this! Keep on being awesome 👍

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The TTPD Deep Dive (Part ?)

It’s no secret that I have a lot of Thoughts about The Tortured Poets Department and it has lived rent-free in my head since it came out earlier this year. I’m absolutely blown away by how underneath the chaos, it’s actually an exceptionally cohesive story and is probably the closest to a concept album Taylor has ever done.

There are so many themes that have stood out to me over the last five months, and there’s one in particular that I think not only drives the entire album, but ties into previous albums to help deepen understanding of it.

This is it, my fangirl magnum opus, my months of posts consolidated into one place. This is also my disclaimer that this is just my interpretation of the album, and my summary of the story it tells, and I don’t pretend to have any special insight or authority. I’m not saying I’m correct at all, do not take any of this as fact, it’s just what it sounds like to me, and these are my silly not-so-little thoughts about it.

(Under a cut because it’s way too long and involves discussion many may not care for or be sick of.)

Come one, come all, it's happening again (I'm thinking too hard about Taylor music)

The overarching theme in TTPD to me is: Grief. If you’re looking at TTPD as a story being told (instead of just as someone’s real life), the inciting incident of TTPD is loss, and the grief from that loss is what drives the narrator’s actions and the fallout, as well as unpacks those complicated feelings and how they apply to the her life in general. By the end of the standard album, it’s also about recovering from that pain, moving on from it and learning from it.

The loss specifically is the loss of the dream of having a family (with one’s partner). One thing that is abundantly clear both on the top line and under the surface in TTPD is how Taylor (as a person and as narrator) longed not only to for marriage but specifically parenthood, and the fear and then realization of losing that chance absolutely wrecked her— which is why the next lover’s (the conman's) wooing worked so well, because it preyed on that yearning. Yet that loss also dovetails into the grief of many things: of youth, of idealism, of relationships, of ideas, even of self, which causes almost a deconstruction of a belief system to piece one’s life back together by the end.

THE CONTEXT

TTPD weaves in the topics of marriage and motherhood both explicitly and in the subtext, in various forms and scenarios. The cheating husband in “Fortnight.” The wedding ring line in “TTPD” the song. “He saw forever so he smashed it up” in “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys.” All of “So Long, London.” Running away with her wild boy in “But Daddy I Love Him,” fantasizing about weddings and joking about babies. The imaginary rings in “Fresh Out The Slammer.” The cheating husband (again) and the friends who smell like weed or “little babies” in “Florida!!!” “You and I go from one kiss to getting married,” “Talking rings and talking cradles,” and “our field of dreams engulfed in fire” in “loml.” (And arguably: “I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all.”) “He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short,” in “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart.” They may not sound like much on their own, but they paint a picture about how the topics pervaded her thoughts and her writing, and in many cases express her desires, and her pain.

It’s something that goes back several albums when you pick up on context clues. You get the first hints on Reputation with “New Year’s Day,” and “you and me forevermore.” Then Lover is very forward with it: “Lover” is basically wedding vows, “Paper Rings” is very engagement-coded, “I Think He Knows” is cheeky but low-key “you better put a ring on it,” “It’s Nice To Have A Friend” has wedding/marriage imagery in the last verse. As a self-professed diaristic writer, it’s the type of stuff one presumably doesn’t put out there unless those conversations have already happened, and she was very excited about it at the time it was released.

Then the pandemic happens and folklore comes out, and while there is still happy love there (“invisible string”), there are also the first indications that something has happened to put a halt to whatever future she once dreamed of (“hoax,” “the lakes”) and that she’s trying to reassure herself and him that it can still happen even if she’s scared it might not (“peace”). Notably, as far as I can remember it’s the first time Taylor explicitly brings up the idea of family (with her partner) with “you know that I’d give you my wild, give you a child,” which stood out at the time because it’s so incredibly vulnerable, but it’s even more poignant when you really take in that the whole song is like a confession of her deepest worries, and this is her vowing to give him these things that she holds most sacred if he’ll let her. These are what she cherishes most dearly and wants to return in kind: her youth and commitment (my wild), the family she craves (a child), unconditional support (swing for the fences/sit in the trenches) and understanding/compassion (silence that only comes when two people know each other).

Evermore follows an even darker path, and suddenly the album explores relationships that end and grappling with loss. There are toxic relationships (“tolerate it”), dangerous marriages (“no body, no crime,” “ivy”), failing/broken relationships (“Coney Island,” “champagne problems,” “happiness,” “‘tis the damn season”), as well as grief (“Marjorie,” “evermore”). Even some of the happy songs have uncertainty in them: in “willow” she’s begging for him to take her lead, like she’s still trying to decipher him and ask him to commit; in “cowboy like me,” still a beautiful love song, she’s thinking, “this wasn’t supposed to work and we were supposed to bail on each other but we fell in love instead”; “evermore” is about the depths of severe depression (and more) with the love story being the one saving grace in her darkest hour. And it’s also notable that after all the “fiction” writing, shortly after this album she writes “Renegade” where she’s telling the subject: I’m ready to start the next phase of our life now, why aren’t you? Is it me you don’t want after all? It’s like there’s something telling her that this stall might not just be a stall.

Midnights is a jumble (in a good, but in hindsight, also sad way) with the “sleepless nights” concept, but it seems pretty clear now that the themes and events and relationships she was revisiting tied into a lot of what she was feeling in her present life. I wrote the cliff notes version awhile back, but she’s questioning so much of her life that’s reflected in past events and relationships. Am I actually always the problem? How did we lose sight of each other and what we had? We only seem to work when we block out everyone and everything else. Can we ever go back to when things were good? Why are you neglecting me? I once thought I was going to lose everything but you saved me in the nick of time, can that happen again? I chased my career, but did I give up my chance at having a family in the process? Nobody knows what I really suffer from behind closed doors and I’m all alone.

And so on, which in retrospect now that we have TTPD, is very much what she was grappling with in private while writing and releasing the album. The inspiration behind the songs may have been different events and muses, but regardless of their origins they all end up feeling too familiar, like she's seen this film before (ahem). We’re seeing her view of commitment change too, or rather how she writes about it: she’s not making the outright declarations of it like on Lover, or even the implied ones on folklore, nor is she talking of the dark side of it like evermore. For the most part it’s a return to the early days of some relationships, before things got hard, or the end of them when there was nothing left, and also pushing away the discussion of it altogether by the outside world. “Sweet Nothing” is a sweet slice of life, but even at that, it’s the peace of the home in conflict with the pressure of the outside world. Now that we have “You’re Losing Me,” which was written at the same time as the rest of the album, we can probably deduce that she was going back to the start because something happened that made her doubt the future.

THE SETUP

So much of Midnights directly ties into TTPD, and I said in the post I linked that it’s like Midnights is asking the questions that TTPD answers. But there’s one song in particular on Midnights that sticks out to me as being key in the broadest sense to understanding the state of mind that led to the events of TTPD, and that’s “Bigger Than The Whole Sky,” because the way it expresses grief is reflected in the theme of mourning a life built and the dreams along with it that are never realized in TTPD. There are several instances in TTPD that are basically variations of: “every single thing to come has turned into ashes,” and that’s what makes her snap, and leaves her vulnerable to someone who promises her those things when she’s bereaved at losing them in the first place. (In other words: “the deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling.”) The song tells a story about how that loss of hope colours one’s entire mindset, and in some ways is a bridge to TTPD to understand what such a low point feels like.

I think that that grief, and most importantly losing hope for an imagined future in its wake, is fundamental to understanding TTPD on so many levels: both the decline with one partner that kept her hanging on then led her such a dark path, and why she fell for the conman's apparent bullshitting because it offered an express pass to what she was losing with her partner. And I also feel like it plays a part into the ruminating she’s doing all over Midnights, trying to make sense of where she finds herself when she’s writing the album, which directly leads to “You’re Losing Me.” Loss permeates so many of the stories on Midnights: of lovers, of innocence, of youth, of faith, of control, of life’s work, etc. “BTTWS” is just one of the ways in which it is expressed so fully, capturing that deep depression and subsequent extinction of faith in something that once felt assured and very much wanted. (Which is also mentioned in her writing process in the “Depression” playlist on Apple Music.)

If you understand why that feeling of loss in general across so many parts of life is so important to Midnights, then it illuminates so much about the “narrative” in TTPD too. If on Midnights she’s wrestling with the seeds of grief and loss (on multiple fronts), TTPD is her reckoning with it in its full form. “So Long, London” is the song that is the most explicit about it: How much sad did you think I had in me? How much tragedy? Just how low did you think I’d go before I’d have to go be free? You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof. It’s the sequel to “You’re Losing Me.” It’s, the air is thick with loss and indecision, I know my pain is such an imposition, I’m getting tired even for a phoenix, all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier, I’ve got nothing left to believe unless you’re choosing me, my heart won’t start anymore, but from the other side of the break.

This is highly speculative, but if you follow the thread about the topic and the relationship as told from Rep through TTPD, in broad strokes it goes: young love with a serious connection (Rep) -> growing up and making life plans (Lover) -> something happens that delays those plans or makes them grind to a halt (folklore) -> serious doubts arise and cause a loss of faith in their future (evermore) -> struggling with the loss of that future and trying to make sense of the problems in a last ditch attempt to save the relationship (Midnights) -> fallout from that grief after the blowup of the relationship (TTPD). Understanding that progression of events (through the music) explains not only the storytelling side of TTPD (e.g. the jump from the partner to the conman) but also how the experiences/muses blend in the music, and how the music that on the surface is about the short-term relationship is really driven by the destruction of the long-term one.

Following the music, it’s IMO implied that Taylor (the narrator) was holding out for marriage and family with her partner, for years, and it seems like it was at one point a shared dream until something happened to pump the brakes, and seemingly on her partner’s end. And extrapolating further, given how the sorrow expressed in former albums bleeds into TTPD, it sounds like a plan that had been concrete in some form before it had fallen apart, and losing something that once felt so tangible is what drives her in her grief to find any kind of respite from the pain. Which is why the situation with the conman becomes so appealing as the one with the partner splinters further and further.

(If everything you’ve once touched is sick with sadness and you don’t want to be sad anymore, what are you left to do?)

THE STORY

So (one part of) the story kind of sounds like this from the standard album: the relationship with her partner as well as his mental health slowly deteriorate and he withdraws emotionally (“London,” “Fresh Out The Slammer”) and physically (again, “London,” and “Guilty As Sin?”) and takes his resentment out on her (“London” and arguably “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” even though I don't want to get into muse speculation here). As she sinks deeper into her own depression as a result, the weight of the failing relationship starts feeling like a cage— or a noose (“London,” “Guilty”), but coming to terms with the loss of their life together and the future they’d dreamed of was killing her (again, “London,” but also “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart”).

Enter the conman who she reconnects with at the very point where this is coming to a head (knowing that IRL she reconnected with him around the time Midnights was being worked on) , and if you read between the lines, she confides some deeply personal things to him (“Down Bad” and “hostile takes overs”/“encounters closer and closer,” “Smallest Man” and the entire sleeper cell spy imagery which is one of my favourite things and I could write a whole essay about the meaning of it, “loml” and “A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme”). Then after she’s confided these secrets to him, he insinuates himself back into her life (“Guilty,” “Down Bad,” “Smallest Man”) and sells her a dream that HE can give her all these things she hopes for (again, “Down Bad,” “Smallest Man,” “loml,” song “TTPD,” “Broken Heart”).

But the thing is, he only knows these are the things she wants because she’s revealed it to him, and presumably, told him that was what she was losing by staying with her partner. And instead of the normal response of, “that is really sad that your partner is not supporting you and you deserve to be treated better,” to a friend in growing distress, it seems like it was, “well I can give you all those things!!!! Right now!!!! Trust me!!!!” And worked on her until she believed it, and jumped at the chance at a precarious time in her life. And one thing I want to underscore is: Taylor has agency in the situation always, it’s not like she’s been kidnapped and brainwashed. (In fact, she implores on songs like “But Daddy” that SHE is in charge of her own choices, good or bad.) She chose to rekindle the friendship and then relationship, and she chose to eventually leave her long term relationship for another man, and she reiterates on the album that she owns this all. But it’s also: nothing exists in a vacuum, and she makes choices based on emotions and information she has at the time, which is why it gives so much whiplash.

THE ALBUM

When you look at it as, the situation with the conman only happens because of what happened with the partner first and that the appeal of the conman and the fantasy he sells her is a direct reaction to that, it makes the “swirliness” of the music make so much more sense. And for much of it, even many of the “conman” songs on the surface are really “partner” songs underneath.

Fortnight

A suburban gothic allegory about a broken marriage with a distant husband with a wandering eye, which makes the rekindled romance with the neighbor so appealing. She’s miserable caged in her stifling house because she’s been abandoned by her spouse, so the reappearance of this past love reignites the passion that’s dead at home.

TTPD

“So tell me, who else is gonna know me?” “I chose this cyclone with you.” I’m gonna kill myself if you ever leave. Everyone knows we’re crazy. She’s laying it out there that she’s already in a dangerous state of mind, and she’s actively putting herself in more danger by pursuing the conman. “At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on, and that’s the closest I’ve come to my heart exploding,” spells this whole thing out so clearly: whether it’s an actual event (likely) or a metaphor for the promise he makes to her, the reason why it makes her heart explode is because it’s the thing she’s been waiting for forever with no movement, and here this person comes in and slips it on her finger in an instant like it’s nothing. (And eventually, as we’ll come to know, it is absolutely nothing to him.) You mean it could have been this easy this whole time?! (Well, no. Not until a certain other suitor makes his appearance later.) It feels like she’s finally getting everything she wanted in the blink of an eye! How lucky! How convenient! What was that about the get-love-quick scheme you say? (Unsaid: the reason why this feels so urgent is because there’s a sense that time is running out in so many aspects of her life and not just the obvious. Which reappears later on.)

Down Bad

“Did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to do experiments on?” sets the scene for this euphoric experience in the moment that starts to feel violating once the dust settles (which is then followed up in “Smallest Man” and the spy mission on her). The bridge spells out how he weaselled his way into her life, preyed upon (intentionally or not) her emotional state, sold her a dream and then vanished, without the benefit of hindsight yet we see later in the album.

The alien abduction metaphor is pretty brilliant, because it shows both how she was desperate to escape the place she found herself in, and how much it screwed her brain to then be left stranded when the affair was over. “[I loved your] hostile takeovers, encounters closer and closer,” is so evocative because it details how the situation came to be: his overtures under the guise of friendship blurred lines until he made her an offer that she eventually couldn’t refuse (hostile takeovers) as he infiltrated her life more and more intimately. The sad thing is that the song has parallels to how her relationship with the partner started too in earlier albums, in that they ran away to live in their own bubble (or planet) only for him to metaphorically abandon her as the years went on. (Oven, meet microwave.)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Being continually emotionally broken down by a person who knows he’s hurting you but still acts the way he does. (The original voice memo version makes this even clearer and it’s rather heartbreaking.) “He saw forever so he smashed it up,” speaks to the loss of a future the person became scared of, and the original lyrics (“he saw forever so he blew it up”) somehow cut even deeper to me because it feels so much more intentional.

Also in the original version, “he was my best friend and that was the worst part,” also speaks not only to the loss of an entire partnership in the wake of this hurt, but also to the feelings of betrayal that the person you trust so deeply has the ability to hurt you in this way too, and how it’s a one-two punch of not only losing the relationship but also your closest confidant. (It’s like the sequel to “Renegade” and the missiles firing to me.) Again, there are shades of both/many situations in the song, pointing to an unfortunate pattern in some ways. The situation in “My Boy” is part of why she was so low, and why the “get love quick scheme” was so appealing later on. And it dovetails nicely into…

So Long, London

The most explicitly “partner” song that puts a coda on “You’re Losing Me,” and is Track 5 because it’s the emotional underpinning of how she got to where she was, and drives the events of the rest of the album. It spells everything out: He withdrew, she tried to fix it for both of them, eventually even that stopped working, he was oblivious to or minimized how badly she was suffering and his (in)actions couldn’t reassure her, he wouldn’t move forward on their future plans and stewed in his own struggles, she was spiralling out of control trying to hang on and ultimately felt like she was going to die if she didn’t leave.

But Daddy I Love Him

Like a direct reaction to “So Long, London” in that she breaks free from the death of one relationship and throws herself with reckless abandon to the next, fuck the haters. How dare you judge me, when the relationship you think I should have stayed in was killing me? (Dutiful daughter all the plans were laid. All you want is gray for me.) Fuck all of you, I’m going to choose whoever I want! (So what if I have a baby with HIM, huh?! I tried doing it the proper way and look where that got me so now we're back to square one) It’s again her imagining how wonderful and freeing this “wild boy” is going to be for her, and how wrong she’ll prove everyone. THIS TIME she definitely got it right. So what if she has to run away! So what if she scandalizes the whole town! They don’t know what she really wants or needs anyway! She’s the only one of her (hee-hee-hee) and she’s the only who gets to decides how this goes. (Because: she longs for control in a situation she’ll eventually realize she has little of it in, which we’ll find out is a recurring theme in her life.)

Fresh Out The Slammer

Also spells out what happened with the partner in the first verse and the pre-choruses, which is what makes the conman so appealing as the imagined jailbreak. The bitter loneliness vs. the sultry passion she builds up in her head as she awaits her release from prison is key to understanding the two sides of the story in the album. There’s this whole outlaw imagery (which is also carried through in “I Can Fix Him”), but it’s contrasted in the end with her and her reunited lover sitting on park swings like children with “imaginary rings” — because “Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake.” What’s at stake is lasting love and the promises that come with it (marriage/family) that are precious and time-sensitive. The imaginary rings are both a nod to the youthful dreams of her and her new/old lover, but also has a double meaning to me because those promises aren’t built on anything together; they're made up, intangible. (They’re no more concrete than the plans that went up in smoke with the partner.) Like with most of the conman situation, it’s all a fantasy in her head that has yet to happen, and as we find out later in the album, reality ends up leaving much to be desired.

Florida!!!

Broadly speaking, it’s running away from your problems and wanting to disappear from your life. (But again: the life she’s disappearing from is the cheating husband she may or may not be feeding to the swamp-- another miserable marriage.) What kind of flies under the radar though is the “I don’t want to exist,” line, which points to her dire state of mind that led her to fleeing to that metaphorical timeshare down in Destin. In many ways about cheating death.

Guilty As Sin

Yes it’s the “masturbation song,” but again the nuance is that she’s left to pleasure herself because her partner has abandoned her emotionally and even physically, i.e. “my boredom’s bone deep.” To be blunt: they aren’t even intimate anymore, so she starts fantasizing about the guy she used to have chemistry with who’s reentered her life and is making moves on her. And realizing that she’s now finding release in another man (albeit imaginary) breaks her even as it reinvigorates her because she finally understands that the relationship she’s in is effectively dead. (“Am I allowed to cry?”)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me

This isn’t about relationships, but about society and its reaction to them in a general sense. But again, she’s left to stew in all this anger and hurt as she’s been abandoned at home, then abandoned by public opinion, and the public attack on her is part of the origin as well as the end of that story. The trauma inflicted upon her detailed in the song is the reason why she felt trapped in the first place, which led to the decisions she’s made and habits she’s leaned on ever since.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

This is one of the few songs that is the most completely conman-coded, and shows when the delusion finally breaks at the end of the song. She spends the whole song being like, “no really, I alone can make him better! You’ll see! I know he’s gross, but he’s mine! It’ll be fine I swear! You don’t know anything! Uuuuuum hmm wait actually what the fuck—“

Loml

Oof. THE song. Again the surface reading is about the “conman” who comes in and sells her the lie, but the pain is because all the dreams she writes about are HER dreams and implied that they were the dreams she built with her partner that the conman sold back to her. I could do a deeper dive on this but most of the song is applicable to both relationships, which not only shows the “swirliness” of her writing, but also how they both ultimately did the same thing to her in different shades.

The bridge and the last chorus are kind of fundamental to understanding it all, and her ending it with “you’re the loss of my life” is about, among other things, how falling for this trap blew up the life she built and dreamed of for good. (I could talk about this one forever.) “You shit-talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles” to “Our field of dreams engulfed in fire” is a hell of a line and progression, and again, indicative of what the real driving force behind the whole album is. The shit-talking is because he took her dreams (of marriage and children) and hyped it back up to her tenfold whether in a moment of his own delusion or for more nefarious reasons — much like how the man prior kept promising these things but never followed through, which left her vulnerable to someone who appeared to offer them enthusiastically. The field of dreams isn’t just the one with the conman, it’s the one with the longterm relationship she’d built the dream with in the first place, because the conman’s actions are part of the reason the LTR went up in smoke. (Not the reason for the rift, but the consequence of the final break.) And THAT is why it’s the loss of her life, so completely.

When she says “I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all,” IMO it’s not just the fake future that the conman lures her into, but also (and perhaps mainly) the once-real one she had with her partner and the loss of which that made her susceptible to falling for the con in the first place. There’s honestly so much between the lines in this song that covers every theme and speaks to the grief of seeing the life she imagined slip away, slowly by the first man then annihilated by the second.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

The juxtaposition of “He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short” and “He said he’d love me for all time, but that time was quite short” sums it up to me (and parallels “loml”), because they are two different situations, but they cut her just the same. In the first, “that life” IMO was the life they’d built with the dreams that went along with it and it was too short because he never followed through, and in the second, the “time” was quite short because it was the frenzy of the whirlwind romance that fizzled as quickly as it began. The life that was too short led to the time that was quite short.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

This is definitely THE conman song. The rage, the shame, the violation, it’s all in there. But the key to it is the bridge and the espionage imagery woven through it. A honeypot scheme is when spies target a mark and seduce them to gain their trust and their privileged information for their homeland. So her likening him to a sleeper cell spy who set her up just to mine her deepest secrets and use them against her is a heavy, loaded statement. And implied: that valuable information she unknowingly held were her longings of marriage and family (the aforementioned shit-talking about rings and cradles she never got to have), and more importantly, those dreams preceded him reentering her life and then beginning his mission on her.

The insinuation then is: she confesses these are her deepest wishes which are now seemingly unattainable in her current situation (e.g. with her partner) -> he convinces her HE will give them to her and make the dreams she pines for come true -> she falls for him and blows up her life to make it happen -> he gets what he wants (thrill of the chase/sex/the idea of her/whatever his intent was) -> he abandons her when he gets what he wants, or rather it isn’t what he wants or can handle -> she’s left a) all alone b) with dreams unfulfilled c) with no answers d) feeling used at having her most sacred wishes used against her.

Again, the song is unquestionably about the way the conman absolutely destroyed her, but he was able to do that because there was this thing she wanted more than anything, that was dying in her previous relationship, that he was able to prey upon to seduce her, then discarded her and her dreams as soon as it was inconvenient for him while absolutely hollowing her inside out. (And again: the devastating thing is that this also applies to other relationships she’s written about, in different ways.)

The Alchemy

Not about either the partner or the conman directly, but it (loosely) touches on her finding herself after the whole oven-to-microwave experience and opening herself up to life and love again. #GoodForHer

Clara Bow

This isn’t about the romantic relationships on the surface, but it is about how damaging the entertainment industry and public life are on women, and how women are only valued for their beauty as commodities until they can be discarded and destroyed in the process. Which I think plays into the circumstances that led her to make the decisions that she did years ago, and why she makes the ones she does now. (But also, being valued for physical traits and appeal for the male gaze brings us to…)

The Manuscript

The “original sin” that kicks off all of this. Again, at first light this isn’t about the partner or the conman, but the person it is about is the reason why she has made all the decisions she has ever since in relationships (and that’s Mr. Plaid Shirt Days from “All Too Well”). The realization that her first serious adult relationship is what cemented these patterns, and this view of herself and her worthiness in relationships, is profoundly sad. An older man who valued her for being so mature for her age and implying that the mature activities ahem associated with that were the performance benchmarks in her ability to carry a relationship, only to leave her, was earth shattering. She placed her faith in this person, but then the way he treated her changed her view of love and of herself.

She took his innuendo about “pushing strollers” as a sign of potential commitment, whereas he ultimately meant it as foreplay, and she was too young and naive to know the difference. So not only did she learn from that that this man (and men) didn’t view commitment and family the way she did and that it was something to be toyed with, but she also learned that her value to them among other things was sex. Imagine being an idealistic 20 year old and your boyfriend ten years your senior tells you, “if the sex is anywhere near as good as our dates have been, we’re going to be making babies before you know it,” (e.g. this is relationship is serious) and then he dumps you: does that imply that the sex was not in fact that good? (E.g. that you’re not worthy after all?)

No, obviously from this side of life, it’s because he was a commitment-phobic playboy, even if he did love her, but she couldn’t have known that at 20 and instead internalized that shame. But, it did send her on a path of how she approached sex and love and relationships for over a decade afterwards. And her coming to the realization that that first act of (perhaps unintentional) manipulation is what informed her actions thereafter helped her break the pattern. Her worth to men is not just sex, she has value and her hopes and dreams have value, she doesn’t have to change into a different person to please anyone, because if that is what they want, they won’t ever want her anyway.

It’s been described here on Tumblr by people more eloquent and astute than I as a song that encapsulates the album as this: one did it slow (partner), one did it fast (conman), and one did it first (first love)— and that is haunting. After years of men minimizing her dreams and desires, if not outright using them against her, she’s finally at the point where she can let it all go and move on for good. (There’s a whole other tangent about consent and shame and manipulation, but that’s an entirely different kind of discussion. But it is so devastatingly contrasted with “you said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine, and that made me want to die.”)

THE SUMMATION

This is just my interpretation of it, but in going through the standard album, it feels pretty clear how cohesive the album is about a story of love and loss and grief, then reckoning with what caused it all in the first place that set a person on this path. It’s a formative experience at a young age that was traumatic and led to certain coping mechanisms and a shaping of one’s self-perception, as well as the reaction to external pressures that try to dictate behaviours and influence how one feels one deserves out of love which makes it harder to know when one absolutely deserves more and better. And leaves one struggling to cope with loss when there isn’t anything else to hold onto. Then in light of one’s life blowing up, learning to find oneself in the aftermath all over again.

On another tangent that is somewhat related to the theme of loss, the way she writes about the two main muses on the standard album also ties into how the situations converged to create absolute carnage on her emotional and mental well-being. With one situation, she’s talking about a concrete life that crumbles under the weight of their struggles; with the other, the entire thing is a fantasy that she builds up in her head, and when it comes to fruition it falls far, far short.

If you look at the “microwave” (conman) relationship, you realize that almost everything she writes about it happens before it actually becomes reality, and it’s mostly her imagining how great it’ll be, but with few exceptions, when she writes about what actually occurred, it doesn’t even come close to living up to her expectations. “Fortnight” is an imagined future where she escapes to Florida and his touch finally starts her stalled engine (ahem). “TTPD” is perhaps the most positive retelling of their time together, but even that implies he was better off stoned and when he sobered up he succumbed to his demons all over again, and more importantly she conveys how she also is in extreme distress, barely concealed by the veneer of being infatuated with him. (E.g. saying to that she’ll kill herself if he ever leaves her — the implication is that she is absolutely serious about it when she “felt seen.”) And that the warning bells are going off in her head, but she feels like this person is the only one she can be with (because they’re equally fucked up and the chaos he brings into her life makes her feel alive when she felt so close to death).

“Down Bad” is the most explicit about being in love, but she’s also left completely confused and disoriented by him disappearing, wondering if any of it was real and the seeds of violation creep into her consciousness (“did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust just to do experiments on?” “Waking up in blood.”). “But Daddy” is her imagining she can tell everyone to fuck off for telling her what to do with her life. “Fresh Out The Slammer” is her fantasizing about this man while feeling trapped in her relationship — but never in the song is she actually reunited with him; she’s using him as the projection of all the things she’ll make right after being wronged by her partner. “Guilty As Sin?” Is very obviously about her fantasizing about sleeping with him, but again it’s such a minefield for her because it hasn’t happened yet; they’ve only just reconnected. “I Can Fix Him” is the only song other than “TTPD” that shows them actually together, and it’s the one where she keeps saying, essentially, “I know he’s gross but I can rehabilitate him into an upstanding person, trust me,” until the mic drop at the end of the song where it finally hits her that no, she can’t, because this is who he is, not the person she’s built him up to be.

“Loml” is when it all comes crashing down, and the song emphasizes everything he did and told her, e.g. that she’s the love of his life, but she doesn’t return the sentiment in the song about their time together. Because now that it’s past tense, she knows it wasn’t actually love. (And says as much in the album epilogue poem.) “Broken Heart” is her reeling in the aftermath, but again, it’s “he said,” not “I loved.” And then there’s “The Smallest Man,” where she eviscerates him: he also pursued an idea of her but didn’t care much for the real her in front of him (who else is gonna know me?), he love bombed her only to hurt her (crushing her dreams), he was constantly stoned (and not just in the funny munchies kind of way), and he wasn’t even a good lover (despite the fantasy she’d created before). That last point is especially striking because she spent albums singing about the importance of and pleasure in (sexual) intimacy in the relationship with her partner (sometimes to both their own detriment) and how it was at times the only way they could connect, but in this case, the idea she hyped up and acted on in her head about this lover never panned out in practice. She spells it out in the epilogue: it wasn’t a love affair, it was a mutual manic phase.

In contrast, there’s a lot more tangible action in the “oven” (partner) parts of the album, showing how hard she tried to make the relationship work in real life instead of just in her head. All of “So Long, London” is her detailing how she tried to break through to him and support him, even when he rejected it and pushed her away, thinking she could carry them both until they ultimately sank, but she did it because she “loved this place for so long.” (The place? Not just the city, but the home and perhaps most importantly, him.) In “Slammer” she stayed with him even as things disintegrated for “one hour of sunshine.” (E.g. holding onto the rarer good times even as they were fewer and further between, hoping things would eventually turn around.) And like in “London,” she held on despite people in her life pleading with her that it was hurting her. (Which is also echoed in “Slammer.”) In “Guilty” her boredom is “bone deep” because the passion that once drove their relationship (and papered over their problems) has finally gone out too, so there’s nothing left to hold onto, leading to her fantasizing about the new suitor, which makes her realize her relationship has passed the point of no return. “Loml” is about the conman on the surface, but the undercurrent of all the things she says about him is that he was co-opting the dreams that she was clinging onto for dear life in the previous relationship, which is why the con is so painful; the field of dreams he sets ablaze isn’t just the fake painting he sold to her, but the original artifact (her life with her partner) too.

All the physical and emotional labour she puts into the relationship with her partner ends up reflected in the fantasizing she does in the one with the conman, which is why it is so confusing in the moment and so lethal when he leaves her without any answers. She wants to get married and start a family with her partner which keeps getting stalled; the conman mock-proposes which makes her think he’s immediately serious (“TTPD,” “loml”). She feels caged by having to hide with her partner and shrink herself; the conman promises he’ll stand by her side publicly and let her shine (“Smallest Man”). She sinks into a deep depression in her loneliness as the relationship with her partner careens off a cliff; the conman convinces her they’re meant for each other in a them-against-the-world way (“Down Bad”). The intimacy (in all senses of the word) in her relationship with her partner fizzles; the conman stokes the fire by sending her secret messages and reigniting passion (“Guilty”). She spent years trying to help her partner to no avail; the conman makes her think she has the power to reform him (“loml”). She feels misunderstood by her partner; the conman acts like he’s the (only) one who truly gets her (“TTPD,” “loml”).

In short: there’s nothing that the conman does or says that isn’t a direct response to what her partner did first, and it’s even worse because the conman knew how much her partner’s actions hurt her and he used that privileged information to paint a picture of what he could give her, but in doing so in some ways aimed at her heart with even deadlier accuracy. (I’ve likened it to him borrowing someone else’s life for his own joyride, until he crashes the rental car and flees the scene.) It’s why in the aftermath, the difference in emotions are so different: she feels nothing but rage and violation towards the conman for getting in her head and using her, whereas her feelings towards her partner are more complicated. There’s anger (at her lost youth and being taken for granted), but there’s also sorrow (at their lost life and future), disappointment (that he never could step up the way he’d promised or she’d needed), even compassion (towards his struggles) and a tiny measure of appreciation (for the good times they did share).

When you look at the bigger picture, the story the album paints is just so painfully normal. You have two people (Taylor and her partner) who once loved each other deeply, and despite warning signs early on telling them they have fundamentally different needs and ways of living their lives they fight like hell to make it work (the epilogue) until those warning signs become grenades that destroy their home (“My Boy,” “London,” “Slammer,” arguably “loml”). Having already been through at least one rough patch/break/breakup that she felt almost destroyed her (harkening back to Midnights on “You’re Losing Me,” “The Great War” and “Hits Different”), the final and fatal downward spiral of the relationship (“YLM,” “London”) and the grief over losing that future sends her into a tailspin, just at the time where a flame from the past (the conman) reenters her life and tells her all the things she’s been longing to hear and feel (“TTPD,” “Down Bad,” “Guilty,” “loml”) and, crucially, missing from the relationship that was once her entire life.

So in her panic, she falls prey to the (empty) promises of the past lover (“loml,” “Smallest Man”) and decides he’s actually what will save her from the free fall, because the alternative (that she will end up in a situation she doesn’t think she can survive) is too painful to bear. When she finally acts on these circumstances (leaves her partner/runs to the conman), she snaps, acting on pure emotion and adrenaline (“But Daddy”), but before she knows it, the new lover abandons her, and she’s left to reckon with the fallout of the episode and process everything that has happened (“Down Bad,” “loml”) — with the conman, with her partner, with the choices made in her adult life personally and professionally which leads her back to the moment she feels set her down that road at the start.

The TL;DR of this unintentionally long essay is that the reason the conman affair was so serious was precisely because it was meant to fulfill the promise of what was her life with her partner. To me, a large part of the story is that she projected that life onto the conman (or he projected her life back to her for his own purposes) because she wasn’t ready to deal with that massive grief and the life raft he offered felt like the only alternative to an even darker end. Whether the conman actually believed what he told her, or he went along with it or encouraged it because it served his purpose, we’ll never know, just like we’ll never know the finer details of what went on (nor should we). But no matter what, the album is just an extreme deep dive into all the ways grief can consume us, and whether it’s a long, drawn-out death or a sudden, inexplicable one, it can turn a person’s life into such a trainwreck that they act in ways unfathomable to even them, let alone the people around them. It can also unleash repressed trauma and mental illness that can crater your sense of self. And when those situations are compounded? It makes for a nearly impossible type of breakdown to unpack. (Which is why you might need a 31 song album to process it.)

[aceofstars16]

Well, I made a poll asking if I should post this now...and then I just go and post it without waiting to see what people voted haha xD

This was inspired by @athenoot (not letting me actually tag but I linked her blog!) and her super fun AU idea mashing up Drifting Stars and Relativity Falls!

I don't know if this works for @forduary but it does have portal Ford so *shrugs*

Summary: Mabel loves dimension hopping, but she is starting to miss having a home. And more than anything, she misses Dipper and Stan. However, she may end up seeing them sooner than expected…though they aren't exactly the same Dipper and Stan that she knows.

The street was packed, creatures of all sorts bustling to and fro. Even after months of being in other dimensions, Mabel was still overwhelmed by all of the different aliens. Her eyes couldn’t stop moving, even as Ford pulled her along, trying to make his way through the crowd.

They had arrived in this dimension a few days ago. Unfortunately, they had first been spat out in a rainforest with absolutely no civilization around. But after climbing a particularly tall tree, they had seen a town of sorts in the distance. Which is where they were now, hoping to find some food and maybe even shelter, that is, if Ford deemed this dimension safe enough to stay in for a little while.

 At first, the constant travel had been fun for Mabel. Getting to explore a new world every few days was exhilarating. But she was surprised to find that more recently, she missed a place she could call home. Though, more than anything, she missed Dipper and Stan. Of course, she loved Ford too. He had been looking out for her ever since she had been pulled into the portal, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him now. But still…she wished she could be with Ford and the rest of her family.

Something bumped Mabel particularly hard and she was shaken from her thoughts as she lost her footing. Her hand was yanked out of Ford’s and she fell to the ground.

Panic gripped her and she quickly stood up and tried catching sight of Ford, but the constant movement of aliens made standing still impossible. She thought she heard someone calling her name, but it was hard to hear over the crowd.

“Grunkle Ford!” Yelling at the top of her lungs, Mabel, tried pushing her way through the crowd, in what she thought was the direction Ford had been walking. But no matter how hard she tried, she was too small, and she couldn’t make any headway against the crowd.

Spotting an alleyway through the sea of legs, Mabel spun, jumped, rolled, and crawled until she made it to the backstreet. It wasn’t empty, but it was slightly less crowded. Spotting a box that was sealed shut, she made her way to it and managed to climb on top. But as she looked out over the sea of creatures, she couldn’t spot her grunkle. Ford was nowhere to be seen. Panic overwhelmed her as she realized that she was alone, lost in an unfamiliar dimension with absolutely no clue as to what to do next. It was her worst nightmare.

------

Ford was frantic. He couldn’t believe he’d lost Mabel. He should’ve been holding onto her tighter. No, he should’ve just carried her. What had he been thinking? In a crowd this big, that was the most logical option, and yet he hadn’t thought of it before entering the market and now she was gone.

“Mabel!” He called out again. He thought he had heard her call out a moment ago, but this time there was no response.

Darned this busy city. Reasonably, a city this remote in a rainforest shouldn’t be this crowded. Though perhaps it being the only city for miles was the reason for all of the foot traffic. Either way, he really should’ve scoped out the layout first before walking in. That’s what he normally would’ve done. But Mabel hadn’t had food in over a day. So, her hunger along with the possibility of letting her sleep in a semi normal structure for the first time in…weeks? Had caused him to act rashly. He had only wanted to make sure she had what she needed, and maybe help her mental state. Over the past few weeks, Ford had occasionally caught her looking downcast – though she quickly smiled when she noticed him looking – and this had seemed like a good opportunity to help her feel better.

“So much for that…” Ford muttered under his breath as he continued searching for Mabel. He had just spotted a possible vantage point he could use when something grabbed his jacket and pulled it back.

“Geez, slow down Grunkle D-”

As Ford looked down at the source of the voice, it cut off. His own legs stalled as he saw the boy who was holding his jacket. It couldn’t be…

For a second, Ford was transported to another lifetime. So long ago it felt like a dream. Hot summers on Glass Shard Beach, playing in the water, exploring the sand dunes, fixing up the Stan O War.

He was looking at his brother from thirty years ago.

------

Crap, wrong old guy. Stan thought to himself as he stared up at the man who’s coat he’d grabbed. Now that he had a closer look, he could tell that said coat wasn’t quite the same as Dipper’s, and of course, the man wasn’t his grunkle (okay, technically Dipper wasn’t actually his great uncle either, but it made it easier to call him that, okay?). However, there was something oddly familiar about this guy…

Some other creature bumped into him, threatening to pull him along in the crowd once again, like it had earlier. But then a hand grabbed his arm, and the old guy was dragging him through the crowd.

“Hey, what gives? I’m not-” Stan grabbed at the guy’s hand, trying to get him to let go, only to stop when he really looked at the hand. Wait, six fingers…it couldn’t be…could it?

Looking up, Stan tried to get a better look at the guy’s face. Something had seemed familiar about it when he’d first seen him, but now he was facing away as he pulled Stan along. But six fingers… Suddenly, the bright sunlight disappeared as he was pulled into a small alleyway. There were still a few beings milling about, but not has many as in the main square. Then the man spun around to look at him.

“What are you doing here?”

 Stan took a step back at the sharpness of the man’s voice. A tinge of fear grew in his chest. It wasn’t Dad, he knew that, but there was something so familiar about the words, the man’s stance, the look on his face - he couldn’t shake it. However, the ashamed expression when the old guy saw Stan shrink back wasn’t something Dad would’ve done.

“I-I don’t know. I was just here with my, well I call him my grunkle because-”

“Wait, wait, what? Your grunkle? Who?” Confusion crossed the guy’s face. “What’s his name?”

The man held up his hands and Stan found himself looking at them. He knew in this dimension, six fingers might not be an abnormal thing. But this guy was human, and he looked kind of like Dad…

“Are you my brother?” Stan blurted out before he could stop himself. It was hard to think about Ford looking old - that was just weird - but if he was old, well…Stan could see him looking kind of like this guy…

For a moment, the old man just stared at him, then signed and shook his head. “No, I’m not…well…kind of. I’m Stanford, but not your Stanford.”

“You mean there’s more than one of you? Are there more than one of me? Woah, we could build an army! Though I don’t know how much use an old guy would be but I’m sure you could do something. Oh, eww, am I old somewhere then? How-”

“Hold up. Just…one question at a time.” Old Ford had held out his hand again, as if wanting Stan to stop. He looked a little frustrated, but at the same time, there was the smallest bit of an amused smile on his face.

“There are…many different dimensions, and versions of you and me. I…haven’t met your older version,” a small shadow crossed his face, “but I’ve heard about him. However. That’s not important. What I need to know, is how you got here, and who are you looking for?”

Stan let out a huff. He thought Ford would be as excited as him about all of this but…then again, this was an old Ford and well…maybe he’d been in other dimensions a while and didn’t think it was cool anymore? Sometimes Dipper had seemed less thrilled about things than Stan thought were awesome. Or maybe it was just an old person thing? Gosh, Stan hoped he wasn’t a boring old guy in any dimension.

After a moment, he realized Ford was still looking at him questioningly and Stan realized that he’d have to tell this old version of his brother what had happened. He didn’t really want to, but he had a feeling Ford wouldn’t answer any of his questions unless Stan answered him first.

“Well…I kind of accidently got sucked into this big glowing circle thing that my Grantie Mabel really didn’t want me to shut off, then I met my Grunkle Dipper and we kind of…ran around jumping in all these portal things till we got here. And I swear I’d only been glancing at this cool gun shop, but somehow let go of his hand and then…I thought he was you.” Stan was a little surprised at how quickly the words came. Ever since he’d arrived in other dimensions, Dipper had told him to be careful about saying too much to the wrong people but…this was Ford. Sure, he was old but…it was still Ford. He could still tell him anything.

For a moment, Ford just stared at him, shock lining his face. Then he shook his head and took a breath. “Right…okay…We need to find your Dipper, and I need to…”

“What, you lose someone too?” Stan meant it as a joke, but his smile fell when he saw the concern on Ford’s face.

“Come on, it looks like the crowds are dying down some.” Ford held out his hand and without hesitation, Stan took it.

“I can help you find whoever you lost first.  I’m sure Dipper is fine.”

Ford looked down at him, a disbelieving frown on his face. “I…we’ll see who we find first…”

Putting on his best show of confidence – which was easy seeing as he was used to doing it for Ford – Stan nodded. “I bet we’ll find them both in the next ten minutes!”

------

How could I lose him?!? The thought kept running through Dipper’s head. After months with Stan, he had grown accustom to the boy’s affinity for trouble, which included checking things out that he probably shouldn’t have. So he should’ve been extra diligent in a place as crowded as this, but while keeping an eye out for danger, he must have let go of Stan’s hand and now the boy was lost to a sea of creatures. Guilt and fear clawed at Dipper’s chest. After decades of being alone, he had come to enjoy Stan’s company, plus, he was family.

Taking a deep breath, Dipper tried to still his anxiety, though it was easier said then done. It had already been far too long since Stan had disappeared, and Dipper still couldn’t think of a way to find him aside from waiting for the crowds to die down. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option he could see. He really needed to find a better way to keep track of his, for a better word, nephew (he was never the best at remembering all of the names for distant relatives and Stan called him Great Uncle so it worked).

As he pushed his way to a slightly less busy part of the market, Dipper searched for a good vantage point he could wait at, while still keeping an eye out for Stan. That’s when he heard it.

Crying.

His feet stumbled to a stop and he quickly looked around, searching for its source. A bright splash of pink caught his eye – a bit out of place in the browns and tans of the city. Carefully making his way toward the figure, he tried pushing aside the feeling in his gut that something was familiar about the girl. Because, as he got closer, he could tell it was a girl, with short curly hair, and a bright pink sweater…

It’s not Mabel. He told himself, as he realized that’s who he was thinking of. Mabel was dimensions away and, well, she was as old as him now.

Crouching down, Dipper put on his best smile, despite his worry for Stan. “Hey, you okay there?”

The girl quickly looked up, her tear-filled eyes widening as she saw him.

Dipper found himself freezing as well. Because it was Mabel. Or, how she had looked as a kid. Sure, her hair was shorter and she looked more tired than she normally would’ve but…it was her.

He eyes flicked up to his hair then back down to his face. “D-Dipper?”

“I…yes, or no, it’s well…” Dipper frowned, he knew that the girl he was looking at wasn’t his sister. He’d been in enough dimensions to know that there were multiple versions of himself and his sister out there. And unless time travel was involved – which didn’t seem likely – this was simply another Mabel from another world. However…it still looked like her and…it still was a Mabel. He couldn’t push away the weight of responsibility to take care of her and make sure she got back where she needed to be.

“You’re from another dimension I guess…” Mabel’s quiet voice shook Dipper from his thoughts.

“Yeah…I…you know about those, huh?” Dipper remembered a day when he had been so excited about there being other dimensions, and other versions of himself. In a way it was still a nice thought, that maybe one version of himself hadn’t messed up…hadn’t ended up here. But it still didn’t change his situation, and after about a hundred different dimensions, survival was more important than excitement over new worlds.

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford told me about it once. He said he’d found a dimension where everyone was a baby once, he didn’t sound like he liked it but I think it would be fun…” Mabel gave Dipper a smile, though it wasn’t as bright as her normal smile. Or at least, like the one he remembered as a kid.

Then Mabel’s words registered and Dipper narrowed his eyes. “Wait, Ford? That…that’s Stan’s brother…” he muttered to himself.

Mabel perked up at that. “Stan? He’s here too?!?”

Dipper’s face fell as he remembered his predicament. “He…was…I…I lost track of him.”

“Oh…maybe I can help you find him! He can’t be too hard to find!”

A small smile grew on Dipper’s face at her optimism. Typical Mabel. “Well, he’s pretty small, about your size, but maybe with two-”

“WAIT STAN IS LITTLE?!?”

Dipper winced at the volume of her voice, but thankfully the creatures around didn’t pay much attention. “Yes, he’s about…” Dipper realized he didn’t actually know how old Stan was. “Maybe ten, or twelve? I’m not sure…”

“Oh my gosh, we have to find him! I gotta meet little Stan!” The brightness on Mabel’s face was a welcome change from the heaviness he had seen on it only a few moments ago. All traced of tears were gone.

A small laugh escaped Dipper and he nodded. “Well, alright then, let’s see if we can find him.” Holding out his hand, Dipper felt a small stab of sadness as Mabel immediately grabbed it. Just like when they were little…Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. This wasn’t his dimension’s Mabel…but it was nice to see her again, even if it was only for a little while.

[sesamestreep]

sexy himbo jock interpretations of James Tiberius Kirk are silly and do a disservice to the character for a lot of reasons, not least of which is that it fundamentally ignores all the times in canon when Kirk is faced with a scientific discovery or oddity and you can see the effort it takes for him not to clap and skip with excitement. like in ‘the devil in the dark’ when Spock posits that they might be dealing with a silicon based life form and McCoy’s like “but that’s impossible!” and Kirk literally crosses the room to flirt talk excitedly with Spock about the prospect and how it could work! and what it would mean!

What I’m saying is, Kirk’s gotta be smart and a huge dork because how else could he pull a bad autistic bitch like Spock?

[b4kuch1n]

glorioso from last years twitterin

[foundnthestars]

i feel like in ttwl dipper would come back through the portal and just have like the craziest sailor mouth, courtesy of stan, and mabel and ford would just be blown away by it

[shushmal]

okay pacrim au (it's gonna be steddie bear with me here)

nancy is the best jaeger pilot the world's ever seen, her and barb are an unstoppable force. but then barb dies, gets completely ripped from their mech. so they pair nancy with steve, a pilot known for being generally drift compatible with everyone to a degree. it's not perfect, but nancy who is full of fury needs someone that can roll with her punches, keep her going. and they do well. they aren't the best, but he's the only one that can handle nancy's force. steve's good at taking hits. they mange it for about two years. and steve had been doing such a good job hiding it, absorbing all of nancy's internal grief and fury so she could keep doing her job.

but he breaks. the two of them are force-retired, and nancy lashes out so intensely, steve goes into a depression, completely severs ties with the jager program and disappears.

then there's eddie, a street rat by birth, but a guy so inherently good with the jaeger technology, he's managed to build his own on scavenged scraps—part of it from the jaeger barbara holland died in. he's used his lil jaeger to defend his little forgotten part of the world best he could, mostly luring kaiju away towards the actual military and stealthily escaping before any government detects him. but it's hard to do alone.

and then he meets steve.

[lord-squiggletits]

Simon Furman: "Sorry women in Transformers can't exist uwu"

Literally the cover of Drift #2:

The women were there from the start you dumb cunt it was never just Arcee aklsdjfksdjflk

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Snugglebugs || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen Warnings: none Wordcount: 934

Summary: nothing better after a rough mission then a cuddle session with your loved one. AN: and sometimes you just gotta write smol lil snippets of fluff yknow. ---------------

It was obvious that the mission was exhausting when everyone send on it was whining and groaning that they were glad to be home while leaving the jet. If even Rogue was unstable and tired on her feet then it was clear the mission had taken a lot out of everyone. The crew scattered among the communal showers, with everyone shedding their suits or at least the heaviest parts of their suits as quickly as they possibly could.

Kurt was quietly stretching his sore muscles as Gambit dropped his cuirass in the locker assigned to him, a blissful silence between them that the Cajun eventually interrupted.

"Dunno about you, but Gambit's ready to call it a night."

"Ach, mein Freund, you're reading my mind," Kurt sighed, the stretching alleviating a bit of the exhaustion in his body, "a warm bed and a nap sounds wonderful right about now."

After trading his own suit for a much more casual fit in clothing, Kurt vanished from the room, with Gambit half rolling his eyes in amusement.

"Don't know whatcha complaining about, Bleu. Some of us still gotta walk to our room."

Entering his room, Kurt startled for a second as he hadn't expected Miranda there. She was lounging on his bed, reading some book he couldn't see the title of. His whole body language softened as he watched her being so relaxed on his bed, slowly approaching her and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Hi, Süße. What are you reading?"

"Moby Dick. Library here is full of classics I never got around to reading. Waiting for you to come home seemed like the perfect time to read some of them. ... You okay?"

"Just tired," he said softly, the sudden heaviness of his muscles returning, "the mission took a lot out of everyone today. Can I... No, never mind."

She lowered the book, taking a bookmark and marking where she left off before shutting the book. She looked at him with a quizzical look on her face as he didn't finish his request. He got caught in her gaze, watching as the deep shades of green that made up the forest of her eyes studied him curiously before she gestured over to him to just come join her in a cuddle.

"Are you sure? I don't want to cross your boundaries, you been having a lot of-"

"Kurt," her voice was somehow firm, gentle and warm at the same time, "if it was crossing a boundary I wouldn't be offering it. C'mere, you look like you need a cuddle."

Okay, that was fair enough. He accepted her offer, curling up against her and resting his head to her chest. His sharp ears picked up the gentle sound of her heartbeat, and he really couldn't help a purr escaping him as she ran her fingers through his hair. He couldn't help but feel a slight blush creep onto his cheeks, suddenly very aware that she was showing him a great deal of trust and vulnerability in this move. She trusted him. The very notion of that was warming his heart, while the comfort of her embrace was soothing his mind and aching body.

"You alright, baby?" Miranda asked softly, wrapping both arms around him so she could run one of her hands softly over his back in a soothing motion.

"... I'm so tired, Miranda," Kurt murmured, listening to her heartbeat as his eyes slowly blinked shut to the comfort she was providing, "this mission was a lot. A lot of work, a lot of pain to people who didn't deserve to get caught in the crossfire, a lot of trying to make amends and help rebuild and I just... I need you right now..."

She softened a lot at that, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head while keeping her touch gentle. She kept running her fingers through his hair, her other hand rhythmically going over his back to soothe him.

"I'm here for you, my love," she said softly, pressing several more kisses to his head, "you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone all the time. I'm here to help carry the burden, that's the least I can do in return for everything you do for me."

He sighed, lightly pushing himself out of her arms just enough so he could look at her, allowing himself to get lost in the deep emerald color of her eyes, before she softly cupped his face in her hand and stole a soft kiss- one he immediately responded to with a deeper kiss of his own, the need for her comfort loud and clear in that gesture. She kissed him back, matching his passion, and only when he pulled away to breathe did she wrap her arms back around him to pull him back into their previous embrace.

"C'mere. Get some rest," she murmured, gently playing with a strand of his navy blue hair, "I'll be here when you wake up. And if need be, I'll wake you up for dinner; I could even go fetch some and we can just have dinner in bed. How does that sound?"

"Wunderbar. Thank you, Süße," he said with a yawn, allowing his eyes to blink shut again as the steady beat of her heart helped him drift off to sleep. She just pressed another soft kiss on the top of his head, keeping the soothing and gentle motions of her hands going as having him back in her arms granted her just as much comfort as it did for him.

[unnonexistence]

one of my friends is a biologist & i was really amused hearing some of her stories yesterday because they put into context just how believable newt's kaiju drift is as Shit A Biologist Would Do. like my friend has personally met both a guy who got infected with a botfly larva and didn't do anything to remove it (because he just didn't mind), and another guy who identified a tapeworm species by intentionally exposing himself to it (he had it narrowed down to 2 species and needed to know if it was the one that would infect humans) (it was)

[inkspottie]

I'm not exactly sure if making them go back human would give off well, in Vissicitude, Sebastian learns to be well, that new self, and now in Confluence it's Sadao learning to, I think that if they go back unhuman by the end of Confluence, it'll kinda wreck it. The fic (as I see it) is about accepting others and yourselves as what they are, even if not even their face remains, that deep down even the most horribles monsters can be good, so making them go back human feels weird but honestly the idea is good and it's just my opinion and you do what you want! I really just thought on sharing about it But I've thought of something for a question Could Sebastian "reality-shift" (like when you shift to a different reality in your sleep IRL, I think) to a world but him and Sadao are human WITHOUT Lopee's intervention?

Haha don’t worry they won’t be turning into humans anytime soon. Promise. Even at the end of Confluence they will not be back to their human form.

I know some people want them to be human and go back to normal but I think they’re cowards and let the monsters be well monsters.

I just set it up to make it look like they have hope and the potential to have things reverse, and also have fun science shenanigans if ya know what I mean. Probably eventually they’ll go back to being more humanoid…but it won’t ever be human Sadao and human Seb for a WHILE.

As for the reality shift, I think he wouldn’t want that. He wants to be with his version of Sadao. Not some alternate version.

[techtainia-makes-things]

Even more MTMTE Drift x reader

After hours as about as quiet as the Lost Light got, which is to say you still heard the occasional screech of tires or drunken bots stumbling back to their rooms. At least it was quiet enough to get some sleep.

You don’t even remember when the doors slid out of the way for Drift, just that his silhouette had his back to you with a sword that glistened in the low light scraping with a consistent rhythm against a whetstone. 

You shifted in your mess of blankets, and watched as he glanced over his shoulder at you. You rolled over to turn your back to him, and you listened as he set his sword back on its stand. There was a slight dip at the edge of your mattress, but not heavy enough to be a bot in mass displacement. A human sized dip. 

You glanced over your shoulder to check that his back was to you. It was, and with a determined smile you slowly shifted your weight onto your arms and legs. 

Drift’s holoform whipped around to catch you before you could even pounce into his arms, nearly knocking both of you off the bed and onto the cold metal floor.

Seeing Drift’s fangs bared in a smile was worth every scolding word there would have been from Ratchet.

He laid you back down in bed, looming over you for a moment with vaguely luminescent eyes before tucking himself into bed with you.

[aceofstars16]

Next chapter! Getting sick meant I was slower editing than I thought I'd be but hey, I got it done today!

Chapter 5: Rescue Mission Mabel, Ford, and Stan come up with a plan to rescue Dipper.

A chill ran through Mabel’s spine as she carefully walked through the lessening crowd. One upside to having to use a crutch to walk was that some of the creatures moved out of her way. Which would be beneficial to the plan. A plan which her, Ford, and Stan had come up with only a few hours ago. The time waiting had been filled with eating some food that they found in the storage room, and resting. Mabel was still weak, and her leg definitely wasn’t recovered all the way, but she could walk, with support.

Taking a breath, Mabel looked around, trying not to find Stan and Ford watching her, but instead looking for bounty hunters. Granted, she didn’t really know what they looked like – the one time her and Ford had run into one, Ford had disposed of it before she could get a good look – but she knew they would look mean. After all, they were bounty hunters.

“Are you lost?”

Mabel stumbled back at the voice, but quickly found the source. A creature with a humped back and glowing eyes. Its skin was rough, but it gave her a smile – one filled with sharp teeth, but it seemed genuine.

“Uh…no…I’m just uh…meeting someone.” It was a lie and she was pretty sure it sounded like one, but she needed to keep moving. Bounty hunters usually didn’t catch their prey when they were talking to someone else, or at least, that’s what she assumed.

“Oh? Where are you meeting them? I can help.” The creature was still grinning at her.

“That’s okay, thanks for the offer though.” Mabel tried to move past them, but a clawed hand landed on her shoulder.

“I insist. After all, these streets aren’t safe after dark.”

A shudder passed through Mabel as she remembered the dragon. It’s grotesque teeth and haunting eyes. She doubted she would ever forget the sight, especially since her leg was bound to have a few scars from those horrible teeth.

The alien nodded, giving her what she assumed was a sympathetic look. “Come, I will take you to a safe place.”

“No, really. I-I’m good.” Mabel swallowed and tried to pull herself out of the alien’s grip. This wasn’t part of the plan. But even as she tried to stumble away, the creature held fast, its grip tightening. Panic overwhelmed her as she tried pulling away and caught a glimpse of the alien’s eyes again. They no longer looked friendly.

“Let go!” Mabel cried, doubling her efforts to break free, but the creature just laughed.

“Don’t worry. I am taking you to a friend.”

Then the creature gripped her other shoulder and her body froze. The world slowly faded away until everything went black as unconsciousness overtook her.

-----

When an alien rested a claw on Mabel’s shoulder, Ford felt himself tense up. Every instinct told him to rush in and pull her away from it. His job was to protect Mabel, not let her wander the streets alone. But they had come up with a plan, and if he raced to her aid, it could ruin all of it.

“Let her go.” He mumbled under his breath as he watched.

“Is that one of them?”

Ford looked down to see Stan watching as well, a frown on his face.

“I don’t think so. I don’t recognize it.” Even as he spoke, Ford knew that not all bounty hunters looked the same. Some definitely looked the part, but others looked like any other creature in the multiverse.

“Let go!”

Mabel’s voice carried through the streets and Ford found his hand landing on his gun. Whoever this creature was, it was hurting Mabel, and that was unacceptable. They would have to come up with a new plan and-

“It’s taking her!” Stan cried out, though thankfully he kept his voice low.

Gritting his teeth, Ford pulled out his gun with one hand and grabbed Stan’s hand with the other before moving forward, tailing the creature who had grabbed Mabel. “Let’s go.”

“What about the plan?” Stan asked, even as he followed Ford.

“We’ll come up with a new one.” Ford hissed as he ducked behind a crate. A moment later, he started moving again. The emptying streets were part of the plan, but it did make tailing someone a little harder. Then again, it meant it was easier to keep track of who he was following.

The creature cut down alleyways and across streets, running on all fours now that Mabel was unable to put up a fight. Ford vaguely recognized it as a resident of dimension B4r8, though it had been a while since he’d been there. They were fast, but thankfully Stan didn’t seem to have trouble keeping up with Ford as he followed.

Suddenly, the creature stopped in front of a cellar door and banged on it. The door flung open and a different creature poked its head out. Ford heard Stan suck in a breath and he squeezed Ford’s hand.

“That’s what took Dipper.”

Relief and worry simultaneously sparked in Ford’s chest. The plan hadn’t failed, they knew where Dipper was now. But he hated that Mabel had to be the bait. It had been the most logical solution, as she couldn’t move quickly enough to play any other part, but it still screamed against every protective instinct in Ford’s body.

Taking a breath, Ford tried to still his nerves before crouching down in front of Stan.

“You remember the plan?”

“Yup!”

Stan held up the strange looking device, a mix between tweezers, a toothpick, and a small computer screen – a lockpicking device that Ford had invented himself. It didn’t work on every lock, but with some luck, it would do its job today. 

Ford nodded. “Good…” For a moment, he hesitated. Letting Mabel go out alone had been hard enough. Leaving Stan as well screamed against every fiber of his being.

“I got it Poindexter, don’t worry!” Stan gave Ford a grin, and the smallest hint of relief hit Ford at the gesture. He was sure there were still things to be talked about, but for now…Stan seemed to trust him, so he had to trust Stan.

Taking a breath, Ford nodded and stood up, only to stop and dig his hand into his coat. He felt for the small gun that he regularly carried and pulled it out, handing it to Stan. It hadn’t been part of the plan but he’d feel better knowing Stan had some way to defend himself besides his fists.

Stan’s eyes widened as he grabbed the gun.

“It only stuns. Unless you change the strength.” Ford pointed to a dial under the trigger. “But you shouldn’t have to use it, it’s just…”

“Insurance.” Stan said, taking the word right out of Ford’s mouth.

A small smile grew on Ford’s mouth. “Right.”

“Cool.” Stan said, then shoved Ford a little. “Now get going!”

Ford barely held back a chuckle as he moved forward. Stan certainly didn’t seem annoyed with him right now. But then again, Stan had never been good about showing his real emotions to most people. Granted, Ford had been the exception when they were kids but…he’d take what he could get.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Ford focused on what he needed to do.

The cellar door had already been closed, so Ford walked up and banged on it, as loud as he could.

“Hey, slime balls! Heard you were looking for me?”

As soon as he yelled it, Ford took a few quick steps away from the door, and when he heard the bolts unlocking, he turned on his heels and ran.

-----

“What’ve you got there?”

Dipper perked up as he heard voices outside of his cell. They had been fairly quiet for the past few hours. He’d guessed that at least one of the hunters had left, but the occasional noise from outside assured him that there was at least one keeping watch. Not that he had the tools to get out if he wanted too. Not only were his hands chained to the wall, but all of his supplies had been taken away.

“Found this little twig wandering around all alone.”

Despite not seeing his captors, Dipper could imagine a cruel smile on the face of the one who spoke.

“Good. Two down, two to go.”

Dread grew in Dipper’s stomach at the words. That meant they’d captured another member of his family, and a second later his suspicions were confirmed when the door opened.

“Brought you some company.” A bounty hunter that Dipper didn’t know grinned at him and tossed a small bundle into the room before closing it.

“Mabel?” Dipper tried his best to keep the horror out of his voice, but he didn’t think he was doing a good job. How had they managed to catch Mabel and not the others? From everything he’d seen, Ford had seemed just as protective of her as Dipper was of Stan.

When there was no response, Dipper’s anxiety spiked and he carefully poked her with his foot – the only part of him that could reach her. Please be okay, please be okay. He begged silently as he nudged her again.

For a few horrible seconds, there was no response, then a slight groan.

Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, Dipper forced himself to take a deep breath before speaking.

“Mabel, are you okay?”

Another groan, then Mabel slowly lifted her head, squinting despite the already dim light of the cell.

“Dipper?” She mumbled as she rubbed her eyes with her hands – apparently the hunters didn’t care about her being chained to the wall. Then again, she looked quite pale and weak, she had to still be recovering from the dragon attack – Dipper’s own arm was still aching. But that still begged the question…

“What are you doing here?” The words slipped out, and Dipper couldn’t hide the confusion and worry in his tone.

Mabel blinked a few times and shook her head. “I’m rescuing you.”

“What???”

“Well…” Mabel tilted her head and winced a little. “Technically I’m not but…well...it’s all part of the plan.”

“Plan?” Dipper asked, glancing at the door, wishing he knew if the bounty hunters were outside listening in.

“Yeah, Ford is going to-”

A banging interrupted her. Dipper could vaguely make out a voice that must’ve come from outside the building, but he couldn’t tell what it was saying.

“It’s him!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“You two go, I’m staying put.”

“Lazy son of a-”

The last word was more of a hiss – an alien language that Dipper’s ear translator didn’t recognize, and probably a word that wasn’t appropriate for Mabel.

“Get going!”

There was a squeaking of hinges and another banging sound, then the talking stopped.

“All part of the plan.”

Dipper looked over to see Mabel grinning at him.

“Right…Mind filling me in?”

-----

The sun was slowly setting as Stan watched Ford bang on the door and run off into the town. Two bounty hunters raced after him, the one with the barbed tail that had taken Dipper, and the ‘friendly’ looking one who had grabbed Mabel and didn’t look very friendly now. That should mean that the building was empty. That was the plan after all. Carefully putting the lock pick in his pocket, Stan looked at the gun that Ford had given him and considered doing the same with it. But this was the multiverse. If he’d learned anything about it, it was that things could always go wrong, so he clutched the gun as he walked onward.

By now, pretty much all the aliens were inside their homes, so Stan didn’t have to dodge anyone as he carefully made his way to the cellar doors. A distant roar reminded Stan why no one was out and about. A shudder ran through him, but he shoved away any fear. The dragon wasn’t anywhere close and he had a job to do.

Taking a deep breath, Stan pulled on the cellar door. It was a lot heavier than he had been expecting, but it wasn’t too heavy for him. At least that’s what he told himself as he strained to open it.

The door swung back and hit the wall with a bang. Stan winced, but quickly darted inside. Only Mabel and Dipper were inside, there wasn’t any reason to be afraid, but he still found himself gripping the gun tighter.

The interior of the building was dark, but had a few lights to show a hallway, which lead to a larger room in the middle. There were a few doors leading to other rooms and halls, but there was only one door that was closed.

“Bingo.” Stan muttered to himself as he made his way to the door, glancing around as he did so. He didn’t see anything, so he put the gun in his coat and pulled out the lock pick.

“Mabel? Dipper?” He called out, hoping they could hear him through the door.

“Stan! We’re in here!”

A grin grew on Stan’s face as he started fiddling with the door, looking at the lock. It was a keypad, but Ford’s device should be able to handle that. He just had to-

“What do we have here?”

Stan froze as a voice spoke behind him and he spun around.

The bounty hunter in front of him was different than the other two, with a long-pointed nose and small eyes. It was hunched over, its claws making a shovel shape – if it was an animal, it probably would’ve been the burrowing kind.

Stan lifted up his hand up only to realize that he was holding the wrong thing. He scrambled to grab the gun out of his pocket, but was slammed against the door before he could reach it.

“Would you look at that? The last of you nasties decided to walk right in, offering yourself as a present.” The alien sniffed him, a smile growing on its long face.

Growling at the creature, Stan found that he couldn’t move his arms. But his feet on the other hand… Kicking as hard as he could, he managed to hit the hunter right on its snout, which resulted in it letting out a pained hiss and dropping Stan.

Bolting forward, Stan ran as fast as he could, his feet moving faster than he could think. But something in the back of his mind had the sense to pull the gun out from his jacket.

A claw grabbed his foot and he collapsed to the ground, flipping over to see the hunter clutching his pant leg.

Hefting up the gun, Stan quickly fired.

The blast hit the creature, but it only hissed in frustration. Stan tried kicking at it again, even as he fiddled with the gun, trying to remember what Ford had said about making the stun stronger. His fingers found a dial and he twisted it at the same time the hunter jumped.

Lifting the gun, Stan closed his eyes and fired.

A scream echoed through the room and a second later, something heavy landed on top of Stan. For a moment he thought that the creature had won. Bracing himself, Stan kicked up with his legs, wanting to get the thing off of him. But as he did so, he wasn’t met with any teeth or claws as he expected. Instead, the body of the creature rolled off of him – dead, smoke rising from where the gun had hit it.

Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat at the sight of a dead alien – one that he had killed – Stan quickly made his way back to the cell door.

“Stan!?!”

Stan heard Dipper’s muffled voice through the door, and he wondered if his grunkle had been calling out to him during the entire fight.

“I-I’m okay!” Stan managed to call out, though his arms were still shaking.

Looking at the lock again, Stan realized that he didn’t have the lock pick in his hand anymore. He glanced at the dead bounty hunter and grimaced. It must have fallen out of his hand when he was grabbing the gun. Then his eyes caught sight of something else. A card of some sort attached to the bounty hunter’s pants.

Making a face, Stan quickly ran over and unclipped the card, backing away from the dead alien as fast as he could and making his way back to the door. Taking a breath, Stan held up the card to the screen. For one second, nothing happened. Then it flashed green and Stan quickly pulled on the door. It swung open with ease and a moment later he was met with the sight of Mabel and Dipper looking at the door with wide eyes.

Stan put on his best grin, doing a pretty good job of shoving aside any residual fear as he stepped into the cell.

“All according to plan.”