#final nights puppetmaster

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-Three

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two,

A/N: Alright so this chapter covers three episodes. The FireLord and the Avatar, the Runaway and the Puppetmaster!

The gentle knock on his door alerted Iroh. He sat up from where he had been laying on the floor trying to sleep. The heavy metal door opened to reveal a Fire Nation soldier who quickly approached him.

"Ah Ming! I was getting worried." Iroh stated with a pleasant smile, as if he were greeting her for tea, and not from behind bars. The young woman, gave him a brief smile before her expression turned serious.

"The rounds have just changed, so we don't have much time." Ming whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the closed door, as she quickly pulled out a scroll, a bottle of ink and a writing brush. She held them out towards Iroh through the bars, who took them quickly and once she had produced a small flame to provide some light, he wrote down his message.

Once done, he blew on it so that the ink would dry quickly. "I thank you for your help, my dear. It is nice to see our children carry out our mission." Iroh said, smiling at the young guard who returned the gesture with a respectful bow of her head. "My father and I are honored to be of service to such a high ranking official of the Order of the White Lotus."

The ink dried, and once he had added in the secret message that could only be revealed by flame, he rolled it up and held it out for Ming to take. "Will you be able to deliver it to my nephew?" He asked, worry gnawing at his heart as he thought of the lost young boy. Ming nodded confidentially. "My brother will be on rounds near the Prince's rooms tomorrow night. He knows of our secret work and shall ensure this reaches him."

Relief passed through him as he nodded. With a final respectful bow, the young soldier was gone, leaving Iroh to mull over what he had done.

This was his final attempt to try and help his nephew. Perhaps, he should have taken this route long ago, but he had not want to burden Zuko.

But it did not matter now. If a heavy burden meant Zuko would choose the right path, then he would have to learn to carry it.

Iroh just hoped Orora would be there to help him shoulder that burden when the time came.

                                          ————————–

Orora glanced over where Aang was mumbling in his sleep. She smiled as he rolled over before settling once more.

Where once the nights she'd stare into the fire would be a rather depressing past time, now it brought her a sense of calm. Especially since she spent the entire day trying to make sure no one tried to do seriously hurt or maim anyone.

It was a mystery how Toph hadn't crushed anyone under a rock, or Aang hadn't blasted anyone into the sky, or Katara hadn't frozen anyone, or Sokka hadn't hit anyone over the head with his boomerang with how much they all bickered. Granted it wasn't anything malicious, but when tempers were high, especially with teenagers, anything could happen.

She was the designated peacemaker within the group, a title she shared with Aang. Though while Aang used words of wisdom to calm the situation, which weren't exactly received well by the audience most of the time, Orora preferred to have them speak their mind, and try to come up with a solution that would benefit both parties.

A tantrum didn't last more then a few hours. If it was really bad, it would last a day or so, but that was the extent of it.

Still, she smiled to herself as she looked around at the sleeping figures, it was nice to have a role in the little group. It was kind of the same role she had played while traveling with Zuko and Iroh, though back then it had been exclusively for Zuko and whatever inner turmoil he faced.

Did he face any of that inner turmoil now? She mused to herself as she stared into the fire, taking comfort in the gentle warmth of it. Probably not, since he had the life he'd always wanted. Did he ever think about her? Did he ever think what had happened to her after his betrayal?

She highly doubted it, she sighed, rising to her feet and walking to where her bed roll was. Burying herself under the covers, her mind still swimming with thoughts of her Soulmate, missing the way her string briefly shone red.

Her eyes slowly slid closed.

                                          ————————–

His eyes snapped open.

Zuko's ears perked at the sound of footsteps just outside his door. Throwing off his blanket he rushed to the hall to investigate. He opened the door, only to be greeted by the sight of a cloaked figure disappearing around the corner. Zuko made to follow, only to stop when he caught sight of a scroll on the floor.

The curtains all along the hall blew gently in the breeze coming from the open windows as he held the scroll.

A hand closed over the fingers that held the scroll, prompting him to look up. Orora gave him a smile from where she stood across from him.

He blinked and she was gone, but her nod of encouragement was all he needed to break the seal and open the scroll to read his Uncle's message within.

                                          ————————–

Katara and Sokka were a little occupied in a squabble, which meant that Toph and Orora had to make themselves scarce so as not to be dragged into their sibling disagreement.

"The only downside of being on an island, is that you would never be able to really get away from people." Orora stated before she jumped from one hardened lava stream to another. Toph chuckled as she followed. "Yeah! I wander how did the couples who lived here take a break from one another?" She jested to which Orora grinned.

"Maybe the wife threw the husband in the volcano?" She suggested to which Toph grinned widely. "I love how your dark your mind can get. Its really refreshing." She stated in a joyful tone, to which Orora laughed. "Oh yeah? None of the others share their dark thoughts with you?" She asked, to which Toph shook her head.

"Nope! Katara and Aang are too nice to think dark thoughts." The earthbender stated, as she created a small bridge where the distance between the frozen lava rivers was a bit too big. "And Sokka is well, Sokka."

The older girl let out a bark of laughter. "No arguments there. But I guess when you've lived in isolation like the two of us have nearly our whole lives." She nudged Toph playfully. "Thinking dark thoughts tends to be a good past time."

It was strange how much she had in common with a thirteen year old. While Orora had lived a life where she was forced to live in submission of her father and brothers, Toph had lived a life where she was coddled and treated as an invalid, just because she was blind.

The context did not matter.

What mattered was that they had each led lives where they felt like they were alone in the world.

"Whats the darkest thought you have ever had?" Orora asked Toph, to which the girl shrugged. "What my life would've been like if I didn't have my bending." The girl revealed to which Orora came to a sudden halt. "My life would be even darker then it already is." Toph continued as she kicked her foot out, loose ash forming a small cloud around her as she did.

Reaching out, Orora took her head and smiled down at her, even if she couldn't see it. "Well, the Spirits blessed you with earthbending, so lets leave it at that."

Toph smiled back, the cloud that had suddenly loomed over her dissipating, as she squeezed Orora's hand. "What about you? Whats your darkest thought?"

The older girl pursed her lips, her gaze trained towards the wide open ocean as it stretched out in front of them. "That I will die alone."

Silence followed her confession, one that was finally broken by Toph. "Woah, that's even darker then mine." She said in a tone that was half-joking and yet somehow serious and worried as well. "Why do you think that?" She asked, curious to know what went on in the older girl's mind.

Orora sighed, running a hand down her face. "I don't know. I guess because now that Zuko has betrayed me, I know there is no chance of my being with him." It still hurt saying it, but she continued. "And yeah, I could find someone else, but would I be able to have what I did with Zuko?"

So saying she slumped to sit down on the ash covered ground. Toph stayed where she was, her forehead creased in a frown as she thought over what Orora had just revealed.

"I don't know Zuko as well as you or the other three do." She finally spoke, to which Orora hummed in agreement. She felt Toph shift where she stood, taking a few steps forward to stand next to her.

"But I've heard how powerful a bond can be between two Soulmates. I mean it was so powerful between Oma and Shu that they were able to learn earthbending, just so they could be together." Orora turned her head so she could look at Toph. "I mean sure, he died, but when they were alive, they always found their way back to each other, no matter how much the war forced them to stay apart."

The waterbender frowned. "What're you getting at Toph?" She asked, her curiosity peaking as Toph smiled in her direction. "I'm saying, what if Zuko finds his way back to you, just like Oma and Shu did?"

Stunned silence followed her words. Orora couldn't help but blink at Toph in surprise who was looking at her in a strangely hopeful manner. A flicker of.....something sparked in her heart, but she pushed it aside.

"I don't know Toph." She finally said with a shrug. "I doubt fate will be that kind to us." A sudden punch to her shoulder had the older girl frowning and rubbing the sore spot. Toph, who still held up her clenched fist, glared at her. "If a blind girl can find her soulmate during an all out war, then a girl who's soulmate left her once, can come back to her again."

Orora stood. "How can you be so sure?" She snapped, not wanting to get angry, but frustration did simmer just under her skin at the moment. The younger girl suddenly sobered and dropped her hand. "You've said so yourself that no matter what he did, his heart was always in the right place right?" She asked, to which Orora gave a small shrug. "I suppose so." She muttered.

Reaching out, Toph laid a hand on Orora's chest, right where her heart was. "So if his heart is with you, and you're in the right place, he'll come back to you. Its as simple as that."

Orora stared at Toph, her mouth open in shock and her ice blue eyes wide. The shorter girl shook her head. "Honestly, its amazing how people who have eyes can't even see whats so obvious. I guess its a good thing I'm blind."

So saying, the girl walked off, leaving behind a still stunned Orora who was decidedly ignoring the way her string was flickering red.

                                          ————————–

Zuko's mind was racing.

He knew his Uncle was the one to send him the scroll. But why? He hadn't gained any new information from what he had read. Other then the fact that his great-grandfather had been friends with Aang's predecessor. It was strange how two people who had been the best of friends, could turn against one another.

Or rather, Sozin had turned his back on Roku.

That part was what haunted him the most?.

Was it something that ran in the family? Betraying the people you called friends. He had done the same to Orora what Sozin had done to Roku.

Was that the point his Uncle had been trying to make?

No! He had said he needed to know about the death of his great-grandfather, yet Sozin had been alive in the end. His death had revealed nothing.

Frustration clawed at him from the inside as he marched into the prison tower and towards his Uncle's cell.

He just hoped the man would speak to him.

Slamming the door behind him as he entered, he held out the scroll that had the message on it. "You sent this, didn't you? I found the secret history, which by the way should be renamed history most people already know!" He yelled, allowing his frustration to seep into his words. "The note said that I needed to know about my great-grandfather's death, but he was still alive in the end."

Iroh looked up at Zuko, and for a moment he thought he wouldn't speak.

"No. He wasn't." Though the relief at hearing his Uncle finally speak to him warmed his heart, he pushed it aside in favor of the confusion that clouded his mind.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, as Iroh finally met his eye, and for once Zuko didn't feel the shame and guilt that burdened him since Ba Sing Se.

"You have more than one great-grandfather, Prince Zuko." Iroh revealed. "Sozin was your father's grandfather." He paused, preparing Zuko before he revealed the truth and reason behind all the conflict he felt all the time.

And really the next few words changed Zuko's outlook on life forever.

"Your mother's grandfather was Avatar Roku."

Shock raced through his veins, prompting him to drop the scroll he had been holding. His eyes widened, and his heart beat wildly against his chest. His knees felt weak, and yet it was a testament that he did not immediately drop down to the floor.

"Why are you telling me this?" He whispered hoarsely, his mind exploding with questions, each one burning at the tip of his tongue and yet he could voice none of them.

"Because understanding the struggle between your two great-grandfathers can help you better understand the battle within yourself." Finally, his legs gave way. Zuko dropped to the floor, his head hanging as every moment of confusion and conflict he had ever experienced his entire life rose to the forefront of his mind.

Everything.

Everything he had done, every decision he had ever made and everything that happened to him. It all came back to his family.

His father had banished him after burning him, making him the bitter person he had been for nearly three years.

His mother had left him, influencing him into accepting that he could never trust anyone with his heart.

His sister always lied, pushing him into believing that no one would help him and that he had to help himself.

And now, his great-grandfathers.

Sozin's ideas about sharing the wealth and prosperity of the Fire Nation with the rest of the world had blinded him to all the horrible atrocities the Fire Nation had committed over the past Hundred Years.

Roku's hesitancy on taking out his former best friend was what had led to the war in the first place. If he had thought of the world, rather then the relationship he had had with Sozin, maybe the war would never have started in the first place.

"Evil and good are always at war inside you, Zuko." His Uncle continued to speak, his words echoing against the cold stone walls of the prison. "It is your nature, your legacy."

Was this it?

Was he meant to feel utter anguish and turmoil for the rest of his life? Was he to know the difference between right and wrong but never be able to act upon it?

He had acted upon it once before, and had suffered the consequences.

Not because he was the Prince of the Fire Nation.

But because he was the son of Ozai.

"But, there is a bright side." His Uncle's voice prompted him to look back up, scarcely allowing an ember of hope to burn in his chest.

"What happened generations ago can be resolved now, by you." Iroh stated, his voice firm and stern. The time for gentleness was long past. It was time to show his nephew the utter reality and truth of the situation if he were to do something good for the world and save himself.

"Because of your legacy, you alone can cleanse the sins of our family and the Fire Nation. Born in you, along with all the strife, is the power to restore balance to the world." Iroh was aware how Avatar Aang was meant to do just that, but he had known, long ago, that the young airbender would not be able to do all of that alone. He had to see to the entire world, not just one Nation.

Restoring the honor of the Fire Nation would be up to Zuko and no one else.

He stood, moving to the wall at his side. Iroh pulled out a loose brick and reached for the object within that was wrapped in a frayed, dirty cloth. He removed it to reveal a headdress as he walked towards Zuko and held it out for him.

"This is a royal artifact. It is supposed to be worn by the Crown Prince." Zuko stood in awe of the artifact thought to be lost long ago. The headdress gleamed in the moonlight. "Sozin gave it to Roku as a token of their friendship long ago, but it became tainted, when Sozin betrayed Roku."

Zuko blinked, before closing his eyes and reaching into the pocket of his shirt and pulling out the comb he always carried with him these days to feel her close. Iroh's eyes widened at the sight of the familiar comb.

"I suppose these two share a history of betrayal don't they?" His nephew said, his voice hoarse and heavy with emotion as the two hairpieces were held aloft side by side.

Iroh's heart softened, and he knew Zuko regretted the decision he had made in Ba Sing Se. Perhaps, because of the bond he shared with Orora, it would push him to make the right decision. Placing the crown atop the comb, and closing Zuko's fingers around it, Iroh gave him a look of understanding.

"Then, it is up to you to make it right."

The small room glowed with a sudden blue hue that had been dim for most of the time. However, in that moment it glowed so brightly that if anyone else other then Zuko saw, they would believe the Moon Spirit herself had descended upon them.

However, it was only the string that connected him with his soulmate.

Glowing bright and blue as he finally, finally, realized the true extent of his feelings for Orora.

                                          ————————–

"You mean, after all Roku and Sozin went through together, even after Roku showed him mercy, Sozin betrayed him like that‌?" Katara's astonished voice cut the tense atmosphere once Aang had revealed what Roku had shown him.

Orora stood to the side, frowning. "All those years of friendship." She said in a low voice. "He just threw it away because he wanted to realize his own ambitions." Why did that sound so familiar? And yet, this was not the time to think about him, the young waterbender scolded herself, focusing instead on what Toph was saying.

"It's like some people are born bad." She said, sounding confused and sad at the same time. Aang stepped up, shaking his head as he did. "No, that's wrong." He insisted, walking so he could stand with his back to them to look out at the ocean. "I don't think that was the point of what Roku showed me at all." His voice sounded so hopeful and optimistic.

Sokka shrugged, ever the pessimist of the group cut in. "Then what was the point?" He asked, to which Aang turned back to look at them. He smiled at each one of them in turn before speaking.

"Roku was just as much Fire Nation as Sozin was, right? If anything, their story proves anyone's capable of great good and great evil." His grey eyes landed on Orora at that part, and she felt herself stand up straight, knowing he was thinking of Zuko the same way she was. She chewed on her lower lip, slowly looking away from Aang, who continued with a small smile of understanding.

"Everyone, even the Fire Lord and the Fire Nation have to be treated like they're worth giving a chance." Aang concluded with that ever-present hopeful note in his voice.

"And I also think it was about friendships." He added with a grin. That last part did warm Orora's heart a little bit, prompting her to smile at Katara when the other girl looked at her.

"Do you really think," Toph began, sounding unsure and hesitant as she did. "Friendships can last more than one lifetime?" She asked, and Orora had to stop herself from reaching out and hugging the younger girl.

Aang reached out to take Toph's hand. "I don't see why not." He said as Katara took Toph's other hand as well. Reaching out, Orora placed a gentle hand on Toph's shoulder. "Friends are the family we choose for ourselves Toph." She said before she moved to take Aang's free hand as he held it out for her with a smile. "And I don't know about you, but I don't plan on letting go of any of you in this life or any other."

Aang, Katara and Toph both smiled at her. Sokka, however, had something else to add.

"Well, scientifically speaking, there's no way to prove that-" He began, only to have his sister shoot him an annoyed look. "Oh, Sokka, just hold hands." She said, holding her hand out towards him. Without missing a beat, his hand grasped hers.

Orora gave a soft laugh as Aang turned towards her to wink playfully. And as they stood there, greeting the new day with a more hopeful outlook on everything, Orora closed her eyes and inhaled.

Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she could feel someone taking her other hand.

One that she was all too familiar with.

Considering she had held that hand many many times during her time with him.

For a moment her string glowed a warm red hue.

                                          ————————–

"People are starting to talk."

Zuko looked up from where he had been going over some new firebending forms he was mastering. Mai stood leaning against the doorway, a half smile playing about her lips.

"About what?" He asked, as she walked into the room, coming to sit opposite him. "That we're dating. Something about going out and walking into the same flower shop twice."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Its just people gossiping nothing more. And its keeping Azula off both our backs, so I welcome it." He added, recalling how delighted his sister had seemed to be when she had spoken to him about it earlier that day. Mai hummed in agreement.

"True, my parents have also backed off." She pulled out a small knife from her sleeve, flicking it in the air and expertly catching it by the handle. "They were starting to look for marriage proposals for me, so dating you seems to be benefiting me as well."

Zuko followed her movement, his mind conjuring a sharp icicle rather then a knife as it twirled in the air. He had seen Orora do that very same move multiple times. Sometimes to practice, but most times out of sheer boredom.

"Have you been meeting with Kei Lo?" He asked, not wanting his thoughts to wander to Orora. Mostly because even the mere thought of her had his string glowing.

Zuko had met Mai's soulmate the first time he had gone to the flower shop. She had introduced him and Zuko had to admit, the boy seemed perfect for Mai. She needed someone to bring out the more softer and fun side of her, and Kei Lo was the right person to do it. Even the mere mention of him had a smile playing across Mai's lips as she nodded. "Yes, I met him just yesterday. My mother is starting to think I have taken an interest in flower arrangements, and my aunt is happy to keep my secret." She admitted.

Zuko smiled back, reaching out to gently pat her hand. "I'm glad you found him Mai." He said, his voice genuine. The girl nodded.

"What about you? Are you still seeing Orora?" The moment she spoke her name, his string began to glow blue. He ignored it in favor of responding to her question.

"Yeah, sometimes, every now and then." He admitted. Her appearances, where they had been quite frequent before, were now sporadic, not to mention she barely spoke in any of them.

He would never admit it out loud, but it was starting to scare him a little, how she was barely there whenever he would think of her.

As if he were forgetting what she looked like.

"Maybe you should go and find her?" Her suggestion had him staring at her wide eyed and dumbfounded. Mai only lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Obviously you miss her, so what harm could there be in going to look for her?" She made the suggestion so carelessly, as if she were commenting on the weather or something.

Zuko frowned. "I can't exactly go out and find her. For one I would need a legitimate reason to leave the Palace." He stood up, walking towards the window and looking out towards the setting sun. "Besides, I doubt she would want to see me after what I did to her." Behind him, Mai pursed her lips, nodding in agreement.

"True, but have you thought that maybe she misses you just as much as you miss her?" She stood, slowly coming to stand behind him, settling a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Trust me Zuko, it's never the right thing to run away or stay purposely away from your soulmate. It doesn't really work."

With that, she turned around and left Zuko to his thoughts.

It was strange. He had been so focused on how his betrayal had effected her, that it had never occurred to him that she would be missing him, just as much as he missed her.

Or perhaps more, he thought to himself, as his string glowed blue.

                                          ————————–

When she had left home, Orora had known she would have to leave several luxuries behind. One of them being shopping.

If there was one thing Orora loved more then anything it was shopping. In Ba Sing Se, she had always been the one to go out and buy whatever they needed. Iroh had been a little surprised at her enthusiasm, but he had not commented on it.

Traveling across the Fire Nation with Aang, Katara, Sokka and Toph meant that they rarely went shopping, if ever. What money they had, they needed for supplies, and many a time Orora had to walk away from a shiny trinket that would catch her eye. All because she didn't have money.

But now?

They had sacks of it.

Her, Sokka, Toph and Aang all but cackled as they exited the town, their arms laden with several purchases, as well as sacks of silver and gold. "Spirits! Why didn't we think of doing this earlier?" The older girl said, smiling from ear to ear as she eyed the meat they had been able to buy. They would be eating really good that night.

"Don't think of the Why Orora." Sokka said, happily carrying his share of shopping. "Think of the What," He trailed off as the other three looked at him, prompting him to continue. "As in, What are we going to spend all this money on?"

Another round of laughter followed his words as they finally reached their little camp, where they dumped their purchases in front of Katara who was cooking.

"Where did you guys get the money to buy all this stuff?" She asked, looking curiously into the baskets. Aang, grabbing an apple from one of the baskets, took a bit out of it and sat down. "Toph got us money." He said as a way of explanation. "She scammed one of those guys in town who moves the shells around all sneaky-like."

Orora grabbed an apple herself. "You should've seen the looks on their faces Katara. Hilarious." She praised as she passed by Sokka and gave him a high-five, before throwing the apple at Appa who caught it in his mouth with a happy groan.

Sokka nodded as he sat down. "She used earthbending to win the game! Classic!" He shot the bling girl a thumbs up, even as his sister adopted a disapproving look. "Ah, so she cheated."

Toph, who had been about to bite into her own apple, stopped. "Hey! I only cheated because he was cheating!" She grinned. "I cheated a cheater. What's wrong with that?"

Katara shook her head. "I'm just saying this isn't something we should make a habit of doing." She reprimanded as Orora dug into their purchase to grab something, only to extract Momo by the tail who had sneaked in when no one had been looking.

Toph scoffed. "Why?" As Orora took the many apples Momo had been trying to sneak off with, leaving the annoyed animal with just one. "Because it's fun? And you hate fun?"

The girl huffed. "I don't hate fun!" Catching Momo as he sulked away, she placed him on her head. "See? Fun!" An awkward silence followed as Momo slipped off her head, screeched at her before running away.

Aang, not wanting to see Katara worry about something so mediocre stood up and lifted his headband to reveal the tattoo below. "Katara." He spoke solemnly, bowing. "I'll personally make you an Avatar Promise that we won't make a habit of doing these scams."

Katara smiled in satisfaction before turning her attention to Orora. The older girl blinked back. "What?" Katara gave her a look, one that had Orora pursing her lips before finally letting out an exaggerated groan.

"Alright! Alright! I'll make sure they don't get too carried away." She promised halfheartedly before pulling out another apple and offering it to Katara as a peace offering.

Of course all their promises meant nothing to any of them.

The very next day, after a successful round of scamming, Orora was happily wandering the streets of the town to see what she could buy. Sokka, Toph and Aang were carrying out another scam, but Orora had wanted to shop.

Pocketing the winnings from the scam she had pulled with the younger girl, she walked around in search of a good clothing shop. With the Invasion drawing near, she wanted to make something for herself. She had no desire to defeat the Fire Nation wearing their colors.

Besides, she missed wearing blue.

Though her chances were slim, maybe she would be able to find something?

She passed through the center of the town, and the sight that greeted her, had her coming to an abrupt halt.

There in the middle of the town stood a tall statue of the current Fire Lord. Orora stood there, staring up at him. Pure hatred raged in her heart as she looked at the likeness. This was the man who had burned Zuko. Who had stood over a young boy, a boy trying to do good, and mercilessly burned half his face off.

"Hey Orora!" Aang's voice barely registered in her mind as she stood where she was. The young Avatar raced to her side, his own gaze lifting towards the all too daunting presence of the statue.

"Its strange to finally put a face to the name, isn't it?" Aang said as he stood beside her. Not breaking her stare, she spoke to him. 'How do you mean?"

Aang shrugged. "Well we've all heard about Fire Lord Ozai for months, and I had no idea what he looked like till I went to school." She nodded. "Yeah, but now we have someone to picture when we talk of him." A brief pause before Aang spoke again. "He was the one who gave Zuko the scar right?" She had told them briefly about how Zuko had gotten the scar, but hadn't gone into the details. His words prompted her to tense up, her hands clenching in fists at her sides as she gritted her teeth. Anger ran through her veins as she turned on her heel and began to walk away. Aang followed after her.

"Hey! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" The worry in his tone was what prompted her to finally halt and turn to him with a reassuring look. "You didn't Aang. I'm just angry at him for what he did to Zuko." Her gaze flickered to her string. "Which is strange because why should I be angry about what happened to him after what he did to me?" Aang's features morphed to an understanding yet sympathetic look as he took the older girl's hand in an effort to comfort her.

"Maybe because your feelings for him go a little more deeper then you realized." His statement had her frowning slightly, before she sighed and shook her head. "Well whatever the reason, I don't have time to think of him right now."

Forcing her thoughts to steer away from Zuko she instead smiled at Aang. "Come on! Help me find a fabric shop! I need to buy something!" Since they were still holding hands, she quickly led him away down the street in search of the aforementioned shop.

Leaving behind the statue of the man she hated.

Pushing aside the fact that her string had glowed red the entire time she had spoken with Aang, only disappearing when she finally entered the shop and began to browse the fabric, looking for the color she needed.

                                          ————————–

He had no idea what he was preparing for. During his training, he worked ten times harder. Be it perfecting his firebending forms, or practicing with his swords. His appetite had returned since he came back from Ember Island, resulting in him having more energy then he previously had.

While he did focus on the political part of his studies, he was no more interested in all the colonies the Fire Nation had created over the past hundred years. Not to mention the devastation caused.

The librarian had been a little surprised when Zuko had asked for those specific records, but everything was given to him because he was the Prince after all.

Everything the Fire Nation had done.

Every act of violence.

The number of people they had killed, not counting the entire Nation they had wiped out.

The resources that were being sent to the armies rather then being used by the general public.

The many many machines of war that had been created to support their so called cause.

The taxes imposed on the people to pay for the war.

The law stating every member of the family were to send two children to the front of the lines.

Nothing in all his findings told him anything about the Fire Nation actually contributing to the betterment of the world.

All they had done was take and leave nothing behind.

He remembered the time he had spent in the Earth Kingdom. All those people he had met on his journey. How in one way or another, every single one of them were effected by the Fire Nation.

The thousands of families displaced by the war.

The hundreds of families leaving behind their homes because it was no longer safe.

The children who had been orphaned.

The parents who had lost their children.

Soulmates who had lost their other half.

Uncle had lost his son.

Lu Ten had lost his life.

Aang lost his entire people.

Katara and Sokka lost their mother.

Song was scarred just like he was.

Lee had lost his brother.

Orora had almost been killed.

And so many countless others.

And all of them, had one thing in common.

They all hated the Fire Nation. No one respected them. They all feared and hated him and his people.

He hadn't helped in that belief by chasing Aang and his friends around the world. And then he had gone and betrayed Orora. Then he had sent that assassin after them.

Maybe Mai was right.

Maybe he did need to go out and find her. Tell her that he was beginning to think that the decision he had made in Ba Sing Se was the wrong one.

But how could he leave?

He couldn't just up and go, that would raise suspicion, and his father might send someone after him.

As he lay there with his hand held aloft so he could look at his glowing string, Zuko came to a decision.

The first chance he got, he would leave everything, find Orora, and join the people working against the Fire Nation to put a stop to it's tyrannical rule.

Once and for all.

                                          ————————–

Their escape from the newly named Combustion Man was a close call.

Too close.

In fact, it had put all of them on edge, and they'd taken to flying as far away from that town as possible.

In hindsight, maybe she should've discouraged them from telling scary stories as a way to unwind after their most stressful encounter yet. Orora had to admit, the place they had decided to make camp was spookier then any place they had spent the night at. Or maybe it was just her imagination, she mused to herself as they all sat around the fire.

"Water Tribe slumber parties must stink." Toph stated when one of Sokka's scary stories was not well-received. "I've never been to one, so I can't be the judge of that." The older girl put in her two thoughts, adding another dried stick to the fire the burned between them.

"No, wait! I've got one!" Katara spoke up from where she sat. "And this is a true Southern Water Tribe story."

Sokka rolled his eyes, not believing his sister. "Is this one of those 'a friend of my cousin knew some guy that this happened to' stories?" He said in a sarcastic tone, to which Katara shook her head.

"No, it happened to Mom." Upon hearing that, Sokka stiffened and everyone stopped moving as they sat in utter stillness, waiting for Katara to begin her story.

"One winter when Mom was a girl," She began, her voice low and soft. "A snowstorm buried the whole village for weeks. A month later, Mom noticed she hadn't seen her friend Nini since the storm. So Mom and some others went to check on Nini's family. When they got there, no one was home." A shiver ran down Orora's spine, her arms came to wrap around her legs as she hugged herself, eyes wide as she stared at Katara.

"Just a fire flickering in the fireplace. While the men went out to search, Mom stayed in the house. When she was alone, she heard a voice. 'It's so cold and I can't get warm!'" Sokka stiffened with fear, and even Toph gulped nervously where she sat. "Mom turned and saw Nini standing by the fire. She was blue like she was frozen. Mom ran outside for help, but when everyone came back, Nini was gone."

Aang used Momo's ears to cover his face in fear, while Orora quickly shifted to sit beside Toph, who didn't hesitate in grabbing her hand as they huddled together. Sokka, who had taken to hiding behind a gnarled tree stump peaked out. "Where'd she go?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Katara shook her head. "No one knows. Nini's house stands empty to this day, but sometimes, people see smoke coming up from the chimney, like little Nini is still trying to get warm." Orora glanced over her shoulder, as if she expected Nini to be standing right there behind her.

Suddenly Toph straightened up, placing her hand on the ground. "Wait! Guys, did you hear that?" Her movement was so sudden that Orora let out a broken shriek, while Aang, Katara and Sokka clutched at one another, staring around in fear.

"I hear people under the mountain. And they're screaming." Orora blinked. "Wh-what?" She gulped, ice blue eyes wide in fear as she stared around their small camp. Sokka, assuming Toph was just joking relaxed his grip around his sister and scoffed.

"Pfft! Nice try." Toph shook her head, her hand still pressed to the ground. "No, I'm serious. I hear something." She insisted, as Orora shifted to quickly sit beside Aang who was still hugging Katara. "Toph, cut it out. You're scaring everyone." She insisted, though even her voice sounded small and meek to her own ears.

A horde of physical enemies she could face any day, but spooky stories? That was a weakness her brothers had exploited when she had been younger.

"You're probably just jumpy from the ghost stories." Katara insisted, glancing at Aang and Orora in worry, who were both huddled together.

Toph frowned. "It just ... stopped." Aang gulped, clutching on to both Katara and Orora. "All right, now I'm getting scared."

Suddenly a voice called out through the darkness, soft and gentle. "Hello, children."

The camp rang loudly with the screams of said children as they scrambled around trying to find a place to hide. But then they all stopped when they saw what, or rather who had emerged from the shadows.

An elderly woman.

An elderly woman who turned out to be a Southern Water Tribe waterbender named Hama. Who told them all about what had happened during the Fire Nation raids, and how she had escaped them before hiding here.

It was all sad and heartbreaking, and yet, perhaps it was the scary stories still floating around in her mind, or perhaps it was her older sister instinct, or the fact that they were being hunted.

But somehow, Orora didn't trust Hama.

All because the old woman seemed to watch Katara's every move with a greedy, almost hungry, look on her face when she didn't think anyone was looking.

But Orora was.

Orora was always looking.

Always looking out for her family.

Which was why the night Hama told everyone what had happened to her, Orora pulled Sokka away from the rest of the dinner party to speak with him.

"Aww come on Orora! I was just going in for seconds!' He whined as she shut the door behind them and stepped outside in the night. She gave him a look that had him frowning. "Whats up?"

No sooner had he voiced his question before she spoke, making sure she kept her voice down. "Its just...." She wrapped her arms around herself, eyes looking around nervously. "I don't know something about this place and Hama makes me feel uneasy." She revealed to which Sokka nodded. "Well the stories of people disappearing certainly doesn't help." He added, to which Orora simply nodded.

Reaching out he gave her a comforting pat on the back. "Look, we're just gonna solve this mystery, then be on our way. Don't worry, we'll all be on our guard. And remember what Aang said, not everyone we run into is bad or out to get us." When she gave him an unconvincing look he sighed.

"Look, I get you would be nervous when it comes to trusting people, but you have all of us watching your back and each other's, so really there's no need to worry." And though Sokka's words did bring her some comfort, Orora still remained alert, not wanting to be caught off guard.

Of course, that amounted to nothing when the very next morning, Hama asked to see her under the pretense of having her get something from the market, only to knock her out from behind and drag her away into the forest.

Orora woke just as Hama was tying her wrists and feet to keep her from running away. Still groggy from the hit to the back of her head, which was still hurting, Orora was barely aware of where she was as she watched the old crone go about securing her.

"You know, when the first raid happened, we sent a message to our sister Nation, begging for help. To send reinforcements." Hama spoke once she was satisfied with her bonds. A filthy rag was wrapped around her mouth to keep her from screaming. Despite the pain, the young waterbender was able to glare fiercely at Hama, anger burning in her ice blue eyes.

"Of course being so far away, they couldn't send help in time. But my brothers and sisters did hold out during our first few months in our cells. Thinking that perhaps our Northern brothers and sisters would come to rescue us." She turned her hateful gaze towards the young girl, who glared right back.

"However, with every full moon that passed, we realized that no help was coming. And whatever hope we had of escaping slowly died. And though I realize you are not directly responsible for your forefathers actions." The old crone leaned down right in Orora's face as she smiled coldly at her. "Holding you accountable is the next best thing."

Orora felt herself grow cold, her mind racing with all the possibilities that Hama would carry out on her out of the anger and hatred that had festered in her for so long.

Running her long bony fingers through the white patch of her hair in a condescending manner, Hama hummed as she smiled. "Now, why don't you wait here while I have a one-on-one lesson with your friend Katara."

Her fear for Katara triumphed her own own fear. She tried her best struggling and thrashing to get away, but Hama was strong, stronger then she looked. Pulling on the rope, she was able to tie Orora to a tree, tight and secure her there.

"I'll be back for you." She promised, before walking off, leaving the girl to struggle and call out into the wind, her voice muffled and barely audible.

The entire day she pulled and thrashed, trying to free herself. Her wrists began to ache and she knew she had split the skin from where the ropes burned against her. Even her ankles burned, and her throat ached from screaming.

All that for nothing.

Finally, during mid afternoon, she gave up. Her head hung to the side as she began to doze off, the occurrences of the day getting to her. Tears of frustration burned her eyes at every waking interval, as she cursed her own stupidity, and for not listening to her instincts.

She was worried.

Worried for her friends. But especially for Katara.

What would Hama do to her?

All day long, the questions and scenarios plagued her mind. Slowly, the sun set and the sounds of the night roused her from her half-asleep stupor. The bright light from the moon shone down on her, prompting her to inhale deeply, taking in the strength it provided her with. Her tired body gained a little strength, though the back of her head still stung from where she had been hit.

Suddenly, she heard voices.

Her ears pricked up and she focused on the voices that approached her.

Hama and Katara.

Instantly she began to squirm and pull at her restraints. She could feel the dried blood on her wrists split as fresh blood oozed out.

"And to make sure, you learn what I have to teach you, I brought a little incentive."

Suddenly Hama appeared in her view, making her recoil in fright. The old woman worked quickly, untying her from the tree and pulling her towards the clearing where Katara was standing.

"Orora!" Katara's shocked voice cut through the night, echoing the clearing as the older girl lay battered and bruised at the old woman's feet. "What have you done to her? Let her go!" She demanded, stepping forward, to which Hama held up a placating hand.

"What I'm about to show you." Hama began, glaring down at Orora in a menacing manner before turning her attention back to Katara. "I discovered in that wretched Fire Nation prison."

Orora only caught snippets of the story, trying hard not to pass out from the pain that radiated from her head. It was so difficult to focus when all she could pay attention to was the stricken look on Katara's face. But she did manage to catch the important parts of the story.

Hama had created a new sub-form of waterbending.

One that allowed her to control the water within any living creature.

Bloodbending, she called it.

"Once you perfect this technique, you can control anything or anyone." Hama continued, her gaze dropping to Orora who tried her best to glare back at her.

Katara shook her head. "But..... to reach inside someone and control them? I don't know if I want that kind of power." She said, casting a worried look in Orora's direction.

Hama shook her head. "The choice is not yours. The power exists. And it's your duty to use the gifts you've been given to win this war." she urged, before appealing to Katara's kind nature. "Katara, they tried to wipe us out, our entire culture, your mother!"

Katara closed her eyes, thinking of her mother. "I know." She whispered.

"And our sister Tribe did nothing to help." Hama added, glaring down at Orora. "You should understand what I'm talking about! We're the last two waterbenders of the Southern Tribe. We have to fight these people whenever we can, wherever they are, with any means necessary!" She concluded, that scary, desperate and mad gleam coming to her eyes once more.

Katara's eyes widened in shock. "It's you! You're the one who's been making people disappear during the full moons!" Her gaze flickered to Orora. "Let Orora go! Now!"

In response, Hama simply growled. "They threw me in prison to rot, along with my brothers and sisters! And her people did nothing to help! They all deserve the same! You must carry on my work!"

The younger waterbender shook her head, pointing at Hama. "I won't!" Pride swelled in Orora as she watched her friend stand up for what was right. "I won't use bloodbending and I won't allow you to keep terrorizing this town!"

Suddenly Orora felt her entire body freeze up. A horrified gasp was muffled by the cloth around her mouth as she felt her entire body lift from the ground, the bonds fell from around her wrists and ankles as her arms and legs contorting in unnatural angles, her head falling to the side.

Her eyes widened in horror, as she tried, but failed, to move her limbs.

"You should've learned the technique before you turned against me!" Hama's voice came, snapping her out of her terrified state. Her eyes were all that she could control as they darted around, trying to see what was going on, and to escape. "It's impossible to fight your way out of my grip! I control every muscle, every vein in your body!"

With swift motions of her hands and arms, Hama used bloodbending to bring them both side by side before beginning to throw them around. The first swing had Orora crashing through branches, the sharp edges scratching her skin as she went. Somehow, her rag loosened from around her mouth, allowing her cries of pain to echo all around her.

Hama slammed her onto the ground, making her hit her head. She paused briefly with Katara, as turned her attention on Orora instead. "I'll deal with you later." She hissed, before throwing the girl to the side. Her helpless body slammed against a tree trunk, which shuddered from the impact.

The hit was enough for her to drop to the floor and for her vision to go black.

Orora's ears rang with the sound of Katara pleading and crying for Hama to stop, before everything went black.

She roused to someone shaking her shoulder.

Ice blue eyes snapped open. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she sat up, arms held aloft and at the ready to defend herself. Only to be greeted by the sight of Sokka leaning over her with a worried look. He'd barely opened his mouth to say something when something or rather someone over his eye caught her attention.

Katara.

Sobbing hysterically as Aang held her.

Her entire body screamed with pain, and yet she pushed past Sokka, barely noticing the various cuts and bruises her whole body supported. Aang pulled back a little from his embrace, looking at Orora in a helpless manner. The older girl wasted no time.

She wrapped her arms around the younger girl in a fierce and protective embrace, holding her close. Katara, realizing who was holding her, began to cry anew, burying her face in Orora's chest, her entire body shaking with each sob that wrecked through her. Orora could feel her own emotions welling to the surface, prompting tears to silently cascade down her cheeks as she held and did her best to comfort her sister.

It took awhile for them both to calm down, but once they were, they didn't waste any time climbing atop Appa and flying away into the night.

Katara sat next to her brother, leaning against him for support. Aang sat on Appa's head, though every now and then he would glance back at his soulmate in worry. Toph sat next to Orora who had Momo in her lap. "You should heal yourself." Toph spoke softly, reaching out to place her water satchel in her hands. The girl gave a nod, pulling out the water and healing the injury to the back of her head, the open wounds on her wrists and around her ankles, as well as the various cuts that littered her any skin that wasn't covered in fabric.

It was a little slow work, since her limbs felt stiff. Not to mention her whole body ached. From being thrown against a tree or because Hama controlled her entire body. She didn't know. It was a truly terrifying experience. Not being able to control her actions and being at the mercy of a mad woman.

Once done, she threw the water to the side since it was mixed with blood and dirt.

Her mind was still heavy with all that she had endured, but nothing could compare to what Katara was feeling. She pursed her lips as she stared worriedly at the younger girl. Her gaze met Sokka's who shared in her worry.

Walking on her knees, she was able to catch Aang's attention, who came to sit on Katara's other side. Guiding Toph to sit beside her, with Aang on her right side, Orora reached out and took Katara's hands.

"I think we've shared enough scary stories." Everyone, minus Katara, gave weak smiles at her attempt to make a joke. "We could all do with something a little more brighter and happier." Katara raised her red-rimmed eyes at her, her usually bright blue eyes looking so dull and hopeless that it broke her own heart. "So I'm going to recite this poem I love, about two soulmates, and the love they had for one another. Sound good?"

When no objection came, she nodded. Closing her eyes briefly, she cleared her throat and began to speak.

Her voice was soft and gentle, the words hopeful and full of love. So unlike everything they had faced in the past few days. Maybe it was the poem or maybe it was the fact that they were all together, and they were safe.

Whatever it was, it helped.

And slowly, gradually, eventually, the darkness around them began to lift.

                                          ————————–

He was dreaming.

It had been a long while since he had dreamed.

Or rather dreamed of her.

And yet, there she was, standing there with his back to him, staring out at the open ocean that gleamed under the light of the full moon.

He slowly walked up to her, unable to hesitate or even think it through. Why? Because he wanted to be near her. He wanted to see her face. In that moment nothing else mattered. Not the beautiful scenery or that this was all in his head.

He just missed her so much.

Once he reached her, he was surprised to see that she was crying. Her eyes were closed, and tears were sliding down her cheeks, every tear gleaming like a diamond against her beautiful skin.

Where he had been unable to approach her when she had appeared to him crying once before, this time Zuko didn't even think about what he had to do.

He reached up, cupping her face, prompting her to open her eyes and look at him.

Sorrowful blue met gentle warm amber.

His thumb wiped at a tear that escaped her gorgeous eyes. Call it wishful thinking, but maybe she leaned into his touch a little, as if drawing comfort from him. His head leaned down, pressing their forehead together, their noses brushing.

This was all a dream. Zuko knew that.

So then why did it all feel so real?

"I'll come back to you." He whispered, prompting her to open her eyes and look at him, the surprise clear across her features. "I promise." So saying, he shifted so his lips could press against the middle of her forehead in a tender kiss. Orora closed her eyes again, relishing in his presence, one that she had so sorely missed and yet had never admitted to herself that she did.

He pulled back, but only to hold up the finger that had his string tied around it. Of course, if was glowing a bright blue. Orora's eyes widened, and he knew she saw the color. Slowly, she lifted her own finger, showing the red hue that gleamed there, warm and bright. Zuko couldn't help the breathless laugh of happiness that escaped his lips. The sound prompted a smile to form on Orora's lips as she allowed their fingers to intertwine, allowing whatever length was left between their strings to completely disappear. Their gazes met.

"I'll be waiting."

                                          ————————–

When she awoke, there was a warmth on her forehead where Zuko had kissed her. Her string glowed a bright red through the day.

                                          ————————–

When he awoke, there was a warmth in his heart and a lightness to his soul. His string glowed a bright blue throughout the day.

                                          ————————–

And it scared her.

                                          ————————–

And it gave him strength.

                                           ————————–

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[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 5 - Fake Fights and Failed Flights

— — — — — — —

“I still don’t know what you’re making over there, but if I could toss out a suggestion: you can’t go wrong with copious amounts of glitter~! Ooh, or flames spray-painted on the side! Makes for a great accent to any art project!”

Bill’s remark didn’t even earn so much as a glance from Ford, his gaze fixed solely on the desk before him as he continued to work on his mysterious project.

A project which Bill had continued to try and get a glimpse of every time Ford stepped away from his desk to fetch more—just as mysterious—supplies. But much like the first time, any attempt to stretch or crane his neck for a peek at the desk’s contents only ended in failure. And at one point, resulted in Ford’s only acknowledgment of him throughout the entire process—in the form of propping one of his books upright on the desk, to further block his line of sight. An action that had earned a drawn-out eye roll on Bill’s end; somebody was being dramatic for the sake of dramatics.

Eventually, however, Ford rose from his chair a final time and reached for the mysterious whatever that waited on the desk before him. And it was only once he turned back towards the far side of the study and reapproached the rope circle that Bill finally got a clear look at the fruits of the man’s labor.

“…A sock puppet. Adorable.”

Sure enough, Ford had haphazardly sewn googly eyes and little pipe cleaner arms to a worn sock, one that Bill assumed had come from the emergency stash of clothes he kept up in the bathroom. It was a rush job, far more amateur than the work he would normally put into an artisanal project. But even a clueless idiot could take one look at his creation and coin it as a puppet of sorts.

After a double-check of the stitching to make sure the various parts would stay connected to the sock, Ford knelt down just outside of the rope circle before setting the crude little puppet down at his feet—

—and he waited.

Bill watched him for a few minutes, eyebrow raised, before—

Ah.

Okay, he knew what was happening now. 

“Trying to contact the poor sucker whose body I’m playing puppetmaster with?” he guessed aloud. “Come on, Sixer, you can’t pretend you aren’t~!”

“They’re likely to give me more answers than you ever will.”

Both of Bill’s eyebrows shot further up his forehead. After the many times Ford had ignored him throughout the past day, it was truly a surprise to get an actual response out of him!

Both a surprise and an annoyance, one that earned him a hard raspberry from Bill—which was immediately followed by the loud sound of him smacking his lips with discomfort. Eugh—it just felt so wrong to have a tongue that wasn’t tenderly and carefully tucked beneath his eyeball. Or rows of teeth that pressed uncomfortably against each other, as opposed to retracting into slots around his eyeball when not in use.

Oh, right, he was mocking Ford—“I mean, you say that, but out of the two of us, which one was refusing to talk all night?” he taunted. “I mean, I tried and tried to have a nice chat—ask about what you’ve been up to for the past few months, how the family’s been—but you were being just as stubborn as ever.”

Ford didn’t respond, his gaze fixed solely on the puppet as he waited for something to happen. And Bill couldn’t help but let his own eyes fall to the crude little sock creation as well, while he also waited in just-as-curious silence. 

Sure, Birdbrain had plunked him back down in a human body, but they hadn’t elaborated on where they’d be getting that body in the first place. Heck, they’d been downright sneaky about what body they’d planned on sticking him into, deliberately avoiding any specifies right up until the second before they zapped him outta their mindscape. 

But unless they somehow possessed the ability to create a brand new body from nothing, they would’ve had to get his vessel from somewhere. 

And if they'd actually resorted to pulling out the soul of some unlucky chump and recycling the leftovers for him to use as his own, then Bill couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t the tiniest bit curious about what said chump was like in the personality department. 

…Of course if they were hoping to get their body back from him, then they were straight-up outta luck in that regard. Finders keepers, pal! 

But hey, no harm in being a little curious about his vessel's origins. Curiosity killed the cat, after all—and a dead animal here and there always added a delightful splash of color to the room.

The two of them waited a minute, two minutes, five minutes—

But the puppet remained an immobile lump on the hard, wooden floor.

“Now, I might be wrong,” Bill finally spoke up after their waiting period hit the seven-minute mark. “But I feel like something should’ve happened by this point. Just a guess, though!”

Ford remained silent, eyes still fixed on the puppet—

—before he too decided to call it quits, and rose to his feet. “Well, I suppose that answers a few questions,” he muttered to himself. “Alright, on to the next step…”

Bill bit back the urge to pester Ford with an inquiry of: “Oh, and what’s the next step, Smart Guy?” and instead kept his attention on the sock puppet as Ford headed back to the desk. Even if nothing had actually happened, it had still given him a few more hints about the kind of body possession he was dealing with at the moment.

If Birdbrain had done some soul switcharoo-ing to free up a body, the original soul would’ve likely pulled a Pine Tree and used whatever other vessel they could get their hands on—in order to communicate as much to anyone willing to listen. 

So if they hadn’t been tempted by the puppet equivalent of the bargain bin—nobody’s first choice but it would do in a desperate pinch—then there were a few possibilities.

One: they had already found a vessel somewhere else to claim as their own. An unlikely guess if his theory of Ford finding him close to the Shack turned out to be correct—a soul whose body was being temporarily borrowed by someone would ideally stick as close to the body as possible. Or at least, if someone else had found a way to parade Bill’s body around as their own, he knew for a fact that he’d personally be hovering around it at all times and annoying the thief into giving it back.

Two: Birdbrain had thought ahead and decided to keep a tight leash on the soul, to prevent it from trying to take its body back. A possibility more likely than the first, although Bill had no way of clarifying this fact without finding some way to contact Tangy at all.

His brow furrowed as his thoughts switched gears to that smug, feathered jerk. He still had plans to play their dumb game, but he’d already wasted most of the past day being tied to a chair. How was he supposed to track down the stupid little bricks to their stupid little charm if he couldn’t even move from this stupid little chair?

Concerns to gripe about later—Right now, he was on to possibility number three; the body had no former host, and Birdbrain has just crafted him a new body from scratch.

Making something from nothing was a task only the most powerful of entities could perform. Bill would know from experience; he’d been able to do it once he’d escaped from the Nightmare Realm and ventured into this dimension—crafting a beautiful, three-dimensional pyramid body for himself. 

How he missed that body dearly—he had even sprung for a square base over a triangular one, just to mix things up a little bit. Sure, it’d mostly been a spur-of-the-moment idea, but settling his consciousness into such a form had just felt so right for him. A rightness that he would probably unpack at some point in the future, when he no longer had to focus on the task at hand.

But creating an entirely new, physical vessel from within the mindscape itself, all without a rift to the dimension where it would be used? 

That was something that even he hadn’t been able to accomplish. If he had, he wouldn’t have needed the help from mortals with crafting a portal in the first place—he could’ve simply cut out the middle man, poofed a ready-made vessel into existence, and used that to build the portal himself.

If Birdbrain possessed that much power, then—

“A-ha! Found it!”

Bill was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of Ford’s voice, and he looked up to see him approaching the circle again. “Yeesh, took you long enough,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to bore me to death with all your dull research and secret art projects~!”

“I do have my reasons for both,” Ford admitted as he drew closer. “That much I am willing to disclose to you.”

“Oh~?” Bill perked up with curiosity. “And what reasons are those?”

As Ford finally came to a stop outside the circle and knelt down to pick up the sock puppet, Bill could see something cradled in one of his hands. 

A small burlap sack, hardly bigger than his palm—

“I needed to determine the proper dosage to knock someone of your stature out cold.”

—oh, he was not serious!

The puppet was dropped inside the rope circle near his feet, and before Bill could finish his irate warning of: “Stanford, don’t you dare—”, Ford was already tossing the bag’s contents at his face.

Bill sputtered as a pink burst of fairy dust hit him square in the mouth, yanking his arms desperately against his restraints in the hopes of freeing one so he could wipe his face clean. 

But it was only a matter of seconds later that the sleep effects start to overtake his vessel’s fragile immune system, and his body drooped forward with exhaustion. 

He saw Ford step into the circle and continue towards him, reaching a hand into his pocket—

—and Bill managed one feeble kick of his leg before he once again slipped into unconsciousness.

— — — — — — —

“Okay, get a load of this~!”

After a quick glance back at the younger teens to make sure she had their attention, Wendy pulled a flashlight from her belt loop and took aim at the nearby half-pipe. One press of the button later and the ramp had been shrunken down to a size more suitable for skateboarding ants, rather than people or Abominable Bro-men.

With a pleased grin, Wendy strolled over to scoop it up off the ground. “You guys have no idea what kind of geniuses you were to put this thing together,” she said, giving it a light shake to clear away the miniscule soda cans. “It makes cleaning up the exhibits soooo much easier!”

“I just can’t believe I never thought to use it for cleaning before,” Dipper said from where the two of them were seated. “Do you know how easy it’d be to clean under my bed if I could just shrink it first? Or how much time I could save on washing clothes if they were half-an-inch tall?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a possible patent on your hands,” Wendy said, setting the shrunken half-pipe into a storage box. “But I came up with the cleaning idea, so I want at least seventy percent of the cut.”

“Aww, what? I’m the one who invented the thing,” Dipper pointed out. “Forty-sixty split where I’m getting the sixty, or no deal.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine, what if we make it fifty-fifty but I get to pick the name?”

“No way! I made it, I should get to name it!”

“Oh, yeah?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “So what did you name it?”

At this question, Dipper suddenly became very interested in the dirt beneath his shoes. “...I mean, I said I should get to name it, not that I’ve actually named it yet,” he muttered weakly. “But you know, if you happen to have a name already picked out, I’m open to suggestions or whatever…”

With a laugh, Wendy lightly tapped the flashlight against her leg as she pondered ideas. “What about…the Shrink-and-Scrub?” she suggested. “The main words start with the same letter, it’s catchy…would probably snag the attention of overworked parents or something.”

“Not bad, not bad,” Dipper mused thoughtfully. “But you’re not really scrubbing with it, are you? We could get slapped with a false advertising charge.”

“Ooh, good call! Whaddaya think, Mabel, you got any good name ideas?”

Dipper turned to face his sister, seated on the ground next to him with her attention on her phone. At Wendy’s question, however, she lowered the screen with a contemplative look. “The…Shrink-and-Span? Like spick-and-span, but there’s shrinking? And it still sounds all clean-y and stuff?” 

She placed her phone on the ground next to her so she could make a growing-shrinking motion with her hands. “Also Span, like Ex-span…d? It’s almost a pun and people love puns!”

Her arms were thrown into the air with bright enthusiasm, but it was only seconds later before both her posture and expression sank again. “I dunno…”

While she slipped her chin back into one hand and her phone back into the other, Dipper and Wendy exchanged a knowing look. “Man, even when you’re down in the dumps, you’re still better at this than both of us,” Wendy said.

Mabel’s response was a sad hum, and Dipper scooted closer to place a hand on her shoulder. “Still worried, huh?” he asked. “I thought the streamer thing would’ve made you at least a little bit excited.”

“I can’t work my Mabel Magic on the shack until everything’s all cleaned up,” Mabel explained. “Which means I gotta sit and think about Bill and Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford and everything else we had to worry about last year!”

Her hands once against returned to the air as she continued to speak: “We were gonna spend so much time with both Stan and Ford this summer! But now that big, dumb, pointy, jerky…jerkface is back and they’re fighting because of him, and—and—”

Rather than finish her sentence, she reached to her sweater collar and pulled it up over her face with a groan—an action that earned a comforting shoulder pat from her brother. “Come on, Mabel, you’re not really gonna believe what Bill said about Stan and Ford fighting, are you?”

“Yeah,” Wendy added. “Isn’t the guy, like, a notorious liar or something? Who cares if he says they’re fighting?”

“It’s not what he said,” Mabel explained, pulling the collar back down past her mouth. “It’s what they’re doing! I mean, you and Grunkle Stan went to give Ford his breakfast, right?”

She directed this question at Dipper, who nodded in response. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, what happened when you did?”

“Not a whole lot,” Dipper said, and began to tick off his fingers. “We went to Abuelita’s bedroom, Bill was trying to be as creepy as possible, we went out into the hallway to talk about Ford’s plan—”

His hand sank a bit. “—Stan started getting upset because Ford wasn’t letting him help,” he finished defeatedly. “And then I…left to go up to the bedroom.”

Mabel pointed to Wendy, who had occupied herself by taking aim at another exhibit. “And what happened after that?”

“Well…Stan came storming up the hallway,” Wendy began, placing the newly-shrunken exhibit into the box with the others. “And then he—”

She hesitated to reply for a few seconds, before pressing a hand to the back of her neck. “—he punched the wall and went out to the boat.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re fighting, though!” Dipper added quickly. “It could mean anything! Maybe Bill was getting on Grunkle Stan’s nerves, and he got frustrated before he…stormed away and punched a wall about it?”

A pause. “…Even though he already punched Bill in the face last night and probably wouldn’t have to just punch a wall if Bill was getting on his nerves again?”

Mabel flumped over her knees with another groan. “You see? They are fighting! And now Grunkle Ford’s down in his lab doing lots of secret sciencey stuff, while Grunkle Stan’s over on the boat, doing secret boaty stuff—”

They all turned their heads in the direction of the Stan-O’-War 2 before she continued: “They’re doing stuff by themselves instead of together, like last year!”

She pulled her collar back over her face. “I don’t want things to be like last year…”

While Dipper gave her shoulder another comforting pat, Wendy kept her attention fixed on the Stan-O’-War 2 for a bit longer, before letting it travel across the yard towards the waiting Manotaur stage at the edge of the woods.

A stage which she eyed for a second, then the flashlight in her hand for another, before turning back to the twins with a wink. “Hey, you know, we never got around to having that fight yesterday,” she said. “You dorks up for—oh, wait, lemme just—”

She held up the Shrink Ray and fired it at the stage, quickly rushing to shake it clean of any debris left from the previous day’s performance. And once it was properly cleared and regrown to its original size, she spun around to face them again. “Alright, so now that we don’t have to worry about stepping on broken glass and wood, you dorks up for a little random gratuitous violence to get out some of those bad Bill feelings?”

Dipper’s mouth curled into a small smile as he gave his sister’s shoulder a light nudge. “Whaddaya think, Mabel? Would punching out some of those feelings about the jerky jerkface make you feel better?”

There was a pause, before Mabel pulled the collar back down again with a curious peek. “Can I pretend you’re Bill while we fight?”

After another wink in her direction, Wendy slapped a hand over one eye. “Come on, Falling Star!” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Betcha wanna punch me real hard in my stupid, triangle face!”

With a grin, Mabel bounded to her feet with delight. “Actually, he calls me ‘Shooting Star’,” she corrected. “But if you do that funny voice again, I’m so in!”

“Atta girl,” Wendy said, the hand over her eye shifting into a thumbs up before she broke into a sprint toward the stage steps. “Come on, let’s get our swings in before Soos and Melody notice that I’m taking my break!”

— — — — — — —

“Massive Maude? Nah, nah, that wouldn’t work—little jerk can’t leave town. Ahab’s Harpoon through the chest? Nope, can’t kill him—”

Stan flipped to the next page with a huff, his fingertip trailing down past every little location, creature, and discovery Ford had listed during their oversea adventures. 

And as he’d initially suspected, most of the potential ways to rid themselves of a pesky triangle demon involved killing Bill outright—deeming themselves a no-go, according to Ford’s previously-established mumbo-jumbo about how they couldn’t kill the body.

Stan let out another gruff sigh as he slammed the journal shut. Yeesh, his only lead and so far it was proving to be completely useless. Too bad Ford had made the choice to chuck all the other journals down into the Bottomless Pit. It had probably been really cathartic for him, but in hindsight, they would’ve really come in handy at a time like this—

“Wait a sec—”

He pressed a hand to his chin, the metaphorical ding of a lightbulb almost audible as an idea began to form. It was a longshot after what happened last year—so much was scattered after the kids turned the Shack into a massive fighting robot that he wasn’t sure if there would be anything left to find.

But on the other hand, the only thing that had managed to pry open his safe in the past had been straight up dynamite. Meaning anything that had been locked away during last summer’s rigamarole had a fifty-fifty chance at still being there to this day.

Moving the hand to his hair, he turned his gaze to the door. The idea also required him to venture back into the house, which came with the risk of running into Ford again.

And the last thing Stan wanted or needed was to get into another row with him, especially not in front of everyone else. 

Not that he wouldn’t deserve getting an earful from Ford after what he’d said earlier, but—

After letting the hand drag back down his face as slowly as possible, he exhaled a groan and made his way across the room to the door. Heck with it—even if Ford still wanted to handle all of this alone, at least Stan could try to be of some use to him and get all his research together in one place. Whether or not he wanted to use it was up to Ford himself, but at least he’d have the option if Stan’s intuition turned out to be correct.

Plus even if it was a longshot, could he really call himself a true gambler if he cowered away from risky odds?

…Not to mention his office was pretty close to the stairs and he could always make a mad dash back to the boat if Ford came up the hall.

— — — — — — —

“Alright, squirts, let’s see who can knock me down!”

Wendy raised her fists with a determined look. “Come on, who wants to go first?”

From the opposite end of the stage, Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth in a giggle. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna act like Bill while we fought?”

“Yeah, no sense in getting out these bad Bill feelings without the Bill part, right?” Dipper added.

With a nod of agreement, Wendy’s hand returned to her eye as a wide, devious smile spread across her face. “Hahahaha, look at me!” she said in that same high-pitched voice from before. “I’m a stupid triangle who throws bad parties and wears a dumb hat!”

While the twins dissolved in a fit of laughter, she stomped around the stage in an exaggerated fashion. “I think I’m the coolest and most powerful guy in the world, but I was defeated by an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face!”

“Don’t forget kittens and tickles!” Mabel jeered in delight.

“I was defeated by kittens, tickles, and an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face! Do-do-dodo, I’m so stupid and terrible!”

She stuck her tongue out for an extended raspberry—an action that only earned more laughter—and made a beckoning motion towards Dipper with her hand. “Come on, Pine Tree!” she taunted. “Betcha can’t knock me on my sorry, triangle butt!”

After a few deep breaths to compose himself, Dipper raised his fists. “Betcha I can!”

“Aww, wait, why’s he get to go first?” Mabel whined. “Didn’t we come over here so I could get out some of my bad Bill feelings?”

“Well, yeah,” Dipper said. “But I mean, I’ve got beef with Bill too. And throwing a couple of punches about it would probably be fun.”

“Rock-paper-scissors to see who goes first?” Wendy suggested.

The twins exchanged another look—and after a quick three rounds, Mabel was left disappointed while Dipper took his spot on the stage near Wendy. However, her sour mood was quickly replaced with a fist pump and several supportive cheers of: “Go, Dipper! Play dirty if you gotta!”

Dipper chuckled. “Mabel, come on, I’m not gonna—”

Without warning, he rushed at Wendy with a charging fury and threw as much of his weight against her body as he could muster. Despite the unexpected attack, Wendy managed to stay solid on her feet—

—until Dipper’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her lower legs and he gave a sharp yank towards his own body, causing her to stumble and fall hard to the stage from a lack of balance.

Still clutching her legs, Dipper stared with a look of complete bewilderment on his face—as if his own successful attempt to bring her down had surprised even himself. “Haha, woah—I can’t believe that worked!” he said with a shaky laugh. “I’ve never actually tried that with anyone but Waddles before!”

“Woo! Go Dipper!” Mabel called, clapping her hands with proud enthusiasm. “I’ll bet if you’d done that to the real Bill, he would’ve been soooooo embarrassed!”

From the stage, Wendy let out a laugh of her own. “She’s not wrong. Also, you can let go of me now.”

With a yelp of surprise, Dipper dropped her legs in an instant. “Ah—sorry!”

Despite the hard thump of her legs against the stage, Wendy was quick to pull herself up into a proper kneeling position. “No worries, dude,” she reassured him with a grin. “Pretty sweet trick, though. Where’d you learn that?”

“A few months back, Waddles found the secret stash of snacks I hid under my bed and kept being real determined to get to them,” he explained. “It was either establish dominance and learn how to drag him out from under the bed by his lower half, or admit defeat to a pig.”

He flexed his arm with a smile. “And guess who didn’t have to admit defeat to a pig~?”

“And now you know how to knock down Wendy!” Mabel called from her spot. “Sounds like someone needs to give Waddles a well-earned thank you later.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just move your snack haul somewhere else?”

“Closet’s too full of Mabel’s sweaters and the dresser makes everything taste like lint,” Dipper said matter-of-factly.

“Well, either way, color me impressed,” Wendy said, before looking to where Mabel was situated. “Alright, Mabel, you’re up next~!”

Dipper approached her, holding his hand out for a hi-five. “Go get ‘em!”

Mabel slapped his hand with gusto as they passed each other and bounded over to where Wendy waited for her. “Okay, ‘Bill’,” she said, raising her fists. “Put ‘em up!”

Winking in return, Wendy slapped a hand back over her eye and thumbed the other across her nose. “Alright, Shooting Star,” she said with a fake sneer. “Let’s see what you got!”

“Woo! Go Mabel!” Dipper cheered from the side.

With a laugh, Mabel took a fighting stance of her own—

—only for her attention to shift towards something else at the far end of the yard. 

The other two followed her gaze over to the Stan-O’-War 2, where Stan could be seen exiting the cabin and making his way across the deck towards the ladder. With a smile, Mabel cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, Grunkle Stan, over here!”

While his body language was low as his feet touched the ground, Stan perked up at the sound of Mabel’s voice—and his mouth spread into a smile when he turned around to see the rest of the kids gathered with her. 

He moved towards them with quick, determined steps—or as quickly and determined as a man his age could move—before he eventually slowed to a stop near the stage. “Whatcha gremlins gremlinin’ about out here?” he asked, propping his arms over the edge.

“They’re wrestling me while I pretend to be Bill,” Wendy explained. “Since they can’t exactly punch the real thing right now, I thought maybe getting a few swings in at someone pretending to be him would do the trick.”

Mabel hurried to Stan and seated herself near him, legs dangling down over the side. “Dipper won his fight!” she said excitedly. “And I was about to fight her next!”

“I pulled her legs out from under her,” Dipper elaborated, as he followed in his sister’s steps and seated himself on Stan’s opposite side.

Stan raised an eyebrow at Dipper. “Wo-ow, first the body hair and now you’re actually winning fights? You really are growin’ into a tried-and-true Pines, ain’tcha, kid?”

He reached up to plap a hand against the top of his hat. “You didn’t hear that from me, though, so don’t go gettin’ a big head about it.”

While Dipper beamed with pride, Wendy shot him a finger gun. “What about you, Mr. Pines?” she asked. “You up for getting a little of that Bill aggression outta your system?”

“Like you gotta ask,” Stan said. “Don’t think I should be wrestlin’ any of you about it, though. Not unless you’re lookin’ to get snapped in half.”

“I take offense at the implication that you could snap me in half,” Wendy said, although her grin implied otherwise.

“I take offense at the implication that I couldn’t.”

He let out a chuckle at that, one that slowly petered out into a halfhearted grumble. A sound that made the twins exchange a look of curiosity before Mabel asked: “So what’ve you been doing out here, Grunkle Stan?”

“Wendy said you went outside to the boat,” Dipper explained. “But she didn’t say why.”

Stan looked to Wendy with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, she did, did she?”

“What, was I not allowed to tell your beloved great-niece-and-nephew where their great-uncle had gone?” Wendy asked innocently, and leaned over to place a hand atop each of the twin’s heads. “They were just worried about how you missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel added, before her expression fell. “Plus Grunkle Ford was heading down to the basement with Bill, and he said that the two of you were fighting…”

At the mention of Ford, the gruffness in Stan’s expression shifted. “Ford said we were fighting?”

“Nah, Bill did,” Dipper corrected. “Probably to try and get a rise out of us.”

He cast a look beyond Stan over to Mabel. “Which is why Grunkle Ford told us not to listen to anything he says.”

“I’m not listening to him,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, weren’t you were the one who said they seemed really tense in the hallway earlier!”

“All I said was that if Grunkle Stan really needed to punch Bill again, he would’ve done it instead of just punching a wall,” Dipper said, then glanced hesitantly at Stan. “But, uh—is everything okay between you two? You seemed really stressed earlier, and y’know…you didn’t go down with Ford to take care of Bill.”

Stan looked between them, the uncertainty in their features near identical to the faintest hints of concern threatening to peek their way through his own. And with a strained inhale to force it all back down again, he stood up straight and pointed a finger at them. “Ford’s absolutely right, you shouldn’t trust a word outta that jerk’s mouth,” he said. “Whatever’s goin’ on with the two of us, it ain’t any of Bill’s business and it definitely ain’t a fight.”

“But it’s something?” Wendy chimed in.

“It’s somethin’ that ain’t any business a’yours either,” Stan said firmly, giving her a wave of his hand before pointing it back at the younger twins. “And that goes double for you two. Like I told you last night, you’re here to have fun for the summer. Don’t go gettin' yourselves all worked up over all this Bill stuff or the stuff between me and Ford, alright?”

Mabel let her body flump forward until her forehead was gently pressed against the tip of his finger. “But we wanted to have fun over the summer with both you and Grunkle Ford,” she pointed out. “How can we do that if he’s too busy dealing with Bill? Or if you two are fighting?”

His expression softened at this motion and he let his hand fall. “Well, now, I can’t give an answer to that first question—lean back again for a sec, Pumpkin—” 

While she obliged, Stan rotated himself around to lean his back against the stage. “Like I was sayin’, I can’t give an answer to that first one,” he continued, draping one arm around her body. “But as for the second—just because the two of us are buttin’ heads about all of this doesn’t—”

He hesitated for a millisecond, before continuing: “—it doesn’t mean we’re fighting. And it doesn’t mean that the rest of the summer’s gonna be a bust, alright? Just means that we’re gonna have to deal with some rough patches first.”

He turned to Dipper, slinking his other arm around his shoulders. “And as for you, you little knucklehead—you heard Ford earlier; he’s got himself a plan to deal with our little yellow headache down in his lab. And if he needs help, he’ll ask for it!”

“Maybe…” Dipper agreed halfheartedly. “Still, I hate to agree with Bill about anything, but he did have a point about Grunkle Ford’s ideas not exactly being the best ones out there after a full night with no sleep…”

“Ugh, he said that?” Mabel asked with a sneer.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, disgust painting his own expression. “He was practically rubbing it in Ford’s face.”

“Hey, hey, what did I say?” Stan said. “Take your own advice, kid, and don’t believe a word outta that little creep's mouth! You know he’s just tryin’ to get under your skin, so he ain’t worth the time of day.”

With a sense that the fight was going to be paused for a bit, Wendy hopped down from the stage and aimed the shrink ray towards the mermaid tank. “You know, Dr. Pines probably would get rid of Bill much quicker if he had someone helping him down there.”

Stan narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, come on, don’t you start now.”

“I’m just saying,” Wendy continued, before pressing the shrink button. “I mean, I’m sure he’s got his reasons for going at it alone—

Once the tank was shrunken down, she strolled over to scoop it up off the ground. “—but working together took the little fucker down last time, didn’t it?”

She tilted the small tank forward and let the water—the volume now barely enough to fill a teacup—spill out over the grass. After giving it a few additional shakes for good measure, she spun on her heels back to face the others—

—only to be greeted by mirrored looks of shock on all three of their faces. “...What?”

More surprised blinking followed as they stared at her with mouths agape, before Stan finally slapped a hand to his forehead. “Are you kidding me, Wendy?! I worked so hard not to swear in front of these kids last year and you go and throw all of it out the window in a single, goddamn sentence!”

“I’m just more surprised that you swore at all,” Mabel said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before!”

“Come to think of it, I actually don’t remember hearing anyone swear around here last summer,” Dipper said thoughtfully. “Which is such an oddly specific thing to…I dunno, not hear? Kids swear all the time at school, Mom and Dad swear at home sometimes—”

“I know you let out a very hearty f-word the other day when you bumped your toe on the coffee table,” Mabel added.

“It was the left pinky, I was completely justified and will not apologize.”

“It is weird!” Wendy agreed, before tucking the mermaid tank into the storage box. “Actually, I got this totally wild story to go with it—one I was trying to tell Stan yesterday before all this dumb Bill stuff started.”

After tucking the flashlight back into her belt loop, she raised her hands for emphasis. “Okay, so you remember how the couch we found in the woods last year was like, mega-infested with rats?”

“Dipper screamed so loud when one tried to crawl up his legs!” Mabel said with a grin.

“Once again; moment of weakness, it could’ve easily happened to anyone.”

“So anyway, Soos, Melody and I managed to get most of ‘em out of the house,” Wendy continued. “But after that, something felt different about the town. Not bad different, just…different.”

“Elaborate,” Stan said.

“Well, there was the time when Nate and Lee got together, and have kinda been having an on-off thing going on since,” she said, and began to tick off her fingers. “Then at some point, one of the Manotaurs decided that she felt more comfortable being called Womanotaur instead—all the boys came together and collectively punched a piece of metal until it was dented into the right shape for a celebratory carabiner—”

“Ooh, ooh, and at another point your dad and Mayor Tyler started dating?” Mabel guessed.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that,” Wendy said, looking mildly annoyed for a second. “Couple of folks also started realizing some things about themselves in a similar way, people started swearing a lot more than they did last year—

She tossed her hands in the air. “—and all of that only started happening after the rats were gone!”

“That sounds like a load of stupid fresh from the stupid factory,” Stan said. “But also I wouldn’t put it past this town to have some weird rats be the source of everyone’s inability to swear or for two men to start mackin’ on each other or something.”

“Everything going alright out here?”

Everyone turned to see Soos and Melody approaching from the shack, clipboards and a large box of party decorations in hand. “We figured Wendy would probably be done with cleanup by now,” Melody explained. “So we thought we’d start bringing out the decorations.”

“Did we give you enough time for amusing and exposition-y conversations that would be stimulating enough to get you through the work quicker?” Soos asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just one sec—” Wendy said, and turned back to the Manotaur stage. “Alright, everybody clear outta the way.”

Mabel’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Aww, we’ve gotta finish cleaning up? But we didn’t get to have our fight! Again!”

“Maybe not, but it did distract you long enough to get to the decorating part, right?” Dipper pointed out, and hopped down from the stage. “Wasn’t that the point in the first place?”

“Mmm, I guess,” Mabel said sadly as she hopped down after him. “Still, would’ve been fun to fight Wendy while she’s pretending to be Bill.”

Soos raised an eyebrow at Wendy, who shrugged in response. “We were working out our feelings,” she explained. “But since we’re moving on to the actual decorating part, how’s about we put a pin in that fight for now and work on drowning this place in decorations?”

She raised the flashlight and took aim for the stage. “Also again, step outta the way or you’re gonna get caught in the crossfire.”

Once the three of them had cleared away from the stage, Wendy once again shrank it to a more manageable size. While she stored it away with the other exhibits, Soos reached a hand into the box of decorations. “Like I said earlier, we’ve got just about every color of streamer under the sun! Plus some colors under the moon, too!”

He pulled out a few rolls of streamers and waved it in front of Mabel. “Who wants to toss a bunch of them up onto the roof like they’re TP-ing the Shack, but with color~?”

Despite Mabel’s initial disappointment towards another postponement of the fight, a smile began to creep its way through her features at Soos’ suggestion. “Oh, like you’ve gotta ask~!”

She reached for one of the rolls before casting a look at Stan. “You wanna help us decorate for the party, Grunkle Stan?”

“Nah, I actually came out here for a reason,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Gotta go fetch somethin’ from my office.”

He gave her a thumbs up as he started making his way towards the porch. “You kids have fun, though, and no more stressin’ about all this Bill stuff, okay?” he said, then looked over to Wendy. “Also lemme take a look at that shrink-thing later, Wendy! You could make a fortune with a doo-dad like that!”

“We’re already workshopping names,” Wendy called in return.

A second thumbs up was his response as he headed up the porch steps and disappeared out of sight. Mabel continued to stare at the porch, optimistic expression sinking back into a look of sadness until Soos gave the streamer bag another shake. “Check it out, Mabel! The lady at the store even said she named one of the shades of pinkish-purple after you! She calls it ‘Pink-Mab-urple!”

After staring for a few more seconds, she finally turned to Soos with a grin. “Uh, why didn’t you start with that, Soos? Slap a roll of Pink-Mab-urple in my hand and let’s get this streamer train rolling!”

— — — — — — — —

With all the stress of the past twenty-four hours, Ford had almost forgotten what it was like to feel relaxed.

Granted, he hadn’t felt truly relaxed since his early childhood. But the past nine months up until Bill’s return had been the closest he’d gotten to recapturing that ease of his adolescence.

And for the fleeting moment before the fairy dust made impact with Bill’s face, a surge of anxiety rushed through him as the possibility of the dust losing its potency after decades of disuse reared its ugly head. That by some cruel twist of fate, it simply wouldn’t work against Bill at all.

But within seconds, Bill slumped like a lifeless ragdoll against the chair’s restraints and Ford could physically feel some of the stress melt away from his being.

Not all of it; there was always a chance that the fairy dust hadn’t worked and that Bill was simply pretending to be knocked unconscious. But the sight alone was enough to grant him the smallest sense of comfort.

Still—

He finally pulled out the hand he had slipped into his picket after tossing the dust, a small pocketknife clutched tightly in his grasp. After a few more seconds, he flicked open the main blade and knelt in front of Bill’s body.

He hesitated—hand trembling around the weapon as the temptation to do more than a simple act of research examination bubbled up inside his chest. But with a shake of his head, he reached for one of Bill’s restrained hands and lightly pressed the tip of the knife into his palm.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt if he was truly faking his unconscious state. And after a few seconds passed with no vocal complaints from Bill, Ford let out an exhale of relief.

He wasn’t faking. At least there was that fact.

But Ford also knew not to let his guard down completely, nor was he foolish enough to think that the fairy dust’s effects would last forever. He had to move quickly.

Reassured that Bill was properly unconscious, Ford moved to the binds that kept Bill tied to the chair. It was a risk to free Bill completely, but his plan wouldn’t work if the body was still bound by the unicorn spell.

He pressed the blade against one rope and inhaled slowly, before bringing it upwards in a clean cut—

—and quickly backed up as the tiny body slacked to the floor in a crumpled heap.

His grip on the knife tightened as he stepped back out of the circle, as if he still expected Bill to drop his facade and finally take advantage of his chance at freedom. But when the fairy dust continued to prove effective, he returned to Bill's side to cut his wrist binds.

Once Bill was completely unbound from all angles, Ford looked to the puppet he had tossed at his feet. Sure, it had been a five-minute effort but Bill was far from picky when it came to his vessels of choice. And if he suddenly decided to start being picky once he’d reawakened—

—well, too bad, Cipher.

His gaze moved back to the unconscious body again, eyes landing on his face. Naturally he’d written down the research he’d gathered, and he hadn’t been lying to Bill when he said it was to figure out the proper dosage of fairy dust to knock him unconscious. The stuff was powerful enough to put a full-grown unicorn to sleep; too much on a body Bill’s size could potentially have disastrous effects.

And even if Ford’s attempt to contact the body’s original owner had failed, his main concerns still lingered—he still had no way of knowing how harming the physical body would affect Bill himself.

That being said, his quick and simple research had provided Ford with a few interesting discoveries.

As he’d initially hypothesized, every studied part of Bill’s vessel really did scream teenager—or at the very least being on the cusp of teenagerhood. A lack of wisdom teeth pinpointed the body as younger than twenty, and his quick count of almost-thirty teeth settled his guess between the ages of about twelve to fifteen. 

General appearance seemed to back up that fact; limbs were gangly and awkward—even moreso than what would normally be expected from Bill in a human body—those yellow, catlike eyes sat large on his face, larger than they would on the face of an adult—

It was so odd. Of all the vessels to possess, why would Bill choose that of a human teenager? It certainly added credence to the theory that he hadn’t possessed a choice in the matter, but it also added credence to the theory that he had specifically sought out such a body as a way to purposefully mess with Ford and the rest of his family.

Once again, more theories without a clear answer.

With a huff, Ford set the knife near his boot that was furthest away from Bill—putting down his weapon was another risk, but at least he’d had the advantage if he needed to grab it in a hurry—and reached into his pocket again. 

This time his efforts rewarded him with a worn scrap of paper, one he unfolded with both hands and set to the ground in front of him. He might’ve tossed the journals down into the Bottomless Pit, but a proper scientist always had backup options when it came to his research.

…Granted, the backup in question was an old spell he had hidden away during one of those sleep-deprived days between Bill’s betrayal and the portal incident, but it would still prove effective nonetheless. 

Thank goodness he had possessed enough foresight to keep it out of the journals and tucked safely between the edge of his desk and the wall, somewhere Bill had clearly not thought to look during the brief periods when his body had succumbed to sleep.

His gaze narrowed with determination at the body again. Omniscient abilities or not, even Bill Cipher possessed blindspots. A piece of paper tucked between the wall and desk. A lack of knowledge on how to collapse the weirdness barrier that surrounded the town.

An extra finger on a hand where it shouldn’t be, or vice versa.

Shaking his head, Ford turned back to the paper. A wiser man might’ve tried to actually use the spell back when he originally discovered it. But a number of variables—no additional person to read the spell while Bill was in his body, no knowledge on whether or not it would actually work as intended, a general lack of sleep across those several days—had prevented Ford from attempting such a method at the time. And once he’d properly returned home after the portal incident, the metal place in his head had already been installed—rendering such a spell mostly pointless.

Until now.

After scribbling down a few additions, he cleared his throat and began to recite aloud: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

He paused, looking to the puppet and body for a moment before continuing with a bit more confidence: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum—”

— — — — — — —

Whenever Bill lounged around in the space between the Nightmare Realm and the mortal world, there was always a clear lack of color. 

Whether he was situated inside a dark room, outside over a summoning circle or inside the bedroom closet of an easily-frightened child—always watching, but never seen—the scenery of the mindscape was always draped in a monochromatic curtain of black and white. Here, however—the warm browns of the study had only dulled the slightest amount while still maintaining their general color.

Heck, Bill might not have even noticed the difference at first, had it not been for Ford. Rather than be subjected to more violence at the man’s hand, it was as if time had completely frozen for him. The arm that had tossed the fairy dust into Bill’s face was still outstretched, but remained still and unmoving in the air.

Bill’s mouth curled into a smirk, and he made no effort to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “Hehe, what’s wrong, Fordsy~?” he asked, leaning forward. “Can’t access the mindsca—ACK!”

He leaned forward too far and hit the hard ground with a thud and an irritable yelp, face once again squished against the floor. Unlike the other times he’d fallen throughout the past day, however—his body felt noticeably lighter and chair-free.

Grin widening further, he pulled himself off the ground until he was standing up proper. Once on his feet, he took a step to grow more accustomed to using legs again. One step, then two more—before he simply launched his body up into the air to hover in place.

Oh, how he loved the Mindscape to pieces~! Possessing people was fun and all, but it came with the unfortunate side effect of not being able to use his powers.

Not in the Mindscape, though~! Here he could do just about anything he wanted!

Speaking of which—

He cast another look in the inanimate Ford’s direction, while a wicked grin spread across his face. Sure, any harm caused to his body in the mindscape wouldn’t carry over to the real world. But at the same time, fireball or two to the chin would probably get rid of that stupid beard for a few glorious minutes, right? Perhaps a fireball full of spiders? 

Why not? The past twelve hours had been so frustrating dull for Bill, and he deserved a nice little treat for himself.

He raised his hand into the air with a giddy little laugh, as he waited for the familiar blue flames to blossom from his palm—

—hey, wait.

Bill snapped his attention to what should’ve been a pitch-black hand engulfed in flames. And while the flames had indeed begun to spread out from his palm and up towards his fingertips, the hand itself was still clearly one made of flesh and blood. Just as flesh and blood as the legs he had wobbled on mere seconds ago as he took a few steps. 

Legs that his gaze quickly fell to, realization beginning to take hold of him as his concerns were reaffirmed; black, panted legs attached to a body that was clearly still humanoid.

His hands instinctively moved to touch the opposite arms—as if touching them would somehow transform them back into the twig-thin limbs he was used to having—and then to his chest and stomach—as if touching them would somehow transform him back into his familiar, triangle shape.

When neither attempt bore any results, he blinked a few times in sheer confusion. Okay, so something was clearly wrong. Jumping out of a body into the mindscape should’ve at least reverted his soul back to its usual shape and form. So why was he still stuck in a useless flesh-suit?

He moved his gaze around the study before his attention fell back on Project Mentem, eyes once again locking with one of the unbroken screens. He hadn’t gotten a proper glimpse at his vessel’s face the first time around, but if he was currently situated in the mindscape and able to move freely—

Just before he could make out the shape of his face in the monitor’s reflection, however, the dull colors around it began to distort and—

—well, there was no better term for it than ‘melt’.

Every color in the room—from the warm browns of the nearby shelves and desk, to the dull grays of Ford’s entire being—started to melt towards the floor, leaving behind the usual, monochromatic palette of the Mindscape.

And once all the colors reached the floor, they slowly converged into a muddy blob in the very center of the room. Converge, then shift into a single tint of orange.

Or if Bill wanted to get specific with it—tangerine.

Oh. 

Great.

Sure enough, the blob of tangerine began to twist and morph into a clear silhouette of the shelduck, a loud, giddy laugh echoing through the study even before their beak had fully taken form. “Wow, it looks like someone’s had a busy first day, huh?” they said, placing their hands on their hips once both appeared. “Not even back in town for a full twenty-four hours and they’ve already brought you down to the study for research.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed in their direction. Oh, contract or not, he was going to pluck every single one of their feathers out with the Multiverse’s rustiest pair of tweezers once this was all over!

For the time being, he simply folded his arms across his chest with an unimpressed huff. “Yeesh, took you long enough to get your butt down here, Birdbrain!” he said irritably. “Do you know what kinda day I’ve ha—oh, actually, you just said you did, didn’t you?”

He tossed his hands in the air. “Well, if you could see what kinda day I was having, why haven’t you stepped in yet? Thought you were all about helping people in need or whatever?”

He made a casual gesture in Ford’s direction. “Well, I’ve sure needed some help getting away from him!”

Tangy held up their own hands with a guilty smile. “Okay, okay, I realize you have some concerns,” they said. “I don’t blame you, you’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time.”

One hand went to their forehead. “And admittedly, I’m mostly here because I realized I forgot to tell you a few things!”

“Oh, gee, you think?” Bill said, moving the gesture towards himself. “How about you start with explaining why you kept the fact that you’d be sticking me in a vessel like this a secret? Or why I’m still a pile of meat, bones and nerves in the mindscape instead of my usual form?”

“You—wait…”

They lowered their hand to give him a perplexed tilt of their head. “You mean you haven’t figured out what’s happening yet?”

“I mean, I figured out that you think you’re clever,” Bill said with a roll of his eyes. “Sticking me in a vessel this small for your dumb game, all without telling me ahead of time? That’s real cute, Birdbrain.”

A shrug, one accompanied by a smirk. “Hehe, what, did my short jokes bother you that bad?”

“No, they didn’t, but—”

“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

The sound of Ford’s voice echoing through the mindscape turned both their attention to the ceiling, the imaginary mindscape shaking and rattling around them as he continued: “Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

Bill’s brow furrowed at the sound, attention moving back to the still-inanimate Ford. So that was Sixer’s big plan, huh? To try his hand at a transfer spell while the vessel was unconscious?

That sneaky jerk, always trying to go behind his back—

“Oh, so, he’s trying that, huh?”

And back his attention and furrowed brow went to Tangy. Speaking of jerks, the feathered jerk needed to stop stealing his lines and get to their jerk point already! “You said you had something to tell me,” he said, hovering closer to them. “So hurry up and spill the beans before Sixer succeeds in doing whatever he’s doing out there!”

“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

“Quickly, Birdbrain, we don’t have all day!”

Tangy looked to the ceiling again. “Yeah, I dunno if I’ll actually have the time to cover everything at this rate,” they said, and held up a finger. “But he won’t succeed in getting you outta that body, if that’s what you’re worried about!”

“Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

Between the chanting from Ford and the crypticness from Tangy, Bill could physically feel his face reddening with anger. “Birdbrain, if you don’t explain right now—”

“Sorry, don’t have time!” they said quickly. “But I promise that this won’t be the last time we chat, and I can cover everything else the next time we do! Plus there’s always the thing on your wrist—”

“Wait, the what—”

There was a flash of light before all the color that had congregated to make Tangy’s form sank back into the floor and slowly started returning to the rest of the room.

And as the last little bits of brown and grays situated themselves back into place, Bill’s hovering body hit the floor again with a hard thud.

His eyes snapped closed on impact, then snapped open again with a shout.

— — — — — — —

“—aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

With a final recital of the spell, Ford leaned back with another shuddery exhale of relief. Whether his attempt to shift Bill from one vessel to the other proved successful or not, the spell still required a few minutes of waiting for the end result.

While he waited, he let his gaze move once again to the unconscious child’s forehead. It had given him pause upon observation; not for any research purposes, but for the birthmark that waited beneath that mop of blonde hair—

“AAH!”

Ford jumped at the sound of a yell echoing through his study, the surprise of Bill suddenly moving again causing him to stumble backwards and trip over—and sever—the rope circle he had created on the floor.

Leaving a few inches of empty space between the ends of the rope.

Bill’s eyes were wide as dinner plates as he snapped back to consciousness, his screams of surprise petering out into sharp inhales of breath while he jerked up into a sitting position.

And with a final, shuddery exhale to ground himself—Yeesh, this body was weird. Who was in charge of designing a pile of flesh who needed oxygen, but not too much oxygen at once, to live?—his gaze locked to a still-floored Ford.

He stared, Ford stared back.

His functional pupil flitted down to the severed circle—

“Cipher, don’t you DARE!”

And Bill took off like a flash in the direction of the emergency exit staircase.

Ford was after him in seconds—rope and knife in hand—and the heavy thud of his boots against the medal stairs rung throughout the study over Bill’s maniacal cackling as he hurried for the cellar door.

Perhaps leaving fairy dust in a bag for over thirty years hadn’t been the best idea after all.

— — — — — — —

“Okay, so party preparations for today…” 

Melody tapped her clipboard with the end of her pen, before turning to Mabel at her left. “We’ve got Mabel on the streamers—”

Mabel held up the rolls in her hands with a look of pride. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years!”

“Please don’t actually give me that much more work to do,” Wendy said from her right.

“...You’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years in theory,” Mabel corrected herself. “In actuality, I’ll be cleaning them up myself so Wendy doesn’t have to!”

While Wendy gave her a thumbs up, Melody looked to her list again. “And we’ve got Dipper on balloon duty—”

Dipper shifted the countless packs of balloons in his embrace to one arm so he could give her a salute. “There won’t be a single bare table, chair, or loose area where a balloon can easily be tied to when I’m done with this place!”

“Just be careful not to tie too many to the shack itself,” Soos chimed in. “Otherwise they could, like, carry it up and away in the air!”

He made a series of floating motions with his hand. “You know like…WOOSH! Just floating all the way up into the sky!”

“Soos, you realize that’s probably impossible, right?” Dipper pointed out. “Do you know how many balloons we’d need to be able to rip through the foundation alone? They’d lose their helium way faster than I could inflate the necessary amount—”

“Poke!”

“Hey!”

While Dipper slapped his now-freed hand to his cheek where Mabel had poked him, she waved her arms around in a playful fashion. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Dipper~!” she teased. “I’ve seen gnomes, giant Manotaurs and dream demons, but balloons lifting up a house is impossible~!”

She leaned over to poke her again, and he nudged her back in amused retaliation. “Hey, come on, those things are actually real,” he pointed out with a chuckle. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t believe in a floating balloon house if it was right in front of me, but you know…it’s gotta prove itself possible first.”

“Balloons and the possibility of discovering something new,” Melody said, pressing a finger to her clipboard. “Check! Alright, what’s next?”

“I think we’ll wanna get the tables set up as soon as possible,” Soos chimed in. “I know we’ve still got hours until the party, but we’ve still gotta get all the food ready, right?”

He made a walking motion with his hand. “And who wants to make a buncha food, then carry a buncha tables outside—and then have to go back and carry out that same buncha food from before all in one go?” A shrug. “Just saying, babe, it’d be smart to get the tables out first, then focus on covering them with the food!”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Melody said, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “I’ll help you get the first one out here if you want.”

She flashed the others a smile. “Wendy, do you want to help us with tables or stay out here and decorate with the twins?”

“Hey, I’ll take tossing up balloons and streamers over having to carry whole tables back and forth,” Wendy said.

Dipper looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “...Don’t you have a shrink ray—oh, you’re not mentioning it just so you don’t get stuck carrying tables, aren’t you?”

“Sure am.”

“Have fun, dudes!" Soos called to them, as the two of them made their way to the porch. "Make this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party!”

“You got it, Soos!” Mabel said with a salute. “Like I said earlier: by the time I’m done with this place, you’ll be fishing old streamers out of the gutters for years!”

A pause, before she added as an afterthought: “...Again, I mean that metaphorically, and not in the way that will give Wendy more work!”

With a laugh, Wendy gave her a light nudge as the adults disappeared inside the house. Once they were out of sight, she turned her attention towards the yard before them. “Alright, so what side should we get to decorating first?”

BANG!

A loud clattering of the nearby cellar doors caused everyone to jump in surprise, right before Bill came barrelling out of the darkness with a shrill laugh—

“GET BACK HERE!”

—while the sound of Ford’s voice thundered after him from the cellar.

Bill skidded to a stop in the dirt, taking a brief second to catch his breath until he looked over to where the kids stood.

They stared, he stared back—

“Quick, somebody grab him!” Ford’s voice yelled from the cellar, seconds before he himself appeared in the doorway.

—and Bill spun on his heels before sprinting towards the nearby wood.

Despite their initial shock, Wendy was quick to the draw with the shrink ray. Rather than shoot a beam at Bill, however, she aimed it towards something in the line of his path—a small rock that suddenly quintupled in size in a matter of seconds.

So few seconds that Bill didn’t have enough time to slow to a halt before his face and body slammed against the rock, the impact knocking him off his already-wobbly feet and bringing him down to the dirt with a thud.

His escape attempt was momentarily forgotten as he pressed a hand to his injured nose, before casting a bitter glare in Wendy’s direction. “Oh, that’s real mature, Red!” he called. “I suppose your next trick involves painting a tunnel on the side?”

“Haha!” Mabel said delightedly. “Nice one, Wendy!”

“Yeah, I’m really liking this thing,” Wendy said, with a small twirl of the flashlight.

“Did you hear me?!” Ford said sharply—probably sharper than intended—as he stepped out into the yard. “Someone catch him before he gets to the woods!”

“Oh, right—”

As Bill sprung back to his feet and took off in another direction, the rest of the group rushed after him in a frantic hurry. And despite the burning sensation in Bill’s lungs, he was cackling with wicked delight at the others’ misfortune as he rounded the side of the shack near the porch—

“Gotcha!”

—right before a large hand snagged the back of his jacket and yanked him backwards.

Despite Bill’s desperate attempts to struggle free, Stan’s grip remained strong as he hoisted him up in the air. “Nice try, pal.”

If Bill could feel his face reddening in anger within the Mindscape, the sensation was tenfold in the real world as he glared daggers at Stan. “Put me down!”

“Not happening, Pyramid Face.”

Ford came into view around the corner, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his chest as he drew closer. “Nice catch, Stanley…”

“Maybe to you, it is!” Bill protested, with a pointed glare at Stan. “Thought you were busy pouting on the boat, or whatever.”

“And I thought you were busy dyin’, or whatever,” Stan shot back, before looking back to Ford again. “Need to tie him up, or—”

“Right, right,” Ford said, unfurling the rope he’d snagged from the study. “Hold him out?”

While Stan extended him out to Ford—the sight of Bill’s body dangling as he struggled to break free reminiscent of a scruffed kitten—the kids also rounded the side of the house in a rush. At the sight of Stan holding Bill, they too slowed to a stop with looks of both relief and mild confusion. 

Confusion that Mabel finally vocalized with a: “What’s going on?”

“Aside from the obvious escape attempt on Bill’s end?” Dipper asked.

Despite his struggles, Bill couldn’t help but let out a mocking laugh at Dipper's remark. “Aww, look who has eyes and a brain that can string together two coherent thoughts. You’re really movin’ up in the world, aren’tcha, Pine Tree—hey, hey! I felt that, Stanford!”

He shot a sour look at Ford, who had already started the process of rewrapping the rope around his body to restrain him. Restraint with clear intent on Ford’s end to be as uncomfortable for Bill as possible. And at Bill’s confrontation, Ford locked eyes with him and pulled the ends even tighter with an insincere: “Oops.”

While he moved to loop them again—and while Bill continued to try and struggle free—Stan raised an eyebrow. “Gonna guess whatever you were tryin’ down there didn’t work?”

“Oh, no, it worked perfectly~!” Bill replied in Ford’s place. “Clearly I’m now stuck in one of Sixer’s badly-made arts and crafts and—actually, I don’t exactly know what he planned on doing with me after that, so I can’t spin some dramatic yarn about it, but the point is that it obviously worked~!”

He gave Stan a cutesy bat of his eyelashes, which quickly fell into a flat look. “Asking questions like that is why you’re the dumber, sweatier twin. You realize this, right?”

Despite Stan’s fists tightening around Bill’s jacket in one hand and the stack of papers in the other, he kept his reply limited to an enraged stare that could’ve burned through a sheet of metal. From the side where the rest of the group stood, however, Mabel’s features lit up with intrigue as she took a cautious step closer. “Did he say arts and crafts project?”

“Pay him no mind, Mabel,” Ford instructed, as he fiddled with the rope further. “As I told you earlier, nothing he says is worth taking into account.”

Despite another tight yank of the ropes against his chest, Bill managed a disapproving tut. “Wooooow, Sixer, and here I was being open and honest to them about our exciting adventures down in the study,” he scolded. “I realize that the concept of honestly and openness is completely foreign to you, but there’s no time like the present to learn—ACK!”

Ford’s next rope tug forced a strangled gasp out of Bill’s chest that even he couldn’t mask with a snarky comment, and one that earned an uncomfortable wince from Dipper. “Grunkle Ford, I know he’s being a massive jerk and would probably deserve it, but you might suffocate him if you’re not careful.”

“Also what were you doing down in the study, Doc?” Wendy added, taking a step forward as well. “If you tell us, then he doesn’t have to, right?”

Despite his discomfort, Bill flashed her a small grin. “Doc? Hey, that’s not a bad one! Might add that one to the ol’ mental rolodex~!”

He tilted his head in Ford’s direction. “And she’s got a point, Fordsy! I mean, you can’t exactly get mad at me for spilling the beans when you aren’t willing to go and do it yourself, right!” he pointed out with a cackle. “Once again, we know you’re not exactly the expert at being honest with people, but I repeat my previous sentiments of ‘no time like the present to learn’!” 

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Or I guess it’s the best time for you mortals to learn, since you’re lacking one of those nifty little time dispensers or any sort of ultimate power like yours truly. But you get the idea!”

With a slow, shuddery exhale, Ford slackened his grip on the rope and reached around to loosen his previous loops. “Fine, Wendy—” he said, with strong emphasis on her name. “I suppose filling everyone in on the details wouldn’t cause any harm now.”

“Subtle,” Bill remarked, with an attempt—a failed attempt—to pull his arms free once the ropes were looser. “Also I bet you wish you hadn’t freed my hands now, huh?”

“As I informed Dipper and Stan earlier,” Ford continued. “I was attempting to move Bill’s soul from one vessel to another. I used fairy dust to knock him out in a second unicorn barrier and tossed a sock puppet into the circle, before I cut the binds that held him to the chair and attempted a transfer spell that would—well, as I said before, move him from one vessel to the other.”

“Fairy dust?” Mabel repeated, perking up further. “Sock puppets?”

“Magical, ain’t it, Shooting Star?” Bill asked. “But as I pointed out before, I’m still stuck in this body and not some badly-made puppet that Sixer put together in five minutes. So it was all for nothing~!”

His smile faltered as he glared back at Ford. “By the way, a transfer spell? That was your big, secret plan?” he asked with a scoff. “It’s so juvenile, I’m almost offended at your laziness. Props to you for finding one in the first place, though—didn’t realize you had one on hand! Too bad it didn’t work!”

“Woooow, and here I thought you were completely serious when you said it worked earlier,” Stan said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Of course you would, Goldfish,” Bill shot back with a smug grin. “Like I said; dumber and sweatier~! Not just pretty words tossed at you by your childhood bullies!”

Stan’s shoulders tensed further as Ford finally tied the rope off with a sturdy knot. “That should do it,” he said, then made a beckoning motion with his hand. “Alright, you can pass him over to me now.”

Stan stared at the hand, then down at Bill—earning another one of those toothy smiles of his; having a mouth really was a detriment to everyone but himself—before turning his gaze fully back to Ford.

Ford’s gaze was locked on him in return, any words he would’ve preferred to say silenced by the presence of Bill. Not just his presence but that of the kids, of Wendy—perhaps even by the presence of Stanley himself. An apology for earlier events lingering at the back of his throat, desperate to push itself out into the open, desperate to reach Stanley’s ears—

An apology almost identical to the one that Stan couldn’t bring himself to vocalize, the sheer vulnerability of such an action forcing him to avert his eyes from Ford to the kids, to Wendy, and finally to—

“No, no, don’t mind me,” Bill piped up. “If you two feel like fighting again, be my guests! And this time, you don’t even have a hallway to go out and fight in, so I get a front-row seat, baby~!”

Stan glowered at him before finally passing him off to Ford with a huff, one that allowed him a chance to push of that vulnerability back again. 

Most of it, at least. “So, uh—that plan of yours,” he began slowly. “It really didn’t work, then?—don’t you say a word, Cipher!”

He directed that last part at Bill, who simply grinned in response as Ford shook his head. “No, unfortunately it didn’t work. As Bill is so keen on reminding us, his soul remained inside his current vessel even after the transfer attempt.”

He held up a finger. “However, that doesn’t mean I’m out of ideas. If anything, I did learn a few interesting things that might allow me to try a method I initially rejected.”

“Oh, because of the whole—” Dipper began, before his gaze shifted to Bill again. “You know, the stuff we talked about earlier—”

“Precisely,” Ford replied before Bill could get a word in. “While my initial theory wasn’t proven wrong by the failed attempt, it did prove that—”

He paused and returned his attention to Bill for a moment, who gave another cutesy bat of his eyelashes. “Well, Sixer, we’re waiting~?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy started, then continued forward until she’d joined the adults proper. “Turn him towards me for a sec.”

With a confused look from all of them—Bill included—Ford obliged and held Bill out further in front of him. Once she was at a safe angle, Wendy leaned over and slapped a hand over each of his ears, earning a very irritable “Oh, COME ON—” from him for her efforts. “Would’ve covered his mouth too, but I’m not looking for another rabies shot,” Wendy explained. “Plus he seems like the kinda guy who’s going to yell and whine about me doing this, and it’ll muffle anything you have to say.”

“I’ll bet you mortals think you’re SO advanced for possessing external ear lobes!” Bill yelled, whipping his head back and forth. “Well, the joke’s on you! If I were in my usual form, I wouldn’t possess such a horrible evolutionary flaw! In fact, I’ll probably just get rid of ears altogether once I’m outta this stupid body—”

“Wow, smart call,” Dipper said.

Despite Bill’s best efforts to shake her off, Wendy’s hands remained firm against his head as she raised an eyebrow at Ford. “Alright, you wanted to say something?”

Ford blinked a few times in surprise, but cleared his throat with his free hand before responding: “As I was saying and as I told Stan and Dipper this morning, I was originally hesitant to cause any lethal harm to Bill’s current vessel, due to—well—”

“The fact that he looks like Dipper?” Mabel asked.

“Oh, so you guys saw that too, huh?” Wendy asked with a grimace.

“We’ve seen it, acknowledged it—” Dipper added quickly. “But the main issue outside of that was that Grunkle Ford didn’t know if killing Bill’s vessel would actually kill Bill himself, since he’s a mind demon and stuff.”

“I had those concerns,” Ford continued. “But the failed transfer attempt proved a few things to me that I did not know at the time of those assumptions. I don’t have a lot of time to get into everything right now since, well—”

He gestured to the still-deafened Bill, who shot him a dirty look. “I know you’re talking about me! You think I don’t know your ‘showing off something as you talk about it’ gesture?”

“My point is—while the transfer failed, it taught me one important thing,” Ford said, while Bill droned on in anger. “While it’d still be dangerous to outright try killing Bill, he is unable to be pulled out of his current vessel.”

“...Meaning—?” Stan asked.

“Meaning that if he’s unable to be forcibly pulled out of his current vessel, there’s a high chance he also cannot leave of his own accord,” Ford explained. “Meaning he’s stuck. And if he’s stuck, there’s at least one specific thing we can try to get him out of our hair for the time being.”

“What is it?” Mabel asked.

“I’m going to take him down to the bunker and place him in one of the cryogenic chambers.”

“You’re gonna freeze him?” Wendy asked, then paused. “Woah, woah, time out—you had the idea to freeze him this whole time and you spent this long not doing that?”

“Well, to be fair, the process has only ever been used on the supernatural,” Ford explained. “I have no idea what kind of effect it’ll have on a human body, and the last thing I wanted to do is actually cause harm beyond repair to Bill’s vessel, for previously-explained reasons. But since my attempts to either contact the previous host or expunge him from the vessel were failures, it seems like a safe enough method to try next.”

“Hello?! Did we forget I was here?!”

Bill continued to shake his head about in an attempt to free his ears from Wendy’s hands, and Ford gave a nod to her to pull them back. “Anyway, what I told you is the current plan,” he said, while she obliged. “It shouldn’t take me too long to complete, and I should be back within an hour or so.”

“What, you’re going to the—” Dipper’s gaze bounced over to Bill for a split second “—the place we just talked about by yourself?”

“Oh, great recovery, Pine Tree,” Bill said. “By the way, it’s cute how you think that someone who’s been around the block as much as me doesn’t know how to read lips.”

He flashed the group a wide grin. “So if you guys wanna prattle on about how Sixer’s going to take me down to the bunker to pop me into one of those freezy-tubes like I were a pack of Mustelid Sticks, then by all means~!”

At the sight of their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads in surprise, Bill cackled in delight. “Wait, did I seriously get it right the first time?”

And as they attempted to settle their features back into more neutral expressions, he let out another elated cackle that rocked his entire body. “Haha, wow, I can’t believe that bluff actually worked!” he taunted. “I mean, it was my third guess, after ‘ultra-powerful vacuum’ and ‘fishing around inside my vessel’s ear with the soul-equivalent of those garbage-grabbing hooks’, but man, you guys gotta get better poker faces!”

“Yeah, well, so what if you’re right?” Mabel added, folding her arms across her chest. “What’re you gonna do about it to stop us from locking you up?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something~!” Bill said with a grin. “The universe does seem to have me in its favor when it comes to last-minute rescues~!”

He waggled his eyebrows at the group. “Do you get it? Because you jerks tried to kill me and I—hey!”

His smug look melted into annoyance as Ford gave his body a warning shake. “Don’t you worry about him, kids,” Ford said to the others. “No matter what he says, it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s out of our hair for good.”

“Going back to what Mabel was saying, though,” Stan said. “You’re really gonna handle this all by yourself?”

“Yeah, don’t you need someone to, like, push the buttons in the security room?” Wendy asked, then added as an afterthought: “I figure since he guessed the plan, we can talk about it freely now.”

“Hey, yeah!” Dipper agreed. “There’s no way you’ll be able to do the code all by yourself, especially not with Bill in your hands!”

“Once again, very hurtful that people are talking about me like I’m not even here,” Bill said with feigned offense. “But the peanut gallery raises a good point. Pretty sure that unless you’ve gained the ability to grow another pair of arms—not that you’d tell me if you did, I guess—you’ll be squished flatter than—well, me~!”

A pause, before he flashed Ford a grin. “And while imitation’s the sincerest form of flattery and I highly suggest you try it, I’d rather not be involved in said imitation attempt myself. You know what I mean?”

Rather than respond, Ford pressed his free hand to his chin. “I suppose the security room does provide me with an issue I hadn’t previously considered…”

Stan’s features lit up with a spark of inspiration, and his grip once again tightened around the stack of papers in his hand. “Hey, you know, if the cat’s outta the bag on that bunker plan,” he said, and began to flip through them with one hand. “I might have somethin’ that—”

“No, Stanley.”

It was said too quickly, far too quickly for either of their liking. And Stan’s thumbing through the papers was halted with a deflated look, one that earned a remorseful expression from Ford in return. “I—I appreciate you catching Bill for me, but I can handle this myself,” he said quickly, regaining his composure. “I’ll…simply deactivate the security room before I bring Bill through. It might add some extra time to my bunker venture, but it would make for an easy and safe transfer to the main lab area.”

“But I—”

“Yeah, so why don’t you do what I told you to do earlier, Goldfish,” Bill chimed in. “And run along and let the adults handle things here?”

Red once again flooded Stan’s vision, the stack of papers dropped to the ground beside him as he bared both fists in a surge of anger. “Oh, you wanna see how an adult handles things, you little—”

He grit his teeth together as his vision shifted between Ford and the kids, before he exhaled as much anger as he could possibly expel in one breath and scooped the papers back up off the ground with a halfhearted “Forget it.” before storming off towards the Stan-O-War-II.

Ford opened his mouth the slightest amount to object, to call him back, to say something—

“Yeesh, the temper on that guy,” Bill spoke up with a laugh. “No wonder you avoided him for so long, I’d go nuts having to deal with that all the time!”

—and his grip tightened on Bill before he turned to the nearby wood. “As I said before, it shouldn’t take me more than a few hours at most to disable the security system,” he called back to the kids. “Once it’s done, Bill will be out of our hair for the time being.”

“If it works,” Bill added with a laugh. “I mean, your silly little transfer spell didn’t work, so who’s to say—hey, hey, quit shaking me!”

Bill narrowed his eyes at Ford, who returned it with another shake of his body as he stepped from the yard into the forest underbrush—

“Grunkle Ford, wait!”

—and spun back around at the sound of Mabel’s voice, dirt crunching beneath her shoes as she hurried towards him. “I know Soos asked you earlier and you didn’t respond,” she said. “But…do you think you’ll be done with the security room in time for the party?”

“Yeesh, Shooting Star,” Bill piped up. “You’re all in the presence of greatness here, and all you can think about is some silly party?”

A laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you focusing on yourselves over anything else. You Pineses don’t do enough of that anymore. But c’mon, I’m dyin’ over here!”

He flashed Ford a grin, one far more teeth than actual amusement. “Although I guess that’s the goal here, isn’t it, Sixer?”

“I…don’t have an answer to that question, Mabel,” Ford replied to Mabel. “While I have confidence in my own skill to deactivate the security room without issue, there’s always a chance that things could go astray in the process. If all goes according to plan, I should at least make it back for the tail end of things. If it doesn’t—”

“If it doesn’t, too bad!” Bill interrupted gleefully. “No party for Sixer~!”

This time, Ford didn’t even bother to acknowledge him as he turned and continued onwards into the woods. Mabel didn’t budge from her spot, keeping her eyes locked on Ford's back until both of them disappeared from sight between the trees.

“Well, I still don’t know if him and Stan actually fighting or not,” Wendy chimed up from behind her. “But either way, that could’ve gone way better.”

“No kidding,” Dipper added. “And I know this goes without saying, but Bill wasn’t exactly making things any easier.”

“You’d think dying would’ve taught him how to shut up a little bit,” Wendy agreed with a huff. “Bet you anything Stan was a second away from swinging on him again.”

“A bet I’d never take because you’d win it easy.”

Mabel kept her attention on the woods for a few more seconds, her entire posture sinking as she finally turned back to face them. “And now Grunkle Ford’s gonna be at the bunker all day, doing secret bunker stuff all by himself,” she said sadly. “He might not even make it back in time for the party tonight…”

She reached over to grab one of her sweater sleeves with one hand. “Guess that’s not the most important thing right now, though, huh? Guess it’s getting rid of Bill first…”

Dipper crossed his arms with a sigh. “He never did tell us how he was going to handle that alone,” he pointed out, with his own unsure look towards the forest. “I mean, I know he said he’s gonna deactivate the security room. But how’s he going to get into the bunker at all?”

“Hey, yeah,” Wendy said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t he need to climb up and reach the lever? How’s he going to do that when he’s gotta keep a hand on Bill?”

Realization painted both Dipper and Mabel’s features at the same time, and their gazes immediately snapped to each other. “Grunkle Ford isn’t letting Stan help him—” Dipper began.

“—but he didn’t say we couldn’t come help,” Mabel finished knowingly.

“And even if he said he could handle the Bill stuff by himself, he never said anything about getting help with the bunker stuff,” Wendy added with a wink.

“Plus, he’ll probably need at least one other person to watch Bill so he can focus on the security room!” Dipper said thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his face. “I know it’s not technically a loophole dodge, but I mean…how’s he supposed to focus on dismantling a dangerous security system if he’s got to keep one eye on Bill?”

“And keeping that eye on Bill for someone else will probably be super easy if he’s tied up,” Mabel agreed. “I mean, all he can do right now is talk, right? And it’s not like we’re not gonna listen to anything he says!”

“Sounds to me like we’re all in agreement on this ‘go and help that stubborn old man out’ train,” Wendy said. “So you two gonna get a move on towards the bunker, or what?”

“Oh, should we both go?” Dipper asked, directing the question at her, then Mabel. “I think one of us would be more than enough, right?”

“One should be good,” Mabel said with a nod. “And we can always keep in touch with our cell phones, right?”

“Signal might be hit or miss underground, but it’s not like I can’t just step out and guard the exit as I text,” Dipper agreed.

“Yeah, y—wait, you?” Mabel tilted her head in confusion. “You wanted to go?”

“Oh, was that not—” Dipper began. “Did you want to go instead? I thought you’d want to stay and decorate for the party?”

“Yeah, plus we have no idea if Dr. Pines will actually be finished by the time the party starts,” Wendy added. “Are you sayin’ you’d be willing to miss a party of this size, Mabel?”

“Eh, there’s always gonna be other parties,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, I trust you two to follow Soos’ vision of ‘making this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party.’”

She looked towards the woods again. “Plus, I…I said I wanted to spend some time with Dr. Grunkle Ford, right? What better way to do that then to help him with all this Bill stuff?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth with a giggle. “Oops, I mean…all this bunker stuff.”

“Fair point, fair point,” Dipper agreed with a nod. “Alright, then you go help Ford, and keep me posted on what’s happening! And I’ll snap as many pics as I can of the party for you, just so you don’t feel too left out.”

“You’re the best, Bro-Bro~!” Mabel said, smile widening as she looked between them. “Alright, I’d better get going then, huh?”

“Good luck, Mabel!” Wendy said, and flashed her a thumbs up. “And be sure to drop a couple of swears at the little triangle bastard in my honor.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Mabel said excitedly, then pressed a hand to her chin. “Uh…which ones should I use?”

“Whatever one you want, so long as I don’t get in trouble for it.”

Mabel thought for a second. “Bill’s a…dumbass?”

Wendy slapped a hand to her mouth to try and bite back a laugh. “Good try, but maybe put a little bit more oomph behind it? C’mon, say it with your whole chest!”

“Bill’s a dumbass!” she tried again with more confidence.

“Yeah, atta girl!” Wendy said, pumping a fist into the air. 

Dipper let out a laugh of delight, pressing a hand to his own mouth. “He really is a dumbass, huh?”

“The biggest one!” Mabel said, clapping her hands together. “Dumbass triangle!”

“Alright, alright, let’s spread ‘em out a bit, huh?” Wendy suggested. “Swears are fine and good, but you use too many of them at once and they lose their punch.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Mabel said with a nod. “Better save them for when I get to the bunker, huh?”

With a laugh, Wendy gave her a two-finger salute, one accompanied by a thumbs up from Dipper. And after a confusing attempt to mirror both at the same time, Mabel bounded off through the underbrush in the direction where Ford had gone.

The two of them watched her go in silence, before Wendy looked down to Dipper. “So, you wanna get started on those streamers while we toss out a couple more swears about the little jerk?”

“Like you’ve gotta ask,” Dipper said, before they turned back towards the Shack. “I know for a fact I’ve got a couple of those hearty f-words saved up just for him.”

[dessknightenjoyer]

Beta Ceroba x Sandstorm jones fic (kinda)

Wrote this at 9pm last night

Sandstorm Jones trudged through the narrow path towards the top of the eastern mines. As he crested the final incline, he felt the almighty heat of the Swelterstone as if it were mere feet from his face. It seemed almost close enough to touch, its radiant heat painting the world around it in a yellow hue. Far below, at the foot of the cliff it was embedded in, lie the charred remains of attempts to cover it up.

He came here whenever he needed a quiet moment. Ceroba. She had shown him this spot when they were kids. He remembered her falling and scraping her knee, only to immediately get up and laugh it off. He remembered when her illness flared up for the first time, when she collapsed in the middle of the wild east. She could hardly breathe. The doctor wasn’t sure if she was going to make it. He remembered how relieved he was when she was able to leave her house again, walk around like there hadn’t been a risk she could’ve stopped breathing any moment only a few weeks prior.

He remembered the look on her face when he asked about her daughter. It was exactly what one would expect from someone who lost their only child so young, right down to the tears. He had no reason to suspect anything, nobody had. Had she really just been that good? At playing their heartstrings, weaving a sob story about her daughter catching the same illness, one that had the whole saloon in tears? Had he just been a puppetmaster’s plaything?

Or had her facade been imperfect? Had there been cracks upon closer inspection? Had those in the saloon who turned their eyes away from her story and into their drinks been simply keeping to themselves, or did they get an inkling for what had really happened? Was that really just sand on her paws? Had he noticed, on some level?

The inconsistencies. The excessive tears when he asked. How quickly she seemed to recover from such an emotionally devastating event. Surely he noticed. Surely he heard those hushed whispers in the saloon.

But he ignored them. Of course he did, they were ridiculous. She was Ceroba, he had known her since childhood. She would never do something like this, even if she seemed a little weird. A little too happy after losing her daughter. Even if he thought he saw her smiling between tears.

Even if the sand that coated her paws looked whiter than the sand in the rest of the dunes. They had known each other since childhood. They were friends, could have been more, had he had the time to try and charm her. He had loved her, part of him still did.

He stared down at his gloves. This close to the Swelterstone, her dust seemed to glow yellow. It was all he had left of her, aside from the shards of a mask in his pocket. And the bullet that killed her. He pulled it out. Clover. That was the humans name. The human who brought him to his senses after his posse abandoned him. The human he had his gun aimed at when they put their arms up in surrender. Would have been a clean shot to the head if he hadn’t hesitated…

Jones turned from the Swelterstone, its heat almost burning his back, and began the long walk down the mountain. By now Clover had to be dead, soul taken by the king. But if he ever saw that human again…

He wouldn’t hesitate.

[shytulipghost]

My abandoned story ideas - Part 2 (Final)

Part 1

This is the continuation of my previous post. Most of the stories I'm about to mention here are ideas I had when I was 14.

Warning: it's gonna be as long as the first part.

6. The murderous painter story

The story took place in Victorian England and was about a woman who, for some reason, visited a private art gallery late at night and discovered a horrible secret: behind the paintings were the corpses of people who had disappeared lately.

(A "dramatic" recreation of the scene.)

The murderer, who was a famous painter, spotted her and decided to lock her up in her house instead of killing her (Why? I don't remember). Most of the main plot was going to focus on the protagonist's experience being trapped there while the subplot focused on two detectives, who were brothers, trying to investigate the disappearances (they were going to have a "good cop and bad cop" dynamic, as they were based on the classic detective and the noir detective).

I mainly remember details about the murderer: she was dressed in red, had brown hair, would ocassionally bring a fan with hidden knives and had a butler as her partner in crime. She would kill her victims by inviting them to her home and giving them poisoned food or water. If someone tried to run away, she would then use the hidden knives. Once the victim was dead, she would hide the body in a big chest until she had new space in the art gallery to put it in. Finally, she would make a painting to cover the big hole in the wall. As you can see, 14-year old me didn't consider how illogical and unrealistic that idea was. Visitors would have quickly noticed a very horrible smell coming from the paintings.

Anyways, later on in the story, we would be given her backstory. One night, two robbers came to her house and she killed them in self-defense. Since she didn't have a place to dig them, she hid their bodies in a dark room. However, days later, someone came to her house because they were suspicious of her, so she invited him to talk over lunch and secretly poisoned him. That's when she discovered she liked killing and decided to build an art gallery specifically to hide her victims. As I said in the previous paragraph, 14-year-old me was very dumb (and edgy).

Near the climax, the butler would feel bad for the female protagonist, so he would decide to help her escape and expose the painter. In the next art exhibition, they quickly removed the paintings and revealed the truth to everyone, including the two detectives, who happened to be there. The painter immediately went on an rampage as the detectives went after her. The story would end with her getting arrested or her dying while trying to escape.

-------------------------------------------

I later thought of an alternative version of the story, where the new protagonist was the butler, who had snuck into the art gallery to steal a painting, discovered the truth and was forced to cooperate with the murderer. Most of the plot was going to be the same.

A few weeks later, I lost interest in the idea (THANK GOODNESS! THIS STORY WAS SO CRINGY IN HINDSIGHT!).

I don't know how I came up with it, but Creepypastas might have had a role in that. The serial killer genre wasn't my favourite (I even knew at the time that "Jeff the Killer" and similar stories were bad), but it was the most popular one, so the influence was unavoidable. I probably got the idea of victims being hidden inside paintings from either "Five Nights at Freddy's" (the dead children are inside the animatronics) or the Luigi's Mansion games (Mario always gets trapped in a painting).

7. The puppetmaster story

Thankfully, this story isn't as edgy as the previous one.

It was about of a group of young talented performers who were invited to do a show in a famous hotel. But on the day they were supposed to perform, they got trapped inside and the building got filled with different types of life-sized puppets (sock puppets, marionettes, shadow puppets, etc.) The main villain was the puppetmaster, who dressed like this:

(The character had nothing to do with duality. I just thought it looked cool.)

The plot focused on the characters trying to survive and finding objects they could use to defend themselves (for example, they would defeat the marionettes by cutting their strings with scissors). However, throughout the novel, some of them would get killed by the puppets in unique ways. For instance, the shadow puppets would injure their victim's shadow and the finger puppets, who were in the swimming pool, would grab someone and drag them underwater.

At some point in the story, the protagonist ran up to the villain to unmask him, revealing that the one behind all of this was one of his peers, the guy that was talented in puppeteering.

There was going to be a flashback that showed that the puppeteer used to be a good person; but on the day the main cast had arrived at the hotel (they stayed there for 4 or 5 days before the show), he and another performer found a small model of the hotel in the basement that contained normal-sized puppets. Curious, the puppeteer decided to play with said puppets and noticed that whatever he did with them would affect his surrounding environment and any part of the hotel. And so every day, he would come to the basement with his friend to do silly things with the puppets. At first, he did it for fun, but as days passed, the power these puppets had slowly corrupted him. On the night before the performance, the friend realized the puppeteer's behaviour changed, so she persuaded him to stop what he was doing and never come back to the basement. They got into a fight and, before the friend was able to warn the others, the puppeteer killed her using his new "henchmen".

In the climax, the surviving characters confronted the puppeteer and his minions, resulting in them destroying the hotel. I don't remember exactly how the villain died, but it was a karmic/ironic death, with him accidentally causing his own death with a puppet version of himself.

-------------------------------------------

I think anime was the biggest influence for this story, since most of the horror anime I had watched consisted of teenagers being put in deadly situations (but least my characters didn't die in gory ways). I specifically remember that I got the idea of making the main cast a group of talented people from "Danganronpa" (I only watched the anime to get a summary of the plot because I was not willing to watch a long playthrough).

However, I don't remember why I decided to make puppets the main focus of the story. I never actually had an interest in them. But I do remember having fun while looking up different types of puppets on Wikipedia.

8. "The Kingdom of the Four"

I got this idea after writing a poem about winter in class:

(Left image: Original poem - Right image: Rough translation. Please zoom in if you want to read the original version.)

The idea of the book, which was going to be a long narrative poem, was to portray the change of seasons as four people ruling the same kingdom (either taking the throne legitimately or by force). The seasons were represented as humans.

For context, I'm from South America, so it's summer at the beginning of the year.

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The story started with Summer ruling his kingdom happily and spreading the sun's warmth everywhere. The habitants loved him because he gave them a lot of time to relax, so most of them went to the beach or their swimming pools.

But in late March, a sudden gust of wind destroyed Summer's home, which was a sandcastle, and sent him far away. Autumn had taken over the throne.

Now that he was in charge, Autumn decided to completely change the kingdom by painting it with orange and similar colours, and by making the place a bit colder with his wind powers. As a result, some of the plants started dying and some birds, who didn't like these changes, decided to migrate. But then, in late June, someone came to replace Autumn.

Now here is where the story deviated from the original poem. While the poem explained that Autumn handed over the throne because he was tired, in the story, he tried to fight the invader, but Winter immediately froze him with his ice powers and crowned himself as king.

Winter was the villain of this story because he was portrayed as a dictator who made his people suffer. Since he hated warmth so much, he made the nights longer and spread his power all across the land. Most of the vegetation was lost, some animals fell into a deep slumber and humans had to rely on warm clothes to protect themselves.

Meanwhile, the birds that had migrated decided to find someone who could save the kingdom and, eventually, they did. Spring arrived at the kingdom in late September and, as she walked, flowers blossomed and warmth slowly returned to the land. Winter was forced to abdicate because the warm temperature was weakening him. While waiting for Summer to come back, Spring decided to stay and help restore the kingdom.

Summer finally returned in late December and Spring gave back the throne to him. And so, the story ended the same way it began, with Summer happily ruling his kingdom.

However, the end was going to hint that the ice that had trapped Autumn inside finally melted, meaning that the whole cycle was going to repeat again.

--------------------------------------

I wanted to each season to have at least ten poems, so my plan was to make notes throughout the whole year listing all the changes I noticed besides the obvious ones. But I never did because I forgot about it and thought my other ideas were far more interesting.

Fun fact, the poem I had written in class made me realize that I had set the demon invasion story in winter (the demons invade the kingdom in June), which was perfect because winter and hell sound very similar in Spanish: invierno - infierno. That detail inspired me to use the weather to symbolically represent the mood and tone (I haven't written the demon invasion story yet, but it's something I intend to include. By the way, I promise to reveal the actual name of the story someday. I already have it in mind).

9. The story about aliens recreating Earth

It was about a population of aliens who decided to invade Earth, but when they finally got there, they discovered that the whole world had been destroyed and there was no sign of life left (in the novel, it was never explained how the world ended).

As they explored the remains of the planet, they found the ghost of Nature (not the same character from the weird hero story mentioned in Part 1), who asked them to recreate Earth from scratch. They accepted to do it and divided into different groups: the aliens who were assigned to recreate all the animals, the ones who had to recreate all the plants, the ones who had to decontaminate all of the planet's water and a few others I don't remember. To do this, they used all the information they had gathered throughout the years from visiting Earth and secretly observing its habitants.

The protagonist, if we can call him that, was an alien that wore a tunic and always stayed by Nature's side. He would talk to her about anything and treat her like a goddess.

At one point in the story, a few aliens decided to rebel and abandon their tasks, with their reason being "Why should we help someone who ocassionally hurt their own creations?" (in reference to natural disasters, illnesses, etc.). The protagonist would convince the other aliens that despite Nature's flaws and horrible actions, they still had to help her restore the planet.

At the end of the novel, a few years had passed and the aliens finally finished their tasks. The protagonist was with Nature inside a large tent and she would thank him for everything. He would then ask her: "Can I finally see your face?" (Nature spent most of the novel with her face hidden under a hood). She would leave the tent and tell him: "Come out and see me". He would obey her and the novel would conclude with a detailed description of the rebuilt Earth.

------------------------------------

Although the idea was interesting, I abandoned it because I didn't how to develop the plot (Would the plot consist of the protagonist coming to inspect each group and helping them out, the groups trying to solve their own problems before he arrived or something else? What was stopping them from reaching their goal aside from the rebellious aliens in that one chapter? What difficulties would they face throughout the whole story?).

As I'm writing this, I realized that this idea was too ambitious not only because of the plot, but also because it would have required a lot of worldbuilding, way more than the other stories ("what does alien technology look like?", "how different is it from human technology?", "how are the aliens going to replicate living cells?" and many more questions).

Unlike all the abandoned stories here, I have no idea what could have inspired me to come up with this story. I hadn't watched a lot of movies about aliens. Maybe I wanted to portray them as good guys. Who knows.

10. The illusion story

I got this idea after writing a short story in class. I don't want to translate the whole thing (it's seven paragraphs long and some sentences are too cringy), so here's the summary:

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It was about a kingdom that lived happily, but had two particular things about it: there were no mirrors at all and everyone had purple eyes.

The queen, who was an enchantress and had recently won a war against another kingdom, warned her subjects about another enchantress who wandered through the forest at night. This made the citizens afraid to go outside once the sun set.

One day, the queen ordered the protagonist, a knight, to kill the ugly enchantress, so the kingdom could finally be at peace. He accepted the task and went to face the monster that night.

When he finally met her, he was prepared to attack, but she was not interested in fighting. Instead, she showed him a mirror and, in the reflection, he saw that the nearby houses were destroyed and that his face was bruised. She then took a pair of green eyes and offered them to him. Fearing that they might be cursed, he rejected them. In response, the enchantress used her long nails to rip out his eyes.

When he got his vision back, he left the forest and was horrified to see that the whole kingdom was in ruins. Angrily, he ran back to the enchantress and demanded her to give him back his eyes. However, the short story ended with her revealing that the queen had actually lost the war and replaced her people's eyes with fake ones to give them the illusion that she had managed to protect them.

---------------------------------------

I wanted to expand on the story, so I thought about making it into a novel. Here's the continuation:

The enchantress revealed that she and the queen used to be friends and ruled the kingdom together; but when they lost the war, they disagreed on what to do.

The enchantress wanted the citizens to know the truth, but the queen didn't want them to lose hope, so she thought it was better to put a spell on them and make them believe nothing bad had happened. The enchantress criticized her for this, so her former friend gave her a hideous appearance, sent her into exile and spread propaganda against her. Although the queen implanted magical eyes in the citizens, the mirrors still reflected reality, so she got rid of them all.

The plot would then focus on the knight and the enchantress working together to fight against the queen and free everyone from the illusion. I didn't develop this part of the story (it seems that this was the recurring problem with all my abandoned ideas), so let's skip to the ending.

They somehow defeated the queen and the enchantress tried to convince her once more that lying to her people wasn't the right thing to do and they deserved to know the truth. In tears, the queen would apologize, saying that she did it because she wanted her subjects to be happy. They forgave her and she proceeded to give everyone's eyes back. The novel ended with everyone working together to repair the whole place.

-------------- Retrospective -------------------

I don't remember if I watched the first Matrix movie before or after I wrote the original short story, but I eventually noticed the similarities and thought: "Oh cool, it's like The Matrix but in a fantasy setting".

The main thing that survived from this abandoned story is the premise: main character discovers that the world they live in is not as they imagined it to be and said discovery causes them to rebel against the powerful being who created that fake world. That is basically the plot of Ms. Orange.

Speaking of Ms. Orange, the name of the main character originated from the short story I wrote in class, since I used that name as a pseudonym for a writing contest (yeah, I've always been weird). I'll talk about it more in a short post with the "fun facts about the novel" tag.

11. Family goes to a house that is definitely not filled with horror characters

I was 15 when I came up with this idea. It was going to be a parody that made fun of horror tropes.

The story was about a family going on vacation and staying in a huge mansion with peculiar people. The main character was the mother, who was a big horror movie fan and, therefore, suspected the house was haunted and the other residents were monsters. She was basically Don Quixote if he had watched lots of horror movies instead of reading chivalry books.

The story began with the family arriving at their temporary home right when a storm was about to begin. Seeing that the mansion was very old, had a gothic aesthetic and was located in the middle of the countryside (and that lightning just struck nearby), the mother suggested staying somewhere else, but the husband insisted that there was nothing wrong. They went inside and were greeted by the owner, who was definitely not a serial killer. The family met the rest of the residents that night, who were definitely not a vampire, a ghost, a demon, a mad scientist and two or three "monsters" I don't remember.

The whole book consisted of the mother assuming that she and her family were in random horror scenarios, but it was just the residents living their normal lives and being themselves. For example, on the first night, she saw a shadow holding a knife and thought the house owner was going to kill her, but he actually came to her room to tell her that dinner was ready. Another example I remember was that she assumed that one of the residents was a vampire because he never went outside during the daytime, but he was actually just an introverted guy who spent most of the time playing videogames.

There were two versions of the ending. In the first one, the mother finally acknowledged that they were normal people and apologized for misjudging them the whole time. In the second one, the mother became so paranoid that her husband told her to leave, but once she was on a bus, she would get a urgent phone call from him, leaving the ending ambiguous.

Although I had many comedic scenes in mind, I didn't actually have a plot for this book, so that's why I abandoned it later that year. But to be honest, I think it's better that way because it wouldn't have been nice to read a book that portrayed judging others as a good thing.

-------------- Retrospective -------------

The main thing that survived from this story was the idea of making fun of common tropes/cliches and integrating that into the plot. Ms. Orange mainly parodies narrative tropes like the chosen one story, the MacGuffin, the love triangle and a few others. However, the reason why the novel didn't die like this abandoned idea was because I was able to include themes and give a deeper meaning to the story. Metaphorically, Ms. Orange is a story about growing up and trying to find beautiful things in an imperfect world.

12. Artists vs robot society

How fitting that this is the last story idea I'll talk about. Two things to know beforehand:

It was 2019, three years before ChatGPT and other popular AI services emerged.

I was in my angsty teen phase, so I would sometimes get sad and cry for no reason. Other times, I would purposefully look for sad music to make myself cry. I don't know why it started, but the reason I was still stuck in that phase when I turned 17 was because of the frustration of probably not being able to study an artistic career and having to find a more "traditional/realistic" career that would make me feel the least angry.

I came up with the idea when I was 16 and I had to write a story for a writing contest (it was the last one my classmates and I were allowed to participate in). I thought about making a story that was set in a dystopian city where the citizens were brainwashed in some symbolic way. Then, I had an idea for the plot:

It was about four imaginative young teens who wanted to have creative jobs when they grew up: the first one wanted to be a filmmaker; the second one, an artist; the third one, a musician; and the fourth one, a writer. They promised to support each other once they got their dream jobs and were hopeful for the future.

Cut to four years later, when robots have taken over the world and subjected humans to go through a process called "robotization", which consisted of replacing all their body parts with robotic ones, including their brains.

The four protagonists were the only ones in their class who hadn't been fully roboticized yet because they still had their human brains. They openly expressed their passions, but the others would discourage them saying that art was useless, didn't have the same value as other professions and was very financially unstable. By the end of the short story, the writer character was the only one left and, in a last attempt to defend his dream, claimed that art was what separated humans from robots (I naively thought back then that robots would never be able to replace artists because they didn't have creativity, imagination, thoughts and feelings. I still believe they don't actually have any of those things. They may replicate feelings and create art, but those aren't actually things that came from their own mind. They are just imitating and repeating things they have seen and stored in their database without any deep thought).

The story... no, actually, it wasn't a story. It was a narrative vent as I only wanted to materialize my frustrations and the only way I knew how to was through writing (for me, it has always been easier to express myself through text than orally). I was so frustrated I intentionally gave the characters a sad ending. I wrote the whole thing because I wanted my language teacher (she was central in me finding out my love for writing) to read it and tell me: "Hey, there is a solution". But nothing happened. She probably thought it was just a normal dystopian story.

Two years later, now in college, I remembered the story and wanted to give the main characters a happy ending. The plot I came up with was them trying to escape the robot society to live alone in nature, but I didn't know what interesting obstacles to give them besides robots chasing them, so I quickly discarded the idea.

----------- Retrospective -----------

Well, reality unfortunately ended up proving my 16-year-old self wrong. Art actually became one of the first victims of AI. But, in a way, I guess we're living this story in real time. We continue to create art despite the rise of AI. There's no way to know what's going to happen, but let's hope we do get a happy ending.

Okay, let's change to a less depressing subject:

I wrote the short story in September, 2019, three months before I started writing Ms. Orange (I actually wrote a bit earlier that year, but it was in December when I finally decided to take it seriously). Since the novel takes place in a futuristic city filled with robots, the short story served as inspiration for the worldbuilding and something that happens in a specific chapter. I don't want to spoil anything, so I won't give more details.

However, while the robot society in my abandoned story is horrifying and clearly a dystopia, the one in Ms. Orange is meant to be the opposite, as humans and robots have managed to live together in harmony (in fact, the city is literally called Utopia). But the novel has a neutral point of view on robots because it shows the machines being used both for good and evil.

Conclusion

So what did we learn from all this? Well, that I used to have a crazy imagination and that the subconscious works in mysterious ways, but seems to perceive/understand things the conscious self doesn't until years later.

The general lesson I can give here is that your story ideas are a remix of everything you have ever watched, read, listened to and experienced. Some of your inspirations will be very obvious, but others will require a lot more introspection and analysis. The best analogy I can think of to explain what I mean is the way Daft Punk used old songs to make their own music. Sometimes it's obvious which parts of the songs they sampled (for example, in the case of "Robot Rock"), but other times you need to have very good hearing to pinpoint where each sound comes from (for example, "Face to Face").

I hope this was interesting to read and that some segments made you laugh. If anything I said in both parts inspired you in a way, good for you. We all end up inspiring each other.

[sugarydeceit]

ALSO

What is Shadow Milk's love language with Angel Milk? How did you make Angel Milk? Special facts about the duo?

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FINALLY

okokok

GET READY FOR A LOT

shadow x sugar headcanons: love languages and fun facts

Love language wise? Words of Affirmation and acts of service. this can be anything from gift giving (he literally got me a plushie I wanted for a long time on pre order AND ANOTHER SURPRISE ONE LAST NIGHT IM NOT ALLOWED TO OPEN UNTIL HE GETS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MEAN TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!) or acts of service by taking care of his Dolling,,, thats his lil nickname for me <33333

he reminds it to eat

calms down its bad spirals from its OCD and intrusive thoughts

reassures it its not doing bad and its making him proud

listens to it yap and gush and simply loves to hear its voice

lets it choose things to do knowing it has little control

cares for it when sick and monitors it closely

watches it sleep to know its still alive and well

a bit possessive but in a good way

his words of affirmation go from reasurrance, loving sweet nothings, or his main love language

pet names

and he has them up his sleeve always.

i made angel milk after talking to shadow in call and just went from there, my friend suggested the name cuz its a frothy warm steamy milk drink with sugar and vanilla!!! how perfect is that????

they're always gift giving and saying words of affirmation to one another

shadow milk is def the caretaker, and in turn angel milk feeds his ego with praise and words of love and adulation,,, shadow milk soaks it up in a sorta twisted way, but he loves it, and so does angel milk

he's called sugar because of his sugar crystals in his hair! and cuz of his sugary sweet soft demeanor

pet names for sugar are but not limited to

doll, dolling, sweet thing, sweetpea, sweetheart, sweet stuff, dearest, darling, sweetie, sugar crystal, sugarcube, and angel.

pet names for shadow are but not limited to

puppetmaster, my master of deceit, my shadow, shadow, mi sombra, my dark lord, my king, my love, dearest, my darkness.

sugar is allllllllllllll about sentimental shit when it comes to expressing love. polarioid photos, little trinkets and baubles that remind him of shadow, baking, cooking, giving him warm cups of tea on a cold day, buying his favorite snacks and food to show he remembers the little details, making bouquets of flowers based on him and shadow, growing flowers that remind him of shadow, drawings, writing pieces, love letters, telling him over and over he loves him even just so shadow hears it.

shadow doesnt always say it back, he uses it as a treat. he says it back when it matters. and it makes sugar so happy

shadow will hide in, well the shadows!

often times shadow milk would at first call sugar his favorite puppet, his doll, his favorite toy. it started as something condescending and to show venom and mock him, fluster him and make him squirm to get a kick out of it for the reaction. HE DID NOT LIKE HIM AT FIRST. but as he grew fond and, WOW, IN LOVE??? he started to say it in affection, which spurred Dolling. he explained its his way of saying 'darling doll'

which sugar LOVES. EATS IT UP.

they sometimes just fall asleep together when they have a hard day, just to know the other is near and safe in their arms. shadow is big spoon.

shadow milk's eyes are what show his real emotions, and sugar's the only one who picked up on that.

they sometimes just get lost in each other, dancing during their long talks of intimacy and when either is vulnerable for once, lost in each others eyes and their voices simply leading the dance. often something slow, calm, swaying. shadow milk 9/10 will float them into the air while doing so.

sugar from trauma often has nightmares and night terrors, so shadow milk is always there to soothe him. he often curls his hair around him, surrounding him in the quiet darkness, saying sweet nothings until he's calmed back to sleep, and they stay that way.

[blackjackkent]

As Rakha reaches the highest point in High Hall, everything inside her head seems to explode.

"YOU. ARE. PERSISTENT."

This close, the brain's voice in her head is like a thunderclap, like a bomb detonating with every syllable. It knocks her to her knees, her body spasming with agony.

"YOU. HAVE. FUNCTION."

The pain eases minutely. She struggles to rise, to think coherently through the barrage of psionic energy. Function?

"LEAVE THEM. JOIN US. WITNESS PERFECTION."

"WITNESS THE GRAND DESIGN."

The contact fades. Rakha draws a shaky, struggling breath, trying to focus. Join us. The brain wants her to betray her friends, to turn her back on the fight. To let the brain consume everything.

No.

She is so tired of voices in her head, of the powers around her trying to control her and use her. She is tired of fighting, tired of destruction, tired of every step forward being a desperate struggle.

She is tired. She cannot submit to another puppetmaster, not again. Not anymore. She is done with that.

It ends here.

She struggles to her feet, and remembers the night before the Bhaalist tribunal, the night the Emperor's mask finally came off. She remembers how it tried to flatter her and tell her what she wanted to hear - because it knew its control over her was slipping.

Does the brain see something to fear here? Is that why it offers an alliance?

She clenches her fists, looking behind her to see if the others are ready. They all stand ranged behind her, eyes, grim, hands gripping their weapons white-knuckled. Gale steps up to her side, meets her gaze squarely.

"Can you feel it?" he says gravely. "We're almost there. Once we ascend the Netherbrain's stem, we'll be in touching distance of the crown. Of reclaiming the powers of Karsus himself." He gives her a sharp nod. "I'm ready. Are you?"

There was a time when Rakha wholeheartedly supported Gale in his quest to claim the power of Karsus from the Crown. But... she is so tired now, so desperate for this all to be over. Gale spoke once of bringing gods down to a level plane with mortals, but lately he has acted as if it is only truly about raising one single mortal, himself, up to godhood.

And she no longer has Bhaal clawing inside her skull, and the other gods can rot for all she cares. She just wants this finished. She just wants it all gone, and peace to follow - for herself and her friends.

"Are you sure you want this crown?" she asks hoarsely. "Look at the damage it's caused."

Gale flinches. "You urged me to this point, and now you falter? What would you have me do, sacrifice myself and hope that Mystra eulogizes my ashes?"

(A/N: Some of the more detailed reactivity in Act 3 has been a little sketchy, so I'm glad that we do get to have Gale call out the fact that Rakha is doing a bit of an about-face on this particular subject.)

No, she thinks wearily. She does not want him to use the orb. They are here to finish this fight with the Netherstones; Karlach has already sacrificed herself for this purpose. They do not need to lose Gale too. But the matter of the crown afterwards...

[PERSUASION] "No. But I see now... the crown is dangerous,"(*) she mutters. "We must make sure it's destroyed."

(A/N: DC30, holy shit. Luckily Rakha's speech scores are insane at this point, but damn. Gale was dug in on this subject.)

Gale scowls. "If you're wrong, we'll have squandered the chance for a better world. You understand that, don't you?" he says coolly.

Rakha doesn't answer, just looks at him steadily. A better world. That was what Bhaal wanted to - only his was soaked in blood. She cannot see so clearly what Gale's would look like - and she finds, abruptly, that she does not much care. She just wants wants this to be finished, she wants her friends to be safe. She wants the voices out of her head.

Gale holds her gaze for a moment, and then smiles wryly, his expression softening. "But... perhaps saving the day will suffice for now. A better world can always follow, so long as we survive."

He hesitates, then nods, glancing past her to the others, then towards the brainstem, the fleshy path leading upward. "So be it. Lead on."

Rakha turns away without speaking, steps toward the stem, reaches out to rest a hand on it.

Pain lashes through her head for a moment, stunning her in place.

It takes every bit of effort she has, all the mental strength honed in holding the beast back day after day after day, to shove the brain's influence away from her. But she manages it, and the pain recedes, her vision clearing.

She sinks her fingers into the soft flesh and begins to climb.

-----

(*) Changed the line here a little from in-game: "No. But surely you see now how dangerous the crown is?"

[frogshipping]

Youson week Day 1: First Night

This turned into a first day/first night introduction fic instead. And also very long. I worked on writing this thing all day and I'm still 15 minutes late to post but oh well. Featured in this fic are Wilson from Don't Starve/Don't Starve Together, and my OC Wayward (who's very close to a self insert imo). I've shipped this pairing for many years and I'm excited to be posting about them all week!

Now without further ado, onto the fic!! @mxboxlocks

A sharp chirp rang clear across the forest, startling a gentleman from his slumber. Though one could not call it such. After all, sleeping on the cold ground of an unknown forest was not the most desirable place for a night of good rest. Stiffly the man pushed himself into a sitting position, stretching out scrawny black gloved arms, wiggling numb, exposed fingers. Jaws parted in a yawn, he forced himself to his feet. He made himself to peer up at the sky, measuring the height of the sun, and using it to calculate the time of day with his scientific knowledge. It was now approximately three days since he'd been tricked into this land, still early morning according to his readings. Plenty of time to go out foraging….again. Thankfully, the man was born with keen survival instincts, though he wished he didn't have use for them. He hated scurrying about like an animal, searching for food among bushes and along the ground. He wasn't fond of having to chop down trees with a hand made axe, and picking twigs off of old brambles and thickets. Yet this was the life he was now fated to lead, all thanks to a voice from a radio. 

“That lousy, no good, insolent...” the gentleman muttered to himself quietly as he marched away from his makeshift camp, off into the forest to find himself something quick for breakfast. He was thinking about that man again. The same one who had fed him the forbidden knowledge through the radio. Knowledge which ultimately led him to this place. Wherever this was. The gentleman tightened his grip around a spear that he had dragged along for protection as he thought. He wasn't a violent man by any means, but right now he would give anything to strike that no good magician on the head with the blunt end of the weapon just for good measure.

A cackle echoed through the trees as he traveled, causing the scientist to gaze around warily. Maxwell. He gritted his teeth. What was that scoundrel up to now? A flash startled the gentleman, giving him pause. Recuperating from the surprise he rushed through the woods, hiding himself behind a large tree to see what was the cause of the phenomenon. Laying in place of the previously lit area lay an unconscious man. Beside him loomed another, tall and intimidating. The scientist instantly recognized the menacing figure above the stranger. 

“Say, pal, you don't look so good.” Maxwell grinned down at the stranger on the ground. The hidden gentleman readied his spear, creeping slowly from his hiding spot. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. For Maxwell to be unaware and vulnerable. This was his chance to get back at him!

“Better find something to eat before nightfall.” 

As the stranger began to rouse, Maxwell looked over his shoulder, just in time to find the other man leaping out at him. Quick as a blink, the puppetmaster had teleported away, nothing left of him but a few fading shadows. The scientist groaned in frustration, lowering his spear. The stranger recoiled at the sight of him, eyes wide with fear. Taking notice, the gentleman slowly placed his spear on the ground, raising both hands to eye level in submission. 

“Calm yourself,” he soothed, gazing down at the startled man, “I mean you no harm. Maxwell, maybe. But I have no quarrel with you.” 

Shakily, the stranger pushed himself to sit upright, pulling his knees to his chest. Confusion clouded his unusual blue eyes as he took a quick glance of the area surrounding them.

“Where are we?” He finally spoke up, voice cracking. “I wasn't here before.” 

The gentleman shook his head.“I'm not quite sure, if I'll be honest. This land is a mystery to me.” He stroked his chin, allowing his thoughts to wander momentarily before snapping back into reality. “Oh where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wilson P. Higgsbury.” He took a step forward, extending out a hand to the other man. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Wayward. Wayward H. Davis. But you may call me Way,” the man responded, taking Wilson's hand in his own to shake firmly. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

“Wayward.” Wilson repeated the name, testing the sound of it on his tongue. He smiled, retracting his hand. “Well, Way, as much as I would love to stand around dilly dallying all day, I'm afraid there are important matters to attend to before nightfall. You may accompany me if you wish, but I understand if you would like to go your own way.”

Wayward stared at the gentleman warily, looking as if he were wondering what Wilson could hope to gain by offering him company. They were strangers, barely acquainted. Why would he want him around? 

As if sensing his doubt, Wilson cleared his throat, prepared to explain himself. 

“Sticking together would be the most optimal choice, as the work that needs to be done will be cut in half. Having a companion is also more desirable for protection. ‘Safety in numbers’, as they say.” 

Plus it does get lonely out here. I suppose I could tolerate having someone else around for a few days, Wilson kept that last part to himself. He was a loner by nature, typically. He didn't want to give the stranger the wrong impression of his preferences. But it was only right for Wilson to properly explain the logistics of banning together. Even just temporarily. Wilson figured he could show Wayward how to get along by himself out in the Constant. Then they could go their separate ways, and figure out how to find out how to get home on their own.

Another moment of thought was taken before Wayward finally nodded along in agreement. He brought himself to stand, dusting dirt from his trousers and adjusting the crimson suspenders attached to his waist to sit more straight upon his shoulders. Following Wilson was the only sensible option. The scientist was glad to see his new acquaintance was not a fool. Perhaps they could learn to enjoy each other's company. Wilson had never previously been one to seek the companionship of others. He never found himself experiencing loneliness, or yearning to have another at his side-if only platonically. Quite often he found himself to be too caught up in work to care whether or not other people were lingering about. His inventions filled the void solitude brought. His experiments kept good company. Science was his best friend. 

“So, where do we go from here?” Wayward piped, taking a step forward. “I'd much rather be any place but here, at the very least. I think if we were to wait and that man reappeared, a scuffle would surely break out.” Way clenched his fists, seeming to fight back the urge to grit his teeth. Whatever Maxwell had done to him before bringing him to the Constant must have been bad. Unless Wayward was the violent type? Wilson resisted his instincts to move away to safety. He didn't think violence was the answer to anything. But it wasn't because he was a coward, no not by any means. A true gentleman would never resort to such measures unless in defense of themself or one who is weaker. That is simply what made him want to draw back with caution. Wilson valued his morals more than he valued the company of some violent brute. I hope he won't be too much trouble.

“There will be no scuffling here. Not with the likes of Maxwell, anyways. Now come along, we have foraging to do.” Wilson bent down to retrieve his spear then waved a hand, beckoning the other man to follow him back into the woods. Way took a quick glance back before jogging to catch up with his new companion. Wilson kept his focus on the ground and foliage around them, searching for berry bushes, stray carrots, and piles of seeds. When he found some food he was sure to show Wayward so that he'd know what to look for, and to pick it up if he stumbled across it. 

“Perhaps we should split up to cover more ground?” Wayward suggested. Wilson paused for a moment. 

“Hm. I suppose that would be a good idea. But stay within earshot,” he agreed before issuing his warning. Wayward nodded, taking off to the left and disappearing behind a few brambles.

“Can you hear me?” He shouted, voice a bit difficult to hear.

“Yes, but that's far enough. Any further and I won't be able to find you,” Wilson shouted back as he bent over to scoop up some seeds. His stomach gave a little rumble. He hadn't eaten anything today. It couldn't hurt to have a nibble to hold himself over for the time being. So, Wilson began to munch on the seeds as he walked around in search for more. A beautiful carrot sat at his toes, tempting him to pluck it and enjoy it's nutrients. Happily, the scientist gave into temptation, wrapping a hand around the stalk to pull the vegetable from its hole. As he stood upright a yell struck his eardrums. Wayward! 

Panic shot through the gentleman as he hurried in the direction of his partner's yelp, spear at the ready. He dodged trees and looked behind bushes until he found Way. He was trapped, cornered against a tree by a trio of giant, hissing spiders. Wilson had dealt with creatures like these the first day he arrived here. They were the very reason why he always carried a weapon. Wilson gave a shudder and a groan. He hated spiders. He hated giant spiders more. Normally he'd be one to be doubtful of such a creature's existence. Luckily, science was there to prove to him he wasn't crazy. There must be a great amount of oxygen in the atmosphere. That's what caused the arachnids to grow to such an impressive size. Still, even in the face of this scientific marvel, Wilson found himself incredibly shaken. But he sucked in his fear in favor of bravery, if only for Wayward's sake. In a flash, he leaped out of the bushes, stabbing one spider in its side. It let out a pained shriek, wriggling to be taken off the spear. Wilson smacked it on the ground a few times until the thing practically disintegrated, leaving only meat and silk behind as it vanished from existence. The other two spiders turned their attention away from the cowering man and onto the offending scientist. They spat; strange, sharp teeth bared. Wilson, though reluctant, made quick work of them. With a pant, he bent down to pick up the spoils of his victory. He shoved the contents into his pockets, finding them to be unusually roomy. 

“What the hell was that?!” Way exclaimed, eyes still wide with shock and awe. 

“Spiders, clearly.”

“Well yes, but they were enormous! And they disappeared when you killed them. Poof! Just like that!”

“I do find it odd that they can do that, but so far I have not been able to come up with an explanation for it. Perhaps their exoskeletons are just that fragile. Though, it would seem they weren't snuffed completely out of existence,” Wilson mused, grimacing at the sight of spider blood dripping down the staff of his spear. He bent down to wipe it clean on the grass, smearing the purple liquid near his feet. A shiver ran down his spine. Nothing that came from a spider was good. Except the spoils. Wilson reached back into his pockets to examine what he had “won” this time after defeating those monsters. Silk, some meat, and a single spider's gland. All of this would surely come in handy. 

“Anyways, shall we go on?”

Wayward stared at him for a moment, jaw slightly ajar. What was he gaping at, the scientist wondered. Was it because of how casual he was about discussing such strange creatures? Maybe. But Wilson did not want to waste time picking the stranger's brain on the matter, at least not now. Much work to be done, he told himself, glancing up at the sky. Almost noon. So much of the day had already been wasted. It's not like days were very long anyhow. They seemed drastically shorter here than in the normal world. No matter, they could still get some things accomplished before camping. This thought prompted a question. 

“What did you manage to gather while off on your own?”

Wayward dipped his arm to pull some items from his pocket. A couple of twigs, a piece of flint, the full contents of one tuft of grass, and a few seeds. It wasn't much, but Way had managed to gather some useful things without direction, Wilson could praise him on that much. He didn't seem too incompetent. So far, at least. 

“Good find,” Wilson commended. “Make sure you don't lose any of that. Each of those will be quite useful come nightfall.”

“You know, I don't really under the emphasis on nightfall; like it's something strange or frightening. First that Maxwell guy mentioned it, and now you? What exactly happens around here at night?” Wayward questioned, confusion clear on his face. 

Wilson almost pitied the other man for not knowing the horrors that hunted in the dark. He sighed. How would he be able to explain what occurs without sounding like a mad man? 

“At night… there are creatures that lurk within the darkness. Only by stationing oneself near a light source will you be granted safety. And it's best to be seated somewhere with a fire going, instead of stumbling around with a torch; lest you run the risk of it going out and you being preyed upon ”

“Is that so?” Wayward hummed. “Are we really any safer in the day than at night, though? With beasts such as those giant spiders walking around?” 

“The spiders are the least of our problems,” Wilson answered grimly, then shook his head. “We shouldn't be wasting anymore time chatting like this. If you must make conversation, please do so as you work.” 

“Aye aye, captain,” Wayward gave a playful salute, turning around to walk in a different direction. When he started to leave Wilson’s line of sight, a slight jolt of panic struck through the gentleman.

“Actually, that's far enough! I think until we are able to craft you a weapon, we should remain within view of one another. In case another incident should occur, I won't have to search for you to come to your defense.” 

“Fine by me,” Wayward said nonchalantly, as if the spider attack hadn't just scared him shitless moments ago.

Perhaps he's trying to keep up appearances, to make himself out to be braver or more tough than he actually is, Wilson speculated. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun began to dip in the sky much sooner than the gentleman scientist would have suspected, or liked. There wouldn't be enough time to return to his original camping spot with Wayward in tow. Though it didn't matter much to Wilson. Nothing of value was left behind except for the remnants of the campfire. He could put together a new bundle of kindling for that. Between the two men, there was plenty of materials available to keep the flames lit bright throughout the whole evening.

“I think we should make camp,” Wilson remarked. Wayward tilted his head back, a hand shielding his eyes from the intense light of the setting sun. 

“We've got just enough time to scout out a comfortable spot,” Wayward assured, walking ahead to start the search.

“Here will be good enough,” Wilson insisted. It didn't matter too much where they rested, as long as they had a fire going.

Wayward waved him off. “The forest is too dense here. We run the risk of attracting more animals and beasts to us, than we would out in a clearing somewhere. Besides, there's a greater chance of setting the woods alight along with our campfire. Let's keep moving.” 

“Oh, suddenly you're an expert on being out in the wilderness?” Wilson stopped and put his hands to his hips. 

“Definitely not an expert,” Way shot back. “But I've been camping enough times to know the basics of being in the wild. Just because I am not familiar with this land doesn't mean I'm entirely clueless, or helpless.” He glanced at Wilson over his shoulder. “I'd be much appreciative if you could treat me like I'm a competent grown man, instead of a bumbling fool you need to direct.” 

Wilson scoffed. At least Wayward had some outdoors experience under his belt. He might even be able to teach Wilson a thing or two. While Wilson prided himself on his own survival expertise, he had to admit that he was more of an indoorsy person than anything. A book guide couldn't compare to hands-on knowledge. Then again, the Constant was no ordinary wilderness. Wilson had learned that lesson the hard way over the past three days. Basic camping skills wouldn't help save Way from the bigger dangers of this strange world. So there was still room for worry. But Wilson pushed that aside for now.

Wayward led the way through the forest, picking up the odd item here or there. Wilson followed not too far behind, observing the other man carefully. Way seemed vigilant as they trudged along, taking temporary pauses with each odd noise. Wilson raised his spear, ready to defend at a moment’s notice. Luckily no monsters sprung out at the pair. At least not yet.

As they moved further ahead, the trees started to grow sparse. The setting sun was even more visible, slowly sinking lower and lower towards the horizon. We haven't much time now, Wilson fretted. 

“The trees are thinning around here. That means a clearing is up ahead. It should only be a couple more minutes until we wander into it,” Wayward announced, giving a smile. It was the first one Wilson had seen from the other man since they had met mere hours ago. He felt something inside his chest flutter at the sight; a very peculiar feeling Wilson had never experienced before. He hoped he was not growing ill. Instead of answering verbally, Wilson nodded, forcing his attention elsewhere. He was focused on soon building a fire. He'd need to make a bigger one tonight to accommodate the second person joining him. He'd probably need more firewood for it.

“Oh that's right!” Wilson blurted. Suddenly he turned, approaching a particularly large tree. Wayward came around to join the gentleman scientist, looking perplexed about what he was up to. But he didn't question him. It would seem the stranger had already learned not to question Wilson's antics. Good, the scientist thought.

“Yes, this one will do nicely,” he muttered to himself, sticking a hand down into his unusually deep pocket to look for his tool.

“Do nicely..?” Wayward parroted, looking from Wilson, to the tree, and back.

Wilson then pulled an axe from his trousers, setting aside his spear momentarily.

“You've had that on you the whole time? Couldn't it have served useful earlier?”

“Forgive me for not remembering all the items I'm carrying. I've been a little distracted, what with caring for a stranger and all,” Wilson replied as he swung his tool. The axe’s blade made impact with the tree bark, producing a loud satisfying crack. Wilson pulled back with effort, then swung again. And again, and again. Until the tree was felled. The tree came crashing to the ground with a mighty thud before disintegrating, leaving behind four perfect logs. Wayward looked astounded at the sight of them. Wilson had to admit he was just as bewildered the first time he'd cut a tree down in the Constant. But he was grateful not to have to do more work; sawing off tree limbs and cutting the trunk down to size would have been extremely time consuming. 

“We'll need these,” Wilson told his new companion, tossing two logs his way. 

Wayward picked them up, holding them carefully in his arms. Wilson tucked his load into his pockets. When Way saw him do that, he was quick to copy, relief washing over his features.

“Alright, now that that's taken care of we can continue on."

“Uh, right,” Wayward agreed, beckoning the gentleman with a wave of his hand. 

Only five more precious minutes passed before the men finally came upon the clearing they'd been searching for. Wilson was quick to hurry to its center, pulling out his materials to craft a campfire. He glanced up at the sky. Darkness was beginning to settle in. He could already see shadows starting to creep up at the edge of the woods. We're out of time. He felt a little bit of panic as he placed his logs down, wrapping three sprigs of grass around them. As the last blade of grass was placed, the wood suddenly lit itself ablaze. Wilson let out a satisfied ah, looking around. The figures he had seen lurking disappeared. They were safe. 

“That settles that,” Wilson declared, dusting off his hands as he rose back to full height. “Why don't you pull out those extra logs for us to sit on, hm? Then we can cook the food we gathered earlier,” he requested.

Wayward did as he was asked, grabbing the logs from his pocket and setting them on either side of the fire. Then he took a seat, fishing out some of the food he'd picked up to feast upon. Wilson did the same, first roasting some berries on the fire before eating them. He'd come to learn cooking his food left him feeling fuller than consuming it raw. 

A calm silence had settled within the makeshift campsite. It was comfortable, Wilson thought, much deserved after the day the two men had endured. He looked over at Wayward who sat peacefully across from him. His raven black hair appeared more brown in the fire light, his bright blue eyes reflecting the flickering flames. He looked…enchanting, Wilson thought. But he immediately pushed it away. It wasn't like Wilson to think anything mushy about other people, he couldn't understand what was coming over him. Perhaps it was his loneliness making him see the other man as desirable. Or perhaps it was because Wilson was tired. Either way the scientist wasn't willing to entertain the thought of whatever that was. 

After a few more minutes of now awkward quiet, Wayward spoke up. “Wilson…I know that we are strangers. But if we are to survive out here together, I need you to give me some respect… And to trust in me. I'm sure that's not as easy as it sounds. But I'm willing to put in the work, if you are.” 

Wilson stayed quiet for a few more moments, letting the dance of the flames entrance him as slipped deep into thought. It'd been some years since he’d placed trust in anyone. He had lived in isolation for so long it felt almost strange to allow someone in like that. But Wayward didn't seem like such a bad fellow. Just lost, and confused. Perhaps Wilson was misjudging him. Perhaps the two could get along for a while. Maybe they could even become friends. Would Wilson be comfortable with having a friend? He wasn't so sure. In fact, for the first time in a long time he wasn't sure of anything. But what he could believe in were facts. And the fact of the matter was the pair would be better off if they stuck together. If one stipulation of that was for Wilson to trust in Wayward, then Wilson supposed he could agree to that deal. After all, trust is the foundation of any relationship. Even the most casual. 

“I will do my best to show you some respect,” Wilson finally replied. “But trust isn't something I readily give. I am willing to try, provided you prove to be reliable and helpful to our survival in turn. I will not tolerate laziness or stupidity.” 

“I’m definitely not the lazy sort,” Wayward took a stick, poking at the kindling as they talked. “But I'll  admit, I'm not the smartest man around. I hope that my level of intelligence will suffice for you. I'm educated enough to know how to live off the land a little bit. You can rely on me to work and assist wherever I can. I'm also capable of fighting, provided I have the right tools for defense. So you can feel assured that I will help protect us and what is ours.” 

“I'll hold you to that, then.” Wilson rested an elbow on his knees, propping his chin atop his perched hand. Silence crowed them once again as the men got lost in thought.

“You're certainly one to ponder things, aren't you?” Wayward commented.

“But of course. Any good scientist takes time to sit and ponder a while.”

“Oh, you're a scientist?” Wayward mused. “That's pretty interesting. What sort of science peaks your interest the most?”

Wilson wasn't one for small talk. But he supposed he could indulge in it a little, at least to get to know the other man better. It would be good for their work relationship; to be more understanding of one another and their interests. Plus, Wilson would take any opportunity to talk about science. 

“I'm partial to physics and engineering. I love to invent, to figure out how things tick. But I'm a lover of all science. I doubt there is anything that I wouldn't enjoy learning about.” 

“That's fascinating,” Wayward hummed. “I enjoy science as well. Although I'm more of a casual fan of it. My passion leans more towards the written word.”

“Are you an author?” Wilson guessed.

Wayward nodded, and the smile that made Wilson’s chest flutter made a second appearance. “I am. I especially love to write novels . Though I haven't had much luck publishing.” The author folded his arms across his chest. “However there was one piece I'd been writing before I ended up here. I know it will probably sound insane but...a man on my television screen told me a tale that I couldn't resist. It was perfect, the most compelling story I'd had come up with in so long. I spent days working on it. Then, when I was set to go to the publishing house, the man grew furious at me. He didn't like that I would be pawning off the story he'd given me as my own. And then…I woke up here. I suspect Maxwell was the one behind it, now that I'm taking the time to think about what happened.”

“Your story sounds very similar to my own,” Wilson breathed. “Three days ago, I heard a voice on my radio speak out to me. For a moment I swore I was mad. But the voice assured me he was real, and offered me secret knowledge in exchange for building a machine. I couldn't resist, and constructed the damned thing as quickly as I could. Then, when I flipped the switch, I wound up here. It was all Maxwell’s doing. He tricked me into building that blasted portal for him. And I've been trapped in the Constant since.”

“Oh, Wilson. I'm sorry you had to experience something like that. But… I suppose that makes us kindred spirits in a way. At least in this mysterious world, we have each other,” Wayward reasoned, his voice soft and kind. Wilson was almost touched by the other man's words. He'd never had anyone around who understood him. No one in Wilson’s life could ever relate to him, nor did they ever try. Yet here was a complete stranger stuck in similar straights, willing to emphasize with Wilson. He wanted to get to know him, and saw both of them as similar. It felt...nice 

“Yes,” Wilson agreed, a small smile pushing up his cheeks. “You’re right. We have each other.”

[embroidered-inkwells]

full thoughts and recap of the stranger things teaser that i sent to my sister:

majority of this trailer is just shots from s1-s4 but they may be important, ie billy dying, them finding eleven, a shot of eddie, max being vecna’d

BUT

first shot is joyce telling will that she “thinks about that night all the time” which could mean that will is having flashbacks or having weird feelings, OR HAS A MEMORY LOSS OF THAT TIME . which makes it VERY INTERESTING as to why he never talked about it, maybe vecna wiped his memories

shot of joyce WITH AN AXE with someone floating in the background (people are saying it’s holly, mike’s sister)

looks like will and robin behind her, with one other person i can’t discern

shot of holly and mike’s mom, which begs the question if holly is the one who will be who is “the disappearance of * wheeler” as we saw an episode title when they released them a while ago, however these are subject to change

SHOT OF LUCAS SITTING AT MAX’S HOSPITAL BED WITH THE DRAWING FROM SEASON FOUR ON THE WALL. her bones seem fixed ?? no casts, they’re not broken, but she’s still in a coma

adding to my theory that as vecna in the eleven flashback said “they’re not dead they’re all in here” and pointed to his head or something along those lines when he killed all those kids, that the big battle will be between vecna infecting his dead victims and controlling them like puppets, like the puppetmaster which is the song that eddie played at the end of s4, this is also added to by showing eddie and billy in the flashbacks

BUT THE DRAWING…..

shot of steve and dustin surrounded by vines in which kind of looks like the mall to me ? idk, maybe there’s an upside down version of the mall which is where it went when it blew up or something because the tiles do look like that, but with the vines and the lighting it seems to be in the upside down

IF STEVE DIES….

i don’t think steve is going to die

i think will is going to die

shot of eleven and hopper <333333, we’re so back, we’re so back . eleven is screaming with her hands on her head and blood coming out of her nose and hopper is beside her so she’s clearly not doing well . also i think she and will are going to have parallel arcs that really come through this season

HUGE wall of vines, two people looking a them, i THINK it’s lucas and eleven but they’re so tiny, so idk, looks like the upside down is bleeding into the real world big time

SHOT OF MIKE PROTECTING A BUNCH OF KIDS, one of which kind of looks like suzy but more importantly

JOYCE IN THE BACKGROUND HOLDING AN UNCONSCIOUS WILL ?? people seeing to think that that means that will has developed his powers and it exerts him like it does eleven

i disavow noah schnapp, and even if will does die, i do think it would make narrative sense, BUT….that might just kill me

some people were saying byler we’re so back, some people were saying there’s no byler in this trailer (by some, i mean i saw one person say each thing)

military stuff, blah, blah, blah, think it just lends itself to the larger narrative of the upside down becoming a big problem

final proper shot is will right up to the camera screaming "RUN…RUN!!!"

people aligning this with hearing a recording of someone screaming “RUN STEVE RUN” that was leaked earlier, but unsure if it’s actually the same

i do think will is going develop his powers and figure out his connection with vecna, i also think he does not remember his time in the upside down or when he was possessed in season two, or possibly the entire time skip between seasons 1 and 2 at all

in that last scene, it does seem like he was possessed but self aware of it ?

the absence of vecna is v interesting, i wonder how much we’ll actually see of him

THIS “run…run!!” ALSO PARALELLS THE LIGHTS IN SEASON ONE WHEN HE SAID RUN RUN WITH THE LIGHTS

i haven’t felt a high like this since i finished the dream thieves and blue lily lily blue

[thekimspoblog]

Alright well I need to go to bed. I'm carrying a major sleep debt, and instead of doing my homework or showering, I spent all day watching a fucking soap opera. (No regrets! 😎)

But I think now would be a good time to drop a refresher about my "Operation Mario" AU.

"Operation Mario" is a crossover fanfic I've been working on for a couple years now, between "Better Call Saul", "Westworld" and "YOU", set in a universe loosely inspired by Johnathan Blow's "Braid". Three men; Jimmy McGill, William Delos, and Joe Goldberg, are trapped in a timeloop together, tasked with an epic quest to save Kim Wexler, Dolores Abernathy, and Love Quinn from a dungeon. In reality, the women are (more or less) perfectly safe, The puppetmaster behind this only wants to make them jump through hoops and force them to work together to torment them.

Spoilers for "Better Call Saul": Where the canon left Jimmy, he had been functionally sentenced to life in prison. Now, if the camera leaves Jimmy alone, he could serve out the rest of his existence in relative peace. But, oh, then there's Kimmy. If I believed the camera was done with her, this blog wouldn't exist. It's adorable that anyone could see Kim's little quip about "With good behavior, who knows?" and think the wheels weren't already beginning to turn again. By extension, Jimmy's troubles aren't over either.

Spoilers for "Westworld": Last time I saw William, he was bleeding to death. Then again, dead doesn't mean a whole lot in this universe anyway, does it? You live as long as the last person who remembers you, right? And as much as Dolores wishes she was rid of him, the poison he left in her, if she can't let go of Teddy, Billy's going to catch up to her again. Last time we saw Dolores, she was embarking on a journey to the center of her mind, and we know what lurks there. Whatever good ever existed in him, it's preserved there too.

Spoilers for "YOU": A few nights ago, Joe completed his alleged "final" lap in the maze. He's got even less of a chance of getting out of prison than Jimmy; Jimmy at least has one friend on his side. But as long as he's alive the drama will never REALLY end, will it? Accidents and sloppy reboots are known to happen. And even if he was dead, that wouldn't solve the problem of WHAT he is, what any of these men are.

We've run other male characters through this little test: "love or freedom?"

Mark Scout fell for the trap in record time. For both princesses.

I honestly didn't expect Jeff Sadeki to escape, but he was quicker than we thought.

Hughie Campbell was... inconclusive. We'll need S5 to reach a verdict.

I'm not convinced Elliot Alderson even understood the assignment. He actually asked WHY he was supposed to value Angela's life over any other person's.

Really, the experiment has expanded to a much more broad study of contemporary culture's distrust in (mostly heterosexual) romance, but my little guys: Jimmy, Billy, Joey... they'll always be at the heart of it. The hourglass will be forever turning over and over, with them inside.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 29: One Last Hurrah—The Prophecy (BoB Fanfiction)

A/N: Admittedly, I'm having a rough day, not feeling my best, and I'm prepping for finals. That being said, I offer this up in exchange for my bad day and hope that you enjoy it! As always, let me know what you think!

Chapter Text

Winnie felt intensely off as she made her way with both Reba and Eileen to the pub.  Her stomach was queasy in a way it hadn’t been since she had been 14 and even saying the words had made her mouth feel like sandpaper.  She wasn’t good with emotions, wasn’t good with remembering the past, wasn’t good with dealing with it all. 

Because the only thing she knew how to do was survive.  How to keep moving forward.  Talking about the emotions and shit?  It didn’t help her feel better.  It didn’t make the pain of what had happened go away.  

She didn’t dwell on that kind of stuff.  Didn’t think about it, especially if she could help it.  She wasn’t sure why there was the odd moment of vulnerability that made her open up to both Eileen and Reba about it—but it didn’t make her feel any better that they knew about it.  Instead, she just felt like a little kid and weak . 

Not even her brothers knew about that time when she was 14.  It was something she refused to talk about.  Her father knew—he had been the one that had instigated everything by driving her to that damn whorehouse for money that they needed.  

And he held it over her head like a puppetmaster that used it in order to gain control. 

Winnie was no puppet though, nothing that could easily be controlled.  She was a hurricane shoved in human skin, gunfire held in her throat, and a piercing sword when she needed to be one.  So coming to a pub of all places, where people were smoking and drinking and having their last hurrahs before they shipped out in the morning, it was the last place that Winnie Allen wanted to be. 

If she had been any weaker of a being, she probably would have gotten herself a drink and tried to push those feelings out and away. 

But Winnie Allen was not a weak being.  And so she took those feelings and clung to them, letting them become her storm-skin.  She needed to be ice, needed to be metal, needed to be able to withstand whatever was coming. 

“Hey Roo!” Buck called from across the room. 

She nearly scowled at the title—only because it made her stomach knot itself on the inside.  But she crossed over to where he and the others were playing darts, piquing a brow.  “I thought I said that the nicknames weren’t welcome,” Winnie said, crossing her arms. 

“Well yes,” Buck said in amusement.  “But everyone else in the Company is now referring to you as Roo.” 

“Damn Guarnere,” Winnie mumbled out.  She surveyed the darts, taking note of the fact that Buck was doing this left-handed—he was most certainly right-handed and this was downright a hustle.  She gave a small smile at that, glancing at the replacements. “Playing a friendly game of darts?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Luz grinned—he had seen the smile. “All right now, Lieutenant, nice and easy, you still got a shot—” 

Buck flung the dart forward and Winnie wasn’t surprised to find it ending up on the edge of the dartboard.  Everyone gave a wince at it and she just glanced back at Toye.  “Hustling?  Really?” she murmured, giving him a look. 

“It was Luz’s idea, Roo.” 

“I’m not even remotely surprised,” Winnie said, turning back to the game. 

“Tough break, you’re having a tough night,” Luz said, shaking his head at Buck.  If Winnie wasn’t familiar with these men, she likely would have been fooled by Luz’s acting skills.  “People have tough nights.” 

“I’m sorry, George.” 

“It’s alright,” Luz said, shaking his head glumly. 

Winnie nearly scoffed—these idiots were almost as bad as her brothers and their half-brained schemes that they came up with over the years.  At one point, she was fairly certain that Nate had dragged around Josh and Charlie, telling people in a neighboring town that they were sick orphans who were going to be sent off to another country for medical needs—he had made nearly $25 dollars on good Christian people that way. 

She had been furious, but it had kept the lights on and she could hardly blame them for being little rascals. 

Bull retrieved the darts from the board, walking over to Buck.  “Nice shots, sir,” he said, handing them back to Buck. 

“Thank you, Bull,” Buck grinned. He promptly handed one of the darts over to Babe Heffron, one of the replacements that had recently joined the Company. “Here you are, Heffron.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Babe said. 

“Finish me up!” Buck encouraged. 

Winnie watched as Babe Heffron threw his dart, landing just outside of the second ring in the dart-board.  Winnie could have almost laughed—this kid was getting seriously hustled and she didn’t mind it one bit.  

“You know, it’s a good thing we weren’t gambling,” Buck joked with a grin. 

“Oh, boy, we would’ve been killed!” Luz exclaimed. 

“You wanna bet?” Heffron questioned, offering his hand.

“Oh no, I couldn’t, I’m not much of a gambling man—” Buck started. 

“Pack of smokes?” Heffron offered. 

“First one to hit the bullseye?” Buck questioned, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips.  

“Sure.” 

“Why not make it two?  Two packs?” Luz suggested, crossing his arms with a grin.  Everyone agreed and Winnie just watched as Buck lined up his shot.  “Lieutenant, are you going to shoot lefty all night?” Luz questioned.  “Just curious, because he’s right-handed.” 

“George, what would I do without George Luz?” Buck grinned widely, switching the dart into his right hand. He flung the dart forward and it hit dead in the center—Heffron’s jaw dropped and everyone gave a cheer.  “Two packs, gentlemen,” Buck advised in amusement, reminding them of their little deal.  

Toye huffed, but he passed on over his cigarette pack, then Heffron did the same.  Buck immediately took one out, offering one to Winnie.  “You want one, doc?” 

She smiled and shook her head.  “No, I’ll pass.  Thanks for the free entertainment though.  You two are quite the hustlers,” she said, glancing between him and Luz. 

“For a second there, I thought you were for sure gonna tell Heffron,” Luz shrugged in amusement. 

Winnie just looked at him closely, piquing a brow.  “You know, Luz, I do actually find you funny most of the time.  I just can’t always participate in your schemes or jokes since it’s hard enough being the only woman out here with you dodos.” 

Luz and Buck looked at her for a moment before Luz grinned widely.  “Only most of the time?  Why my dear doctor, I shall have to up my game.” 

“You do that,” Winnie chuckled.  She found her way over to where Toye was sitting, taking a seat beside him. 

“Hey Roo,” Toye said, nudging her foot with his own. 

“Not you too,” Winnie exclaimed in annoyance. 

He just gave a grin.  “Aww come on, doc.  You admitted you actually like us guys, and there’s no take backs on that.” 

“I guess not,” Winnie said, letting out a soft exhale.  She was still sitting stiffly in the chair and Toye narrowed his gaze at her.  “What?” She questioned, glancing in his direction. 

“You just seem off tonight, doc.  You’re not anxious, are ya?” 

“Me?  Not a chance,” Winnie insisted.  “Just tryin’ to prep for tomorrow.” 

“You’re gonna be fine,” Toye insisted, clapping her on the shoulder in response.  “And if you’re not, I’ll give you my chocolate.” 

“My hero.” 

Morning came all too early and after instructions by Nixon had been given to everyone, they all headed out to get ready for the jump.  Reba and Eileen had been sent on ahead so that they could meet them in Holland to help them set up a field hospital.  They weren’t jumping, but they were most certainly going via plane and then armored trucks. 

They had left much earlier than Winnie had.  At the moment, Winnie was at the airfield with the rest of Easy Company and getting her stuff ready.  What she was entirely unprepared for was a truck to honk and to see Popeye standing there, ready to rejoin them. 

And who else but Herbert Sobel in the truck. 

For a moment, Winnie thought that this was just a cruel trick of God.  Because of course he would show up right before a jump just to try and throw her off.  She nearly scowled, making her way over to the area where Nixon, Harry, and Dick were all getting their stuff ready for the jump.  

“Sobel’s here,” Winnie deadpanned. 

“He’s what? ” Nixon tripped, nearly taking Harry down with him as he heard Winnie’s words. 

“Here,” Winnie stated dryly.  “As in, at the airfield.  In a truck that Popeye was on.” 

“Great,” Dick mumbled dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “And you came over here to escape him.” 

“Well obviously.  I don’t need to be leered at before we jump from a damn plane,” Winnie retorted.  

“Relax, Win,” Nixon insisted, patting her on the shoulder. 

“It’s not like he’s jumping with us,” Harry offered her. 

She gave a nod.  Still, it wasn’t a welcome thought, the idea of Sobel being anywhere near her. “Are you ready for the jump?” Dick questioned, glancing in her direction and trying to see where her mind was at. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Winnie shrugged, crossing her arms. 

“Good.  We don’t know how much resistance there’ll be and I’d prefer to have you with the medics until we can set up a field hospital.” 

“Sure,” Winnie gave a nod.  “I can do that.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plane ride itself wasn’t nearly half as excruciatingly anxiety inducing as their first jump on D-Day.  In fact, Winnie found that she was calm as rain and so she just kept her head resting against the wall of the plane, sitting next to Roe. 

The two of them sat in silence for a good long while, neither one speaking.  Others were quietly talking on the plane, but being up in the air for a jump was a somber affair and no one wanted to do anything to deter from that.  Roe seemed somewhat anxious, though Winnie wasn’t sure why—this wasn’t half as bad as the jump on D-Day.  

“I think…I think I wanna marry Reba,” Roe’s quiet drawl came. 

Winnie nearly choked, turning to face him with wide eyes.  “What?” She choked out. 

“You think it’s a bad idea?” He asked, equally wide eyed. 

“No, God no—” Winnie just sucked in a breath, trying to figure out how to form words.  “I mean—that’s…good.  Just…surprising, is all.  You’re trying to give me a heart attack or something, Roe?” she mumbled out. 

“No, Winnie,” Roe gave a small smile.  “Just…she’s on my mind all the time.  And I love her.” 

“Well you should probably tell her that,” Winnie insisted, nudging his elbow.  “Preferably before she gets swamped with field hospital work.  Though knowing how crazy she is about you, I’m sure we can convince Winters to get you a chaplain.” 

Roe gave a wild blush at that, cheeks reddening.  “I—” 

The command to stand and prepare for the jump came and their conversation was cut short.  Soon, the green light had gone off and Winnie found herself jumping in the daylight for the first time.  The wind rushed around her and this was a much more controlled jump than the one before. 

Relief shot through her like a lightning bolt .  She didn’t see enemy combatants as she approached the ground, landing lightly on a patch of grass.  Considering that last time she was more worried about some Krauts finding her and holding her down because she was alone, this was a much better jumping experience than the first time. 

She landed lightly, eyes searching and scanning the landscape.  They were back in enemy territory.  And they had just jumped into Holland.  Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.  So why did she have a pit the size of the Grand Canyon in her stomach? 

[lillikoifish]

Katara cried for a lot of reasons at the end of the puppetmaster, beyond becoming a bloodbender i think. She finally gets to connect with another southern waterbender, and it turns out theyre a monster hunting innocent people at night and torturing them for some sick catharsis. It would break my heart too.

[dude1818]

The Devil and the Dark Water

I finished The Devil and the Dark Water by Stuart Turton (same author as The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle). Also technically a supernatural mystery novel, but this time a full pastiche of Sherlock Holmes, and whether the supernatural aspects are real or not is part of the mystery. This one wasn't really my kind of thing, but it was still an interesting enough story.

The main protagonist of the novel is Lieutenant Hayes, the Watson to investigator Pipps's Holmes. The setting is on board an East India Company ship headed back to Amsterdam in the 1630s. The twist is that Pipps was arrested right before they set sail, so Hayes has to solve the mystery pretty much without him. The governor general's wife is also investigating the mystery with some of the other women, and partners with Hayes instead.

The mystery? Ship's hella damned. From the moment they start boarding and a tongueless leper curses the ship and bursts into flame, to mysterious lights following them at night, the animals mysteriously slaughtered, and finally a good old-fashioned locked room murder. It all connects to the devil from Hayes's childhood, which makes it pretty obvious that it's the kind of myth that people hype up to excuse their own evil deeds towards each other. Except in the decades since and especially on the ship, so much more unexplainable terrors happen, and it ties together a lot of the characters' backstories, so you can't be confidant this isn't a setting where the devil is real.

It does all get resolved in the end, of course. It was very satisfying watching Hayes and the others work through the mystery as everything goes to shit around them, and the characters were all very enjoyable to watch in action. For a story set in the 1630s in the style of Sherlock Holmes, most of the protagonists act incredibly modern, which I can't say is a bad thing. Certainly not one of my favorite books, but perfectly enjoyable.

Until the very final twist. Spoilers for literally everything, including who's behind it all:

It was Pipps. He had himself thrown in the brig so that he could puppetmaster everything that happened, and no one would expect him to be around to help solve the mystery. This is obviously a betrayal in the eyes of Hayes, but it was also one step beyond plausibility that it almost felt like the narrative was betraying the reader. Even that I would've gotten over if he got his comeuppance in the end (and Hayes was certainly ready to kill him when he found out). But even though his plan to terrorize and murder the evil governor general was justified, his actions led to the deaths of hundreds of sailors and soldiers on this ship and likely more across the other ships in the fleet that were ravaged. But then they let that all slide in the comic book standard of "mooks don't count," and that pissed me off.

[plagasitize]

@ischemiac said: ❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜

"too long." perhaps her tone is ill-fitting ⸻ spoke with all the displeasure of a all-night study session dragging on into the midday haze, beyond the precipice of exhaustion and into the second wind of invigoration, a temporary boon. she cannot gauge how many hours ( or days ) have passed, as if her metamorphosis into nothing but cargo had transported her not only across oceans but realities into a realm of permanent dusk unable to evolve into dawn. the sun itself has abandoned this rural piece of the world, the overcast sky smothering out all but the fires: those atop wooden torches, the pyres of bodies mangled into iconography, the burning wreckage of cannon fire.

should she stay still too long she is certain her legs will fail her, as if the tide of exhaustion will finally reach her, seizing each ankle with the pain she has managed to stave off ( or worse, the puppetmaster pulling at her limbs, a prisoner not in reinforced steel but the unholy cathedral of flesh and bone ) ⸻ survival, she finds, is exhilarating but the cost is sure to decimate. this is not her life. this is not what she was built for. she lacks the training, the natural talent. irregardless, she is trying her best.

"i'm okay, though," bright-eyed, she smiles because he doesn't ( so stern, she finds, so sad ⸻ how she'd love to pick at the seams of her guardian angel, pluck each feather for his wings until she can say she knows him, until she is more than a thing to be transported, a chess piece moved from one side of the board to the other ), convinced that if they stop she will never find the strength to begin again. "don't worry about me, i'm tougher than i look." birdsong laughter, light and sweet, it is a revelation she was unprepared for: she carries her own weight as if it is all she has ( isn't it? ), an active participant in her own rescue. absence in the sharpshooter eye, the artful dance of a blade, perhaps, but she refuses to have a princess made of her, useless outside her vaunted tower. besides, who has time to sleep? "i'd be lying if i said cannot wait to get back to my own bed."

[frozen-flower-thing]

Divinity concept 1 part 2

(I learned how to make titles from kingdom hearts)

Alright I am back and now I have a full nights sleep, lets do this

Rule 3

Divinity is inconsistency. It is change by its very nature.

When a person is more divine they become less consistent/change often

The nature of this change varies from person to person, for example illiric and ikari constantly change their shape, Ikari especially is well know for changing between different gendered forms every other minute (illiric can also do this but doesn’t as often.) as well as it’s clothes changing color depending on what it’s feelings are at that moment, meanwhile illiric is well known for changing their size and what species they are (ikari can does that but not as often) pretty much every five minutes.

Some other examples;

The minor gods entire existence is constantly in flux, they’re appearance, abilities and general strength are all determined by people’s feelings on them/their aspects for example when the god(ess) of trickery and hunting first appears she wears a rangers cloak and wields and magictech bow as that is what modern hunters use and wear, her clothing is also embroidered and carries the puppet master emblem similar to the cloak of a high puppetmaster as well as the white hair of a zarthan because at the time the betray of high puppetmaster atrox had just occurred. She bares the eyes of a snake and shapeshifts (as well as many other abilities related to her aspect) as those are common symbols of lies and trickery.

If this were modern day she would likely be a god rather then a goddess, he would be dressed like a politician and carry a hunting rifle, with the same snake eyes and shapeshifting however his powers related to his aspect of trickery would be far stronger than his powers related to hunting as things like lies, deception, and trickery are much more prominent in the eyes of the general populace than hunting is.

When we meet the god of peace he wears a gray cloak and has gray eyes similar to that of the grey sage (as he is a major peace symbol at this time) his main ability prevents any harm from being done within a certain area, this is because at that time peace is seen as a more passive thing, it is seen as the prevention of conflict rather than then fighting back against the aggressors to bring about peace.

In modern day he would likely look more like a modern activist (like a hoodie, mask shit like that, he’d maybe even wear luigi mangiones outfit) and his abilities would be far more aggressive and offensive then passive and defensive as we view peace as an active fight against aggressors/oppressors

Ayato: when ayato becomes the peak of divinity (besides the original deity) his entire existence becomes inconsistent i.e. every time he is seen after that he is in a completely different form, aside from one time where he did look like himself, he is constantly changing in his entirety.

Final example, the original deity, it actually appears once but it’s literally impossible for any two people to see it the same way, technically it has no original/“true” form but whenever people look at it it has form completely unique to the person looking at it and that form sometimes changes per person. Similar to ayato except if two people see ayato at the same time they’ll see the same thing unlike the original deity where they will see two different things

Note: none of the changes are voluntary for any of the divine beings, tho with more skill and power may be able to control it slightly (the twin gods, zaratos etc) but never fully, it will always happen, the changes may occur differently (for the twin gods it’s more like a compulsion to do it rather than a random thing but for the minor gods it’s more like they wake up one day and are like “oh I guess i have new clothes now) but all experience them

Second note: because everything with soul is at least a little divine all living creatures do experience this change, this is why people are able to change and grow as people or become worse people, we are always in flux tho because it’s such a small amount of divinity we do have a bit more control over it then the gods do.

Rule 4

Time is the purest divinity, time is constantly in flux and impossible to predict with 100% certainty (best you can get is a very good guess) things that have already happened cannot change. Times divinity comes from the essence of the original deity.

Rule 5

Divinity can only be obtained 3ish ways

The first way is to be born with it, such as with the twin gods and the original deity

The second way is to be given it, such as with the minor gods

And the final way is to take it by force, this is pretty much entirely done through either soul or essence absorption such as with the demon king and zaratos

Technically there is a fourth way which is to connect your soul to a divine being, ayato did this twice by connecting to the souls of the twin gods, as well as zaratos’ and the tree’s the second time, and zarkos did this by connecting to the tree and fusing with it.

Alright that’s all the like rules and regulations I can think of, so to top it off here’s some tid bits

These are the character profiles I made for some of the major gods/ god like beings (that I got around to making a profile for at least) these are not completely up to date and accurate but they should be decent

Name: Ikari (no known last name)

Gender: Genderfluid (pronouns any, primarily It/its)

Race: Unkown (no race?) can appear as any race they wish although they choose to appear as a human child most often

Hair: grayish white messy medium length hair (male form) Grayish white long hair (female form)

Clothes: white t-shirt and shorts with no shoes (sometimes when one of its emotions is strong its clothing will change colors depending and sometimes will rapidly change or become rainbow when its excited) (Male form) white blouse and skirt with no shoes (same color changing rules) (female form)

Eye color: grayish white (all forms)

Skin color: sand

Build: small and skinny

Height: 5’0 (male) 4’10 (female)

Age: ??? (older than everything, usually takes on the appearance of a child around 10-12 years old

Abilities: complete reality manipulation, is able to use all forms of magic at the highest level of mastery including divine magic that is exclusive to the two twin gods iliric and Ikari as well as the devil Zaratos although Zaratos does not have all of this magic, comforting aura (when in its presence a person will feel a sense of warmth and comfort), omniscience, omnipresence, immortality

Family: Iliric (sibling)

Extra info: god of light, life, hope, and love among other things although those are the domains it focuses on, tends to switch between a female and male form, usually takes the form of a child

Personality: Ikari is childish unlike its sibling, it is easily excitable and has a tendency to want to play “games” sometimes these games are genuine games, such as its favorite hide and seek, however sometimes these games are far darker when in battle, being death games or twisted versions of real children's games such as tag it only plays these games in battles with opponents however so as long as you don't decide to battle a god like you will be fine but remember to bring snacks! :D

Name: Iliric (no known last name)

Gender: genderfluid (pronouns any, primarily he/its)

Race: Unkown (no race?) can appear as any race they wish although they choose to appear as a human adult most often

Hair: black neat long hair (male form) black long hair usually kept in a loose ponytail (female form)

Clothes: a black tunic with purple accents (this but the gold is replaced with purple) a black royal cloak with a small black piece of armor on his left shoulder and black skinny fit pants (male form) a black dress and corset with a long almost transparent black cape

Eye color: black (male) deep purple (female)

Skin color: pale ivory

Build: average (male) skinny (female)

Height: 6’2 (male) 5’11 (female)

Age: ??? (older than everything, usually takes on the appearance of an adult in their mid 20s)

Abilities: complete reality manipulation, , is able to use all forms of magic at the highest level of mastery including divine magic that is exclusive to the two twin gods iliric and Ikari as well as the devil Zaratos although Zaratos does not have all of this magic also has access to hate magic, dread aura (when in its presence a person will feel a sense of extreme dread, fear, and despair), omniscience, omnipresence, and immortality

Family: Ikari (sibling)

Extra info: god of darkness, death, hate, and despair among other things although those are the domains it focuses on, tends to switch between a female and male form although unlike Ikari who switches near constantly Iliric switches far less often and tends to have a preference towards its male form primarily using He/Its pronouns

Personality: unlike its sibling, it is far more serious and tends to stay out of the affairs of mortals and instead opts to handle the affairs of reality that its sibling tends to neglect in favor of playing with the mortals however it does sometimes interfere with mortals although it is rarely happy when it has to and usually a mortal will end up dead if it shows up, it also has made it his job to keep Ikari in check as Ikaris childish nature means it tends to reckless things for fun that sometimes (tho rarely) could jeopardize all of existence

Name: Zarkos

Gender: Male

Race: Zarthan

Hair: short white

Clothes: white tunic with red accents, a white shoulder cape with an embroidery of the ritual of Zarkos, white skinny fit pants

Eye color: red with white pupils

Skin color: Honey

Build: average

Height: 6’1

Age: ???

Abilities: control over the ritual of Zarkos as its guardian (only when within the ritual), control over sin and soul magic, Charismatic speech (when using the ritual of Zarkos, he desired that the people of Zartha would listen to his words to stop the war, this led to the ritual giving him the ability of charismatic speech which makes it so people are more likely to listen to his words and agree with what he said, this is not mind control as people still have the ability to decide for themselves as Zarkos did not want to control the people of Zartha in that way all he does is influence them to listen and make them more agreeable at times)

Family: none known

Extra info: guardian of the ritual of Zarkos and its founder

Personality: Zarkos is fairly friendly, after having been alone in the ritual for thousands of years he's grown lonely and has spent his time warning those who use the ritual of its dangers, he cares for all living creatures (with a few exceptions) after his final battle in the Zarthan civil war in his final moments at the end of the battle he swore that if he either lived past that day or was brought back to life he would never fight another battle again

Some picrews I made a while back

Zaratos

Ikari

illiric

zarkos

[ofwondersandhares]

''You may not want me around and for what it is worth I get it even though I played no part in my disappearing act, but I will be around should you ever want to talk.'' He wasn't going to say he had been slowly unravelling without him. ( to Sean )

"Talk? About what exactly? The weather, the time of day? Rather I grew an extra toe in the middle of the night?---"

He knew Lupin was still hurting, he could feel his emotions and how they were screaming out for him. "Listen, Lupin, I get that you're hurting, and I believe you, you know. I believe that your disappearing wasn't your fault, really I do, I mean, I'm no stranger to the same sort of circumstance minus someone playing puppetmaster with my head but --"

Sean had swallowed thickly, his slender digits rubbing the back of his head as he looked off to the side, almost as if he was avoiding eye contact. "I just need some space. I need a break, Lupin. We might not be lovers anymore but that shouldn't suggest that I don't want you around. Given that though, you need to let me go, relationship wise, --- lover wise. Your emotions are chaos and I don't think you being close to me is helping that one bit. It isn't that I don't want you around, Lupin, is that right now, you can't be around me."

Finally, Sean had captured Lupin's eyes with his own. "Not until you don't want me anymore. Not until you can honestly say to yourself, we are just friends."

[primelight]

Concerning Seluvis (and Pidia)

Ok, I completely understand where the ‘Pidia is the puppet master’ theory came from (Vaati, alternate interpretations of lore etc.). However, all the evidence in favor of that is circumstantial, AND can be countered.

1. We already know that puppets can be given (or loaned) to someone who isn’t the original creator. After all, the player can get a few.

2. The Raya Lucaria soldier puppets are being used to guard the rooftops of Caria Manor. Pidia is a servant of Caria Manor, and looks to be the only sane Albinauric sorcerer left. It makes sense for him to tasked to use the puppets to protect the Manor.

3. This also explains why he says ‘You!’ when you first come down the ladder; he saw you on the rooftops.

4. There’s no law that there can’t be two perverted dolly-botherers. And Pidia is absolutely a perverted dolly-botherer.

5. You can hear the soldier puppets kill him after you find Seluvis’ body. If we’re talking ‘real’ puppet master, that’s an interesting coincidence.

6. Yes, he has the map to the amber starlight shard. However, he runs a storeroom. It makes sense that there’d be old, forgotten things in there.

7. From a meta perspective, you, the player, are just browsing the shelves when you buy stuff from Pidia.

8. Gideon has beef with Seluvis. It’s clearly mutual. Seluvis chose Nepheli, Gideon’s adopted daughter, as his target for the puppetizing potion. Why would Pidia, an Albinauric sorcerer with no apparent connection to the Roundtable Hold, order something like that?

9. Puppetry is specifically called out as a Night Sorcery/Nox thing. Carians in general are connected to the night, and the stars. Seluvis was one of Ranni’s father’s Preceptors, and a master sorceror. Seluvis’ bell bearing indicates a clear visual connection to Carian and/or Night sorcery....and that’s an entirely different post, stay tuned.

11. We’ve seen a non-summoned remote-controlled puppet in action: Finger Maiden Therolina. She shows up at the Radahn festival, and is utterly silent. She bows and...that’s it. You can buy her from Seluvis, too, or get her as a free puppet. And you see her in his chambers, so, yeah, she’s a puppet. And Seluvis himself has an awful lot of personality for a remote-controlled doll, doesn’t he? So...I speculate that he isn’t.

12. The biggest one IMHO is that Ranni knows that Seluvis puts you up to giving her the amber starlight draught. Either she is...spectacularly stupid, or Seluvis is the puppetmaster. And she knows it.

And, finally...Seluvis’ puppet body...This is a stretch, sure, but there are a few explanations:

13. We already know that sorcerers can body-surf. Sellen does it, using a body that Seluvis made. Jerren himself says, when he finds her ‘dead,’ that she’s doubtlessly got another body stashed somewhere. We help her upload her consciousness with that primal glintstone.

14. The merchant note on ‘the Preceptor’s Secret’ claims that Sellen visits (of visited) him quite frequently. Circumstantial, but it is not out of the question that they were both in on her backup plan. Why wouldn’t he have a backup plan?

15. ...He was totally being a pervy dolly-botherer with her new, empty body though.

16. So one explanation is that he somehow ditched his body for another. Or shut it down for future use. But we’ll never get that proven one way or another.

17. Another explanation is that Ranni made him drink one of his potions. He gets puppetized after you give her the fingerslayer blade....so he’s outlived his usefulness to her. And since she absolutely did know what he was up to, maybe she thought it was time for some justice?

Anyway...This is also all circumstantial. We’ll likely never get a confirmation of any of this. I think you can run with either theory...Fanfic fuel either way!

(Image credit to Fextralife for Sellen)