#drifting writes things

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Suit of Hearts || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, whatever you wanna call it. There's some angst here basically, and uh, I think what Miranda goes through counts as a panic/anxiety attack?

Wordcount: 4041

Summary: But now the day bleeds into nightfall, and you're not here to get me through it all

aka sometimes you gotta seperate your abandonment issues having OC from her main support unit so she turns to someone else for a spell

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"I'll be fine, Kurt. Honest."

He wished he could immediately believe that; because she sounded so sure of it herself. Standing underneath the enormous tree where they had their first kiss, at his request to have this conversation, Kurt's yellow eyes quietly met her green ones as he looked for any sign of worry on her end. He knew that she had tuned out of the conversation as soon as it was obvious her name wasn't going to be on the list of people who were going to be send to a mission in Germany.

But since Kurt's name was, he had been trying to figure out how she actually felt about him having to go overseas. Without her. If she was worried, she wasn't showing it.

"Will you? I... I can't help but worry this is going to open an old wound for you. This mission will keep me busy most of the time I'm there, so I can't really contact you, or help, if your worries start playing up."

Her neutral body language seemed to soften a little at that, and his followed suit. She placed a hand on his cheek, he immediately placed his over hers.

"I appreciate that a lot, Kurt; but your team needs you. Rogue, Cyclops and Morph need you on this mission; I promise I'll be fine. I have my team, my family right here, I'll spend more time with them. You're only going to Germany, hardly the end of the world or some distant plane of existence," she let a comfortable silence fall so the words had time to sink in, taking his free hand into her own and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it to which his heart simply melted, "just promise me you'll come back to me in one piece, okay?"

"I promise," he answered in a heartbeat, to which she gave him a soft little smile.

"You're not leaving until next Monday, anyway," she said softly as she let herself get pulled into his embrace, "plenty of time to spend together before you have to go."

Regardless, that Monday inevitably rolled around. Miranda had snuck out of the mansion, popping back into view from her invisibility as she was actually meant to be in the danger room right about now. She heard a poof somewhere behind her, turning to her right a little as a very familiar hand beckoned her to come over to just behind the building before vanishing behind the stones itself

"Sorry about that," he whispered when she very casually made her way around the corner of the building, "but Rogue's watching, I don't think she really bought my excuse that I forgot something. Well, not really an excuse, because I did forget something."

He pulled his rosary necklace over his clothes; it was something he could get Rogue to believe as he never went without one on the jet. She didn't need to know it had been around his neck and under his outfit pretty much from the moment he had woken up.

"More importantly, I didn't want to leave without kissing you. You could just say no and I'll have to stay, of course," he grinned at the last part, and she just laughed softly in response, appreciating the light humor of it.

"No, Kurt, we're not doing takebacks like that. They need you to translate," but she still leaned in to kiss him, glad when he kissed back.

"Now go, before you get in trouble with your sister," she said, her voice a lot softer, "and stay safe, okay?"

"I will. See you soon, Süßer."

She watched him disappear into his signature cloud of smoke, sighing while she added 'I love you' to her words in her mind. She felt like she was doing a great job consistently failing to find a right time, a right moment, to tell him. Her eyes widened a little as she realised she was supposed to be in the danger room to train. She clicked her invisibility back on, making her way to the nearest window to shove open and hop back inside the mansion.

A few of her team members stood in front of the danger room, clearly waiting on her as the man with auburn hair in a ponytail spoke up

"We'll just give her a few more minutes, otherwise we'll-"

"I'm here," appearing seemingly out of nowhere Miranda sheepishly joined the small group of three, making it four with her inclusion, "sorry, Ebak, something came up and I lost my sense of time for a minute. I'm here now."

"I thought I was the only one that happened to," Shadow laughed, though her eyes were very deliberately pointed to Drifting as she did.

"Look, I dont have E's quantum teleportation, five minutes late is not that bad in the grand scheme of things; and the longer we stand here debating the philosophical nature of the passage of time the less training time we'll have."

"Do we have anything to debate timewise when we have Lemming?" asked the man with the beard, to which Miranda just nodded in agreement.

"Exactly. Besides, I have yet to see this werebear form you all say Ber has, hidden away in him. Which seems like the easiest way to fulfil my dream of petting a bear without dying, so why are we out here arguing?"

"If bear not friend, why bear friend shaped?" Ber said with a shrug, laughing a deep hearty laugh as the other three shot their glances at him and three voices simultaneously went "Ber, no."

And thus for a little while, Miranda was actually, genuinely fine. She had people to turn to, finding company and comfort with her friends; each one of them seemingly hellbent on making her die with laughter as their jokes often built on each other. On the other hand she also adored talking to them about when they first realised they were mutants. And all in all it made her feel less bad for leaning on Kurt when she did, because she did genuinely have other people she could also ask for input and comfort; and in that she hoped she would stop feeling like she was straining him and taking advantage of his kindhearted nature.

But even all of that helps little when time ticks by on the clock, second by second, until Miranda saw it turn to 3 am and a groan left her, her mind unwilling to let her sleep. Time control abilities sounded wonderful right about now. She pushed herself up in a sitting position, staring distantly into her dark bedroom hearing the soft but ever moving tick of the clock on the wall.

'I wish he was here right now.'

Though it came from a soft voice in the back of her mind, no matter how softly spoken it was, she still much felt like someone had taken a dagger and stabbed it directly through her heart with zero warning, audibly wincing to herself from the sudden sting of pain. Looking up to the ceiling in almost a desperate plea for her eyes to not start watering with tears, Miranda slowly got out of her bed and back into regular clothes. Maybe getting some fresh air would do her some good, and with that in mind she tried to ignore the low whine of her heart as she wandered out of the front door, shutting it behind her and leaning against the wall right next to her. Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked out into the night.

Quite a lovely night, all things considered; the air was cool but not cold, a gentle breeze going past her and the night sky was filled with stars. It was too beautiful a night to be upset in this was, it was ridiculous to be upset in this way. He was coming back soon and then everything would be okay.

'In what world is two and a half weeks soon?!' her heart whined in protest.

At that same moment, Gambit returned from a solo thing he had gone on earlier in the evening, carefully approaching her with a card in between his fingers as he hadn't expected to see anyone lingering outside the mansion this late- but he tucked the card back in the deck as soon as he recognized it was just Miranda.

"Mais, mon ami; Gambit almost took you for an intruder. Again," he noted, "You usually tap out at 1 am or so, isn't it way past your bedtime?"

Wasn't his best joke, he would admit to that wholeheartedly himself, but the way her million mile stare had been going straight through him without her even acknowledging him once didn't sit well with him with the odd vibe she was giving off.

"... Miranda?" he asked, a little relieved when her name seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, "are you okay?"

He hadn't meant for that to have the same effect as taking a hammer directly to a mirror. Where she had her arms over her chest before, now looked like she was hugging herself in pure desperation to keep herself from shattering apart. Tears that weren't there before poured over her cheeks, her breathing high and panicked as whatever was upsetting her seemed to have a chokehold on her. Gambit panicked a little, debating on what the hell to do and hesitantly reaching a hand out to her until he supportively placed it on her shoulder.

"What's wrong, chère?"

"I miss him so much."

"Who, Kurt?"

Oh he just had to actually say it and immediately make it worse, didn't he? He half expected her to vanish from sight, but she didn't, a temporary flicker of her power seemingly being all she could manage as all her energy went into trying to get a grip on herself.

It was too much, the way the words had almost sounded strangled coming out of her as she squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her embrace on herself. She felt completely torn open, vulnerable, emotionally raw; all she yearned for being either that he would magically appear right now instead of over two weeks away, or failing that for some other way to hide as her invisibility refused to respond to her input.

Green eyes met worried red ones, and in less than the blink of an eye she stepped to him. She let go of herself only to lock her arms around him and pulling him to her with a ferocity he hadn't expected out of her, a noise of surprise and confusion leaving him as she hid her face in the fabric of his jacket over his shoulder. As far as he was concerned he wasn't usually anyone's first choice for this kind of comfort, but the sound of her crying pulled at his heartstrings so bad that he wrapped an arm around her, placing his free hand gently against the back of her head.

"He'll be back before you know it," he said in a soft, hushed tone, trying to soothe her.

"I know I'm being stupid," she managed to get out in between the sobs that left her, "it's like, not even three weeks- but what- what if he runs into trouble? W-what if he's left behind?!"

"Drifting-" he tried to interrupt the spiral he could see her go on in real time, but she interrupted him just as fast

"What if he gets lost, or hurt, or something else happens and they-"

"Miranda," his voice was soft but firm; brotherly in nature in a way she didn't remember he had ever spoken to her before, "Rogue is not going to leave Germany without her brother. Breathe, petite. In, hold, out. Before you wear yourself out or worse."

He just held her, shielding her from the night's breeze as all her fears poured out through the cracks of her broken resolve. Kurt could easily navigate Germany by himself, and that was not even considering that Rogue would simply toss him over her shoulders and bring him back home herself that way if she had to, but the truth wouldn't help when her anxiety was taking reign like this, nor would it make the fear she projected any less real to her.

"Listen to me, chère; these hypothetical what ifs are going to drive you crazy. Your mind is trying its best to convince you otherwise, but I promise you; he'll come back," riding out the storm with her, Gambit let her cry until the sobs that wrecked her body subsided into softer sniffles, "Willing to bet he promised so, himself."

That seemed to do the trick, as she slightly pushed herself away from him but appreciated that he didn't immediately let go; she herself only far enough away to look up at him

"He... I asked him to come back in one piece," she admitted quietly, wiping at her eyes with the palm of her hand, "he.. promised he would."

"There ya go. Gambit's never seen Nightcrawler break a promise like that in his life. He ain't gonna start now."

"... Thank you," and with that she did fully push herself out of his embrace, with him easily letting her go and being somewhat proud of himself that she had calmed down by a lot, "Oh, what the fuck is wrong with me. I was fine; I was doing fine about this. Hell, I have been through a lot worse, by myself, so why am I suddenly bawling my eyes out just because my best friend needs to be in another continent for a while? I'm-"

"It's easy to be fine even when you're missing someone if there's people around to distract you from it. But at these times of night, where everyone else you turn to is asleep and you have to fall back on yourself especially when you only just got used to having the support of others?" he quickly but gently wiped away a lingering tear on her cheek that she hadn't gotten to before, the gesture soft and familial, "That is hard, mon ami. If it helps any, I do think you're very brave. This can't be easy for you."

"It helps a lot, actually. Thank you." it really made a difference that he thought of her as brave instead of stupid or overdramatic. He just nodded at her thanks, tossing a quick glance to the front door.

"'S alright. Don't mention it. Here's what; how about we go inside? Get some tea, play some card games?" he gave a slight smirk at the confused look on her face, "Gambit's glad to distract you a little while longer until you're tired enough to get some sleep."

"I'd... yes, I'd like that. ... Remy? Can you- would you please keep this between us? I appreciate all your help, but... I think I'd prefer if only you knew that I was a desperate trainwreck tonight."

"Hm, how did you put that once upon a time, fifolet? Not my story to tell, right? Come along now."

He gently ushered her inside and along to the kitchen, allowing her to sit down wherever she wanted as he put the kettle on. Taking out his deck of cards, he started shuffling them while waiting for the water to boil, red eyes looking up at his friend.

"Any preference for what we play?"

"As long as it's easy to follow, I don't really care."

The minutes once again went by while they spent their time playing card games, quietly and calmly as he wasn't in a rush to get anywhere and she didn't have the energy for anything speed based; occasionally sipping their teas and reminding each other to not let it go cold.

"So," Gambit eventually started, breaking the surprisingly serene silence between them, "What’cha gonna do when he comes back?"

He just smirked ever so slightly and rolled his eyes as she shrugged, not dignifying his question with an answer as if that would stop him from prodding just a little to see if she would actually spill what the situation was there. For as much as it didn't seem unreasonable for her to be equally as upset if he was merely one of her best friends, something told him there was definitely more going on.

"Come now, chère. You're willing to pour your heart out to me but only in pints at a time? You like the furball, don't you? I think you'll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn't; hell, Gambit don't trust anyone who say they don't like him at least a little."

"I wish I was more like him," Miranda responded after thinking about it in silence for a moment, "like, I don't know. Kinder. Easier to get along with. Happier. I know he has a lot going on, too, with his mom, and what not...."

Gambit just nodded at that, because it was a fair point to make. You would be just as equally hard pressed to find someone in the Xmen who didn't have some kind of deeper issue going on that they found it hard to talk about. Him included.

"I don't know. For him to have been dragged through so much, and still come out the other end wanting for and trying his hardest to make a better world? To choose to be as kind as he is? That takes a kind of inner strength I wish I had. Last card."

"Probably one of the better X-men to look up to, honestly," he shrugged as well, tossing up another card with a smirk.

"You- damn it. Never mind about the last card, then. You're really not that bad yourself, Remy. You just need to stop selling yourself short."

"Said the pot to the kettle like they're not the exact same color. Last card."

"Touche,” she handed him the win as she ran out of tea, lightly rubbing her eyes as the comfortable vibe between them just hanging out was starting to get to her. The fact that he stuck around even in the aftermath of the emotional storm was honestly incredibly sweet, no matter how much he tried to say he wasn’t worthy of looking up to, "thank you for this, Remy. You're a good friend, you know? I’m… Honestly, I’m glad you showed up when you did. I don’t think I would’ve wanted anyone else to see that I turn into a clingy mess after only three days of.. well, you know,”

He simply gave her a slight, appreciative huff, gathering his cards and casually but rapidly reshuffling the deck multiple times out of habit.

"Funny you mention that, because Gambit's got a feeling you'll be in for a good surprise when he comes home. Think you'll find you're not the only one in the game who we can describe as clingy to people they miss. Don't believe me, do ya?" he asked as he saw the look in her eyes, amused by her slight disbelief at his implication that Kurt was missing her and clingy as well, "wanna bet?"

"Betting? Against Gambit? Hard pass, buddy, the cards were never in my favor like that; that's why I've never been a gambling woman. I'm going to bed. Don't make it too late yourself now, alright? Take care of yourself."

Gambit just hummed a goodnight, shuffling the cards once more but slowly and deliberately this time around instead of his usual speed for it.

"I don't buy that you don't buy the man's clingy, mon ami," he muttered to the empty room and himself, "not when even the missions you two get involved in require him to get so close to you. If you're really best friends, or should I say 'just friends', I don't buy for a minute that he hasn't been dragging you into hugs."

Setting his deck in front of himself, he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, mumbling something to himself in Cajun French before taking the first card from the deck. He promptly let out a genuine laugh at what it showed

“Seems like the cards ain't buying your bluff either," he said between light chuckles, flicking the ace of hearts in his fingers before casually placing it down on the table.

As the days went by, their return was just as inevitable as their departure to Germany had been before. Miranda had simply vanished from the mansion beforehand, having kept her schedule open for it and dancing around the subject vehemently when anyone asked about it. While keeping herself somewhat hidden from where the jet actually landed, because she didn't actually want to try and play this off to Morph or Rogue especially, she still couldn't stop a weird sense of anxiety spiking. She watched Cyclops leave the jet, closely followed by- a second Cyclops, and she rolled her eyes a little. Oh, Morph.

Rogue seemed to linger for a moment longer, following after them a longer moment later, again causing her anxiety to spike up a level. Was she talking to someone, had she seen her out here and needled Kurt about someone clearly waiting for him? Speaking of, where was- He truly appeared right out of nowhere, pretty much tackling her into a hug before flitting and teleporting so fast her mind couldn't keep up with what he was doing; somehow landing bridal style in his arms and barely registering that as he had already whisked her off to her own bedroom.

"Hi~ Actually wait," and before she could even breathe to say something else he was gone, returning a few moments and a wardrobe change into comfortable clothes later only to be exactly where he had been before and easily, lightly tossing her into his embrace to which she couldn't help but squeak, "much better. Hi, Süßer, I missed you~"

He nuzzled into her shoulder, purring all the way as his tail wrapped around her waist, and all Miranda could wonder for a second is how the hell she lost a bet with Gambit when she didn't even actually take it on. Her heart simply melted at the return of comfort she had genuinely missed so bad, the familiarity and warmth of his embrace so inviting that her mind finally processed he was actually home. And the moment it did, she wrapped her arms around him, clutching on as she burrowed her face away in his shoulder.

"Missed you too," she said, voice muffled by his fur until she lightly pushed away just so she could get up a little and look into his eyes. Freeing one of her arms, she put her hand gently on the curve of his jaw, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes for a little bit before a slight smirk curled around her lips, "and the fine for the absolute crime of leaving me here to miss you is cuddles and kisses, sir. Honestly, how dare you?"

He laughed at the clear tone of humor in her voice as her faked offense was meant to lighten the mood, but he happily obliged in paying the 'fine', bridging the gap between them to kiss her as his tail wrapped around her ever so slightly more than it already was.

"Seriously though, I missed you, a lot," she quietly admitted when they broke apart from their kiss, nestling her head in the curve of his neck while wrapping her arms back around him and holding on tight, "I do actually need this hug to last a while, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind; nowhere I'd rather be but here."

Okay, fine, she conceded to herself, Gambit had a point. Maybe Kurt was clingy. She didn't need to pretend that he wasn't especially not to people who knew him; wrong move on her part, probably. She listened to the soft purring, the steady beat of his heart, sinking away in the comfort of his equally tight embrace around her that she had missed so much…

Maybe she loved that he was clingy, and from how he was purring up a storm she could only assume he liked her clinginess as well.

[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….

[b4kuch1n]

glorioso from last years twitterin

[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.

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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.

[anjasitdown]

I knew something was UP when the only film that helped Yuuji control his flow of cursed energy was the Lord of the Rings. Our boy Yuuji is TRULY a hobbit at heart. Chapter 265 spoilers ahead, but I'll put it under the cut.

It was back in season 1 when Gojo had Yuuji watch a variety of movies to teach him control of cursed energy regardless of the emotions evoked by the films. Gojo refuted Yuuji's idea that anger and other strong negative emotions are the only source of a strong cursed energy.

With that in mind, I don't think it's random that LotR is the one shown to us that helped Yuuji gain mastery over his cursed energy flow. Sure, Yuuji might've controlled it before watching other movies, but it feels as if it's on purpose that it's LotR, especially that scene at the river where Frodo tried to take the burden of destroying the ring on his own, fully aware of the dangerous journey ahead. But Sam didn't let him and willingly followed him, even if it would cost him his life.

Maybe, just maybe, Yuuji learned to control his cursed energy because he saw himself in Frodo. Yuuji looked so engrossed in the film as if he was feeling it—as if he was Frodo who, just like him, bears great evil within him. Not only that, but Yuuji saw in Frodo's eyes the same crushing weight of responsibility and isolation such an evilness entails. It was as if he's looking in the mirror. But Frodo wasn't alone. He had Sam and the others in the Fellowship who are also willing to lighten the burden he carries. And I think that's what got to Yuuji.

And I don't know if it's just me reading too much into things but Yuuji is at his best when he feels anchored by his friends' support or when they're relying on him, like that time when Yuuji held down the cursed spirit at the detention center to buy Megumi time to save Nobara and escape; when Yuuji and Todo almost defeated Hanami, and my favorite, when Nobara nailed down Mahito's double during Shibuya arc:

As corny as this sounds, Yuuji managed to pull himself from Nanamin's death and attack Mahito because he felt Nobara's presence, which encouraged him to continue fighting. Even if the sorcerers were scattered that time and most were left to fend for themselves, Yuuji didn't feel alone. This was the one thing Geto needed the most when he was spiraling down.

Yuuji reminds me so much of Frodo: Yuuji the vessel of the evilest sorcerer in history and Frodo the Ring bearer. But before that, they were nobodies living a simple life, which they treasure and work hard to keep. They're not ambitious and are satisfied being surrounded by their loved ones. They're the ones we least expect to defeat the evilest entities since they're surrounded by the strongest warriors/sorcerers, who could not defeat the said evilest entities. Yuuji, like Frodo, does not belong to the kind of world he got thrown into, and this is made pretty obvious in the recent chapter.

Throughout the many months Yuji had been with various sorcerers and curse users, his principles and worldview got blurry. He started to assimilate their ideas, which didn't feel like him to be honest. From ideas of having a specific role in life and fulfilling it, wanting to give people a good death, and having a cog mentality to being the same as Mahito and becoming a monster to defeat another monster. That's not him. That's never him. And Yuuji realized that too, and I love seeing him change his perspective into that which feels more like him.

Yuuji never liked fighting others. He may have been blessed with physical prowess that might've been on par with Nanamin, but he never wanted to use it. Heck, Yuuji joined an occult club instead of becoming an athlete. What's important to him are the memories you make with yourself and with your loved ones—choosing to do things, even mundane ones, that bring you and others joy because that's what life is all about.

To Yuuji, there's nothing wrong if you lead a simple life doing things as mundane as walking your dog, sleeping, taking a shit, writing this meta, and existing. Living day to day is already hard as it is. Yuuji wants Sukuna (and us) to know that your worth to live and be loved and respected doesn't depend on the grand dreams you have, how far you've come in life, how powerful and strong you've become, how useful you are. Your worth to live is inherent to you, and no one's going to change that, not Sukuna or anybody else. And Yuuji's not gonna stand idly by and watch the likes of him trample on people's lives. They don't get to choose who's worthy to live and kill those who don't.

I read somewhere that Gege thinks Yuuji having no ambition, unlike Naruto wanting to be a Hokage or Luffy aiming to become a Pirate King, is the story's weak point. But I disagree. That's what makes Yuuji so unique and refreshing to watch as he develops. He may not be as ambitious as other shonen heroes, but he does have a strong moral compass, even as young as 15. It may not be obvious, but Yuuji is introspective, observant, and most of all he has this childlike love for life that the other characters have lost due to the nature of their jobs.

Back to the LotR reference—as much as similar Yuuji is to Frodo—when Sukuna switched to Megumi, Yuuji started to feel more like Sam and Megumi Frodo. No matter what happens, even if it would cost him his life, Yuuji's never gonna leave Megumi alone in despair. Megumi has become weak in mind and spirit that he's possibly on the verge of giving everything up. Still, Yuuji's not going to give up on him. He will destroy Sukuna and carry Megumi back home.

In the end, if Yuuji survives, all I could ever think of is his eyes full of insurmountable despair and mourning over the lives of the people he loved and lost. There's no going back after this. I can only hope that after the end of this story, Yuuji could still find a way to rest—be with a person or in a place—if there is anyone or anything left at all.

[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.

[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.

[stikybug]

POLYCULE BRAINROT 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO?

More likely than you think! The Mystery event gave my little gayhearted mind a delight AND spark of inspiration? More polycule hcs , love wins ! Again, under the cut because this did not just run away from me it yanked me and dragged me around like a giant dog breed.

First hc dump post over here

I'm sure after the successful murder mystery party Lars sets up little hobby activities around st shelter for him and his partners to have excuses to spend more time together.

reactions differ.

Clarence sighs and says he's a bad influence at this point, he joins anyway, work can wait a bit for them ( time itself could arguably stand still for them, he wouldn't mind that at all either )

Alkaid makes 'tiny' suggestions when on normal dates as offerings for more ideas, Lars catches on quickly, this becomes a sort of exchange habit they make. Lars jokes how his 'little spy' is good at setting things up.

He'll probably stop after doing that for the first time, a joke really isn't worth the expression Alkaid made for a split second ,,,

Ayn doesn't need to think twice before agreeing, an entire day spent with the people he loves sounds wonderful

Cael can't help but laugh to himself, his boyfriends are more trouble than he bargained for. Though it is 5 against one with little painter taking his other partner's side

Following Cael getting annoyed while also being unable to ignore the mess he got himself into, Ayn's concert has a sequel!

Which is, Lars outside his apartment with his partners in the background to 'serenade' him.

He has half the mind to ask them how they all got here without him knowing, but he's too busy trying to stop himself from laughing due to the sheer silliness of the stunt

Honest to god, he got closer to failing by the second. When he eventually asks Lars why he's doing this the most concrete answer he got was to come downstairs to see for himself

Seeing all his partners around, light glinting in the streetlight catching on their ring fingers he seemed to get it.

Matching promise rings for all of them.

He almost teared up with this also. He has never taken it off unless it's absolutely non-negotiable

Life seems to slow down when he has it on, every day proves itself to be sweeter than the last.

Aside from the very big changes they have all noticed small changes in their dynamics - It's been feeling more comfortable.

Many things have been admitted that nobody but lovers would be allowed to know, not for the sake of taboo, but as a matter of vulnerability.

The breakdown of these barriers probably started when Alkaid sent a message in a group chat

Recalling an odd movie that he's been losing sleep over - Of some sort of awful future that was in store for him.

Everyone knew what he was about, but none of them confirmed it until he finished talking.

He talked about an awful future where he became everything he feared he was; an elusive 'spy' who hides his thoughts and feelings even from the people he cherished dearly. A duplicitous 'wolf in sheep's clothing' of a person.

Maybe he wouldn't avoid becoming like that in the future, becoming an awful partner who wouldn't deserve any of them. Going behind their backs, deciding what's 'best' for them.

Before he has a chance to spiral fully Clarence says he knows what he's talking about.

He saw an odd movie too, where he gave everything for the sake of a future, and a person he wasn't sure he'd see again in a heartbeat, unaware of how much it would break her heart to see him give until his spark was extinguished.

He was also quick to point out that they, unlike movie characters simply yanked around by the plot for convenience, had a say in the matter of how they'd wish their fate to play out.

It's not like those flaws weren't there, his were hidden gracefully where most wouldn't take notice either.

But surely, if they could support each other without any judgment they'd spare all the heartbreak.

It turned into something of an admission session then. Ayn saying he saw the same type of thing, unable to get to the 'future' with how tightly he clung onto the past that was too far away.

Cael said something similar, the movie showing a past he was sure he'd want to remember - That eventually crumbled from it's own state of stagnation.

And Lars lamented how he'd be doomed to loneliness if those movies were real, and surely a lifetime of misery without his partners at his side, roaming endlessly without a companion.

It was a relief for all of them. Even with everything embarrassing laid out in the open, nobody ran, nobody decided that was enough to end it.

Despite their fears, it seemed that did the opposite of what they were expecting. With all the weight off their shoulders just serving to deepen what they already had.

There wasn't a doubt about it, they had each other and everything would be alright.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I'm not a huge fan of the Tazercraft mental link headcanon (it's just not my cup of tea personally), HOWEVER—

I can't stop thinking about Pac in Alcatraz with his back to the wall as Cell approaches him with a cold smile on his face and a bloody knife in one hand, and Pac completely blocking Mike out because he knows something terrible is about to happen, and if he can't save himself then maybe he can at least spare Mike the graphic gory details.

And even when he’s lying on the cold concrete floor in a pool of his own blood, Pac is still trying to block everything out so he doesn't project his pain to Mike through their mental link. But ultimately, that's what scares Mike the most — the sharp flash of Pac's terror for an instant, and then silence.

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Library Spot || Drabble

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: None. (it really fluffy tho)

Wordcount: 2410

Summary: Nothing better post-mission than to snuggle in some cosy hiding spot AN: Thanks Miranda, for reminding me that Four Seasons by Vivaldi exists. I should listen to it more while doodling myself. I can apparently either do soul crushing angst or very soft sugary sweet fluff and little in between. We're not going to argue the logistics of a Walkman playing classical music here I'm already annoyed its a Capitalized Word TM and Quicksilver has some kind of portable music system in Days Of Future Past which is set in what, 1976? I think? -checks- 1973 actually eh I was close. -------------------------------------

She wasn't in the danger room, in the kitchen, in the gym. Not in either of their rooms, and not on the roof either where Kurt now stood with his hands to his sides, thinking of where Miranda could be now that he had crossed off most of her usual spots. He didn't even need to check the waterfall; because that was a late resort hiding spot she only used when severely upset. Which was a mood that had thankfully not occurred in her for quite a while now. Looking over to the usual spot in the garden where she liked to hide out as well, he saw she also wasn't there.

"Well, I'm starting to run out of options.... Right," he muttered to himself, shifting his weight a little as he thought out loud to himself, "I'm Miranda, an introvert in need of time by myself to charge my social battery. If I'm not in my usual hiding spots, where am I?"

He thought for a while until his brain offered one more idea of where she could be, to which he raised an eyebrow. Well, if she wasn't there, he had truly no idea where she would be. Poofing over to the library in the mansion, he looked around until he saw a sliver of wine red between some bookshelves, all the way off into a corner. He teleported over once more as he finally found her. She had burrowed away in the corner furthest away from the door to the library, comfortably nestled in a big bean bag with her legs crossed as the foot on her elevated leg lightly moved along to the music she was listening to on a Walkman. A few art supplies were on a small stool next to her, and she was happily scribbling away on the paper that she had on the clipboard in her lap.

As soon as he appeared, she looked up at him, pushing the headphones off and pausing her music

"Oh, hey, I didn't realise you'd be back so soon or I would've met you outside."

"It's okay; I just wanted to check where you are. Now that I know, I can go if you-"

"Kurt, stay. Please."

He gave a soft smile to her, gesturing at her to sit back down as she made an attempt to leave the bean bag. Because for starters the big bag didn't seem in any hurry to let go of its current occupant, and Kurt had teleported himself in between various objects and people before.

She gave a light squeak as he tossed her up enough to really settle in between her and the semi chair, taking her place in the surprisingly comfortable and warm bean bag while wrapping his arms around her as she was now in his lap, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"What’cha doing?"

"Drawing," she muttered in response, as she leaned a bit further back into his embrace. An embrace she would spend forever in if she only realistically could, "mostly flowers and birds, right now, I don't know, I just felt like doodling. Hey, uhm... This is going to sound stupid-"

"I don't think anything you say is going to sound stupid to me."

"Y-Yeah, well, uhm," her cheeks slowly turned a little red. He might not think it was stupid, but she still felt like she was about to make a very odd request, "can you... wrap your tail around me?"

He blinked just once at it, but silently obliged, gently and loosely wrapping his tail around her lower waist as per her request. Well, she hadn't actually specified where, but that seemed to be the most logical choice, right?

"Like that?" he got a small nod as a reply, "Hm. May I ask why?"

"Dunno," she said as she shrugged, "it just makes me feel protected. Safe. For some reason. Sorry if that doesn't make sense."

Letting her change the position of her arms so she could continue her drawing, Kurt pressed a gentle little kiss to Miranda's shoulder before settling back into his previous pose; he was actually feeling quite comfortable like this.

"Don't apologize. I'm glad it makes you feel safe. What where you listening too, anyway?" and without waiting for an answer he took the headphones, putting one of the soft pads to his ear while yanking the Walkman close enough to press play and listening to the music for a little bit, "Huh. Vivaldi, really?"

"Mh. I like listening to classical when I draw. It's great to keep in the background. But Vivaldi has nothing on you, honestly."

"Huh?"

"Your purr."

Feeling his cheeks burn with heat, Kurt set the Walkman aside with a slight huff. He wasn't. He didn't. Did he? If he did he had never noticed it himself before. Leaning back onto her shoulder, he pouted.

"I don't purr. ... Do I?"

"You do. You're doing it right now," she countered with a soft laugh as she could very clearly hear the light, happy rumble coming from low in his chest, "only happens when you're really comfortable, so I'll take it as a compliment. And... I like it. It's soothing."

"Great; I'm not beating the cat allegations any time soon then."

"You're the best kind of cat in that case: a very snuggly one," Miranda said as another laugh escaped her, turning just enough to him to press a kiss to his cheek before turning her attention back to the drawing she was working on; one of a little hummingbird. She felt the blush on her face blossom further, the comfort from the hug warming her to her core, "... but, seriously.. I don't think I've ever been hugged this much in my life. And, uhm... k-keep doing it? I think I have a lot of not hugging and not cuddling to make up for."

He smiled, slowly tightening his grip on her ever so slightly. That was a request he was all too happy to fulfil; there was little he loved more than cuddling with someone he cared about. And if it helped her in any way he was only too happy to provide the physical affection she had apparently been missing out on for so long.

He liked the way she fit into his arms, anyway, the way she leaned into his embrace now when she definitely had felt more stiff and unsure before- which made sense, he supposed, if she wasn't that familiar with affection like this.

"People compare you to a cat a lot too."

"An obnoxious stray one that won't leave after she's been fed."

"You're not obnoxious," he protested immediately, poking her in her side to which she gave a soft squeak of protest, "You're cute."

"You.... really think so?" she asked quietly after a bit, removing the paper from her clipboard before adding another one and starting a new sketch. Kurt just nodded, softly kissing her shoulder again, "... I think you're cute too."

They sat there together, hidden away from prying eyes with the only sounds between them being the light scratching of her pencil on the paper and his soft purring as he rested his head against the back of her shoulder. His eyes opened the moment the pencil stopped making sound, but fluttered shut again when he realised she was just switching it for an ink pen and an eraser.

"What do you think?" she asked after a little while, causing him to open his eyes again as she held the clipboard up for him to easily see what she had been working on, "and... be honest. Because I don't think I got it quite right."

"It's me," he said with a little grin, "it looks great, Süßer. As long as people can tell what it's supposed to be, you're doing great. How long have you been drawing for?"

"About a decade, on and off. Kind of wish I was further along than I am, but... I'm not doing this for competition or as work; it's just the best way to get out of my head."

Setting the clipboard aside, she stirred in his arms. He released his grip so she could adjust and change how she wanted, to which she turned to her side and rested her head to his chest with a slight calm sigh. He looked up for a moment when he thought he heard a sound, but there wasn't anyone else in the library currently.

Made sense, most of the people in the mansion were occupied with other things. The only one he could feasibly imagine entering anytime soon was Hank, and if that did happen Kurt doubted Hank would care to notice they were there; Beast was often far too wrapped up in his work and study to really pay mind to his surroundings.

"You've... got anywhere to be?"

"Nowhere I'd rather be, if thats what you're asking. Rogue is reporting our mission findings to Scott, she doesn't need my help with that. She told me so herself, that it would be fine and that I should just get some rest."

And he wasn't the only one in need of some rest it seemed. Whether it was from the comfort of his embrace, that she hadn't slept enough last night, or a bit of both; she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Readjusting his arms around her to a comfortable easy grip, Kurt gently ran his hand over her arm to soothe her further.

"And it seems like I'm not the only one," he laughed as she yawned almost on cue. She hummed softly in agreement, shutting her eyes not so much to truly fall asleep as to just rest her mind and body a little.

The door to the library was opened, glowing yellow eyes immediately looking over as Kurt was ready to get them both out of there depending on who was entering- his alert instantly subsiding as Hank came in. Kurt's gaze just followed as Hank wandered in, muttering something to himself that Kurt couldn't quite make out; and if he did it all had to do with medical science above his level of understanding. Hank grabbed a couple of books, debating to himself for a moment which one he actually needed, before putting one back and opening the other. While reading it semi aloud to himself, he walked back out, all without acknowledging the presence of the other two mutants in there even once.

"Who was that?" Miranda softly asked.

"Hank. I don't think he noticed us. Well. I think he knows we're here, I'm half convinced he depends on his scent more than he claims to. But there's a difference between knowing we're here and seeing what we're up to. We're fine."

And with that, he settled into the embrace himself. Closing his eyes for some rest himself, his ears remained sharp to listen for anyone else. And as soon as he heard the doorknob to the room turn in a different way, with way less weight behind it than Hank used, he reached out to grab the clipboard, taking it and her last drawing along as he teleported both of them out of the library and into his room. He placed her on the bed before going back the same way he came, moving around the library as if that had been what he was doing the whole time; easy to pretend he was just poofing around the room to find a specific book until he deliberately showed up next to Shadow.

"Gutentag. Fancy seeing you in the library. Looking for anything in particular?"

She just looked at him, one eyebrow half raised at his question.

"You don't seem like the librarian in here, Kurt," she said, shaking the book she was looking for as she had already found it by herself, "I've got it covered, it's fine."

She watched as he grabbed himself a couple of fiction books and took a spot at one of the tables around the place, opening one. And for a moment, she almost bought it; but for a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on it seemed a little too staged.

"Why are you actually here?"

"Why's anyone in a library, Fraulein? I've been here since I got back from the mission."

"The mission with Rogue? Who's been in Scott's office for what, ten, maybe twenty minutes? And you've just now decided which books to grab to read while being here all by yourself?" but the thing was, she had little to disprove his claim, something she was all the more aware of when yellow eyes slowly turned her way.

"Well, what do you suggest I was up to in here before you got here?"

"... I don't know. This library is big enough to hide away in."

A slight tension lingered in the silence between them, as both stared at each other for what felt like minutes on end, but in reality was only a couple of seconds.

"If you must know, I finished the last few pages of a book before you got here. Better to wrap up what you started than start something new with ten pages to the finish line."

She had no reason not to believe him, other than the feeling in her gut that he somehow wasn't telling her the truth. Then again, Shadow had little grounds to stand on when it came to honestly admitting to who she was spending most of her time with, so even if Kurt's claims fell off and she could probably needle him with the fact that his own faith condemned lying...

Bit hypocritical from someone who wouldn't admit it either had she and Gambit been up to something around here. Blue eyes observed Kurt for a moment longer, and she knew she didn't have any evidence that Miranda had been here.

"... Enjoy your books, I have to get back to the lab," she concluded, leaving the library. As soon as she shut the door behind her, Kurt let out a relieved sigh. He waited a little while longer before setting most of the books back where he found them, and teleporting back to his room with a singular one. He settled onto the bed, close enough to a sleeping Miranda that they were slightly in contact, before opening the book back up and returning to the point he had stopped at before.

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

Tree metaphors.

So often, imposing, strong, men are described as “oaks”.  Luke wasn’t oak though, no, when she’d looked into it, he was much more like the cocobolo; a squishy soft outer surrounding the sturdy, tough, dense inner. She was not like that, soft, not with him anyway. She was always hard on the outside with him, soft on the inside…She couldn’t find a tree like that.

He was too ready to give, too ready to be moved. And maybe he’d been moved all along. Moved by her. Bent by her.

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[aceofstars16]

Next chapter here we gooo!

This one took longer to write than I would've liked but I was working on other things too and it is almost 4,000 words so...xD

I'm not sure how long it will take to write the next one and if there will be one or two more chapters after this one, but we shall see!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Summary: While looking for their lost family members, the Pines find out more about this dimension - and the creatures that inhabit it.

Mabel couldn’t stop looking at Dipper. Sure, she managed to tear her eyes away from time to time to look for little Stan, but she always came back to Dipper. It was weird seeing him so old. But it was still him. She knew someone might say that it wasn’t really the Dipper she knew, but he was so close to being him. And after not seeing her Dipper for months, well, it was exactly what she needed.

An elderly alien rushed past her, giving Mabel and Dipper a wary look before disappearing into a building. A lot of aliens had seemed to be running into their homes, and while it was a little strange, Mabel was grateful for it as the streets were becoming much clearer. Hopefully it would make it easier to find Stan and maybe Ford too, if they were lucky.

Dipper’s hand tightened on hers and he sped up a little. Apparently, the alien’s behavior was concerning him too.

“So…” Mabel ventured, breaking into a trot to keep up with the older version of her brother. She had tried to taper down her desire to ask questions, but she couldn’t handle keeping quiet any longer.

Looking down at her for a second, Dipper raised his eyebrows. “So?”

“How did you end up here? I mean…Ford told me how he did but…” Mabel’s legs tripped over each other as a thought crossed her mind, and Dipper quickly slowed down to let her catch her footing.

“You okay?” He asked, looking at her then around the square, his body tense.

“Yeah…I…I just remembered what Ford said happened to him…did…did I push you into a portal?” Mabel didn’t really want to ask, the thought was too horrible to consider, but she had to know. Was there a possibility for her and Dipper to ever grow apart like Stan and Ford?

Dipper sighed, still looking around, not meeting her gaze. “I don’t like the look of these streets…” he muttered. “We should probably-” he glanced at Mabel and paused. It was as if he could feel the anxiety that was clawing its way into her chest. Or maybe he could just see it on her face.

Squeezing her hand tight, he gave her a strained smile. “No. You didn’t push me into the portal. It’s…a long story, but I think we should find some shelter firs-”

A loud shrieking interrupted him.

Mabel turned to look in the direction of the sound and froze as she saw the source.

“Run!” Dipper yelled and pulled on her arm, but she couldn’t move. The creature had its eyes locked on her and her body refused to respond. The world around her seemed to fade away, in the back of her mind, she knew she should run, but she could only focus on the beast. Something about the dragon-like creature seemed innocent and pleading. It needed help. If she could just touch it…

Then something grabbed her and lifted her up. She fought the arms, needing to get away, to get to the creature. It needed help. She clawed and bit and struggled until she finally broke away from the arms around her. Then she bolted towards the helpless animal.

 “Mabel NO!” A distant voice sounded, but Mabel didn’t know who it was. All she knew was that she needed to do this. It was the right thing to do.

Running as fast as she could, Mabel raced towards the dragon, she was almost there... Then something yanked her arm back. She screamed and fought against it, reaching her arms towards the creature.

Its sharp teeth grinned, it knew she wanted to help. It jumped forward, attacking the arms that were holding her back. She heard a yell but it barely registered, all she knew was that she was free. Rushing forwards, she held her arms out towards the creature. Then she heard a strange pinging sound followed by the beast’s roar.

The world shifted. The bright colors faded and the desperate need to get to the dragon vanished in an instant.

Instead of the poor, hurt animal she had been seeing, she was now looking at a horrifying creature. It towered above her, its spiky scales dripped with something black and sticky, and in its teeth…a shudder ran through her.

Stumbling backward, Mabel quickly glanced back to see Dipper holding a gun, aiming at the beast. His sleeve was torn and blood was dripping from it, but he didn’t seem to notice. His glaze flickered to her and relief crossed his face.

“Get out of here! I’ll try to keep it distracted.”

Mabel didn’t need any more urging, she bolted forward, but she only took two steps before something tripped her leg. She fell face first into the ground, her head ringing with the impact.

“Mabel!”

Dipper’s voice echoed around her and she tried to get to her feet. Then pain exploded in her leg and she was pulled further away from her brother. There was pinging, but the creature was determined to keep Mabel in its grasp. Panic surged through her chest, but as she tried to pull away, the pain in her leg increased. She was trapped.

------

So much for ten minutes. The thought crossed Stan’s mind as he walked next to Ford. It was still kind of weird seeing his brother so old, and sometimes he found himself thinking it was Dipper for a second. But then he’d see the six fingers or Ford’s face and he was quickly reminded who he was actually with.

Stan had tried to ask questions, he had so many swirling through his mind, but Ford had ignored him or told him short answers that didn’t really provide any clarity. So, he’d stopped trying. However, that wasn’t the only reason he’d kept silent for the past few minutes. If he was honest with himself, he was scared. Every time Ford looked at him or talked to him, Stan couldn’t shake the feeling that old Ford didn’t like him. Which was ridiculous! How could Ford not like him? They were brothers! Sure, they sometimes argued and they had their differences, but they always had each other’s backs. But Stan couldn’t push aside the feeling that Ford wasn’t exactly thrilled to have Stan around, and that created a well of fear inside him. Did Ford grow up to hate him? Or think he was just annoying? Was there any way that they would grow apart and not want to be around each other anymore?

Stan bumped into a leg and realized that Ford had stopped walking. Looking around, he tried to see if there was a reason for this. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary aside from the emptying streets. He’d noticed that a while ago and despite it being strange, it also made it easier to move and harder to get lost so he counted it as a win.

“Do you see the person you’re looking for?” Stan asked. He didn’t see any other humans, but maybe Ford’s friend wasn’t human – he hadn’t gotten his brother to fill him in on who he’d lost.

Ford quickly looked down at Stan, a shadow crossing his face before shaking his head. “No…but I don’t like the look of the locals…something isn’t right.”

As if on cue, an aforementioned alien rushed past them and into a building, slamming the door. The sound of it locking from the inside could be heard even from the middle of the street.

Okay, yeah, that was ominous…but… “Hey, it makes it easier to find people…like the person you are looking for...if they are a person…”

Letting out a huff, Ford glanced at Stan again, indecision on his face. Then he shook his head. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter if you know or not.” He said quietly. “I’m looking for Mabel.”

Stan opened his mouth, ready to ask a billion questions, but Ford held up his hand.

“Not the Mabel you know. She’s younger, about your age. My guess is in your universe, her and Dipper take the place of me and you, and vice versa.”

“Obviously.” Stan said sarcastically, teasing his brother coming too naturally to stop. But then the words really sunk in. “Wait…little Mabel??? What is she like as a kid?!? Gosh, I bet she’s the coolest! I mean, she’s cool as an old person, but like, kid Mabel?!? She has to be the most fun ever!”

A quiet laugh escaped Ford, and Stan was surprised to see a soft smile on his face. “That she is…” Then his face clouded and he shook his head. “We need to keep moving. It might be best to find an inn or-”

A horrible screeching sound echoed through the deserted streets, cutting Ford off.

Ford’s hand tightened around Stan’s and he started pulling him to one of the buildings. Stan offered no resistance. Sure, there were some pretty cool creatures around, but unfortunately he’d learned that some of them only cared about one thing – food.

 Ford pulled at one, door, then another, but they were locked. Apparently, the locals had a reason for deserting the streets.

Then something else echoed through the streets, not the creature’s screeching. No, it was yelling. Human yelling. And one word was plain as day.

Mabel.

Ford froze, his body stiffening. Then, without a word, he bolted toward the sound. His grip on Stan’s hand had lessened, resulting in Stan’s hand slipping out of his. In all honestly, Stan knew most people wouldn’t have followed. But he wasn’t most people. It might be some young Mabel that he didn’t know, and maybe it was a crazy creature that he had no way of fighting. But there was no way he was letting Ford go by himself. His family was in danger and he wasn’t just gonna sit aside and do nothing. So, he bolted after his old brother, letting adrenaline rush through him as they raced towards the sound of a fight.

------

Dipper was back at the portal, watching Mabel slowly being pulled towards it, knowing he would do anything to stop her from facing that fate. But now he was looking at a younger version of his sister – who wasn’t his Mabel but who he still would do anything to protect – as the dragonesque creature pulled her by the leg.

Glancing around desperately, Dipper pulled out another one of his guns. He had found, lost, and made many on his journeys, but he hadn’t been expecting a fight, so most of them were in their dormant travel modes. His hand found one ready to use and he quickly aimed and fired.

The bullet flew at the dragon, but it didn’t even blink as it hit the gooey hide. Instead, it glanced at Dipper and he swore he could see amusement in its eyes, as if he was just a source of amusement for it.

Panic welled up in Dipper’s chest. He had to figure out something. All he was doing was prolonging the pain Mabel was in. He knew from experience how awful it was to have something bite a limb and not let go.

“Let her go you foul beast!”

Dipper didn’t have time to see the source of the voice before a freezing cold ray hit the creature on the side of its head, creating a shockwave of cold. It roared in pain, releasing Mabel from its grip.

Without a second thought, Dipper rushed forward and grabbed Mabel. As he scooped her up, he did his best to ignore the pain in his arm – Mabel was more important right now – and stumbled away from the creature. Only then could he get a look at who had fired the ice blast.

Dressed in all black, the first striking thing was that he was human. Dipper hadn’t stumbled upon many humans aside from alternate earth dimensions, so seeing one was rare. The second was that he was older, and next to him…

“Stan!”

Stan looked at him and waved, then was yanked out of the way by the black clad man as the creature lunged forward.

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel cried out from Dipper’s arms, confirming what Dipper had already guessed, the man was her Ford. What were the odds of Stan finding the older version of his brother and Dipper finding the younger version of his sister? Maybe it was just destiny, or luck, Dipper didn’t really have time to decide as the dragon roared again, glaring angrily at Ford.

“Get Mabel and Stanley out of here!” Ford yelled as he shot another ice blast at the creature.

“What? I can help!” Stan shouted.

“We can’t leave him!” Mabel cried, gripping Dipper a little tighter.

“Get them out of there!” Ford yelled as he rolled out of the way of the beast’s tail.

Everything inside of Dipper screamed to help Ford. Maybe he didn’t know him, but Mabel and Stan did, and they cared about him. But at the same time, Mabel was hurt and he knew that it was only a matter of time before someone else got hurt. Forcing down the guilt in his gut, he rushed towards Stan, grabbing his hand with his injured arm and pulling him along, gritting his teeth at the resulting pain.

“Hey! Grunkle Dipper, stop! I can help!” Stan struggled against him but Dipper held firm as he continued to run.

“We have to get Mabel somewhere safe first.” Dipper said, pulling Stan along and hoping that his strength would hold out enough to get the kids to safety.

“I’m okay…r-really.” Mabel spoke, and Dipper saw her looking worriedly behind them at Ford’s slowly shrinking form. But despite her words, her skin looked pale and she was shaking in his arms.

As he ran, Dipper kept an eye out for a suitable hiding place. Every door seemed to be closed tight, and he guessed that most aliens locked their doors at night for obvious reasons. Then he caught sight of a door that was slightly ajar. Rushing forward, he pushed it open and stumbled in. But as the door banged against the wall, Dipper realized that his hand was empty. Stan’s arm was no longer in its grasp, and the boy was nowhere to be seen.

------

I can’t keep this up. The thought crossed Ford’s mind as he rolled away from the creature’s mouth once again. He had tried shooting it in the face again, but it had learned from last time and was getting better at anticipating his attacks. He was still able to hit it occasionally, but his hits weren’t slowing it down as much as before, and his movements were getting sloppier as his exhaustion grew. But he had to keep it distracted, had to make sure that it wouldn’t go after Mabel again. He could still see the fear on her face when he had first arrived on the scene. That alone gave him the energy to keep up his attacks, even while his body screamed at him to stop.

Jumping back as the beast once again tried to trip him with its tail, Ford raised the gun and fired. It was hardly a perfect shot, and it only grazed its sticky scales. The creature’s eyes glinted and it lunged towards him once again. Only years of trained reflexes saved him as he barely managed to spin to the side and avoid the dragon’s sharp teeth.

Ford’s lungs burned at he ran towards a canopy one of the shop keepers had set up and slid under it. He knew he couldn’t hide for long, the creature would find him quickly, and he couldn’t risk it following Dipper and the kids, but he needed a few seconds to catch his breath.

Pressing his back against the wall, Ford forced himself to take deep breaths, no matter how much his lungs burned and screamed at him to breath as quickly as possible. However, that didn’t stop the beast from finding him. Through a hole in the awning, Ford could see it locking eyes with him before letting out a roar.

Hefting his gun, Ford prepared himself to run.  

“Hey, stupid dragon, over here!”

An achingly familiar voice echoed through the streets and Ford quickly searched for the source. Sure enough, Stan was standing in the middle of the square, fists raised as if he could actually fight the thing with his hands.

“Stanley! GET OUT OF HERE!” Ford yelled. He couldn’t believe the kid…okay, well, it did seem like something that Stan would do, but he was supposed to be safe with Mabel, not facing off against a dragon.

The creature, who had been focused on Stan, looked back at Ford, as if trying to decide who to go after. It only took a second before it charged at Ford once again, seeming to think that he posed more of a threat. Which was an accurate assessment.

Bolting forward, Ford ran away from Stan, hoping the younger version of his brother would take a hint and get out of there. But as he turned to aim his gun, he saw Stan running towards the beast, yelling at the top of his lungs as he threw a rock at it.

The rock knocked harmlessly against the dragon’s head. For a split second, it turned to look at Stan and, in that instant, Ford saw his chance. With the creature distracted, its face was an easy target. In one fluid movement, Ford leveled his gun, took aim, and fired right at its eye.

The roar that erupted from the beast echoed throughout the streets, making Ford’s ears ring as he bolted forward, taking advantage of the dragon’s distressed state to fire off a few more shots, effectively freezing most of its face.

“That’s right you gross, stupid-” Ford reached Stan and slapped his hand over his mouth before he could say anymore.

“It can still hear!” He snapped, keeping his voice low.

Stan pouted but didn’t say any more. Satisfied that he would keep quiet, Ford removed his hand from his mouth and instead grabbed Stan’s arm, pulling him along as he raced into an alleyway. He knew the creature wouldn’t be blinded by ice forever, they had to move quickly if they wanted to get away without it following them.  

“That was awesome!”

Ford winced at Stan’s voice and shot him a look, but at least he had waited until they’d made it to a different street to speak, and he kept his voice quieter.  

“No, it was dangerous,” Ford snapped in a low voice. “I told you to go with Dipper.”

Stan let out a huff even as they continued to run. “Oh, come on, Sixer. You’re just mad I saved you!”

An icy chill ran through Ford at the nickname. He hadn’t heard it in a long time, and last time he had…Shaking his head, he focused on the situation at hand. “No, I’m mad that you didn’t listen. You could’ve been killed.”

“So could’ve you!”

“You could have too.”

“What?”

“Gramm-”

“There!” Stan shouted out, louder than Ford would’ve liked, cutting off his correction to Stanley’s poor grammar.

Stan pulled on Ford’s hand, pointed towards a building, and despite his frustration with his little brother, Ford gritted his teeth and followed.

As they reached a side door, Stan rushed forward.

“Stanley, wait!” Ford hissed, but Stan had already rushed forward and flung the door open.

“Stop right there!” A voice cried out.

Ford immediately pulled up his gun, ready to fire, only to find himself looking at another gun aiming at him.

“Don’t shoot!”

Ford’s hand dropped a fraction at the familiar voice. Relief washed over him as he saw Mabel sitting behind the man with the gun, who he now realized was the older version of Dipper.

“Stan…” Dipper let out a breath of relief as he noticed Stan standing next to Ford.

A roar echoed through the streets.

“Inside, now.” Ford quickly ushered Stan into the building and followed behind him before grabbing a barrel of provisions and pushing them in front of the door. It wouldn’t stop the dragon, but it would at least make sure nothing else could get in.

Once the door was secure, Ford turned to take stock of the situation. There was a small lantern of sorts lighting up the room. It must have been a supply room, as there were barrels of different foods lining the walls, but thankfully no one else seemed to be occupying the space.

Letting out a breath, Ford immediately looked at Mabel. She looked tired, and paler than usual, but thankfully her leg seemed to already have been tended to.

Walking forward, he crouched down, opening his mouth to speak, but two small arms were flung around his neck before anything could come out.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Mabel said quietly, her arms tightening around him.

A lump formed in Ford’s throat and he carefully wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back, taking comfort from the fact that she was here and she was okay.

“I helped!”

Stan’s voice sounded from behind him and Ford felt his annoyance at his brother’s recklessness return. But then Mabel leaned back from her hug and a grin grew on her face as she saw Stan, who was standing next to Dipper.

“Well now I know you’re Stan!”

A grin grew on Stan’s face. “And you’re Mabel, the coolest Grantie ever!”

“Uh…” Mabel paused at that, seemingly unsure how to respond. “Thanks?”

“So, do I like fight a bunch of stuff when I’m old too?” Stan didn’t seem worried about Mabel’s uncertainty, and despite the frustration that still tried to cling to Ford, he was grateful that Mabel seemed to be acting like herself.

“Oh, yes! You punched a dinosaur in the face to get Waddles back for me, and you fought off a bunch of zombies to protect me and Dipper, it was so-” A shadow passed over Mabel’s face as she seemed to remember that the Stan and Dipper in the room with them weren’t the ones who had experienced those events with her.

A mix of sadness and anger pricked at Ford’s heart and he quickly cleared his throat. “We will have time for stories later. Mabel, you should rest.”

Mabel glanced at her leg, then at Stan and Dipper. “Only if Dipper rests too.”

Ford glance at the older version of his great nephew and noticed the bandage around his arm for the first time, along with the uncertainty on his face.

“I can keep watch.” Ford said, knowing that if Dipper was anything like him, he wouldn’t be able to rest unless he knew it was safe.

Dipper opened his mouth, then looked at Mabel and sighed. “Okay, I’ll rest some. But only if you or Stan wakes me up to take over after a few hours.” He looked at Ford for a moment, as if studying him. “You look like you could use some sleep too.”

“I assure you I’m-” Ford started, but Mabel poked him and he saw her looking worriedly at him. Leave it to her to worry about him when she was the one with the hurt leg.

“You did run a lot.” Stan said pointedly, though Ford was surprised to see worry on his face as well.

Glancing at Dipper, and seeing a similar concern on his face, he realized he was outvoted three to one.

“Alright, deal.”

[rotworld]

3: Eye For An Eye

(previous)

the law of prismville is reciprocity.

->sexually explicit. contains gore, body horror, decapitation, size difference.

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She sits on the metal guardrail with a cigarette dangling between her fingers, watching the fog dance. Her hair is auburn and halfway down her back. “Chilly out here,” she murmurs. She nudges an acorn around with the toe of her shoe. Sometimes she leans over your shoulder, watching your pencil move. You mark New Ridgeway with an X inside a circle. Don’t come back here, it means. “Man. You do this all the time, huh? Drive around out here like it’s nothing. What do you do if you get lost? Or stuck in a shift?”

You shrug. “I figure it out.” 

She exhales, stretches her arms above her head. Rolls her shoulders until they pop. “Couriers are just built different, huh? Fair enough. I’m not cut out for this shit.” She purses her lips around the filter and closes her eyes. Eventually, the tremors in her hands die down and she holds one out to shake. “Meryl Underhill. Associate Professor, Department of Verisimilibiology. Mimic studies, basically.” 

“The University sent you out here?” you ask.

“Cleanup assignment. We do pest control, you know. Not really anybody else qualified.” 

“Pest control? With a sledgehammer?” 

“I know. Should’ve brought a shotgun. We got a letter last shift from New Ridgeway about some glass mimics nesting in a sawmill, could somebody give it a look, clean ‘em out, et cetera. I think the fucking mimics wrote that letter.”

Elisile said he knew somebody in the Stillwoods. You wonder if that was true. You wonder if any of it was true. “What do you think happened back there?” 

Meryl shrugs, blowing out a line of smoke. “Mass exodus. That’s the only thing that makes sense with mirror hoarding like that.” 

“They up and left?” you say, incredulous. “The whole town? Why?”

“No clue. I just got into town last night and it was already empty. Must’ve happened during the shift.” She looks at your map again, sparse as it is. Henley Creek in the center; New Ridgeway, no man’s land; the little starburst of Prismville, all in a line. Highway squiggles snake out of Verlinda in five directions and go nowhere, vanishing into the vast unknown. The whole thing might be obsolete in a day or two, or a week. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Meryl says. “What kind of apocalypse works that way. It’s gotta take years and god knows how much money to import all those mirrors, sneak ‘em past border inspection. What kinda thing goes so slow you can wait that long to run from it, but when you leave, you gotta go to a whole other fucking dimension?” 

You sit in silence, watching the road for a while. The sun’s setting, somewhere beyond the fog and the clouds, a shadowy gloom settling over the Drift. A harsh wind rattles the trees. Something yips and screeches far away. Meryl shivers. “We should get moving,” you say gently.

“Yeah,” she says, clearing her throat. “Yeah, yeah. Definitely. Damn, I shoulda brought better shit to trade. Honestly I’d give my kidney for a bed right about now.” 

“They barter in Prismville?” you ask.

She chuckles as she limps back to her car. “You’ll see.”

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: LUNA (MOON OF CLAIMING) BY CEMETERIES]

Night strips the roads of detail. Everything beyond the gaze of your headlights is shadow play, mere shape and silhouette. The path slithers, jagged sidewinder, down corridors of evergreen. The underbrush goes thin and patchy beyond the guardrail, tufts of hardy wildflowers swaying in your wake. You crest a hill and below, nestled in a crater-shaped valley, city lights glitter like grounded stars.

The Prismville welcome sign is suspended on a highway overpass, blocky lettering affixed to a metal scaffold. It’s not neon but it glows like it in your headlights, sanded gemstones scattering slivers of rainbow. Ahead is the busiest, most bustling city you’ve ever seen. There’s traffic—real traffic like you’ve only heard of it, bumper to bumper, crawling snail’s pace through intersections. The roads are glassy and glittering, geode avenues shimmering with bands of indigo, cyan and pale shades of rose. Highrises of gigantic quartz cut a jagged, angular skyline and the streetlights are capped with prismatic crystalline shades like painted glass.

It’s dark, you realize. Bright enough to see, but dimmer than you expect a city this size. They keep the lights low where they have them, strangled and split through thick gemstone panes. It’s a full moon tonight but the clouds seem thicker here, slow-moving. They form wispy, dangling funnels and hide the stars.

The first hotel you spot has a holographic courier sticker on the automatic doors. Meryl parks beside you, off to grab a luggage cart before you can stop her. “It’s the least I can do,” she says. You don’t have much to deliver but the crate’s unwieldy and you don’t want to risk dropping anything. The lobby is opulent, black marble veined with gold. What you mistake for potted plants by the door is carved stone, thin stalks of obsidian topped with emerald leaves and pale chalcedony blossoms. An artificial waterfall trickles softly behind the front desk. Someone, somewhere, is playing the piano.

“Thanks for the escort. And, y’know. Saving my ass,” Meryl says, the closest you’ve seen her to sheepish. “I owe you one. If I ever make it back to the University and you’re ever in the neighborhood, ask around for me.” She drags herself to the front desk as soon as one of the receptionists are free and you find a quiet place to sit, settling on a leather sofa. Shrugging off your backpack, you check your map again, widening the boundaries of Prismville. You stretch your legs and watch people come and go.

You’re far from the only late night traveler. Guests, new arrivals, and the hopelessly lost trickle in and out. Two women in cocktail dresses link arms on their way to the elevators. A man in a suit keeps checking his watch, watching the circle drive outside the front doors. A child sits unattended on the couch across from you. She might be nine or ten. Long, unruly hair hangs in her face but you feel her staring intently. Strangest of all is the table of miners still in mud-covered boots and uniforms, playing cards around a table. One of them is covered head to toe, features obscured by a hard hat and respirator mask with the long tube hooked to a canister at their hip. They hiss something that makes the others laugh uproariously. 

“You’ll have to tell the front desk.” 

You flinch, startled. Someone walked right up behind you, a hand resting on the couch beside your shoulder. He’s wearing gloves. The leather crinkles when he shifts slightly, noticing your discomfort. 

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he says. He’s average height, tall but not too tall. His hair is neither particularly long nor short. He wears a white button up and black slacks. Unremarkable, except for the gloves. There’s some kind of glittering dust on the palms. “This is a big city. They’ve got more than one courier spot. If you tell the front desk, they’ll call the other locations, get everything organized. Very efficient.”

“Thanks,” you say. 

He smiles, waves. Walks away. The man checking his watch looks up and the two of them leave together. You’ve already forgotten what he looked like.

But he was right. The front desk handles everything. A few phone calls later and grateful strangers arrive. The specimen jars go to a petite woman in a University sweatshirt. “They didn’t make any noise, did they?” she asks. 

“I don’t think so,” you say. She looks relieved and hands you a hefty hardbound tome. There is no text on either cover. The edges of the pages are gilded. “Where do you want me to take this?” 

“Oh! No, it’s for you,” she says kindly, shaking her head when you offer it back. She leaves before you can stop her. That’s strange, you think. Maybe it’s a local custom to pay couriers. 

The letter is for an older man in a wool coat. He rips open the seal and reads it in front of you, sighing deeply. He shoves a bottle of wine at you and turns to leave without a word.

“Atticus Gosse, where do you think you’re going?” 

The man freezes. The lobby is utterly still and silent. The miner in a mask stands from the table, and only now, as the dangling, teardrop diamonds of the crystal chandelier scrape their helmet, do you realize just how enormous they are. They saunter closer, their footsteps sounding like grinding stone. Their voice is a brittle rasp, wheezing and muffled through the filter of their mask. They speak slowly with small, slight hand gestures. Their gloves, like the rest of their clothes, settle strangely on their body, saggy and shapeless in places, clinging tightly to hard lumps and ridges in others.

Atticus frowns tightly. “Do I know you?” he says tersely.

“Gosse,” the miner sighs. “You’re making me look bad. What’s the law in Prismville, hm?”

“I paid them.” 

“A bottle of wine, for news like that?” The miner takes another crunching step forward, beside you now. The rough material of their glove settles on your shoulder. It feels more like reassurance than a threat, but you’re still intimidated by their shadow falling over you. You have to crane your neck to peer into the darkened portholes of their mask. Something glints inside. “You got the cheap stuff, too. Not that it matters what it cost, but you wouldn’t even drink this swill yourself. That,” they point to the letter crumpling in his fist, “is near priceless to you. Isn’t it? Are you seeing the problem here? You’re a tourist but you know better, I know you do. What’s the law?”

Atticus tries to speak but all that comes out is a sharp, wispy sound; chalk squealing softly on a blackboard. He touches his throat with a shaky hand, eyes wide, disbelieving. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. You don’t know what’s happening but you feel like it’s your fault. “He really did pay me,” you insist. “And he didn’t have to. Nobody usually—” 

The miner squeezes your shoulder, hard. A warning. “The law of Prismville is reciprocity,” they say. Atticus sinks to his knees convulsing, nails raking desperately over his own neck. He scratches and claws at himself until his fingers are wet and red, until he’s torn through his skin and sunk his fingers into the glistening meat underneath. There’s something there, protruding between muscle and tendon. Thorny starbursts. Hard mineral growths. Gemstones, you realize, veiny and bloodsoaked. He tries to pull them out but his fingers are slick and trembling. He makes a strangled sound and something rattles in his chest. The blood he vomits on the floor is gritty like sand.

“What’s that even mean to you, Gosse? You spit in the waiter’s face when they bring the check?” The miner lets you go and lumbers forward. Atticus is bleeding from the eyes and ears now, thick and sludgy like lava down a volcanic slope. He coughs up a chunk of tourmaline with grimy bits of esophagus clinging to its jagged edges. One massive gloved hand seizes his head just as he starts to droop. The miner lifts him off the ground without even a grunt of exertion and carnelians scatter from the yawning wound in his throat. Their other hand grasps his shoulder. You watch in horror as they start to pull. 

Atticus comes apart like a ragdoll with its seams snipped. Skin stretches taut, splits, unravels, and finally snaps apart with another gush of slow-moving blood. It oozes onto the floor in a long, igneous clot. Small, colorful stones skitter across the marble floor. His head leaves behind a gaping, ruby neck wound studded with turquoise and zircon, harder and sharper than bone. The body slumps and the miner, soaked in quickly drying, hardening garnet blood, looks at you. 

“Take what you’re owed, courier,” they say. You don’t move. You see yourself reflected in the black portholes of the mask, shrinking back. “But it’s all yours. As much as you want.” They hold out the head by the hair as though you might find it enticing. You shake your head. 

“No. No thanks,” you say quickly. 

“The law of Prismville is reciprocity. You did a service. Now you get paid.” 

“I don’t want…that.” You’re acutely aware of the silence now that it’s crept back in the absence of someone struggling and trying to scream. “If you really want to pay me, then—if you have any eggs…” 

“Eggs?” the miner repeats. You can’t tell if they’re angry or just incredulous.

“Please,” you add. 

They chuckle, dropping the head atop the body. “You poor thing. Of course. Let’s get you some eggs.”

Just like that, gentle ambience washes over the lobby again. Chatter, laughter, the tinkling notes of the piano, back like they were never gone. Someone in a staff uniform begins collecting the gruesome gemstones. Someone else wheels in a cart of cleaning supplies. You flinch when the miner approaches you. They bend slightly, plucking your last delivery from the luggage cart; the crate. It should take a crowbar to pry off the lid but they snap it open with barely a flick of their fingers, peering at the contents. “Perfect, thank you. Now I owe you, too.” 

“Just eggs,” you insist fearfully.

“You’ve never been here before, have you? I’m sorry, I really must’ve scared you with all this.” They nod towards the elevators. “Come upstairs. Rest a while. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?” You stammer an excuse as they reach up, lifting off their helmet and setting it in your lap. They have no hair but strange, swirling stone in the shape of it. The straps of their mask are pulled taut over twisting rock formations, white and gold-speckled granite forming frozen waves and nautilus curls. When they unlatch the clasps and pull off their masks, your breath catches in your throat. 

She’s pale like limestone but prettier, a colorful sheen across her skin like the inside of an abalone. The striated stone of her hair forms delicate, framing curls around her face. Her lashes are glossy onyx and and her eyes banded agate. Full, nacre lips curl into a smile and the sound of her facial movement is the scrape of stone. “Do I still scare you?” she asks, her voice the same breathless rasp even without the mask muffling it. You’re too stunned to answer. She chuckles and nods towards the elevator again. “Come on, courier. Let me do something for you.” 

She takes up most of the elevator, ducking slightly to fit inside. You squeeze against the wall but it’s impossible not to brush against her. The texture of her body is distinct even through a bulky layer of clothing. You feel curves; dips and grooves; some sharp, prodding things. “Call me Iridesce,” she says. “Welcome to Prismville. I’m a supervisor at the chameleite mines.” She studies you, smile widening at your confused expression. “You’ve seen chameleite before. They call it other things, depending on its tinge. It’s used for construction in some places. Computer parts. Proofing mirrors. Jewelry, of course. It’s extremely malleable. I could show you how we treat it sometime, if you’d like it.” 

The numbers tick higher as the elevator rises. You’re headed to the sixteenth floor, the very top. PENTHOUSE, the label reads beside the button. “What are the laws here, exactly?” you ask. “You said reciprocity. I just want to make sure I don’t, uh…”

“Earlier? Ah.” She tucks the crate one of her arms. Her other hand settles on your back, gently rubbing. Her fingers are unusually long; you can feel them through the glove. She digs them into your muscles, easing tension you didn’t realize was there. “It’s simple. Reciprocity. If you receive, then you give something back. The value must be equal. Not monetarily, of course. Sentiment. Meaning. Intention matters most.” 

“I’m not sure I understand. Who decides what something is worth?” 

She just smiles. The elevator stops, doors sliding open. Iridesce leads you through a winding labyrinth, black walls inset with swirling crystal panels. The penthouse is at the very end of a hallway and just as luxurious as the rest of the hotel. Iridesce sets the crate aside and sheds clothing across the floor as she walks deeper inside. A thorny patch of amethyst and rose quartz grows from one of her moonstone shoulders. Her stone skin is open in places. Honeycomb indentations litter her chest and torso, little mouths of geode full of glittering crystal, but she is smooth between her legs.

She perches on the edge of a canopied bed, parting the velvet curtain with one large, long-fingered hand. A ridge of aquamarine glitters in her wrist.

“Courier,” she says, beckoning you with one curling finger and half-lidded eyes. “Come here, precious. The road’s eaten into you. Let me soothe those aches.” 

“You don’t need to,” you say, but you go to her. Her fingers aren’t as cold as you expect, the warmth faint, buried somehow. They’re perfectly smooth as they trace your jaw and lure you closer. She’s close enough to kiss and then she dances away. Your palms sink into the mattress as you crawl forward, beneath the shadow of the canopy. The bed is enormous, easily able to accommodate both of you, but she pulls you into her lap. Her thighs are thick and veined with swirls of sapphire like porcelain. 

“But it’s my pleasure,” she murmurs, massaging your shoulders. “Repayment doesn’t have to be a chore. And you’re so lovely.”  Her lips are softer than you expect. The kisses are chaste at first, fleeting. She eases off your jacket and slips her hands under your shirt, teasing you, flicking her thumbs over your nipples. “Do you want what I’m offering, courier?” You nod and she chuckles, cupping your chin. “Don’t be shy, my sweet. Have as much as you like.” 

The next kiss is hungrier. She coaxes your mouth open and her tongue is warm and wet, licking into you. One hand stays on your chest but the other slides down, clutching your waist. You’re reminded of just how much larger she is; the spread of her palm alone wraps around your body, her spidery fingers clutching nearly halfway around you. She guides you into a languid grind. The grooves and bumps on her thigh create pleasant friction. She hisses when you move your core against them. 

“Does that hurt?” you ask. She makes a pleased sound, a hum of laughter, her breath fanning across your lips.

“Mm. Just the opposite,” she says. She reaches down and lightly scratches the end of her finger against one of the rounded gems embedded in her skin. Her eyes fall shut and her hips jump beneath you. “Why don’t you keep rubbing yourself on them, hm?” 

You lose your shirt next. Iridesce strokes the newly-exposed skin, sliding her hands up and down your sides. Your hands settle on her chest, cupping the heavy spill of her breasts. They’re firm, the first part of her that looks as stiff as it feels. But when you drag the pad of your thumb over the rose quartz embedded along her collarbones, she grips you tightly. You keep stroking them as she draws you in for another kiss, gaping softly into your mouth.

It stops too soon, too suddenly. Iridesce pulls away and stops you from following, pressing her finger to your lips. “Everything off, my dear,” she whispers. The concentric mineral rings in her eyes have widened like a dilated pupil. “Let’s see if I can fit inside you.” 

You watch her as you strip off your pants. She knows where you look and lets her legs fall apart. There’s nothing there. Smooth stone, not even adorned with little gemstones like her hips. You wonder if she’ll use her hands—they’re smooth and long, surely satisfying, large enough that just a finger or two could fill you—but then she twists to reach into the bedside drawer. You hear the click of plastic. She drizzles cool, clear lube into one of her hands. 

“Come back to me, lovely. In my lap like before, but facing away.” The textures of her body rub into your skin. It’s not unpleasant, nothing too hard or sharp unless you dip your fingers into the jagged geode openings. You settle atop one of her thigh crystals and it’s warm, startlingly so. She spreads your legs wider. One hand holds your hip and the other reaches down, feeling for your entrance. She traces her finger all around the opening, teasing. Her breath warms your ear as she eases just the tip inside. You lean your head back against her shoulder. “That’s it,” she whispers. “Relax. Oh, you’re so tight. Are the roads lonely?” 

“Ahh—sometimes,” you stammer. 

“You won’t be lonely tonight.” She stretches you slowly, murmuring praise against your ear. She’s up to two fingers before long, slow, deep strokes that reach just the right spot inside you to make your breath hitch. “Should we stop here?” she asks. Her tone is airy and teasing. She doesn’t mean it, but you still whine when her hand stops moving. “You’re such a small thing next to me, and you’re already squeezing so tight. It doesn’t seem like you can take much more.” 

“Please.” You’re begging before you’ve really thought about it. You stroke her thigh, thumbing those raised spots that make her moan. She presses her lips to the nape of your neck and curls her fingers inside you, pressing against that same spot until you whine. You’re not happy when she withdraws her fingers but then she reaches over again, grabbing something from the drawer again. 

Impossibly long and as thick as your arm, it’s the same shimmery color as her body. The head is a tapered mushroom shape and there are bulging veins carved along the shaft. The underside bulges slightly, studded with small bumps the same size as her thigh crystals. Iridesce grips it by the base, laying the entire length between your legs so you can feel its strange, pulsating heat against your skin. You give it a light, testing squeeze, cupping the throbbing bulge along the bottom, and Iridesce inhales sharply. She rocks her hips against your back. 

“Here, courier. Take what you’re owed,” she murmurs. She urges your legs apart again, spreading you over her lap. The toy—if that’s what it is—slides in easily until you reach the thick flare at the base of the head. Iridesce gives you short, shallow thrusts but you can feel it’s not enough. Her movements are shaky, the hand on your hip squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. There’s a pause, a shared grunt when she pulls it out. Then she’s pushing you down on the bed and rolling you over onto your back.

You’re struck again by her size, how completely she takes up your vision looming over you. “Legs up, darling,” she says, her voice ragged. You struggle to hold them yourself so your knees go over her shoulders. The spongy tip of the dildo pushes back inside you, and then it goes deeper. The first small, bumpy ridge drags just the right away against your inner walls. You think you’re full by the second but there’s still so much more. Iridesce starts a rhythm she can’t maintain, slow, steady thrusts becoming faster and harder.

“You’re—oh, you’re perfect!” she moans. You didn’t realize how gentle she was being before, but now she’s pounding you with the full length and you can barely breathe. You’re full now, you’re sure of it. You’re stretched as far as you can go and twisting your hands in the sheets, the bed shaking and your thighs trembling over her shoulders. Beneath her, seeing her lashes flutter against her cheek and her lips part in a soft moan, hips moving, you can’t tell whether the thick cock inside you is in her hand or between her legs. “Cum for me, precious,” Iridesce whispers, thrusting harder, fucking you into the mattress. “I want to feel you fall apart.” 

She kisses you, trails her lips from your cheek to your neck and sinks her teeth into your skin. The length inside you drills fast and deep and throbs, the bulge rippling, every little bump massaging your inner walls, and it’s all you can take. You cum with a cry and arch into those last frantic thrusts. Iridesce swallows your moans and buries the tip of the dildo as deep as she can. It twitches, little sharp movements like a dry orgasm, before it gradually softens inside you. 

Awareness becomes foggy and distant. Your thighs ache. There’s something hissing—water running. You’re lifted, carried into another room. Hot water engulfs you and you sigh, leaning into the pleasant pressure of Iridesce’s hands on your scalp. “I should order us some room service,” she muses, kissing your shoulder. “Maybe after we luxuriate for a bit, hm?” 

You nod in agreement, relaxing against her chest. She rests a hand on your thigh and you feel the striations of the stone like muscle fibers. It occurs to you suddenly that she is what the man downstairs was becoming. “Have you…?” You hesitate, unsure of what to ask or if you even should. She hums encouragingly. “Have you ever…not repaid someone the way you should’ve?”

“A long time ago,” she tells you. “A long, long time ago. Prismville was hardly a town then. I stole little things here and there, just to make him mad. Well…not just for that.” 

“Who?” 

Iridesce laughs and strokes your hair. She never answers you.

(next)

[puppyeared]

My god I need to finish this website so I can write diary entries and not be this obvious abt it

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I saw this and the Baking is a Science Buddietommy dynamic punched me in the face ;___;

SCREAMING

BRAT4BRAT LMAO this really is Buck and Eddie's dynamic in the pool scene for sure.