#he was on what's my line twice in the 60s but it was so like straight laced

[karinyosa]

they should've had gore vidal on more game shows when they had the chance. put that man on family feud.

[ckret2]

Chapter 60 of human Bill Cipher almost wasn't the Mystery Shack's prisoner but he's back here for some reason:

Everything you never even imagined about how Bill survived his execution.

(warning for cultists doing cultish activities in this chapter. and i don't mean "fantastical Blind Eye Society hijinks," i mean "discussing how to indoctrinate & isolate new recruits.)

####

"Hiya, Stan!" Bill Cipher beamed brilliantly. His gold tooth matched his new coat. "Didja miss me yet?"

Stan punched Bill in the nose.

Bill tumbled on his back, hand over his face. Voice tight with pain, he said, "Just so you know, I let you do that."

Stan's voice hit a pitch he hadn't been able to reach since puberty. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALIVE!"

Bill sat up gingerly. "Well, funny story—"

"NO! Nuh-uh, I'm finishing you properly this time!" Fists raised, Stan lunged at Bill.

Ford grabbed Stan from behind, one arm around his neck and one hooked up under his armpit. (Bill took the opportunity to scoot backward and get to his feet.) "Stanley! Stand down!"

"YOU!" Stan flung Ford's hands off and whirled around, pointing accusatorially at him. "You gave me your word! Tell me you didn't let Bill out."

"I didn't let Bill out."

Stan grabbed Ford's turtleneck. "Don't you lie to me!"

"I didn't let Bill out!" Ford ripped Stan's hands off his turtleneck. "He was already gone when I went into the kids' room."

"Then who— Who else would've known—"

Stan whirled around at a creak on the stairs. Dipper, halfway down the stairs, jumped when Stan saw him.

"DIPPER!" Stan stormed up to the stairs. "Did you help the demon escape?!"

"What, no!" Dipper took a step back up. "I don't even know how he got out! All I did was not say anything!"

"Well, who's left that could've helped him?!"

"BIIILL!" Mabel barreled down the stairs. "YOU CAME BACK!" She climbed on the stair railing, jumped off, and Bill—who'd crept inside behind Stan—was once more tackled to the ground.

Stan's hands twisted in the air like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to strangle someone, punch something, or pull out his own hair. He finally settled on curling them into fists and shaking them at God. "AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T KNOW THE DEMON'S ALIVE?!"

Soos, still sitting in the living room by himself, staring into space, voice hushed with horror, asked, "So who did I sweep into the flower vase..."

"Okay, family meeting!" Stan pointed at the living room, "Right now! You," he pointed at Bill, "upstairs! I don't wanna look at you and your—your stupid Las Vegas magician sequined coat!"

Bill sat up with a wince and grinned, "Oh, do you like it?" He took off his backpack and checked to see if its contents had been crushed when he was knocked down twice.

"You look like a circus clown!"

"I liked the Vegas magician thing better."

"GO!" Stan pointed up the stairs.

Bill raised his hands, rolling his eye as he started up the stairs. "Fine, fine—"

Stan grabbed Bill's wrist, making him drop his backpack. "STOP!"

"Make up your mind!"

Stan yanked one half of the enchanted friendship bracelets down over Bill's wrist. "You're not getting out again. Not on my watch."

Bill jerked his arm free, shot Stan a dirty look, and stomped up the stairs, umbrella clutched angrily in one hand and backpack in the other. Stan pulled the other half of the bracelet on.

In the living room, Ford, Dipper, and Mabel were lined up shamefacedly on the couch, like three students waiting to be lectured by the principal. Stan glowered at them each, fists on his hips. "Now, I wanna know why my own family all joined in some big secret conspiracy to help Cipher escape! Is it alien mind control?! Did you join a cult?!"

Mabel took a deep breath. "I saved him because he's my friend and I don't want him to die and he really is getting better and you'd all see it if you just gave him a chance to prove it and you just don't understand how he thinks like I do"—she took another breath—"and I promise he won't try to take over the world again just give him a chance!"

Stan's glare melted into something close to guilt. "You're... you're fine, pumpkin. I know you wouldn't have let your friend get hurt." He shot a glare at the other two conspirators. "Which is why we weren't going to tell her."

"Listen," Dipper said, "I still hate him and I don't trust him, but—but I heard part of a poem about Bill that I'm sure is a prophecy; which means he's important, we'll probably need him to save the town or something! So we can't let him die before then! He's already passed up chances to kill us and even saved Grunkle Ford and me, that proves he can restrain himself enough to be useful!" He winced, "Plus... I didn't wanna make Mabel sad. I have seen a future where she loses a friend, and it is not pretty."

Mabel leaned against Dipper. "Thanks, bro-bro."

Stan screwed up his face, but just muttered angrily under his breath about stupid prophecies and stupid life saving, and turned his glare on Ford. "Well? What's your excuse?"

Ford didn't answer, staring down at his hands, grimacing as he searched for an answer.

Stan pressed, "You told me that if you couldn't pull the trigger, you'd give me the gun. Why didn't you?"

"Because I could have pulled it! The situation was different, I—I only changed my mind because he wasn't there. If he had been, I'd have done it—"

"Would you? If you couldn't even tell me that he wasn't dead, do you really think that if he'd been right there, looking you in the eyes, you'd have done it?"

In his mind's eye, Ford could see Bill, hiding under a towel, grinning up at him with one bright eye. And Bill, collapsed beside the lake, shaking all over, sobbing so hard he didn't even notice he was clinging to Ford's stupid borrowed t-shirt like a lifeline. And Bill, staring tiredly across a chess board, telling Ford that the black king was taking the whole board down with him. And Bill, lighting up the room as he taught Ford's niece about his own long-extinct alien civilization.

And Bill, glowing golden, lighting up Ford's dream as he taught him about fifth-dimensional calculus.

Ford didn't answer.

Stan asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Softly, Ford said, "Because I don't want him to die."

Stan spread his arms in disbelief. "Well, why the hell not?!"

"Because—I'm—beginning to think that there might be a chance that Bill could..." he winced, "change. Maybe."

Stan's silence was deafening. Mabel leaned forward to stare around Dipper at Ford.

Ford rubbed his forehead. "I—it made sense yesterday, but it sounds stupid out loud."

Stan slowly shook his head. "Have you all lost your minds? You think he can change? You think he's part of some prophecy?! Y—Mabel, honey, you're the sweetest girl in the world, but you could do way better for friends than him."

Mabel sorta shrugged, sorta shook her head, sorta grimaced, and sorta nodded. "Yeah, but, I like him."

"WHY?!" Stan roared, making Mabel and Dipper both jump. "Why, why are any of you wasting your time on him?! Guys like him don't change! He's a dangerous, self-centered crook, and that's all he'll ever be. He's a rotten, greedy, lazy loser, he's only gotten as far as he has by conning guys smarter than him, he's got no regard for anybody but himself, all he does is cheat and lie, and if you let him stay in our lives he'll just ruin them! The best thing he could do for our family is—" Stan choked on a lump in his throat. "Is d-die."

The room was silent. Dipper and Mabel, leaning back into the sofa to get away from the rant, stared at him with wide eyes. Soos, over in an armchair bearing silent witness to this family drama, had his hands steepled in front of his face.

Stan couldn't look at Ford. He didn't know why Ford looked so sorrowful. Thickly, Stan asked, "All I want is to get rid of him—why don't you?"

He could hear Soos wince. "Oof."

Stan pointed at him. "Not a word. Not one word," he growled. "Fine—if none of you will deal with him properly," he cracked his knuckles, "I will."

Mabel flinched. Dipper moved to stand, "Grunkle Stan—" but stopped when Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

Stan stomped up the stairs. He'd wring that monster's stupid neck, and if it started the apocalypse then so be it—

He stopped halfway up the stairs. Bill was sitting on the steps, just around the landing corner, leaning against the wall, backpack in his lap. His soaked pant legs were dripping rainwater on the steps. "You," Stan snarled. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like, genius? I'm trying to eavesdrop," Bill said. "So what'd they say?"

"What? What did who say about what?"

"About leaving me alive. Why did they say they don't want me dead?"

He asked like he was genuinely curious. Like he didn't know.

Stan stared at Bill.

"I have a good idea for Shooting Star, but the other two...?" Bill made an uncertain gesture with his hand. "I've got my top guesses, but I want to know what clinched the deal."

Stan couldn't kill him, either.

He'd already lost this fight. Pathetic lonely dead con artist who'd rather lose a tooth than look scared, how could Stan take him out? He understood too well. "Just—shut your stupid mouth, take off that stupid circus outfit, and get out of my sight, Cipher."

Bill bristled. "Hey." He stood. "What's that for? It's not like I did anything wrong. Sure, I got your whole family in on a conspiracy, but that's their mistake! I was just doing what I had to! You can't blame me for—"

"I don't blame you," Stan said.

"You d— You don't." Cautiously, Bill asked, "You... don't?"

"How can I?" He shrugged heavily. "It was self-defense. Ford should've known better—but I can't blame you. I'm not an idiot, I don't expect you to just lay down and die for us."

"Oh." Bill squinted at Stan, like he thought this was a trick and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Oh. Okay." After a pause, voice uncharacteristically small and confused, he asked, "So I'm... not in trouble?"

Stan's face did a gymnastics routine. "Heck," he muttered. "No! I guess not! I don't like it, but I'm not gonna punish a guy for saving his own miserable worthless hide! Just... stay out of my way, I don't wanna see your stupid face."

"I'm just minding my own business," Bill said. He sat again and leaned on the wall, arms crossed, staring into space thoughtfully. (He didn't know what to do with a reality where he'd done something everyone hated, but nobody blamed him for it.)

Stan trudged back downstairs. Everyone was where he'd left them. He glowered at his family. They quietly waited. "Well," Stan said. "We're stuck with him now. Since somebody wasted the only bit of fuel we had that could kill him. Is everyone happy."

Nobody seemed particularly happy. Ford shifted on his seat. "Kids... you should go to bed. Stan and I need to talk."

Dipper and Mabel quickly took the opportunity to slide off the sofa and escape the room.

"Oh! Oh you bet we need to talk! You have no idea how much we need to talk—"

"Downstairs," Ford said firmly.

"What, you don't want everyone else to hear exactly what I think of your crazy stunt?"

Ford lowered his voice. "Downstairs where he can't overhear. It's important."

Stan's face twitched with the effort of suppressing more shouting; but then he growled, "Fine! But this had better be worth it. Lemme get my bathrobe, your stupid underground office is like a freezer..." He trudged from the room, grumbling. "Hey, demon! Take off your bracelet, I'm done being tied to your sorry hide." After a moment, the thread reappeared on the stair steps as they both took their ends off.

Dipper glared at Bill as he and Mabel passed him going up the stairs. Bill gave him a tiny, cheery wave. Dipper grumbled, "I can't believe you finally escaped like you wanted just to come right back."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea! Blame your sister!"

Mabel hugged him again. "Thanks for coming back."

Bill said, "Thanks for absorbing Stan's wrath for me!" He laughed.

The kids ran upstairs.

And Bill placed the tip of his broken umbrella on the stair step and quietly walked back down, winding the enchanted bracelets' thread into loops as he went.

####

Soos looked at Ford and shyly raised a hand. "So... when you said the kids should go to bed, did that include..."

"Yes, Soos," Ford said. "You should go too."

"Yes." He quietly pumped a fist. "One of the kids." As he left, he said, "Hey, Bill. Sweet coat."

Ford looked over. Hovering in the shadows of the entryway, almost glowing gold from the living room's light, Bill peered into the room. He was by the coat rack, hanging the bracelets back up. Bill said, "Fancy meeting you here."

Ford sighed irritably. "I'm not in the mood to talk, Cipher."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not down here for you." Bill gestured at the sofa Ford was on. "I want my bed back."

Right. Ford stood so Bill could retrieve the cushions.

As he grabbed the first cushion, Bill smirked at Ford. "So..." (Not here for you. Sure.) "What was it that swayed you?"

Ford just glowered at Bill.

Bill pressed, "Was it that handy list of starter spells I gave you? I doubt it was my chess prowess, that wasn't my best playing." He laughed, "What am I asking for! You humans are suckers for a life debt. You can consider it paid off—a life for a life, fair and square—"

"It wasn't any of those."

Bill's smile disappeared. "Then what?" he asked. "Don't tell me you did it out of the goodness of your heart, I've seen enough of yours not to buy that—"

"It was Mabel."

Bill dropped his first cushion on top of the second and awkwardly tried to get his arms around both. "What'd she say about me?"

"Nothing." Nothing that had changed Ford's mind, anyway. "It's how you treat her."

"How I—?" Bill was so baffled that he almost looked offended. "What are you talking about? I haven't been treating her any way at all! I'm just... just goofing around with her. She's a fun kid."

"Exactly," Ford said. "If you can treat just one odd little girl with kindness, for no reason—then maybe, just maybe, there's hope for you." He sighed; he felt the sternness in his face slacken. He felt tired. "At least... I want to hope there is."

There was a flash of something Ford couldn't recognize in Bill's face. Something like pain; something nearly like guilt. It was gone almost as soon as he saw it.

"Well, sure," Bill said flatly, glancing away like Ford had lost his interest. "Why wouldn't I be nice to her? I like weird freaks." He managed to stand with his awkward armload and turned away, cutting the conversation off. "Anyway. It's been a long night. I'm going to bed. You should too," he shot back over his shoulder from the bottom of the stairs, "when's the last time you got decent sleep? Your eye bags are more... bag than... eye." Bill cringed at himself. "Don— Don't say anything. I'm tired." He headed up the stairs, his umbrella hooked over his left elbow. They'd have to get that umbrella back.

Tomorrow. Ford couldn't be bothered tonight. Bill wasn't killing anybody before morning.

Ford leaned on the doorframe where he could still see Bill. "I hid your hoodie in the box of spare bedding in the loft. Under the spare pillows."

Bill stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back toward Ford. "You didn't incinerate it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I assumed you'd be back here eventually. I thought you'd want it."

Bill's face was unreadable.

He turned away from Ford and continued upstairs without saying a word.

Mabel's crayon drawing of Bill—"YOU CAN CHANGE. I BELIEVE IN YOU!"—felt like it was burning a hole in Ford's pocket.

####

Saturday, 7:52 a.m.

Bill stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar and timed his exit so he walked out of the Triple Digit Truck Stop just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

Gravity Falls really was a charming little town. Behind the times. The Triple Digit Truck Stop had expanded significantly in the past decades to add a convenience store and additional amenities for travelers, but the diner that made up the heart of it had barely changed. Same patchy grassy parking lot, same giant lumberjack sculpture watching over the cars... same public pay phones around the left side of the building.

He put in a few coins, punched in the number he'd memorized, and leaned against the wall while he waited to be answered. "Hey, Sue! Guess who?" A smile curled across his face. "That's right. Hey, how many people can say they've been personally called by god?" He laughed. "My Star Boy told you what preparations to make, right? Good. It's time. Midnight. Just north of the county line. I'll see you there."

Then he hung up the phone, left the clearing around the diner, and vanished into the trees.

Unless something dramatically changed, he'd be meeting his dear devotee that night.

####

9:30 p.m.

Something had dramatically changed.

His disloyal devotee had saved him.

It was a long walk to the county line. If Bill wanted to make his midnight meeting with his cultist, he had to leave before sunset.

He was still up on the cliff when the last of the light left the valley, pacing restlessly back and forth—first toward the side of the cliff overlooking the town (he could see the Mystery Shack's roof through the trees), then toward the side aimed away from the valley, toward the county line.

He should go. He needed to go. He needed to go now. He needed to go two hours ago.

He'd spent three out of the last four days hiking all over this town's forests and caves. In the last thirty-six hours he'd barely gotten a quick nap. (In the morning, when Mabel heard that Ford had covered for Bill, she'd come straight here.) He told himself he didn't have the energy for the hike to the county line. (What if Mabel got here and couldn't find him?)

If he didn't show up tonight, surely his cultist would try again tomorrow night. He'd go tomorrow.

It was fine. Everything would work out for him. Everything always worked out for him.

####

Sunday, 4:10 p.m.

He'd been right. Mabel had come straight here. As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched her wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth? Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Interesting question.

####

8:30 p.m.

It was a long walk to the county line. Bill packed his supplies—he didn't have that much to pack, he'd only ever needed enough food and shelter to last him a couple of days. He flung one backpack over each shoulder, closed and concealed the alien ship fragment, and shrunk his floating platform with the height-altering flashlight so he could wrap it in a shirt and stuff it in his second backpack.

And then, under the cover of the rain and the falling night, he began the hike north.

####

10:45 p.m.

Even to Bill's eyes, the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls was typically invisible. He could only see it where something touched it or passed through it, making waves travel out in circles from the point of contact. The circles glowed a dull coppery color at their peaks. Tonight, with the rain falling, the barrier rippled as though the rain were falling on the surface of a lake, and the whole thing glowed a faint filmy orange.

Precisely in the middle of the barrier was a sign marking the border of Roadkill County.

Ten feet beyond the barrier, just off the edge of the road, headlights and engine off and lurking beneath the trees, was a black car.

Bill walked straight through the weirdness barrier as though it wasn't even there. He didn't feel a thing.

The car engine started and the headlights turned on. Bill didn't even blink. The driver's door flew open and Sue popped out, fumbling to open an umbrella as she did. "Bill Cipher?"

"Hiya, Sue! You made it early."

"Oh, thank goodness." She hurried up to him. "I was so worried—I didn't know if I'd come to the wrong place, or if something had happened... And when I didn't hear anything from you the next day, and Gideon didn't know anything..." (Great, she'd gotten Gideon involved?) She started to offer Bill her umbrella, realized he was already holding a closed umbrella as a cane, looked up as she registered that no rain was falling on him, then stared at him in wonder.

"Yeah, sorry about that—an unavoidable emergency came up, I couldn't get out and couldn't call." And he'd gotten a pretty good night's sleep. "But look at you, loyal enough to come try again the next night! You're a rare sort of human soul, you know that? This world could use more people like you."

Sue flushed with pleasure. "Oh... thank you, I..."

Bill tilted his head toward the car. "Let's not talk out in the rain, huh? Another car's coming by in about a minute, I think we shouldn't be seen."

"Right! Of course, my lord." She hurried back to the car.

"There's a terrific diner just a few minutes up the road. We can talk there, it's safe enough. Cute decor, too—have you ever seen a twenty foot tall lumberjack...?" He paused uncertainly by the car. "Hey, Sue? This'll sound silly—but I'm gonna need you to get the passenger door."

The car's interior lights flashed on as Sue opened the passenger door, long enough to catch the glittery purple nail polish on Bill's fingers. Sue gave it a curious look. Even though they'd just gotten painted three days ago, the polish was already scuffed again from his escape; but a few tiny flower stickers were still sticking to his nails.

Bill grinned. "There's a thirteen-year-old staying in the shack. Sweetest thing. She's a real artist."

"Oh! I see." A smile stretched across Sue's face. Bill suspected it wasn't for Mabel. That's right, your god's good with children. He lets little girls give him goofy manicures and proudly shows them off. Chicks dig that kind of thing.

When they were both buckled in, Sue hesitated, holding the steering wheel. "Lord Cipher... I wanted to say... if my... actions the last time we met were out of line in any way, I want to apologize—"

Bill placed a finger under her chin, turned her face toward him, and kissed her lightly. (He was so smooth. He mentally congratulated himself.) "Sorry if you got confused. I had to keep the outsider from getting suspicious, get it?"

She sucked in a small breath. "I... yes. Yes, of course."

"Don't trust anything I say or do when unbelievers are listening. The only time you can be sure I'm telling the truth..." his voice dropped to a near whisper, "is when we're alone."

He could see the goosebumps raise on her arms. "Yes, my lord."

He was so good—and his worshipers were so, so stupid. That was why they followed him. "Now, let's get to that diner, huh?"

As they got on the road, he studied his nails; to a normal human it was too dark to see, but to Bill's eyes they still glittered bright purple. The question Mabel had asked him earlier had been playing over and over in his mind all afternoon: Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?

Naive, trusting kid.

She really thought she was his best option.

######

"... And then, as if directly launching a psychic attack on my ethereal essence and forcing me into a mortal fleshly form wasn't bad enough," Bill said, "they imprisoned me! And get this: just to rub salt in the wound, they thought it would be funny to take a divine muse who's spent an eternity helping mortals build doorways between dimensions—and curse it so it can't open doors. I have to ask my kidnappers to open the fridge for me. Have you ever heard something so condescending?"

"Insane. That's just sadistic," Sue said. "After all you tried to do for them."

"You don't know what a comfort it is to hear a human say that."

They fell silent as someone approached. A waitress stopped next to their table. "Hey, I—Goldie!"

"Dani Miranda! Hey, how's it going! I see you found the treasure map I left you."

Dani was wearing two large gold earrings, two heavy gold necklaces each with a large gem-encrusted pendant, and four rings. "Yes, oh my gosh. I cannot believe you knew where a whole treasure chest was and you just gave it to me? That's the nicest thing ever?"

That's right, it was. "What are you doing working here! You can retire on that kind of money. Unless you want to rebury all that gold yourself?" He'd respect that.

"I'm still getting it appraised. Besides, I like talking to the late night travelers."

Bill ordered a strawberry banana shake, the monthly pancake special—which meant three quarters of the pile covered in stripes of strawberry sauce and cream cheese frosting and one quarter covered in a big puddle of blueberry sauce—floppy bacon, three eggs prepared "any way except scrambled," a cup of bleu cheese dressing, a cup of salsa, and a bottle of hot sauce. Sue ordered a water and a small grilled chicken salad.

(Bill tried to remember whether the Death Valley girls were one of his "purify the flesh by practicing harsh asceticism" cults or his "hedonistically revel in the pleasures of the senses" cults, in case he needed to make up a justification for why god was ordering pancakes instead of practicing what he preached—something something a human body containing a divine soul burns through much more energy, maybe—but no, he had the Death Valley girls on psychedelics, that was a hedonism cult. He kept them controlled through drugs, exhaustion, and poor air conditioning, not starvation. Small grilled chicken salad, indeed. The only thing stronger than cult brainwashing was diet industry brainwashing.)

When Dani was safely out of earshot, Sue lowered her voice and asked, "'Goldie'?"

"My captors decided to keep my identity secret so an angry mob won't execute me before they get the chance," Bill said. "The entire town's against the All-Seeing Eye named Bill; but only a handful know there's anything unusual about the handsome human in the Mystery Shack they've been calling Goldie."

She looked taken aback at the angry mob comment. "The entire town's against you?" Her gaze roved around the Triple Digit Truck Stop, taking in a lone trucker several tables away and a bored waiter scrolling on his phone behind the counter. "Is there anyone we can trust?"

"Gideon's on our side, of course—good kid—but, well... he isn't completely reliable. You know what happens with child celebrities. The fame and fortune spoils 'em a bit."

"I never would have guessed from his television appearances. He seems so... gracious."

Bill choked back a laugh. "He'll grow up all right—he's just going through a phase. But I'd rather not trust him with more involvement than necessary until he... matures a little."

"I understand." Sue sighed. "It's too bad the dawn of the new age didn't begin closer to us, where we could have assisted your work."

She didn't have the guts to question her god, but Bill heard the implicit question: why here? Why in some tiny tourist town that didn't even like tourists, buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere, amongst the ignorant ungrateful masses? "Yeah—too bad," Bill agreed with a shrug. "But hey, I didn't choose where the veil between worlds would be thinnest! There's energy in this town like nowhere else on your planet. It's the only place where a machine built with modern human technology is strong enough to punch through dimensions—and that's with the help of extraterrestrial equipment."

Besides, he didn't like Death Valley.

Dani returned from the kitchen. "One chicken salad, and one breakfast combo with the pancakes of the month."

"Great! I'm starving." Bill picked up the little plastic cup of salsa and dumped it into his shake. Sue choked on her water.

Dani's brows shot up. "Is—is that good?"

"What can I say, I've got the palate of an alien." (Sue choked on the sip she'd taken to recover from her first sip of water.) Bill poured the bleu cheese over his eggs, then started drizzling hot sauce on his pancakes. "Anyway, it keeps people from stealing my food."

"I guess so!" Dani laughed. She hovered near their table a little too long; and then she said, "Okay, I've got to ask: how did you know where to find buried treasure? I mean...!"

"I know lots of things." He fought down a smirk. "I happen to be psychic."

"No way." But she looked curious. She wanted to believe.

Bill had had a hunch that giving her that treasure would pay off. Nice to know his understanding of human nature was still sharp, even when he couldn't double-check the far future to see how his meddling would turn out. "If I wasn't psychic, would I have known your last name? Or where that treasure chest was?" he asked. "Or that you keep three pictures of tarantulas and a Canadian twenty in your wallet? Or that you have recurring dreams of trying to hide in sewer manholes from a fire-breathing dragon?" While he waited for her to process that, he triumphantly dug into his pancakes. He had a feeling he wouldn't be eating much more before his food got cold.

Dani's smile had disappeared. The blood drained from her face. "How...?"

"I'm... let's say, connected to a higher plain. I can see dimensions most humans can't."

"It's true," Sue piped up. (Bill took the opportunity to dig into an egg. Oh, the bleu cheese was a great choice.) "The insights h—she's offered me and so many others have been... life-changing. World-changing." Good girl.

"Insights?" Dani asked weakly.

Bill shrugged modestly. "You could call me a 'spiritual teacher,' I suppose, but that makes it sound like I'm preaching some kind of religion! All I do is teach people what I know and tell people what I see if I think it'll help 'em. Like if I see a bunch of buried gold that could change the life of a nice kid working minimum wage."

Dani reflexively touched one of her necklaces.

"You didn't think going to parties in togas was my full-time job, did you?" Bill laughed.

Dani laughed feebly too. She hadn't moved away. She was closer now, her thigh leaning against the edge of the table. "That's... wow. I've never met an actual psychic before. I mean—I went to one of Lil Gideon's live shows, but that was before the big scandal and his arrest."

"You hate to see a pillar of the community go down like that, don't you?"

"What..." Dani swallowed hard, lowered her voice, and asked, "What kinds of things does a psychic 'teach'?"

Got her. "It depends! Everyone's got different lessons they need to learn, right?" He slid out of his seat, nodded toward Sue, and said, "Excuse me ladies—I'd love to elaborate, but I'm afraid I need to hit the restroom. Sue, why don't you tell her what you've learned about, give her a concrete idea of what I do."

"It would be my honor."

As Bill passed Sue, he leaned over and whispered, "Don't mention triangles." And then he got out of her way, to let Sue do what his Death Valley girls did best.

####

When he returned to his seat, Sue leaned over the table and murmured, "I got her phone number and email."

"Good work. I bet she'd be an easy recruit."

"I bet. She's already asking how much lessons cost."

"What'd you say?"

"You offer your help to others for free, but cover your living expenses and travel costs with donations."

"Attagirl." It had been easier to use that line when he was a triangle—of course our great mentor and muse doesn't need money, he's above such earthly concerns; his mortal devotees who spread his word, though, subsist on donations... It was better for his image. They'd just have to modify their fundraising pitch for a while. "This is exactly what I hoped would happen when I invited you to this diner. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

The ghost of a smile flitted across Sue's face. "I'll follow up with her by phone. It's a pity we don't have enough time to really put the pressure on her in person."

"Why not? I bet we'd win her over in less than a week."

"I've already contacted the main compound in Death Valley. We've got plane tickets for first thing in the morning."

(Bill's blood ran cold. Somehow, it hadn't dawned on him until that moment that escaping Gravity Falls meant leaving Gravity Falls.)

"I have a motel room a few towns over, it was the closest I could find to Gravity Falls," Sue went on. "It's a straight shot to the Portland airport in the morning. Everyone's so excited—"

"Hold on," Bill said, figuring out what he was about to say next as he went. "There's been a last minute change of plans. I'm staying in Gravity Falls."

Sue stared at him. "But—my lord! You're a prisoner here, why wouldn't you come home to the people who love you?"

Love you, love you, love you. The word love alone was nearly enough to make him change his mind again. How he missed being revered. He could picture them now, these zealots who adored him so much they'd willingly bend their bodies into a throne to lift him up—and he didn't even need to turn them to stone first. It would be so easy to get away from all his human enemies forever...

Don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?

He shook his head. "Two reasons," he said. "One: no matter what, eventually I'll have to come back. The Age of the Triangle can only dawn in Gravity Falls. Staying makes it that much easier to get things started again. And two... I'm—working on a couple of potential recruits." He was? Wow. He was impressed at himself.

"You mean Gideon, or...?"

"No, others. One's the girl who helped me escape." He drummed his fingers on the table, calling attention to his purple fingernails. "She's a good kid. Lots of potential. Could be a real leader someday—she's a natural fit for our new world. She's got a few strings, but I'm working on helping her untie 'em."

Strings was a term that Mary, the leader of the Death Valley compound, had come up with and spread to the other girls: it meant petty mortal concerns that could tangle and tie you up, dragging you away from pursuing true spiritual growth and preparing for a better, liberated world. Your childhood religious beliefs were a string. The misguided ideas about morality you learned from the secular world were a string. Your job was a string. Your spouse was a string. Your family was a lot of strings. The intervention where your friends sat you down and told you they were worried about how much you'd changed lately and they were afraid you'd joined some kind of cult was a string. You had to cut them all.

And then Bill could tie on his puppet strings in their place.

"How old is she?"

"Thirteen. Fourteen at the end of the summer."

"Oh, wow—younger than I thought. That's great, kids are more open-minded," Sue said. "Though if she decides to join, it'll be hard to get her away from her family without a kidnapping charge..."

"Ugh, you don't need to remind me. I remember how we almost lost Karen and Jennifer. The legal system in this country is a mess." Bill had needed to torture that divorce court judge with nightmares for weeks before he caved and awarded Jennifer's mother sole custody so they could move to the Death Valley compound together. "But hey, got some good news: the other potential recruit. You remember the 'ex-cultist' who gave you gals my location. He turned on the humans who are pushing to execute me. He's almost back on our side. And he just so happens to be the girl's great-uncle. The family trusts him. If we can get 'em to pass her to him as her guardian, then she's ours. We can work out how to get her to the compound later." That was a lie. Bill was never handing Mabel to the Death Valley girls. She was better than them.

Sue looked less enthusiastic for this ex-cultist than she had for the girl. "Is he one of your captors...?"

Bill waved off her concerns, frowning. "Look. He's obviously been corrupted by the outside world. I lost contact with him for thirty years and he came back with more strings than a mop head. But I don't think he's beyond purification. He's already shown major improvement, now that he's once again under the shining light of my influence."

"But, this town..." Sue shook her head doubtfully. "Cipher, my lord, they nearly killed you once. You'd risk staying just to try to recruit two people? One who's already betrayed you—?"

"Yes!" Bill snapped. Sue flinched. "They're worth it." (He didn't question his own vehemence, his own anger at their value being doubted. He rarely questioned himself. If he asked questions, he might get answers.) "Don't you dare let this face fool you—I'm still your all-seeing god and I know what I'm doing better than you do. These two are perfect. The Age of the Triangle needs them. The traitor will repent. He WILL worship me again."

Sue stared at him with wide eyes; for a split second her breath froze in fear. She gave him a tiny nod. "Of course, my lord. My apologies."

Dani appeared at their table again. "Hey, how was everything?"

And Bill was immediately all good cheer. "Terrific, thanks!"

"Great!"

As Sue reached for her wallet, Dani waved her off. "Oh, don't worry about it—it's on the house." She winked. "I think I can afford to cover it."

Already making donations to the cause. Pretty soon all the profits from her treasure chest would be in one of Bill's bank accounts.

As they headed back out into the rain, Sue said, "So, we're staying in town at least long enough to pick up another three recruits?"

"Maybe four," Bill said. "There's another kid in town I think needs some help finding a direction."

"Another? Is this one old enough to leave home alone?"

"Not for a couple more years—but she's dying to get out just as fast as she can," Bill said. "I think you can handle her."

####

They parked just up the road from the Mystery Shack and turned the headlights off.

"Here's everything Gideon said you wanted," Sue said, handing over a paper bag. "Candles, matchbook, knife, pens, spare notebooks, five thousand dollars, a burner phone, new clothes..."

Bill pulled out a flashy golden sequin-covered coat. "Oooh!" He dug around until he also found a button-up shirt and a pair of black opera gloves. He shrugged on the shirt.

"That's... what Gideon said you requested, right?" Sue eyed the tacky, gaudy coat uncertainly.

"As long as I'm in this body, I don't have the benefit of showing up glowing in people's dreams when I have something they need to hear! I need to make them pay attention any way I can." Also, normal people had boring tastes and sequins were fantastic. He buttoned up the shirt.

"I also brought—I—thought you might want..." She held out a large pendant on a thin chain. It was an eye inscribed inside a triangle inscribed inside a circle; rays radiated out from the eye, as though it were the sun. Bill's heart leaped into his throat at the sight of it.

He realized this was the first time since his death that he'd seen his own face in any form other than a thirteen-year-old's artwork—and his own corpse. His face was ubiquitous on this planet; it was plastered on everything from money to buildings to common consumer goods. Its conspicuous absence in Gravity Falls was uncanny.

"I'm not sure if it's inappropriate—"

"It's perfect." Bill snatched the necklace from her and fiddled with the clasp until he got it on. "Exactly what I need. What did I always say about your intuition?" He considered the gloves, decided he wasn't ready to pull them on quite yet, and shrugged on the coat instead.

She restrained a pleased smile at the flattery. "Thank you, my lord."

She looked out the windshield. Just up the road was a flock of wooden signs and arrows pointing which way to turn to reach the Mystery Shack. Bill wondered whether Sue's eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that she could see their silhouettes. Sue said, "If you're not coming back to us yet, then I suppose it's time to..."

"Hold on a minute," Bill said. "You've been a bigger help tonight than you know. If it weren't for your loyalty and diligence, I wouldn't have been able to consider escaping." Blah blah blah. The truth was he'd been soaking in her reverence for the past hour and a half, like a dehydrated cactus under a cloudburst, and he wasn't leaving until he'd sucked every drop from her. "There isn't a lot I can do for you right now, trapped in this form, but you deserve a reward." He leaned toward her, his elbow against her car seat, hand on the headrest. "Let me express my gratitude the way I would have if we hadn't been interrupted during our last meeting." He tilted his head toward the back seat.

She froze as she processed the offer; and then she leaned in to kiss him hungrily.

####

"The tide's changing in this town," Bill said, pulling on his gloves, smoothing his hair back into place, putting his new coat back on. "The dawn is coming. You should stay in town now that our enemies are losing their teeth."

"Yes, Lord Cipher," she said breathlessly, still trying to get her wits about her.

(From what Bill had eavesdropped between her and Dani while he was pretending to be in the restroom, he was right that she'd been one of his "dissatisfied housewife" converts. This was probably the first time she'd ever been touched by somebody who understood anatomy. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to return the favor. But he'd been touched by reverent hands, he'd tasted tears, he'd heard a voice whine "Bill, my god, my god, my god—" That would have to hold him for a while.)

"And ditch the rental. Buy a used car," Bill said. "There's a place in town called Gleeful Auto Sales. Ask Bud for the best car on the lot, pay whatever he asks—and tell him Mr. Locke sent you."

"'Gleeful' as in...?"

"His father. My Star Boy was the only person in town who supported me—and the town's turned on his family for it. They could use our help."

Sue pursed her lips in displeasure. "Of course."

Bill gestured toward his door. "I think we've put this off long enough."

While he waited for her to get his door, he slung his two backpacks over each shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "'Coffee break's over; back on your heads.'"

Sue opened the door; he picked up his umbrella and stepped out into the rain.

As he walked back to his prison, he tucked his necklace beneath his shirt.

Bill reminded himself that he didn't have anything to be afraid of. Ford had thrown away the one shot that could have killed him. He was safe.

####

1:20 a.m.

As Stan followed Ford into his underground study, he shot a glance at the barren far end of the room. He grumbled, "Nice to see you haven't started putting triangle posters back up."

"I'm not..." Ford sighed in irritation. "Never mind."

"So what's so important that you had to drag me down to your nerd cave? If this isn't good—"

"I didn't waste our shot."

"What?"

At his metal worktable, Ford unlatched the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case and opened it. "You said I wasted the only fuel we had. I didn't." He detached the NowUSeeitNowUDontium's fuel tank and held it out. The needle on the side indicated it was about a quarter full—nowhere near its full capacity, but enough for one shot, and just as much as they'd brought home from Fiddleford's.

Stan gaped. "But... hold on—we saw that shot through the walls. How the heck did you fake...?"

"Before he started developing a process to generate Dontium, Fiddleford came up with a power adaptor that could plug into the town's electricity." Ford picked up the power cord wound up in the carrying case. "He determined that it only gave the Destabilizer enough power to operate like a laser, not destroy matter and energy, so we still needed to develop the Dontium... but, I still had the cord on hand."

####

Saturday, 12:07 p.m.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

He slid out its fuel tank, returned it to the case, and pulled out the cord.

He climbed down to the bedroom; unplugged the room's air conditioning unit from its dedicated higher voltage wall socket; and plugged in the Quantum Destabilizer's cord.

In the loft, trying to figure out how to plug the other end of the cord into the Quantum Destabilizer, he was suddenly struck by the hair-raising feeling that someone was watching him. He whipped around; the eye on Bill's hood stared at him resentfully.

Ford stared back at it a moment; then he stood, pulled the hoodie off the dummy, and stuffed it into a nearby box.

He knelt. He plugged in the cable. He carefully lined up the shot with the dummy.

He fired.

####

12:09 p.m.

The atmosphere abruptly grew eerily quiet and still as the unplugged air conditioning unit fell silent. There was a shrill, whistling shriek and a blast of blue-white light so brilliant it pierced the cracks of the wooden boards in the attic bedroom's walls.

Every light in the house went out as the Quantum Destabilizer's power adapter drained every drop of electricity in town.

####

12:10 p.m.

The air was hot, stagnant, and stuffy. There was a pile of ashes three feet in front of Ford's knees.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done:

The Quantum Destabilizer, at full power, completely destroyed all matter and energy.

It didn't leave behind ashes.

####

Monday, 1:23 a.m.

Ford said, "Bill left a letter in the attic asking me to help cover his getaway. If I didn't fire the gun, Bill would have known I'd told you he escaped. But if he could see the Quantum Destabilizer firing, he'd think I'd chosen his side. The only way to lure him back to the shack was by making him think I'd used up the only substance we have that could destroy him." He muttered, "Granted, I'd assumed he'd try to contact me secretly rather than knock on the door in the middle of the night, but..."

Stan gaped at Ford. Then he burst into loud laughter. "Sixer, you tricky sonova! I don't believe it!" He socked his arm. "I oughta retire from the conning business and hand it over to you!"

A smile slowly crept up Ford's face.

Stan pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the elevator. "So we can go up there and finish him off now, right? Just wait for him to fall asleep, and...?"

Ford's smile disappeared. "No."

"N—What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I..." He took a deep breath as he chose his words. "I was serious, earlier, when I... said I want to give him a chance."

"Wh—? Still? Ford, come on, you can't think he deserves it?"

"No. Of course not. Not even close." Ford didn't hesitate. "But... does he need to deserve a chance to get one? I wonder if maybe Mabel's on to something. If he could be better, he can't show us unless we give him the second chance—before he's earned it." He sounded like a lunatic. "He can't earn it if he's dead."

Stan looked for a moment like he wanted to argue; and then something painful flashed through his eyes; and then he looked away from Ford, scowling to himself as he thought. He sighed heavily. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. Darn it, I don't wanna do it either. The creep's actually starting to grow on me. Like some kind of foot fungus."

Ford huffed. "What's important is, if we give him a chance and he throws it away, I haven't left us unarmed." He gestured to the unplugged fuel tank.

Stan looked at the tank; then looked at Ford. "You could've told us about the power cord trick yesterday, and you didn't." Stan crossed his arms. "Be honest. Do you really think, if it came down to it, you'd be able to pull the trigger now?"

"No." And again Ford didn't hesitate. "I want to believe I could; but I... don't trust myself. Yesterday morning, I never would have thought I'd decide against executing him for any reason. I know Bill's playing games with me, and yet I'm still playing along—so what else might I do?" He shrugged helplessly. He hated that Bill could still take control of his mind—even when he couldn't physically get inside it. "To some extent, he's gotten into all our heads."

Stan grimaced, but he didn't argue.

"That's why I think Fiddleford should keep the Quantum Destabilizer. He's never been taken in by Bill's tricks. If it becomes necessary, he won't hesitate."

"You know the situation's bad when Old Man McGucket's the voice of reason," Stan muttered. "But, I like that idea.  We can drop it off with him in the morning."

Ford sighed. "He's probably spent the last two days thinking Bill's dead. He won't be happy to see us."

As they walked back to the elevator, Stan said, "Maybe leaving Bill alive isn't an end-of-the-world bad idea. How much trouble can he get in when he can't escape that magic barrier around town?"

"That's true," Ford said. "He's essentially harmless—at least to the rest of the universe."

Ford didn't have anything to be afraid of. Bill was trapped in the weirdness barrier; and he couldn't even leave the shack without help. They were safe.

####

As fancy as his new coat looked, Bill was was grateful to crawl back into the comfortingly formless body-obscuring shelter of his hoodie. He pulled his hood over his face, curled up on his usual cushions (sigh) in his usual spot (sigh), and quickly fell asleep.

And began to dream.

And, in his dream, saw through his nearby eyes.

In his sleep, he could see the attic from where he lay on his cushions. He sat up, realized his vision was crooked, straightened out his hood, and stood; and he began sleepwalking.

He crept silently downstairs. He walked backwards into the gift shop. He walked up to a spinning rack of keychains that Soos had set up on the display case, took off his necklace, and hung it from one of the hooks.

He pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof.

Bill was very good at lying. Bill was very good at lying to himself. No, that wasn't true—Bill had never lied to himself in his life, and he was willing to kill anyone who tried to say he had. Bill didn't tell himself lies; he told himself what should be the truth. Believing in a new reality was the first step toward making it real. All you had to do was lie until you weren't lying anymore—and then, you'd never lied at all. It was very simple.

He'd spent billions of years swimming in and out of dreams, until he was more comfortable with how reality worked in dreams than he was with how reality worked in actual reality; and there was no other state of existence where the line between truth and lie was blurriest. Unlike the physical world, where altering reality tended to require a little more actual work, in a dream, lying until it came true really was as simple as thinking about your new truth.

That was all it took. One bright, lucid thought to shine order through the confused fog of the subconscious.

Bill was getting good at lucid dreaming.

Bill was dreaming now.

A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy called the trap doors in the ceiling "roof lids."

No, that wasn't true. A couple of weeks ago, Bill had heard Wendy call the roof lids "roof lids," because that was what they were. Bill couldn't open doors, didn't have the first idea of what to do with a door, but he could open lids. Jar lids. Pot lids. Toilet lids. He'd practiced with toilet lids—they had hinges, that made them the most similar to roof lids. If he could open all those lids, he could open these lids.

As he stared, the trap doors changed, in the way that dream images had of swimming and shifting dizzily before your eyes, into roof lids.

He climbed the ladder, pushed up the roof lid, climbed through; and then opened the second one that led onto the roof. He moved so silently. The rickety rungs and old wooden boards didn't even creak beneath his footsteps. He climbed out, sleepwalked his way to the roof hangout spot, and jumped off the roof.

He descended, slow as a feather, to land lightly on the ground, as though gravity hardly touched him.

Almost a month ago, on his birthday, Stan had taken off his gold chain and chucked it off into the forest so he could put on his birthday gift instead. Bill had watched enviously from the window. Now, triumphantly, he scooped up the long-coveted chain and wrapped it several times around his wrist.

And then he went to the tree where he'd hung up his second backpack full of contraband and retrieved it.

There were several pine trees right next to the shack. As near-weightless as Bill was in his dream, it was easy for him to climb one of the trees and get back on the roof.

In the gift shop, the vending machine swung open as Stan and Ford returned to the house level. They went into the living room, heading toward bed. The All-Seeing Eye hanging on the keychain rack watched as the door swung shut behind them. After waiting a few more seconds to ensure they were gone, Bill slid down onto the ladder, shut the roof lid, and jumped noiselessly to the floor. He retrieved his necklace from the keychain rack.

This was a vending machine. It wasn't a door. It clearly wasn't a door. Bill punched in the vending machine's code and stepped back as it swung aside for him. He crept down the stairs.

This was an elevator. The elevator had doors, and he didn't know how to open them, but he wasn't worrying about those. The doors would sort themselves out somehow. All he cared about was the elevator. He was NOT trying to open the doors. He wasn't even thinking about opening the doors. He pushed the button to call the elevator.

The elevator doors slid open. See, just like he'd thought: the doors took care of themselves.

He pushed the button for the lowest floor. The doors slid shut.

As he rode down, he wove his new necklace's thin chain between the links of Stan's much thicker chain. Oh yeah. That looked much better. 

The doors opened again into the interdimensional portal's control room.

He put on his necklace and stepped out. It was about time he made it back here. Bill really should have taken more time to check this place out at the start of summer. Why had he been in such a rush to kill the Pines? He'd had time travel. He could have rebuilt the entire portal by himself, won the lotto in Texas, spent a week in a seven star hotel, watched the Titanic sink, become President Trembley's First Lady, gotten Mysterious Mo's autograph, planted a NASA rocket in an Aztec temple just to give those ancient alien morons an undeserved but funny win, and then come back to finish the job.

Well, hindsight, whatever. At least he had a list of things to do if he ever got his hands on that time tape again. Anyway, he was back now.

He didn't think he'd need to be asleep to get back into the gift shop, and he probably needed his full brain turned on for the task ahead. He pulled his hood off, opened his eyes, and woke up.

The world looked so much less malleable.

He fished a notebook and red and black pens from his backpack, picked his way through the rubble of the portal, and began taking notes in Plaintext on how many parts were salvageable. Every few minutes, he flipped a page forward to begin work on blueprints for a new portal.

####

(And that concludes... season 1. idk out of how many seasons, but it sure feels like a season finale, don't it?

Next week's The Book Of Bill y'all! I'll be posting a chapter, but which chapter depends on TBOB. If TBOB is either compatible with the backstory I've got for Bill, or so wildly incompatible that there's no way I can reconcile my backstory so don't bother trying, I'll be posting a flashback chapter! But if TBOB is compatible enough that i MIGHT be able to reconcile it with my backstory with a lot of editing, I'll be posting the first chapter of "season 2" to give me time to edit the flashback. We'll find out next Tuesday!

In the meantime, a whole lot happened in this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think—about this chapter, about everything that's happened so far, about what's coming up, whatever!)

[qqueenofhades]

I’ve had this feeling for a while, but the last few weeks have made it stronger: I feel like people are just sick of Trump, even people that are solid Republicans. Even aside from the politics and the threat to democracy that he represents, I’m just tired of hearing about him and all the vitriolic buffoonery that comes out of him. He’s a class clown that’s gone from occasionally funny to just annoying. And I’m sure there’s plenty of Republican voters that resent what an absolute cultish embarrassment he’s made of their party. Even if I had no other reason to vote, I would’ve still voted blue in the desperate hope that I might not have to hear about Trump anymore.

I mean... Yeah.

The other day, we had a whole group of Arizona Republicans (otherwise known as one of the most extreme and cultist state GOP parties in the country) coming out as the leaders of a Republicans for Harris taskforce. Republicans for Harris also immediately hit it big on Twitter. Haley Voters For Biden instantly changed their name to Haley Voters For Harris and told Haley herself to hit the bricks when she laughably threatened them with legal action. There were always a few Never Trump Republicans before, but like. Not many. And many of them have ventured like, one criticism and immediately fallen back into line when Trump posted one mean tweet about them, because they have spines like soufflés.

Now mind you, the entire national/establishment GOP is still completely and cravenly beholden to Trump in ways that defy all logical human understanding, but people who have voted Republican all their lives and did so habitually once or even twice for Trump are increasingly hitting breaking point, and that should be noted. If you want to know how much, the goddamn MORMONS are, allegedly, preparing to quit the GOP this election in larger volumes than they have voted for Democrats in at least 60 years. I don't know how much this will end up panning out, and they have always been at least somewhat skeptical of him in comparison to the completely deranged mainstream evangelical fundies, but. The Mormons. THE MORMONS. Voting for a black female Democrat for president? In my wildest fantasies, this makes me think of Blue Utah 2024 like Blue Indiana 2008 (yes, that happened, along with Blue Florida TWICE).

Trump does have and will always have his ever-dwindling base of diehard cultists, but they have not and will never be numerous enough to win a fair democratic election on their own, which is why the GOP has pulled every dirty trick in the book trying to ensure that they don't have to. But yes: there are many more of us than them, and if we finally pull together and quit arguing about dumb shit, we could get rid of Trump once and for all, and god. GOD. I long for that day so bad and I can finally think it might be coming. So let us NOT fucking screw this up, kay? Kay.

[blackjackkent]

@astreamofstars suggested my next dive into the parsed dialogue files should be looking at the various Vicious Mockery lines available for player characters, and the ways the different companion character VAs speak them. This turned out to be quite challenging, as there are a LOT of them!

There are a total of 97 unique Vicious Mockery lines, each of which was recorded by all ten companion character VAs PLUS all twelve custom character VAs, for a total of 2,134 recorded lines, which is wild. (This is not including Ethel's 60 unique Vicious Mockery lines as well, which brings the total to 2,194.)

In this video, I've collected all 97 VM lines across all ten companion VAs, along with notes (where applicable) on things like

references to Shakespeare (or other pieces of media)

places where BG3 continues a time-honored tradition of the series by butchering archaic English grammar

interesting inconsistencies between the VAs or with the written dialogue

(If you notice any references I missed, please let me know and I might edit the video! :D )

In making this video, I ended up listening to all these lines a LOT, and I do love that some definite patterns emerge which are very on-brand for the characters in question.

Astarion often sounds deeply disdainful and at times almost bored. He barrels through some of the lines as if he doesn't think the recipient of his insult is even worth his time. (Also him calling someone a "parchment-pallored villain" is a bit rich, don't you think? :P )

Gale is deeply pleased with his own cleverness and laughs at his own jokes.

In my opinion, Dave Jones by far most Understood The Assignment; Halsin bellows out the lines like a Shakespearean actor playing to the back row and really relishes the language.

Jaheira is in full mother-tiger voice and clearly ready to kick ass and take names; she's not messing around. (With one exception - I have been laughing over Tracy Wiles's reading of "Mouthier than an arse, twice as full o' shite" for the entire duration of this project, because solely for that line she sounds like she's been possessed by some unknown force and is utterly baffled by the words coming out of her own mouth.)

Karlach reads most of these lines as either battle-cry or schoolyard taunt and seems utterly delighted in both cases. I enjoy that she adds a fun roll on her r's to sound all mockingly fancy.

Lae'zel generally sounds like she's about to rip someone's throat out and often seems completely oblivious to the humor involved, even on lines like the delightful pun, "As the leg, you'll end in defeat."

Minsc definitely doesn't know what most of these words mean but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. I enjoy that "Mouthier than an arse" becomes "mouthier than a butt" only for him. XD

Minthara, like Lae'zel, is mostly not coming at this from a place of amusement; she's MAD. She sounds like a judge handing down sentence in the most disdainful manner possible. (That said, she has my favorite deliveries on some of the lines with timing-related humor: "Thou art saucy... as gruel," "Thine eyes! Pools of tepid piss," "Like a summer's day... thou art sweaty," etc.)

Shadowheart just sounds deeply offended that her target is existing anywhere near her. She's practically spitting on all her plosive consonants and it's delightful.

Wyll sounds remarkably fierce given how nice a dude he is, but a lot of his lines have some righteous indignation (appropriate for a former noble and the Blade of Frontiers) - or he just sounds like he pities his opponent. His reading of "It vexes me to know of you" is my favorite of the whole cast; he just sounds so disbelieving of his target's stupidity.

Overall I think my favorite of these lines is towards the end: "Your body's a temple - to an idiot god!" All ten companions really stick the landing on that one. :D

Thanks for watching! Hope you enjoy.

(Got requests for other investigations into BG3 dialogue? Drop me an ask and let me know! )

[wolfienation]

i believe nicky knew who rio was, and also that rio is nicky's other parent. jen says that green craft is the cycle of life and death and, with agatha fooling around with rio for smt like 60 years, yh i imagine THE green witch would be capable of giving life just as much as she is capable of reaping it.

additionally the line where nicky says "my mother is calling me home". he doesn't refer to agatha as his mother. agatha is his "mama". that line also comes on the heels of him coughing so i imagine he could feel rio's presence, feel her beckoning. he knows she's coming for him at some point, since agatha said "i can't protect you from what's coming".

smt that breaks my heart further is that when rio does come for him, she doesn't appear as death. she appears as herself, as the woman agatha loved, as the woman who likely helped to give nicky life.

and he doesn't shy away from her. he doesn't look scared to see her. so, when rio nudges him back to his mother (whose cheek he kisses TWICE, like he's kissing her for himself and for rio), he listens and then he takes rio's hand and goes down, down, down the road.

and rio doesn't lead him away as death. she leads him away as herself, as the person he would have grown up with had she been able to watch him grow up.

all of this could be summed up with: rio vidal, you ARE the father

[dicentsalve]

I'm interested in what dynamics you see Sorbet and Gelato having. The crumbs you've given us about their relationship and history have made me interested in your interpretation of them. They are ( mostly ) a blank slate everyone can have fun with, after all! :)

HEEEERE WE GO

Thanks for the question, bb!

To be fair We know a tiny bit of information about them, we can also take their reckless act as a starting point and the reactions of the rest of the team to their disappearance

Overall, I feel like they're a bit of a separated from the other members So to speak, on their own, since their motivation, their way of thinking, seemed to not fit in with the reasons for the other participants joining the team of killers and their interactions with each other.

Yes, they communicated, yes, they probably had close relationships with, for example, Formaggio, but still there was a certain barrier between them all.

I also like to think that Illuso was unable to fit into their social circle, and as a result became offended and began to tease them constantly. (But in a way that they couldn't hear, because I think he was still afraid of them, because they would definitely teach him a lesson)

We also know that these two are moral monsters, which also leads us to believe that they have no ethical or moral principles. Even Risotto demonstrated a reluctance to kill an innocent person, which ultimately destroyed him, one might say. Sorbet and Gelato, I think, would kill an innocent person without further ado and without thinking twice if he got in their way, no matter who was in front of them.

Gelato, as I also mentioned, was in prison for mass murder, as a result of which he was sent to the church for correction, where two bloodthirsty, callous to the point of pity and principles souls intertwined and created an even more terrible duet.

But from that moment on, Gelato's ability to kill no longer extends to everyone in a row, but is directed in the right, specific direction.

They also, in my eyes, are the kind of guys who can freely shoot each other in the knees or stab each other with a knife and then start kissing.

I also think they spend a lot of time on missions, especially if it's a contract and not just a trip out to just sit around with corpses, relax and talk.

While others are concerned with the desire not to die in poverty from hunger and cold, to receive a well-deserved status, for Sorbet and Gelato there seems to be only a desire to feel adrenaline, blood on their hands, to be above others.

Regarding the stands that I gave them, the situation is the same:

● The Informers. (Sorbet)

Based on the fact that Sorbet is a greedy bastard for money (and so much so that his absence at the division of money led to suspicions of something amiss), there is a stand capable of finding any, even the most secret piece of information in one form or another.

The bottom line: Sorbet not only get information for the team, but also did a little more for his own benefit

The image of a dragonfly was chosen for a reason In nature, they are not only capable of reaching speeds of up to 60 km/h, but are also capable of hovering in the air in one place Therefore, this gives the stand not only enormous speed, but also the ability to pay sufficient attention to the necessary search aspects

● Disturbed. (Gelato)

Gelato is quite careless about his job, considering the fact that yet another meeting skipping didn't particularly impress or surprise Risotto, who, in turn, is extremely serious about their business, which only means that Gelato's behavior is presumably manifested in everything and probably not fixable

That is, for me he does it not so much for the money, because the Squadra received so-so, but rather for the soul and fun

Accordingly, his stand is aimed at survival in battle, to avoid any, even theoretical threats and mindlessly seek adventures on the ass (unless it's Secco)

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview on Today (2024)

Jonathan Bailey and Matt Bomer tell a decades-spanning love story, set against a dark time in American history, in the miniseries "Fellow Travelers."

"It's a once or twice in a career experience to get to tell characters' stories for three plus decades," Bomer tells TODAY.com.

It also seems to be a "once or twice in a career" friendship between the two stars.

As we sit down to chat after their appearance on TODAY, I tell Bailey this interview will be audio-only, not on camera.

"So you'll get to hear Matt's Elphaba riff," Bailey jokes, before Bomer belts out a near-perfect tenor rendition of the closing notes of "Defying Gravity."

In addition to "Fellow Travelers," which premiered on Showtime in October 2023 and led to both stars receiving Emmy nominations, Bailey is also gearing up for the release of the film adaptation of "Wicked."

"I wore my emerald shirt to support," Bomer says later.

Throughout the interview, they share effusive praise for each other. Bomer was a "huge fan" of Bailey's work before they met, he says, and the "Bridgerton" actor then "exceeded all expectations." Bailey credits Bomer, who served as an executive producer on the show, with making "the whole thing happen."

"He's been a hero for a long time," Bailey says of his co-star.

Their friendship may be the happily ever after that, on its surface, is absent from their show.

"Fellow Travelers" chronicles the love story between political consultants Hawkins "Hawk" Fuller (Bomer) and Tim Laughlin (Bailey) over the course of four decades. Their relationship starts against the backdrop of the Lavender Scare in 1950s Washington D.C. and runs all the way up to San Francisco in the '80s, at the start of the AIDS epidemic.

The show is romantic, sexy, moving and devastating, right up until the last line.

An 'instantaneous' friendship

Bomer says their friendship was "instantaneous."

"I feel like we went from coworkers to friends the first time we read together," he says. "It was so great to have someone I could completely trust as my scene partner and lean on and who made me better every day as an actor an a person at times."

He adds, "It was never really an effort."

Because their characters maintain an off-and-on again relationship over the years, Bailey and Bomer saw their characters through different ages and life phases.

That “nature of the love story” means they “grew with every scene," Bailey says.

"One of the most bonding experiences was seeing each other turning up through the different decades — see how we were aging, sometimes gracefully, sometimes not, and then sometimes gracefully again,” he says. "We're bonded, I'd say, for life."

‘Fellow Travelers,’ ‘Bridgerton’ and ‘Wicked’ — oh my!

The intensity of the show's emotions was matched by the intensity of filming.

Bailey, known for his breakout role as romantic hero Anthony in "Bridgerton" Season 2, filmed Season 3 of "Bridgerton" and his upcoming film "Wicked" at the same time as the Showtime drama.

When asked on TODAY Aug. 16 how he kept all the roles in his head, he simply answered, "I don't know."

But he did recall a time when his roles as Tim in "Fellow Travelers" and Fiyero in "Wicked" overlapped.

"There was one afternoon where we had a two-way trailer," Bailey said. "And the trailer was sort of rocking."

"I was like, 'What's going on in Johnny's trailer?'" Bomer recalled.

"I came out really sweaty," Bailey continued. "My Tim glasses were on, and I had on Adidas from the waist down, and I had been practicing my 'Wicked' choreography."

At its busiest, "Fellow Travelers" filmed for entire days — literally.

"Some of the days were like 20 hours," Bailey recalls to TODAY.com.

They filmed Episode 6, "Beyond Measure," largely set in the ‘60s —years since Tim and Hawk last spoke — in about three days, Bailey says.

"We had to wrap the show. You had places you had to be, and the schedule was so tight, we were just doing 18-hour days, 20-hour days," Bomer adds.

This happened after theactors had filmed the final scenes of the show.

"So we'd done the real heavy moment —," Bailey says, as Bomer adds, "We had this great release for the whole experience. But then we had to go back."

And about that ending...

"Fellow Travelers" turns out to be a frame narrative. The show both opens and ends in the '80s during Tim and Hawk's last reunion, before Tim dies of complications from AIDS.

Tim's death is not shown on screen. Instead, it's revealed through the final scene, which sees Hawk and his daughter looking at Tim's name on the AIDS Memorial Quilt in 1987. For the first time, Hawk tells her about his relationship with Tim.

The last lines of the show are Bomer's.

"He wasn't my friend. He was the man I loved," Hawk says.

Both actors confirm that the last time Tim and Hawk saw each other was in 1986 at the political gala shown in Episode 8. After Tim tries and fails to get an audience with the California governor to advocate for a crucial AIDS bill, he interrupts the event with a protest. But before taking the stage, Hawk kisses Tim, who then tells his longtime love to go home.

"I have to fight this fight. That means letting go of everything else. And if you're around, I will not be able to let go," Tim says.

Bomer calls their ending "brilliant."

"To see Tim in this moment of absolute triumph, where he is his most authentic self, pumping his fist in the air with a passion and a cause — everything that he had tried to hard to be in the '50s, he is celebrating out loud in the '80s," Bomer says. "I just thought it was such a beautiful, heartbreaking way to go out."

Tim’s arc “ends with his strongest moment, even though his body is dying," Bailey adds.

Hawk meanwhile, "hits the 'f-it' button," Bomer says.

"To kiss Tim openly is such a huge, revolutionary act (for Hawk)," he adds. "So he's definitely made the choice that he's going to take a complete new path for his life."

Bailey says the gala was the last time Tim and Hawk saw each other “in this world.”

"From the last scene, you can tell that he will live on as Hawk's great love of his life," Bomer adds. "Forever."

Source

[jasmines-library]

Can you do a Winchester sister fic pls where the sister gets years taken off her life by saving Dean (how Dean took years off his life to save Bobby in season 5) and she’s running out of time and while Sam is finishing up the poker game against the witch to save her, she dies in deans arms (the sister is closer with Dean and always looked up to him and the boys ofc are always protective of her) but then Sam wins the poker game and brings her back

The Curious Case of Dean Winchester

Note: This one was really fun to write. I hope you don't mind that I added my own little twist onto the episode (S5E7) and that it's pretty angsty: I couldn't help myself.

warnings: Death but only brief, swearing once or twice.

Word count: 2.3K (wow it's been a hot minute since I've written like this and i've missed it)

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Those were the last words Dean Winchester told you before you split off to search the other side of town. Of course, that is exactly what you did. 

As soon as Cliff Whitlow, the missing victim, had revealed the man behind his so-called miracle, you knew exactly what you had to do. The man behind the unusual deaths- Patrick, was a witch- a powerful one at that. And you needed a Witch. 

See, Dean had got himself into a predicament. He had made a deal with a crossroads demon so that Bobby could walk again. He couldn’t bear to see him so miserable anymore, so he did what he thought was the right thing to do. Bobby was mad, you and Sam even madder, and you were now running out of time to find a way to get him out of it. It frustrated you that Dean’s impending doom was creeping up slowly on  you, ready to grab him at any second, but no one was doing anything about it. So you took matters into your own hands. 

You took the elevator around the back of the bar down to the basement after bribing the bartender with enough money to make you cringe. It was rickety and jolted unnervingly as it descended, opening up into another bar. Few people lingered around sipping from glasses of spirits that lined the walls, though you paid little attention to them because your gaze had locked onto him. He sat smugly in a secluded section of the room behind a table a poker game had been laid out on. Leaning back on his chair he watched his latest victim bet away his life. He was using magic to enchant the poker chips, grinning as he scooped the man's chips towards him, watching as his face turned ashen and grey. 

“That’s a cruel trick you got there.” You said making your way over to the table. 

“Thank you.” He shrugged, rearranging the black and red chips with a smirk. “I take it you’re here for a reason?”

“I want to play.”

He glanced up at you, raising a brow and speaking to you with a thick, Irish lilt. “You look awfully young for someone trying to get more years… that is unless?”

“I’m not a witch.”

“I see.” you were intriguing him now. “How can I help you?”

“My brother. He made a demon deal. I need you to get rid of it in return for my years.”

The witch tilted his head as he looked at you keely. “Now slow down there, princess. Cancelling a demon deal is a very difficult thing to do. Takes a whole bunch of magic and persuasion to do that. Giving me a few years isn’t going to be enough.”

“30.” You laid down. 

“Tempting.” He hummed, “But I think we can have some real fun with this. What do you say?”

“Whatever. Just help my brother.”

“Good answer. I’ll play for your brother’s deal. You win, I'll try to cut your brother's deal.”

“And if I lose?”

“60.” The staggering number almost made your heart stop, but you were doing this for Dean. Sam needed him. The world needed him. “But it’ll start slowly until you least expect it.”

“Deal. Oh and one more thing.”

The witch leaned forwards in his chair

“Dean can’t play to replace my years with his own.”

“You must be very desperate.” The witch mused, gesturing for you to take a seat as he began to shuffle his deck of cards. “That or you’re extremely stupid. Who knows. But I like you. You show loyalty to your family and that’s very important. Perhaps, once you lose I might even see if I can remove your brother's deal. I’m feeling generous today.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just shut up and play.”

~

“Y/N?”

Dean’s voice made you stop dead in your tracks as you rounded the corner after stepping out of the elevator. He stared at you with an irascible look, though you could see the confusion hidden in his eyes. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed at you. You were supposed to be across the other side of town. When the three of you split up, you took off in the wrong direction to slip into the bar before your brothers found it. You had taken the receipt from one of the victims' jackets and raced down there in hopes that you would make it out before one of them stumbled across it. I guess you were just incredibly unlucky today.

“Planting daisies.” You said sarcastically as you tried to push your way past your brother so he wouldn’t see your face.  “What’s it look like?”

“So you found the game?” He queried, chasing after you. 

“Yep.”

“Did you stop it?”

You kept quiet and continued on straight. You had lied to Dean hundreds of times before so why couldn’t you bring yourself to do it now?

“Y/N?”

You stopped, turning to face him with a sigh.

“Not exactly…”

You could see the dread on his face now. “What did you do?”

You swallowed thickly. “I played. Okay?”

Dean Winchester stared at you dumbfounded for a moment, his lips twitching as he struggled to process the right words. “And?”

“...I lost.”

Your brother nearly exploded. “Are you kidding me?! The one thing I told you not to do was ‘anything studpid’. And you played some He-witch?!”

“Someone had to do something Dean! I can’t just sit by everyday knowing that you could be dragged away from us any second. I can’t go through that again Dean.”

“You idiot.” He was blaming himself, you could hear it on his tongue; the way he seethed. “Sammy and I are looking for something. We will find something.”

“That’s what you said last time. And I'm sorry Dean, but I can’t. Sammy needs you. The world needs you.”

“And you don’t think we need you?! You can’t go throwing your years away.”

“They’re my years. I can do what I want.”

“How many did you lose Y/N?”

“60.”

~

Sam bustled through the door trying to balance a tray of drinks and a paper bag filled with fast food. He slid them on the counter and tossed his keys beside them as he called out.

“Are you guys home?”

“In here, Sammy.” Dean emerged from the bathroom and Sam could tell his brother was mad. He was wearing that stern look and his voice was agitated. 

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Here.” You bundled through the door, glancing silently between your brothers gripping a candy bar you had wrangled from one of the vending machines. You didn’t really want it you just needed an excuse to get out of the motel room and escape from the tension and side glances that Dean shot your way. 

Sam studied you for a moment as you pulled out a chair to slump on. At first glance he hardly noticed it, but he realised that you looked older. Not by a lot, but you moved differently and your eyes were ever so slightly more creased. 

“Either of you two wanna tell me what happened?”

“Y/N’s got a death wish. That’s what happened.” Dean stated, rummaging in the bag that Sam had brought back from the diner. 

“Oh so I was just supposed to let you die? Again?”

“Yes. Or find another way.” Dean spat back at you but you knew he was scared. Scared and feeling guilty for what your near future might entail. 

Sam blinked as the two of you argued, firing words at each other. “Whoa. Slow down. What happened? Did you find the witch?”

“Oh yeah. Y/N found the witch alright, Sammy. Why don’t you tell him what happened, Kid?”

“I played.”

“You what?”

“I played for Dean’s deal to be spoiled… and I lost.”

“Oh God, Y/N/N… How much did you lose?”

“60…” You started, watching the horror cross his features. “But he’s taking them slowly. Waiting until we least expect it.”

“And there’s the punchline.” Dean could have laughed. 

Sam was in shock, though he understood why you had done it. He understood why you were hurting. He was there when Dean was taken. He saw how broken up it made you and he saw how you clung to him when he returned, hesitant to leave his side for weeks. 

“Oh kiddo.” he sighed “What have you gotten yourself into?”

~

“You know, I still think I should play.” Sam said. The three of you had just broken into the Witch’s flat. Sam and Dean believed that if they got hold of the chips then they could find a way to get you your years back, but you had been caught and the witch had revealed that the chips had nothing to do with it. That was when Sam was given the idea to play for you. In the meantime you could feel your body changing and see the lines being etched into your face. 

“No. No.” Dean cut his brother off straight away. “You’re not good enough. I’m better, Y/N's way better. We both lost.”

“What so I don’t get a say in this anymore? Dean can’t play so I’m the only option we got. I’ve watched you hustle plenty of poker games. Hell, that’s how Y/N learnt-”

“Sammy.” You pleaded. You knew that if this went wrong everything you did would have been for nothing. “Please. No.”

“Y/N. We can’t just let you… you’ll die. We’re going to find you a way out of this. I promise.”

~

“Take it.” The blonde woman, the one from the bar and the witch’s apartment, was perched on your bed as the three of you hustled back into the room. Dean’s fingers instinctively reached for the gun he had tucked in his waistband. “It’ll help.”

Sam took the parchment gingerly, turning it over in his hands before reading the messy handwriting scrawled across the page. “What is this?”

“The most powerful reversal spell you’ve ever laid your eyes on.”

“And it reverses what?” Dean asked.

“Patrick’s work. All of it.”

“You saying she could be normal again?” Your brother’s hand found your shoulder protectively.

“Her and everyone else he’s ever played.” She said before adding “who’s still alive.”

“Why the hell should we trust you?” Sam scowled.

“Trust me, don’t trust me. I don’t care.” She stood and made her way to the door. “The spell is real.”

“If it zaps everyone, doesn’t that include your man?” Dean asked. 

“And me too.” She shrugged, “I look good for my age.”

“Lady, this don’t add up for shit.” Dean said. “Why would you want that?”

“I have my reasons.” her hand went to fiddle with the silver locket around her neck before she fled. “Do it quickly. We leave town tomorrow.”

~

The spell hadn’t worked. 

When Dean tossed the toothpick Sam had smuggled him into the flames he looked up at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes but nothing happened. You didn’t get younger. And Sam was still betting his life away against that witch. 

You could feel it now, the way your life was slowly slipping away. At first you didn’t really notice it, but as soon as you began pursuing Patrick, you knew your end was approaching quickly. You supposed that ‘when you least expected’ was a lot closer than you expected. The thought made you bitter as you shuffled into the car, wincing at the way your joints ached the way they would after a long hunt or session at the gym. 

Dean glanced at you through Baby’s mirror as he sped down the road towards Patrick’s apartment in search of some more of his DNA. His concern grew as you climbed the stairs much slower than you would usually have done and as you entered his room.

The two of you searched quickly, looking anywhere for a speck of something that might contain just a speck of his DNA. another one of those toothpicks or something. Albeit the pair of you were struggling to find anything. 

And then it is you. All at once your joints popped and clicked as your body changed suddenly. You cried out in pain as your brother ran to your side to catch you before you could hit the ground. 

“No. No. Not yet.”

You blinked up at him as you struggled to breath, your heart slowing as your body forgot how to function. 

“Dean…” Your voice faded as he cradled you in his arms. Your breaths slowing and your eyes fluttering.

“No.” His voice broke as he fumbled for his phone. “No you hang on sweetheart. Come on Sammy, pick up!”

There was no answer as Dean’s phone rang and went straight through to Sam’s voicemail. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed as he through his phone across the room, tears streaming down his face as he clung to you. Watching your chest slowly rise and fall. Up and down…up and down…up..and…down…up-

There was nothing after that. You lay morbidly still in his arms as your body ceased to function. 

“No! Y/N. I can’t lose you now. Please….”

You did not move and the room was filled with the sound of your big brother’s grief and he sobbed. And then, you took a gasping breath and sat up abruptly in his arms. 

Your body had returned to normal. The extra wrinkles around your eyes and the grey hairs gone. Your breaths were steady and your heart was strong. 

“Y/N/N?” He whispered.

“Dean?” Your eyes searched him. “Sammy did it.”

“Yeah.” He breathed out, squeezing you tightly. “I knew he would.”

Dean’s phone began to ring from across the room. Reluctantly, he peeled himself away from you as he moved to get it, though his attention never strayed far from you.”

“Dean?!” You heard your other brother over the speakers. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah. You did it, Sam. She’s going to be just fine.”

[littlemissclandestine]

Why I think Russell Adler is going to make a comeback in COD 2024

WARNING⚠️: Contains spoilers for Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War and Call of Duty: Black Ops 2

Disclaimer: This is all just speculation on my behalf of course. I've just tried piecing stuff together for fun because Russ is one of my fave BO characters even though he's a bitch but i need more Adler content stat. <33

Let's get into it peeps. HEAR ME OUT.

Buckle up. Gonna be one hell of a ride folks 🤪

We'll start off with some random/background info.

Russ was born on February 12th 1937 so that would make him 53/54 in the Gulf War era. This actually isn't that old because if you think about it, Woods was about to turn 51 in 1981 during the Cold War campaign. What's a few more years?

We last saw Adler in action post-campaign in Warzone 1.0 cinematics but we've been kept in the dark about Adler's whereabouts post-1984 (after being brainwashed and killing Stitch LOL).

This meanie in a beanie wasn't forgotten about, oh no. He appears in the new cinematic intros on startup for both MWII (2022) and MWIII (2023). See below:

He was also featured twice in the 20 year anniversary video for Call of Duty whereas COD Ghosts didn't even get an appearance (ouch): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eL_w5HmxsPI

I personally believe Adler was a great addition to the Black Ops roster and is essentially the new Black Ops 'cover boy' now. Would be such a shame and a missed opportunity not to include a character like him in the upcoming COD. One who is morally grey, does whatever he deems necessary to get the job done - a bit like Cpt. Price in MW. Got the COD fans riled up about him brainwashing and pulling the trigger on Bell too - he's already got the spotlight in both a good and bad way.

Now, let's explore my main reasoning as to why I think Mr Shades 2.0 is most likely coming back in late 2024...

🎖️First up: Gulf War mission list 🔫

Here are some of the campaign missions that will be featured in Black Ops Gulf War. Obviously, this is subject to change, however, going off what we have, look closely...

Credit: @MWIIINTEL on Twitter/X

Safehouse guys...SAFEHOUSE. Takes you right back to Cold War, doesn't it? Ugh the potential.

🕵️ Next up: The campaign for COD 2024 will dive into the CIA's role/the Black Ops timeline 🕘

I took the following snippet from this official article.

From this, we know there will be a huge focus on the CIA and who's a CIA clandestine special officer? Mhm, you guessed it - Russell Adler.

Now, according to the events of BO2, it's evident which characters have the possibility of returning out of our original BO trio - Jason Hudson, Frank Woods and Alex Mason.

💫 Alex is presumed dead after Frank shot him so he's out the picture in '90/91 until 2025 when they canonically meet again.

🪵 Woods would be in his 60s during this time too so I'll let you decide whether that's too old for him to be in GW.

Edit: Woods got SPAS-12'd in the kneecaps on Dec 20th 1989 by Raul Menendez so uh...yeah

🧊 Hudson died on Dec 20th 1989 at the hands of Raul Menendez.

Feel free to check out this website (Call of Duty Wiki) for an outline of the events after CW to remind yourself. Here's a link to the Black Ops timeline from there.

➡️ Gulf War being a direct sequel to Cold War and what that could mean 💉

That brings me onto the rest of the safehouse crew. Since GW is a direct sequel to CW, it would make sense for some characters to carry over if possible:

We, as the player/Bell, get to choose whether Park or Lazar die (or both lovebirds) in 'End of the Line'. It's highly unlikely they'll return unless the devs make one decision canon maybe.

There could be a chance we see Sims again given his bond with Adler (Da Nang etc.), his age (late 40s in GW) and his status (alive).

That leaves the man himself, Russ. Everything from his age to the fact he's CIA and was the deuteragonist in COD 2020's campaign just makes sense for him to have at least a lil cameo or even a larger role, don't you think?

📱Finally: Hints from official posts 🔎

This post from Call of duty's official Instagram account kind of sealed the deal for me.

Oh lookie - they dropped syringe-lover's famous line in a zombies post. Why would COD just drop it so casually like that without a reason and years after CW came out? They could've said absolutely anything else but no, this was purposeful.

And that's all for this episode guys and gals!

Thank you for reading!! 🫂

Do what you will with all this information but I have concluded in my silly little brain that scarface is coming back.

How he's only in one game is beyond me. Won't get a character like him ever again. Seems like a cliché war dude at first glance but dig a little deeper into the details of the CW campaign, peel back the layers and get into his psychology and WOWZERS.

Am I delusional? Most definitely.

But the possibility he might be returning...that little bit of hope is enough for me and i won't shut up about it.

This will age horribly if he isn't in GW. Forgive me for feeding your delusions too in that case. Please?

What are your thoughts? Feel free to share them! 😊

------

EDIT: Y'ALL IT'S HAPPENING 😭😭

[barbielore]

The History of Midge

I fully intended to do a breakdown of the history of Midge as soon as I started this blog but it has occurred to me that I just... never did.

Midge was originally introduced in 1963, ostensibly to make the Barbie line a little less sexy and a little more down-to-earth.

As you can see, Midge was marketed pretty similarly to Allan (He's Ken's buddy! Ken's clothes fit him!). Midge and Allan were new characters in the line, but the clothes and accessories you already owned for Ken and Barbie were still compatible.

Midge was discontinued later in the 60's. For a while she was usurped as Barbie's best friend by PJ, a made-up, fashionable blonde character.

I am picking up some vibes that perhaps PJ, Ken and Barbie were more than friends, if you catch my drift.

But PJ was discontinued again and in the 1980s, Midge made a triumphant return as a part of the California Barbie line.

But Midge had her sights set on something more. See, Midge had been seeing someone.

So it was only a matter of time before wedding bells were ringing.

For some reason, Allan has changed his name to Alan for the wedding. There is some inconsistency over whether Allan and Alan are the same person, or perhaps whether Midge split up from Ken's buddy Allan only to wed a similar-looking man named Alan. I like to belive that Barbie's best friend and Ken's buddy are now sharing each other's clothes instead of Barbie's and Ken's.

And sharing their clothes it seems like they were, for a year later a Barbie booklet advertised that they now had twins together. No dolls were released to reflect this, but it was mentioned in an official Barbie product so can be assumed to be canon.

A few years later came the release that everyone seems to remember - the Happy Family line. Alan and Midge wanted to expand their family, so now Midge was with child again.

This was a wildly controversial set, and yet Mattel did it twice. There were a lot of reasons given for why it was so controversial that Midge was pregnant - that it's age-inappropriate to sell a doll to children that depicts pregnancy, that Midge was not depicted wearing a wedding ring, among others. (Later releases gave Midge her wedding ring back.) The doll was famously pulled from Wal-Mart shelves.

Just briefly I need to note this - Alan and their son Ryan was sold separately, as a father-son picnic. But I have serious problems with that. Didn't they have twins? What happened to Ryan's twin sister? Or does Ryan have two older twin siblings that are not being mentioned? Mattel, I need answers here.

By the way, Midge and Alan's infant daughter from the controversial doll was named Nikki, and they subsequently had another baby released as part of the "Happy Family Neighbourhood" line. Their youngest was named Cassandra, but was originally referred to as "baby" on the doll releases so it was a surprise whether she was a boy or a girl.

Unlike the previous Happy Family set which only depicted Midge, Nikki, Baby Doctor Barbie, and Alan and Ryan, there were additional characters as part of the Happy Family Neighborhood set, including proud grandparents.

It's so unusual to see older dolls in the Barbie line so this is super interesting to me!

[stitchwraith-stingers]

(some-what of) an analysis on patty possom(?)

inspired by this post on the PE-AZ yes this episode is my fave yes i unironically love patty yes i was a fnaf kid yes i am utterly deranged

some of these r incoherent because its midnight and i wanna post this as fast as possible before i go to bed and wake up at the crack at dawn

yayyy patty ^_^

one of the first things ive noticed post becoming alive like the next frankeinstine is that her eye wasnt fixed by the mechanics, which as ill discuss later imply a sort of negligence (? i think) to the properly, i however dgaf and like to interperate this as her having a lazy eye <3

she seems to be a genuially nice person!!!! um . i dont know how to continue this paragrapth pretend theres something here thats interesting

imagine being born into the world and already having a dreadful fear of being abandoned. crazy, mustve impacted her very hard

though this probably means it gave her fake memories or she was already sorta vaugely away of whats happening?? like psudo sentient?? if that makes sense, how the hell do you know this girl, you havent BEEN to the devils sacrament

the way she goes about it and the ending shows that she has no clue on how to socialize or their cues at all, or just cuz of the pov its intentionally shown as more creepy (which it probably is, you could hear her go "where r u going :(" in a sad tone), shes a massive werido and i love her for that

point is, shes nice but has no idea how to say "nooo dont leave me haha" normally cuz she just appeared 2 seconds ago with no idea of proper communication, does that make sense..... help

heres the thing i love about this the most, shes at the end of the ep shes seen dragging background character #47 in the same tone of voice and hes seen uncomfortable. PAN TO THE NEXT SLIDE IN WHICH THEY SEEM OK IN THEIR PRESENCE

LIKE . THE GUY JUST ACCEPTS HER HAND TO HOLD WHEN SHES SHOCKED..... THEY R BESTIES AND IM TIRED OF PPL OVERLOOKING IT, and the fact that i dont think we get to see him again (cuz they couldnt fit him anywhere in the background? i think) makes it better for me, balding old guy notices furry twice his size scared of being left alone so he decides to stay here just for her.... MANNN

the general area

lets see, were right off the bat were introduced to a good few places, the fun tunnels, the game zone, a claw machine thats rigged, the place with the signature snack which i wont go over because thats kinda of its own gag but its sticky and probably unhealthy, and the main stage

i assume the fun tunnels are made with a holograpthic effect inuniverse, and i think theres some LED lights in there to make it glow, i was going to say its polyethylene plastic but i dont think that exists google stock photos lied to me, also not related but it looks like a horrible spray paint job was done on this thing lol

also acording to the lyrics theres supposed to be 3 more members, a raccoon, cat and turtle . i dont think we see craggle in photo though rip (if theyre not a sphyinx ill be dissapointed), tyrone seems to have a 60's? aesthetic going on, rascal has a punk aesthetic going on and patty has a more modern aesthetic ? i think, the spiked collar is throwing me off

from winns dialouge in the start implying that they havent been here in a good while ("when i was little" ur in 5th grade) and the fact that their instruments are still there, then this was probably a recent desicion, or atleast long enough for a 10 y/o that hasnt been here in awhile to be upset by this and for patty to be immediatly spawned in with abandonment issues

along with a rigged claw machine and the snack i think it implies that the people over there who own this establishment are probably really cheap, and the fact that the PRAMBY snack is really sticky is definatly going to cause some health issues down the line, something something fazbear entertainment

oh and also, theres like a split second frame where this shows up, obviously its just there as a morbid joke but atleast it shows us this establishment is atleast old enough to have someones decaying body be bone by now, which after writing that makes me sound stupid because skeletonization might not take as long as i thought it would ("3 weeks to several years" depending on the surroundings)

whoever was there seemed to have been stuck for 25 days at least and has gone undetected, which means this place is linked to one unsolved missing persons case and they dont have a clue (most likely), also theres ballpit balls inside this thing i fucking guess?? theres no actual ballpit in the place idk what this kid was doing

i have tried to make up a map of how the place looks but im always bad with rooms ? and i had to take a fewwww small creative liberties with this cuz i couldnt figure out where theyd be but close enough👍👍

[autumngracy]

So my county (Orange County, New York) is in a drought rn with no real end in sight; it's been two and half months since we got any substantial rain, and in that time it's only lightly drizzled for a maybe a few hours, like twice.

There is currently a wildfire burning close by, which has burned over 2000 acres already and was started by a guy in New Jersey illegally firing tracer bullets (which contain magnesium) at the Central Jersey Firing Range. (He has since been charged with arson.)

This morning, the sky was red at sunrise. The air quality is getting steadily worse. The wildfires are a 0% containment. A firefighter has already died because of a tree falling on him. People are worried about the fire (which is burning on BOTH sides of the Hudson) reaching large residential areas nearby.

The only thing that can help us now is rain, but it has to be a slow and steady rain, because the ground is so dry and hard-packed that if we get a heavy rainfall, the ground will not be able to absorb it fast enough, and it will cause flash flooding.

There was a massive flash flood last year, considered a "once in a thousand years" event, that damaged or destroyed a huge amount of infrastructure, roads, and buildings in this area, many of which still have not been fully repaired or protected from further storm damage.

About 30% of the land at our house was literally washed away down the creek that runs though it, which had been at a trickle before, and turned into a 8 foot flood surge in the course of few hours.

The government had promised disaster relief money for our town (and surrounding towns) due to the damage from this event, but later, after much of the repair had already gotten underway, backed out and left the towns to foot the bill themselves.

My family would have been completely financially devastated if we had been forced to pay for the repairs to our property (we're talking like, over a million dollars of damage; SEVERAL times what the property is worth), but because there were key public infrastructure elements running through it (a storm drain, a sewer manhole, and an overpass for the road that went over the creek) the town ended up paying for ALL of the repairs, because they were all issues that needed to be fixed immediately and affected everyone in the town.

I am so fucking worried right now that either the wildfires are going to reach us, or rain comes in time to stave them off but it comes too heavy and causes another massive flash flood.

I need people to understand how completely bonkers it is that this is happening in this area. Like. I've lived here for around 15 years and that WHOLE time this area has only ever had like, one other official drought, and only for like, a day or two. We are RIGHT on the Hudson river, with creeks running all over, but the creeks have mostly dried up, we've been under a Red Flag burn ban for weeks, and our town is having a water shortage.

Also, besides the lack of rain, it's the second fucking week of November, but we've been having days in the high 60's, 70's, and even 80's, and there's only been a few days recently that dropped down into 50's, 40's or 30's, and only in the coolest parts of the night.

I've only had to wear an actual coat so far this season like, twice. It was in the high 70's and low to mid 80's all through the week of Halloween. When I stood in line for 2+ hours to vote, during sunset, it was balmy out. The previous presidential election, at the same location and time, had been so cold that I'd been freezing despite many layers of warm clothing, and I couldn't feel my extremities by the time I was able to cast my vote. But last week? It was BALMY.

There are still flowers blooming and putting out buds. There are tomatoes ripening on the vine. There are still flying insects outside. All these things should have been getting hit by frost like a month ago and started the process of going dormant. Now, if cold does suddenly hit, it's probably going to shock and kill off a lot of plant life.

This shit is NOT normal. Climate change is real.

[marvelsfavoriteuncle]

We never go out of style ✨ / Marvel Fanfic

Aka JJ & Peggy have a little chat over the phone in a hospital room

Timeline: From Age Of Ultron to Civil War

Warning: Old Lady Peggy Carter coming to swoon a few hearts ♥️ She is in her 60s-early 70s

@gcthvile - Elizabeth Stark mentioned ✨

Characters mentioned: Howard, Tony, Jarvis and etc

++—++—-

The hospital has not been a favorable place to be in. Even a nursing home wasn’t sure of the difference between both anymore. But either way they both brought back daring memories and darling one.

Like when Tony was born

Or Hank’s only kid was brought into the world

And for better or worse, seeing Miss Margaret Carter in and out of hospital for different occasions. Some were good like the birth of her children and others were odder cases like an injury or two.

Today, it was a hospital but other people like to called a nursing home.

The nursing home has been brighter more days than not, having new paint jobs done and welcoming decorations put up during special events. Especially a simple well designed holiday.

Plus it helped that the people working there were kind young folk like himself, aside from the adults in their 30s and 40s.

He made his way holding up a beauty of a bouquet filled with daisies and a small little teddy bear holding a heart. He knew it was cheesy but anything to put a smile on the lady he was going to see.

His lady.

The founder of the very organization he sweetly applied to help protect.

The women who drive him nuts and who he loves to annoy just to see her crack a smile.

Mrs. Margaret Carter. Peggy. His Peg.

He knocked on the door, opening it with a soft smile saying, “Where’s my favorite lady? I sorta owe her a date night.”

“Aww my knight in shining armor.” She chuckled in her bed, her curls loosen and smile lines more promptly found, “Your a sap darling.”

“I know but you love me for it.”

“Sadly I do.”

“Sadly?!”

That caused Peggy to laugh at his reaction, patting the bed to sit down next to her. And he happily followed suit, lazily wrap an arm around her, smiling.

“How you doing, doll?” He asked with a soft grin, “Hit anyone lately?”

She playfully slapped his chest and grins, “No. I’m an angel here, they treat me right. I got chicken and white rice today. Yesterday it was Ham.”

“Oh lucky girl you can treated like royalty. Can I stay with you? Technically I should be here with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t like it. You will get bored and impatient here, my darling. You’re time will come, I promised.”

“Nah babe, I kinda stopped looking to see what happened and how I can fix everything.”

“You know, our very own godson suggested you drive off a bridge and see what happened for science purposes once.”

“He’s trying to kill his old man with that scientific idea.”

The two of them laughed out loud at that. He handed her a glass of water, just in case she ended up with a coughing fit but he was lucky, she didn’t.

“How are your kids?” Jason asked with a smile.

“Oh Thomas is good, working on his degree and Lilly is working at the children’s hospital downtown today with her sister.” Peggy explained, “They called and talked for hours.”

“Aww.”

“I wish Tony called or visited me. I’ll pull him by the damn ear one of theses days, i don’t care if he’s grown!”

“Go ahead I ain’t stopping you! You’re his godmother.”

“…I miss this. I miss you, why do you come and see my more often? Like twice a month.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry, I will make it a habit to do so, I promise.”

“Good, because if it was the other way around..” She started but didn’t have to finish her sentence cause he knew.

“I know you would and I love you for it.”

“You Muppet…You know I was always fond of your sister.”

Over the years the older she got, Peggy developed this small habit to ending up randomly blurting out a comment which lead to a different perspective on things or a completely new conversation in general.

He never minded it. He loved it actually, since it showed her mind was still fired up with things to say and she would say her mind no matter what. Especially if it was a witty one hand comment or clever wording on a subject.

It was a good thing as well considering her Alzheimer’s made her forget things, faces and relive memories in her head. So seeing her ramble on a topic, made him smile, because it showed that she’s doing fine.

And due to him spending so much time around her and their friend group, he developed the odd but silly little habit too.

“Oh how so?” He questioned with a smile, surprised that she remembered Dottie that well but then again, she was a chancing point for the brunette.

“She had a special spunkiest to her that I adored.” She exclaimed, with a grin as if she’s looking into a memory, “Gorgeous, honestly a brilliant blonde and she was crazy about me.”

“Ohh really now?”

“Oh please as if you didn’t know. Dottie kept me on my toes and I would say there was a certain amount of chemistry there. She kissed me and it was unexpected but..I sorta liked it.”

He mocked gasped, “Margaret Carter! You shady lady. How long have you had theses thoughts about my sister?”

Peggy smirked, “She only ever asked to be interrogated by me and it made me feel impressed that she respected me.”

“You hated her!”

“But it was rather refreshing chance of cat and mouse between us!”

“She was obsessed with you.”

“And with good reason.”

“Margaret!”

“Hey! You like my friends. Angie was your favorite.”

“She’s was a peach, stubborn, playful and a little snappy. I liked it. But it’s my sister we’re taking about!”

“Oh hush! Let me have my fun memories.”

“Yes ma’am. Go ahead and keep those memories.”

~~~

That’s when Peggy went into another memory that was sweet but stung a little for Jason.

Elizabeth Stark.

Howard’s sister and a love in his life.

Yes, he loved Angie and then Violet for plenty of years. But with her, it was different. Cozy even.

The one that got away from him, that he never got a chance to see if those feeling could actually take full force due to respect he had for brother.

Yes, him and Elizabeth over the years have sneaked off to test out a few short lived dates but it didn’t last long. Even a couple of shared kisses underneath the mistletoe during Christmas were made.

But he always assumed she liked other people in the end and he respected her too much to string her along. So he let her do her own thing and he went along to do his own.

Even though he lived together, raised their nephew under the same roof and saved one another life a plenty of times. They never actually got together, where marriage could’ve been involved one day.

But he did have a promise ring in which he gave her the day before they lost her. She died with that diamond wrapped around her finger and he was left with the tiny box.

And here was Peggy talking about her, as if she was still alive in front of them. It made him smile brightly that her spirt lived on forever.

“You love her?” She asked, resting her head on a pillow watching him pace the room for another glass of water.

He handed her a glass and nodded, “Of course i do. We both love her.”

“It hurts she went down that day…”

“I know Peg, but she still lives on in spirt.”

“..would you have married her?”

“I..”

“Grey.”

She used the nicknamed on him. His middle name is Grey, which is one of many nicknames people refer to him as such but Peggy used it catch his attention at times and she prefer it a lot more.

“Grey.” She repeated with a soft smile, sipping her water.

“I think so.” He replied with a smile.

“Good. I want to be there as the maid of honor when it happens.”

“Maid of honor?”

“Well, I most definitely won’t be standing on your side of the alter, now would I?”

“You sounded so British right now, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment my darling.”

He grinned and shook his head, “You’re like the sister I never had.”

“You do have a sister.” She added with a grin.

“Did I stutter, Ms. Carter?”

“Oh. Well aren’t you cheeky today? I like it!”

“But I’m serious, you’re like a big sister to me.”

She smiled as she blushed, “Aw darling stop. No please go on, I didn’t think you thought of me that way. I assumed you did but never actually thought it would be confirmed.”

“Oh of course I have. Dottie never treated me like she should have, nor loved me a way a big sister should, leaving me in the dust to pick up the pieces but you didn’t.” He added with a smile.

“You know, after Micheal I never thought I would have anyone else.”

“Hmm.”

“But then you and Howard came along, I felt almost whole. You’re like the little brother, my mother never gave me because she thought two nutty children were enough!”

“Oh really?”

He couldn’t contain his laughter at her sudden choice of words at the end as she smiled laughing around, feeling sportful. She toss a pillow across his face to shut him up as she laughed smirking at the sight of spilled water all over his shirt.

~~~

Yup they were like siblings, despite never actually saying the word out loud before until now. They didn’t have to say they acted like brother and sister, they just did. Every fight, every save, every argument they had and even the small moments between the built a united bond between the pair. Each hug, hand hold and even looks they shared meant more than words combined.

They lost many people over the years, either by death or losing touch due to some kind of issue. They have faced a lot together, she couldn’t imagine a world without Jason in it. After the war, Peggy felt lost and undersign by others, reduced to a lousy sectary or told she wasn’t much less than Captain America’s little lady.

A part of her almost believed it for some time until Howard, Elizabeth and Jason stepped in. 3 of the only people who believed in her at the time.

Yes she knew the three of them for a while but it was Jason who was working at the SSR alongside her with Mr. Jarvis, who fought to keep her on payroll. Encouraging her to keep going, fighting in restaurants together, saving each other’s skin and just having another person to talk to. She didn’t know she needed that at the time. Hell, when Jarvis wasn’t around, he cleaned up her wounds.

But Peggy wouldn’t lie about the times she wanted to punch the blonde for doing something stupid or saying something he shouldn’t have admitted in the first place. She even slapped him a couple of times over the years with a glare.

He would tease her about something like a crush saying she blushed and she would raise an eyebrow yelling, ‘I beg your pardon! I did not do such a thing.’ Or when they would mock each other’s accents in annoyance of the other person.

She didn’t even realized she had a goofy little grin on her face until Jason pointed it out. She rolled her eyes and smiled replying, “I was thinking about all the times you mocked me.”

“I never mocked you. Okay, maybe? Or twice..” He admitted chuckling knowing the truth to that query.

“You would mock me behind my back and I’ll always walk in and catch you.”

“It’s because you always had to make a point or worse run into danger.”

He mocked her English accent stupidly as she gasped, “Good lord man! I don’t sound like that.”

“Oh really? ‘Mr. Jarvis was with me. We’re completely fine!’, ‘I was merely getting the job done.’ Oh and my all time favorite, ‘I made a horrible decision. When’s lunch?’.”

“I hate you. I don’t sound like that and I never treated Jarvis like that!”

“You once came home and Jarvis was hit in the back with a dart, that knocked him out cold.”

“He was fine!”

“He was hilariously asleep and thought he was hallucinating ponies for the rest of the afternoon.”

“To be fair, for being my right hand he wasn’t the best for escaping targets..”

“He said and I quote, ‘Oh mummy it's the biggest horsey ever!’”

That got a real laugh out of Peggy as she remembered it so clearly, Jarvis was laying down on the couch with his eyes closed after saying, ‘Jarvelous!’ Then he fell right on the thick ground outside of the house, afterward they brought him inside to see if he was aright. Which he wasn’t.

Jason and Daniel questioned the situation saying she should’ve called for backup as she told them, ‘I did have back up. Mr. Jarvis was with me!’

Cue in, Jarvis lazily laying down on the couch pointing his finger muttering ever so clearly, ‘Oh mummy, it’s the biggest horsey ever!’

Jason couldn’t help but snorted as he got flashbacks of the memories in his head. Him and Peggy also remember the time Jarvis knocked over a two time Oscar nominee, Whitney Frost, with one of Howard’s precious car.

Elizabeth was just in shock as Howard looked out the window and yelled, ‘Jarvis, you just hit a woman with my car!’

‘I know, sir’ Edwin Jarvis said with a simple tone.

‘She’s a two-time Oscar nominee.’

‘Miss Frost is quite resilient. She’s fine. Trust me.’

He laughed remembering the look that Elizabeth and Peggy shared conveying shock but with a mix of pride towards the accident. They were all almost sued for it though but then again the women caused them so many issues and she basically killed her husband. With was also deemed as Jarvis’ revenge on the same women who came to their home and shoot his wife—Ana Jarvis lived of course, with a few minor yet sad complications to her surgery—but still!

Everything was fine after that, she was put always for good for her insane behavior and things slowly went back to normal for a while.

~~

Jason and Peggy spent the rest of the day together in her hospital room chatting, drinking gentle coffees and snacking on the fruits that were served to her room. On occasion, a call from friends or relatives would appear to be made, but it wasn’t immediately apparent what was being said over the phone.

The two of them even stayed in peaceful silence as they watched whatever was available on the tv screen.

All in all, it was nice.

They may be old enough and oddly fit for this position in the universe but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

Thank you for reading this! Pretty please let me know what you think 💭

Tags: @ask-starrk @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @wizzzardofoz z @thechoooooosenone @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh h @marvelsfavoriteuncle @elzabeth-stark @sci-fi-lexcon @jackiequick @blueboirick @gcthvile @cherrysft @meiramel @trulysummersprivate @savemewattpad @yetanotherwells and etc

[queenofbaws]

top 5 favourite until dawn characters to WRITE vs top 5 favourite until dawn characters in general (if it's different)

it is such an important distinction med, and i thank you endlessly for letting me get into it 😏

WRITING

1. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: this one likely shocks no one. there's just. a joy. that comes with writing an unhinged, monster-hunting hermit. he kicks doors open. he lives in a burnt out hospital full of Creatures. he's larry fessenden. he's alive in canon for roughly 5 minutes. he's the light of my life. 2. mike: probably slightly more of a surprise because i don't write him OFTEN, but i love writing mike. lovelovelove writing him. mostly because, of the ud kids, i think he's the character who talks...the most...like i do irl??? similar speech patterns, i mean - same tendency to just. say things. that do not make sense. or things that did not need to be said. 3. EMILY: again, probably a surprise because i don't write her much, but my GOD there is a freedom to writing in emily's voice asldkfjdskf she's smart. she's mean. she always has at least three insults locked and loaded in the chamber. she's also the only character in the franchise to say "understand the palm of my hand, bitch." she contains multitudes. 4. dr. hill: gotta be honest here. i went through. a lot. of schooling for psychology. okay. like. however much you think that means? it was like. twice that. and i spent a lot of time - a lot of time - listening to professionals in the field talk in circles and say absolutely batshit things while sagely nodding and giving everyone around them knowing looks, and if i didn't have alan j. hill to channel all that lingering angst into, i might've exploded by now 😫 hehehehehe. i'm only sort of joking. 5. beth: what did supermassive give her? nothing. what does that mean? she can be anything i want, and i don't have to worry over whether or not it sounds believable in canon 😎 lmfao. in much the same way i looove writing jack because we get like. 10 lines and A Vibe from him, beth's a hoot to write for because, like. we know who her siblings are. we have an IDEA of what her home life must've been like...and everything else is up for debate!!!

JUST, LIKE, TO LOOK AT

1. ashley ashley ashley: they could never make me hate you bb. did she handle some things poorly? yes. does she make some questionable decisions? sure. would i give her the world if the opportunity presented itself? of course. look, i just think. she should get to do...whatever she wants. always. as a treat. :)c 2. matt: i am so. intrigued. by matt's whole deal. every second of it. he's a huge part of the prank but he's also hugely sympathetic. he has that incredibly cute moment with ashley right as they get to the lodge but seems pretty chilly (if not downright disinterested in) chris and josh, her best friends. he helps jess through the mines. he holds his own with emily. unless you play him a v certain way, he seems the most interested in smoothing things over between everybody. HE LEAVES. THE FUCKING. HATCHET. AT THE BASE. OF THE FIRE TOWER. i would love to live in his brain for just like...ten minutes. just really figure him out. (i need to write more with him too 😭 he has bewitched me, body and soul) 3. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: look. look i'm not subtle. i just. love that weird old man. i just love him so much. if supermassive said 'hey here's a dlc where you go through one (1) calendar day as jack fiddler, it costs $60 and is roughly 1 hour of gameplay,' i'd fold immediately. idk why. 4. josh: there is no one - NO ONE - in this, or any other, game who's so willing to commit so fully to the bit. my man had BLUEPRINTS. my guy had DEAD PIGS. bro sourced knockout gas and fake newspapers and real blood and made voice recordings and an alter ego and rigGED HIS WHOLE FAMILY'S VACATION HOME WITH BOOBY TRAPS, THREW A PARTY ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS SISTERS' SUPPOSED DEATHS, AND EVERYONE STILL FUCKING SHOWED UP. say whatever else you want about him, josh had SOMETHING figured out, man. 5. jess: again. did she make some questionable decisions? sure. do i agree with everything she did? no. but after everything she goes through, after all the tragedy and agony and terror she is put through, this girl still has the wherewithal to grab a shovel and beam a guy in the head with it, and you know what? i respect that 🙏🏻 plus she wore hiphuggers to a party on a mountain in alberta in the dead of winter, and i just want to study her under a microscope.

[oletus-manors-log]

Hey! I just wanted to say I love your work and your recent Orpheus drabble was super good! I was wondering if you could do a short story about Orpheus confessing to the survivor!reader? (GN) I understand that short story’s might take longer then headcanons and dabbles, so please take as much time as you need! Thanks again 🫶

OBSERVER'S NOTE :

“ Hello, and thank you so much for the compliment for my recent work on Orpheus! As for the confession, I believe I can make it work with the headcannons I have listed in the past.

I'm not too sure if there's anything else you'd like for me to add with the story, so I decided to make it happen in a... Special match. Although it can be a terrible place to confess... Well, sometimes it can work out in your favor. ”

Golden Hour

The match, needless to say, was a mess.

Orpheus couldn't tell whether he regretted having to come in because he's up against himself (or, really, what he sees himself as), or the fact that he's seeing the slow descent of the match after the first 60 second chair.

As he saw the raven bird chase after the enchantress and with the journalist on her second chair, he stuck to decoding in wedding hall. The pallets were thrown in advance by him, so it would make things easier.

Since the progress wasn't done before he arrived, he had done quick work on decoding it. Although, he didn't seem to notice when someone else joined him during the halfway mark of the cipher, one cipher actually done and Alice rescued off of it.

"Seems like you're struggling over there, aren't you?"

He flinched and looked over towards the speaker, noticing that it was Alice. Ah, she was patched up— good, that means that someone rescued her.

"Perhaps," he said idly, focusing his attention on the cipher machine before it malfunctioned and electrocuted him. "But it isn't like miss Dorval is struggling against him. She's been kiting for us and you're on your last legs after being chaired twice."

Alice shakes her head as she turned the knobs of the machine.

"I'll be fine. I'll just have to stay out of sight for the time being— it can't be that hard, can't it?"

... Hm, she only has one film left, he noted, sparing a glance at the camera. She will have to make sure he doesn't catch her— her mirages of me when I was younger is... Quite a feat. It could keep him distracted if such a miracle can happen.

[ Beware! The hunter has changed target! ]

The two looked up as a crow flies over to their cipher. Orpheus shoves Alice off of it so it would fly over to the novelist, sprinting like a madman to the pallet to vault and start running out.

"Keep decoding!"

He ran straight to the church, feeling smoke permeate the air as it swirled and manifested behind him. The sound of a deafening thud echoed as Nightmare, their hunter of the match, appeared behind him, causing him to falter if not for the reminder that he would be killed if he stayed standing.

"I did not expect for you to take it instead of miss DeRoss, Orpheus," spoke the nightmarish entity as it chased him, footsteps thundering as the novelist sprinted to the window to vault. "Why? Are you trying to relive the feeling of a good chase from the past?"

Truly, he fits the name and title for himself— Nightmare, the novelist thought bitterly. It's almost like he was "invited" to haunt the poor novelist even in (metaphorically, of course) death.

"I believe we both know why. I don't wish for her to die in this match after you targeted her."

"Hm? But why not? It's quite... Amusing, is it not?" He scoffed, his gaze focused on him as the novelist continued to keep distance, making sure to break out of line of sight from the latter so he can't focus on him. "For her to take your place after she was grown, after you went missing—"

"I don't want to be reminded of that incident."

"Oh, I know that. But you'd know better than for me to let it go, would you?"

Ah, he should have known. Why the hell would he let it go, hm?

Instead of replying, he went through a pallet— this time, passing by someone he didn't expect.

SLAM!

"Go!"

He felt the wind push him as he turned to see a certain survivor stunning the looming hunter, attire ragged despite wearing it for God knows how long. He could only whisper a "good luck" as he sprinted to the window, vaulting over it before running off.

The only thing he could hear from outside of the church was the aggravated yell of Nightmare, followed by daring taunts that he could recognize all too well.

... You never change, do you? Ever the daredevil, he thought with a chuckle, this time sprinting to another cipher to decode.

Despite the mishaps from before, Orpheus could see that it proceeded as smoothly as it possibly could, considering the bird had his sights on you and not the novelist. Unfortunately for Nightmare, you were one of the few that never saw danger as one to be feared.

In the survivor faction, you were a force to be reckoned with; someone with such a job that can spell trouble to those whose never heard of it.

Your occupation was of a trickster, one assigned like the Acrobat and the Weeping Clown if it weren't for your malicious streak. Reckoned by many hunters as a "hunter in a survivor's body", you were called by many as a horseman of chaos, bringing about destruction in your wake.

So far, only few had managed to keep you down, but even the novelist knew you would find a way to make them regret their misdeeds.

Truthfully. Orpheus feared you. Unlike him, you saw danger akin to a pet, and not once did he understood what makes you tick. But perhaps, much like your occupation, you live your life in constant terror.

The way your eyes gleam as you evade Nightmare's attacks was one of such cases, and he couldn't help but fathom on how you look so... Alive.

... So free.

Alas, it had been the last cipher and he had it primed. Nightmare had already chaired you once, but by some miracle, Alice had got you out of the chair and you were kiting the man like your life depended on it. And, well, it did— you were keeping Alice from being chaired the third time as both of you were injured.

But it didn't last long when he saw the crow fly over to his cipher, and he could hear the ping from you and Alice that he's switching targets.

Back to me, I suppose.

Pulling away from the cipher, he pinged that it was primed and started sprinting, hearing the wind pull itself and manifest the living terror in his waking life. To him, he saw the man as one of monstrosity, whereas most cannot see it that way. It terrified him that only a few, such as him, can see the raven for what he is.

Swiftly getting hit with the sharp tip, he stumbled from the window he was about to vault, causing yet another deep gash to form on his back. He gritted in pain as he felt blood seep through and taint his white coat, coating it in crimson.

—And then, the two could hear the deafening pop.

Thus, the sirens follow, and mark the 'endgame' of their match.

With the sudden boost of adrenaline, he sped off, his legs screaming as he heard Nightmare's ghoulish calls. Still, he paid no heed as he looked back, constantly pinging the rest of his team of Nightmare's ventures.

Detention... A trait that no man or monster understood. Miss Nightingale briefed everyone on it when they first came here, and he still recall what she told to their group.

Detention is a trait that every hunter possesses— a trait that, when activated, causes the hunter to give into the carnal desires to kill any survivor in its wake.

No one understood how to counter it. If anything, all they can do was run. Run until they were sure that it was safe.

For those who do not will be slaughtered in its wake.

Reaching the open gates, he could hear your calls as you yelled for him to get out— that you would cover for him.

His eyes widened at this. At the state of Nightmare and with Detention of all things, the last thing he'd want is for you to be slaughtered instead of him.

He cannot have that. He won't have that. Over his dead corpse.

"No!" he yelled, yanking your wrist when you went back to bodyblock for him, pulling you forward with such strength that many do not think he would have the capability to posses. "Go! Get out, now!"

With one last curse to have Nightmare go through such pain, you and the others got out, leaving the deserted church and the cries of Nightmare in the wake of a survivor's win.

After the stressful match, he had to go to Emily as he was still injured from Nightmare. Despite the adrenaline for when the last cipher was popped, he felt the fatigue crash on him hard after they had left, and he didn't want to deal with Emily getting (justifiably) upset at his own recklessness.

Although, there was another reason on why he had to go to Emily. It was for something else... Something that he wanted to speak to her about. Alone.

"... I see," Emily murmured, currently patching up Orpheus's back with a few stitches. Checking for other injuries, she sighed, facing the novelist with a knowing look in her eye.

"I don't wish to undermine your efforts, Orpheus, but they're... Well, they live up to their occupation. Are you sure you'd want to look for them? Even I'm not sure on where they have went off to this time."

Orpheus chuckled, giving her a smile as he answered, "I'm sure. I believe I know my limits, miss Dyer. After all, I have dealt with them the longest, have I not?"

You were... A mystery to him. Something that needed to be solved. Despite how long you and him were, in the lack of terms, friends... He never really knew the answer for his question since he's known you.

Just what it is that makes you so interesting to him?

"I suppose you'd be right on that," Emily replied, shaking her head as she wrapped the bandages around his waist. "Well, I believe they went to Moonlit River Park. I tried to ask why, but all they said was that they have a show to prepare and didn't want to be late."

Tying it off right afterwards, she dug through her pockets and handed Orpheus a note. The paper was yellow and worn, but he could recognize the handwriting peeking out... Couple with a few scribbles. You were always fond of drawing in your notes, he noticed.

"Here," she said, smiling exasperatedly. "They also wanted me to give you this. Now, don't strain yourself too much, okay?"

With a nod, the brunette took the note and bid his goodbyes to the doctor, leaving the clinic. He walked down the hall, opening the note that she gave him to see what you wrote for him.

In the note, it reads...

Hello, hello, mister novelist! Surprised to get a note from yours truly, are you? ☆

Now, now... I know you must be wondering where I went! And you know me well by now, Orpheus— I am not one to give such a straight answer. Why, if I am, I'd certainly lose the title of being a 'trickster', wouldn't I?

Anyway, I'd like to play a... Game with you. How does hide and seek sound? It'd be like those we play in matches. Ah, but with less killing, of course.

I want you to find me. The doctor already told me where I am, so I implore you, Orpheus—

"—find me, and find the piece I seek."

... A peculiar note indeed.

Now, he was no detective. Unlike Alice, he never dabbled quite well into detective work; he used to do that if he needed first hand experience on writing a thriller book. However, with the manor hosting various events that does consist of solving mysteries...

Well. He cannot say that he didn't have experience on dealing with them in his downtime.

Checking the back of the note, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the note. From an unobservant eye, they'd chalk it off as something normal. But to him, he knew you enough to have something hidden in an ordinary object.

Raising up the note against the light, he hummed at the sight, reading the note more clearly.

Big tent.

...

How cheeky.

Rolling his eyes out of amusement, he lowered the note and trudged on to Moonlit River Park. This time... He has a date, and he isn't going to be late.

Arriving at the big tent of Moonlit River Park, he can see the sight of the thrown pallets around and some abandoned attractions on stage. The basement was sealed, so he assumed that it would be open on the two story building.

What was it? Hullabaloo? He should to check the name again when he sees it.

Walking on the stairs of the stage, he inspected the entire tent, noticing the sight of a note plastered on the wall. It was the same as the letter he retrieved from Emily, so he had no hesitation to take it.

Checking the front of the note, he red through what you wrote this time.

If you found this note, then I was right to put my faith in you, Orpheus. You know my tricks enough to figure out where my note was lying about, huh? Maybe I should up the ante of this game of ours...

Haha! I'm kidding, of course. Why would I? It'd be terrible if your 2nd hint is in a place you can't find so easily.

Anyway, to find where it is, the answer is what you're reading. If you're confused or, mayhaps, lost... Read it again. You'll see what I mean.

... See? What in the world...

His brows furrowed as he red through the note again. There was something in those words, and if he can take your statement for what it is...

...

Rereading through it again, he can see a pattern. From your writing, it was hard to tell, but there were letters that are emphasized more than others.

... I'm at 2nd stop. Hah, how cheeky of you.

Tucking the note away, he left the stage and raised one of the flaps, running out of it. The faint chime of the circus music echoed around the map, haunting yet nostalgic for those that have witnessed its glory. For Orpheus, though, that brought some... Awful memories of his losses there.

... Ah, he can't be reminiscing now. He needn't remember what happened in one of his visits here.

Reaching the other side of the large map, he could see a bird perched up on the rails, perking up to see the novelist arriving by the stairs. With a chirp, the blue bird flew to him, its claws carrying another letter.

Whispering a 'thanks' to the bird, he watched it fly off before opening the third letter in his hands.

Moonlit River Park is a beautiful place, isn't it? Regardless of what many may think, the circus holds a special place in my heart. Such a shame that the tragedy has ruined it for what it's worth...

... Such is beauty, I suppose. The manor holds such unique yet curious people, just like you.

Where am I going with this? Hm, good question. I wish I have the answer to that, but I'm not sure if I have one. After all, I lack the voice to speak of such a thing, or to answer your inquiries.

Now, if you wish to look for where I really am, you'd know where to find me this time.

Why, I can see you now, little novelist. Look over to your left.

Look ove—

"Boo."

Orpheus could feel his heart give out for a moment, his head whipping to see you peering over him with a cheeky grin. Seeing the look of fear in his face, you couldn't help but laugh, your voice ringing in the air of the abandoned park.

"Ahaha! You should've seen the look on your face, Orphy," you said, amusement ringing in your voice. Jabbing him lightly, you snickered, "Perhaps I should subject you more to such simple mysteries. I'm surprised you manage to get through them!"

Orpheus scoffed. Despite your streak, he swore that you were but a child to someone like him.

"Hmph, and you should know that I have a weak heart. Not everyone can keep a straight face when they're snuck up from behind."

"Yes, yes," you drawled, patting his shoulder. "I suppose that's true. I'll spare you the... Worse I can bring, then."

... Just for me? How kind, he thought, but he didn't voice that out to you in fear of being seen as ungrateful.

"That aside, do you need me for something, [Name]?" he asked, finally facing you, raising an eyebrow at your demeanor. "Forgive me for saying this, but you never reach out to me first other than to cause mischief."

"Oh! Right, about that..."

You paused, your head turning slightly to the side. With a sheepish laugh, you continued, "I just... Wanted to bring you here. I remember you telling me that you never got to see the park when it wasn't used for matches— well, not without Memory, but that's understandable— so-"

Ah... So that's why.

...

Despite your behavior, you have a kind heart.

That is one thing he cannot deny that he liked about you. You may have a sadistic streak, but your kindness will always shine through it.

"... And I thought of getting Antonio as well, because he was planning to perform, and—"

"[Name]," he said, cutting you off. You perked up at him, humming to let him know you were listening. Orpheus couldn't help but let a chuckle slip, giving you a smile that was different from his usual poker face.

This one was more of sincerity— an emotion rarely seen of the novelist.

"Thank you," he continued, his eyes closing for a bit as he let out a soft laugh. "But please, you don't need to do this much for me. If anything, just being here with you is enough."

Before he can stop himself, he reached out to grab your hand, fingers interlocking with yours.

"... If I'm being honest, I am not a man seeking of such lavish and desire simplicity. However, since meeting you, you showed me just how adding a bit of uniqueness and extravagance can make things more memorable."

He could see your eyes widen at his confession, but he continued, as if he didn't wish to stop.

"Truly, I must blame you for claiming my heart as your own— you do it so effortlessly, it feels more like you've know how to weave me into your tales. However, as unfortunate for some, I don't think I'll be able to blame you for stealing it."

Tightening his grip, he reached out and grasped your cheek— watching as you relaxed on his hold.

"Not when I'm about to do a crime of my own, little trickster."

Under the guise of the sundown, the rays begin to emit such a glow that can make things more enchanting to the observant eye.

And a kiss was sealed, the untold confession of the novelist marked in the midst of golden hour.

© ᴏʟᴇᴛᴜs-ᴍᴀɴᴏʀs-ʟᴏɢ | 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ✧ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀʀᴇ | ᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀs

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - Ch. 11

Fic masterlist

This week I had to reassure two different friends about a Rowaelin HEA for this fic, can you believe this? It’s like you guys don’t trust my fluff-loving side at all lmaoo

Warnings: language, drunk idiots

Word count: 4,4k

As a soon-to-be mother, Aelin was so proud of her baby girl for growing so much.

As an orthopedist, she was mourning the perfect posture she used to have.

Fenrys stopped at the kitchen’s doorstep to stare at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to save my lombardic curve. Stop being weird about it.”

He shrugged and sat on the nearest couch as Aelin tried to adjust that arched back of hers. Holy rutting Mala, why did pregnancy make her go through all that?

“Is Dorian coming tonight?”

“Probably. If he feels like it.” Fenrys shrugged. “It’s not that serious.”

Aelin crossed her arms, clamping her lips together as she tried to look serious. “You’re just casually seeing each other every day?”

“Exactly.” He turned on the TV. “Just like you and Rowan are platonically living together and having a baby.”

She gaped, but still sat by his side. “Take it back!”

“Absolutely not! Do you think Rowan just…” Fenrys flailed his arms around, looking for an example. “He doesn’t goes around massaging everyone’s feet, Aelin. I’m pretty sure you’re the only person he does that for.”

She crossed her arms, chin up. “He does it for me, but not because of me. I just happen to be carrying his baby.”

“The baby is inside the belly, not the feet.”

She sighed, forcing her voice into a lower, calmer tone. “Look, you weren’t there, but he clearly wasn’t interested. He only changed because of the baby. And I’m not complaining about it, I had fun, I’m just saying that if he wanted non-platonic stuff with me, he would tell me.”

Fenrys looked her dead in the eye. “You had a boyfriend.”

“And that never stopped him from fucking me senseless. Wouldn’t stop him from seeing me outside the base if he wanted to.”

It was true, and it was also killing her. Every time Rowan ran to a store to buy something she was craving or massaged her swollen feet, Aelin had the painful reminder that, when it was just her, all she got was cock and a couch inside his office. Rowan just learned very early on that happy mom means happy baby, and she was trying to be okay with it.

They were just having casual sex at first, and now he seemed okay with keeping things platonic for their kid. There was no use in reading between the lines.

After that, Aelin decided to go find Rowan at her house. Fenrys was nice enough to be silent when Dorian was there, but his bed still got squeaky sometimes.

She hired a company to paint her house, since she couldn’t smell paint because of the baby, nor could she let Rowan paint the entire four-bedroom house the Air Force provided her. He protested her decision, but he was already doing too much for her.

Aelin had a feeling that, if she asked him to build a house from scratch for this baby, he’d do it alone without thinking twice.

She had already grown familiar with the path between her house and Rowan’s. The sound of the leaves when the wind got a little stronger never failed to soothe her, and Aelin was excited to co-parent a kid with such close proximity.

Which could be even closer, if her new idea worked out.

When Aelin stepped into her house, the first thing she noticed was the faint sound of Syd Barrett spilling his guts, and she looked for the source until she found Rowan lying on the nursery’s floor.

He didn’t seem surprised when she walked in, though. He probably listened to her footsteps all the way to the baby’s room.

“I didn’t know you were into junkies from the 60’s.”

Rowan got up to get another pillow and help ease her onto the floor. “You listen to them all the time.”

Aelin closed her eyes, feeling the muscles on her back relax now that she was lying too. “My parents were fans.”

Rowan’s hand found her scalp, and Aelin almost purred. God, she was too weak for those.

“You think about them a lot?” He asked.

“More often now that I’m pregnant. And with insomnia.”

Pregnancy just made her think of them more often now, but it wasn’t the crushing type of grief she felt during her late childhood and early teen years. It was bittersweet.

Rowan hummed, never ceasing to caress her hair. “Did you try eating an apple before bed? It helps to induce sleep.”

“No, I haven’t.” Aelin hid her face on his side, trying her best not to laugh.

Apples before bed did absolutely nothing for people with sleep disorders. Rowan didn’t know that her pregnancy was just making a deeper problem worse, though. Aelin couldn’t take any kind of sleeping pills with a baby on the way, and telling him this problem with no solution was just going to make the Buzzard worry to death.

Aelin had been off her antidepressants for almost two years, so this new development made her ghost her psychiatrist and decide to go back once she stopped breastfeeding. She had plenty of time to tell Rowan about that.

Aelin closed her eyes and grinned. “This song is so silly. I love how he laughs halfway into it.”

It was a good song, but he just repeated the name Maisie over and over most of the time.

“It isn’t silly,” Rowan protested. “He’s stoned out of his mind, and the only thing he feels like doing is repeating that girl’s name over and over. It’s kinda relatable”

“Rowan Whitethorn.” Her voice was low as she looked at him with widened, surprised eyes. “Are you coming out as a stoner?”

Chuckling, he playfully pinched her upper arm and turned sideways to face her while lying. “The name is really cute.”

“Maisie?”

“Yeah.”

She chewed her bottom lip, thinking this over. The name was adorable. “But we’re not naming our daughter after a junkie’s song, right?”

“No.” He shook his head, as if erasing the idea. “Of course not.”

They just stayed there, letting the album play as Aelin took in the baby’s room. It was so cute she felt like her chest could burst any minute.

She made Rowan and Aedion put a baby blue wallpaper, even if the Air Force’s regiment said every wall should be plain white. The furniture was in white wood, except for the little dresser in the corner.

It was wooden as well, but every drawer was a different shade of blue, getting darker at the bottom. The knobs were sea life themed, and it took Aelin a lifetime to decide which animal went with what drawer.

It was the cutest, babiest little thing. She woke Rowan up at 1 am to show this finding when she saw it online. It was her favorite part of the nursery.

Aelin felt her heart bang again when she met Rowan’s deep, inquisitive eyes.

“What’s on your mind?”

She placed her pillow closer to Rowan and hugged him. “Thank you.”

He had been pulling Aelin’s house together day and night, completely ignoring her protests about not letting her do much.

Rowan didn’t say anything, just caressed her head in that way that made her melt.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” she continued.

He hummed.

“Your house doesn’t have much of the baby vibe. With the parade of one-night stands and all.”

Rowan sighed. “I know I need to have this talk with—“

She shushed him. The house was Fenrys’ as well, and she didn’t want a surprise baby to disrupt his lifestyle.

“I thought of something. It’s not a permanent solution, but I won’t put an expiration date on it either.”

Rowan leaned closer, watching her intently.

“When I move into this house, you could come with me—“

He engulfed her in a hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Yes.”

“You can pick any room you’d—“

“Yes.”

“So neither of us will be alone with a newborn—“

“Yes.”

Aelin laughed, feeling her chest tremble against his own. Alright, he didn’t need a lot of explanations. She got that.

They just stared at each other for a moment. Aelin felt her heart knock on her throat and do fuzzy little flips as she watched how Rowan’s smile made his eyes light up.

For the first time, she could put a name on the jolt of electricity he made her feel.

She was falling, and bracing herself for the bone crush.

~~

It was funny how everyone from this soccer moms’ night out was telling her to stop being shy and sing with Lysandra. Aelin wasn’t a shy person at all, she was just someone who knew her strengths. Singing wasn’t one of them.

There was no amount of fancy drinks that could make her go up on that stage, but now that Lys made the crowd ask no nicely…

Dorian was trying to save Aedion’s love life in a bar two blocks away. If this became a huge embarrassment, she could just leave, pretend this never happened and join them there. Aelin got up and took the second mic, not missing the cheery crowd—and especially her table—stirring things up.

“What are you two singing?” The employee with the computer asked.

“Lana?” Aelin suggested, but her friend had a vacant stare on the crowd.

She poked Lys on the ribs. “What are we singing?”

“Oh.” She jerked Aelin’s way, blinking, but then her disoriented face turned into a roguish grin. “Peppers.”

Not a question, but Lys and the employee still sought Aelin’s confirmation before starting.

Aelin was just singing at first. She wasn’t stiff, but there was nothing much to her moves. However, when the pre-chorus was reaching its end, Lysandra placed one hand on hand on Aelin’s hips in an attempt to loosen it, and that’s when she understood.

Lys didn’t want to sing a song. She wanted them to give a full show. And now that Aelin understood, she wouldn’t settle for less.

She was rolling her hips, swaying her whole body and toying with her hair as the lyrics suggested. Aelin had no idea if the tables were stirring them in because they were actually good or just two excited drunks, but she was eating it up.

“Put your hands on my knees, baby!” Someone screamed, referencing the song lyric.

Aelin had a snarky remark ready, but kept to herself when she realized it came from a woman, not a creepy dude. Instead, she swayed her hips harder and went down so she could put her hands on her knees in a little provocative manner. The lesbian roared, making her cackle mid-chorus.

And you know what? Tonight was about girls. Aelin came with her soccer mom friends to talk about girl things and sip girly drinks. If she was doing sexy dances tonight, it was for the lesbians. And bisexual girls. Non-binary too—

Lys tapped her shoulder when she stopped singing, too distracted counting all the letters from the acronym to check if she wasn’t forgetting anything. Fuck. She blamed it on the tequila.

Aelin smiled at the crowd when the song ended, taking the applause and fame in. Maybe she should quit orthopedics to perform for a living. Maybe that was her true calling.

All of those thoughts came to a halt when she paused to carefully study the room, though. Her heart stopped just to go back at the highest speed.

Rowan. By the side of a hot redhead.

He was staring at her, and there was no way to decipher that intense look in his eyes. His lips were pursed, but even if Rowan looked pissed, he never took his eyes off her. Not while she was on stage, not when Lys dragged her by the arm to the ladies’ room.

The redhead was looking between them the whole time, probably figuring something out already.

Aelin didn’t do anything when she got to the bathroom, though. Just stood there, staring at a blank spot in the wall. She was so shocked she barely noticed the distinctive reek of a bar’s bathroom. Lys was watching her the whole time, forehead wrinkled and hands on her hips.

This silence was too much, especially since Lys knew most of whatever went down with Rowan.

Well, that didn’t matter now. If the last weeks gave her any doubt about how she should proceed now that they were in a better situation, this just gave her rational side more certainty. He had moved on already, and so should she.

Aelin decided to reapply her lipstick just to do something with her hands.

“I’m assuming you saw Rowan with that woman.”

Yes, and not with any woman. It was the kind of woman who made single moms question their sexuality.

“A redhead?” Aelin’s voice came out slightly high-pitched as she stopped reapplying her lipstick to protest, searching for Lys’ concerned gaze through the bathroom mirror. “I thought he liked blondes. When did blondes stop being the hottest option?”

“You’d still be hotter than her if she were blonde. Or if you were a redhead.”

“This is not about me.” Aelin closed her lipstick, rolling her eyes. “I’m talking about men’s choices in general. It’s an anthropological observation.”

Lies, lies, lies. But Aelin didn’t even tell her therapist about old feelings resurfacing, she wasn’t about to pour her heart out to her newest friend while drunk at a club. Especially not while Rowan was having a hot date.

She raised her eyebrows, looking as if she was tired of explaining something obvious. “Even though he was ogling you like a dog staring at meat through a butcher’s shop window?”

Aelin put away her lipstick and gave Lys a pointed look. “He was not.”

“I was there. I remember it all too well.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. “We could sing that.”

“We can, because you’re not crashing Rowan’s date tonight.”

Aelin was carefully silent. She’d be lying if she said that idea didn’t cross her mind.

“You’re not.” Lysandra’s tone was firm, and she placed both hands on her friend’s shoulders. “You’re going to repeat after me: I’m Aelin Galathynius.”

Aelin giggled. “You’re not Aelin Galathynius.”

Lys squeezed her friend’s shoulders harder than necessary. “Say it.”

She straightened her posture. “I’m Aelin Galathynius.”

“And I’m too mature to crash Rowan’s date.”

“And I’m too mature to crash Rowan’s date,” she lied.

“Great.” Lys took a deep breath and pointed to the door. “Let’s get back to our table.”

Aelin went from the restroom’s door straight to Rowan.

“Good to see you got out of your house for once.”

Rowan slowly assessed her outfit with that judgy gaze of his, making her skin burn. ”Good to see you singing something that isn’t a nursery rhyme.”

Aelin crossed her arms. “I thought you were seeing a guy tonight.”

Rowan mirrored her expression. “So did I.”

Wait, he thought who would be seeing a guy?

His date extended a hand. “Hi. I’m Ansel.”

She begrudgingly shook it. “Aelin.”

God, this was awkward. She should’ve listened to Lysandra and stayed at her table. But when she saw Rowan there on a date with this gorgeous homewrecker with incredibly shiny hair… Aelin felt like she was burning from the inside out, and not in a good way.

Something about her face must’ve showed, because Ansel pointed between her and Rowan and said, “This is totally platonic. Fenrys thought Rowan could have a night out, so he stayed with the kid and set this up.”

“This is…” Rowan tilted his head, frowning at the redhead. “Exactly and not exactly what happened at the same time.”

Ansel elbowed him, making him straighten his posture.

“This is exactly what happened,” Rowan amended.

“Rowan?” Ansel put a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention, and Aelin almost singed it off with her eyes. “Can we talk for a second?”

They excused themselves and got just far enough so they’d be out of earshot. It looked like they we bickering. Ansel pointed at Aelin with her head. Rowan’s body stiffened. She pointed at the door. He pulled at his shirt cuffs and nodded. Aelin would kill to hear whatever that exchange was, especially because when Rowan approached her, Ansel was… smirking? As weird at this sounds, it looked a lot like a smirk.

“Hey.” Rowan didn’t sit again, just got close enough so she’d hear him over the terrible performance of an 80’s song. “I’m going to call an uber. Can you stay here?”

Aelin felt her heart sink. “You’re leaving with her?”

“What? No!” His eyebrows shot up as if the idea was absurd. “I’m calling Ansel’s uber. I was asking if you can wait for me here. Or at the tables outside, anywhere but the club part.”

Aelin nodded, chuckling. The loud, buzzing dance floor by the entrance must’ve been a terrifying sight for Rowan.

She found the soccer moms and quickly explained she’d be with Rowan in the other room. They seemed to understand the situation, which was good. Aelin was friendly with everyone there, but the only person she was close with was Lys. That one would be blasting their DM tomorrow morning, there was no doubt.

Rowan came back just a few minutes after she found them a table at a calmer area outside.

The breeze hitting her shoulders was gentle, but still stronger than her thin, backless shirt. Still, Aelin held her head high, refusing to feel bad for crashing and ruining his date.

“How many beers did you pay her?”

Rowan leaned back on his chair, a playful glint in his eye. “Three, why?”

“You’re paying me four.” He opened his mouth, but she raised a finger and beat him to it. “No questions asked.”

Rowan chugged his beer after their first round came. “I don’t know why you’re being like this. Aren’t you dating other people too?”

“What?” Aelin slightly shook her head, mouth ajar. “Where is this coming from?”

He tilted his head. “You were very clear about wanting more kids.”

“And then you made an assumption about my dating life.”

Rowan didn’t answer, unwavering.

Aelin held a finger up. “First, I told you I haven’t figured that out yet.” Another finger up. “Second, I wasn’t in a relationship the first time, I don’t need one to have kids again.” She shrugged. “For all you know, I could be talking about adoption or fertilization.”

Rowan had his arms crossed, eyes squinted at her. “Why would you pay to have kids if we did that for free the last time?”

The mix of what he’d just said and his displeased face made her cackle. Hard. Her head was tilted back, her body trembling as she tried to regain composure and feel less breathless.

“Why is this funny?” He protested, trying and failing to hide a silly smile. “I’m just saying that if you don’t have another person you’d like to… share genes with, the reasonable thing to do would be make the other children genetically compatible with Maisie.” He sipped his beer, looking nonchalant. “In case one of them needs a kidney or a bone marrow transplant.”

“Alright.” She chugged the rest of her beer down. “Let’s suppose I decide to do that. Would you donate your sperm and sign off parental rights?”

“Absolutely not!” He blurted, clutching his beer for dear life as if it’d protect his imaginary kids from Aelin’s modern ideas. “I’d make and raise them the old-fashioned way.”

Aelin leaned towards Rowan, her pulse skyrocketing as her breath fanned against the shell of his ear. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

There was no mistaking the way he trembled under her whisper. Rowan found the exposed curve of her waist with his hands like a magnet, the tips of his fingers pressing against her skin.

Rowan’s pupils were dilated, his forest-green irises looked on fire. “Stop teasing me. We’re drunk.”

Aelin leaned back on her seat and sipped her drink, chest filled with satisfaction even after being rejected. It was really hard to feel defeated now, since Rowan was too intoxicated to take his eyes off her golden top.

“You were a lot more fun six years ago.”

Rowan chuckled and finished his bottle. “Next round?”

Aelin confirmed at the same time her phone started ringing.

“Dor? Is everything okay—“

“I can’t stand your cousin anymore, Aelin! I’m dumping him in the sewers!”

She chuckled, not missing Rowan’s curious gaze. “Did Aed drink too much?”

“That too! He went straight to a woman and slurred: ‘you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen this week.’ I can’t do this, Aelin. He’s unsalvageable.”

Aelin snorted. “Alright, give me five minutes and I’ll text you.”

“Too long!”

She finished the call before Dorian could protest further. Rowan had his head tilted, waiting for an explanation.

“Dorian’s bored, so he decided to be Aedion’s wingman tonight. They’re at a bar close by, so we agreed to uber back together.”

“Uber together where? Dorian lives in the opposite side of town.”

She shrugged. “Who knows? You know how Dorian is.”

That explanation seemed enough for Rowan. It didn’t take long for them to decide it was way past their bedtime already, so they decided to head out as well.

They needed to have their wristbands scanned at the cashier near the exit, and she took a step back when Rowan mentioned for her arm as well.

Aelin shook her head. “I spent a small fortune in frilly cocktails.”

He didn’t say a thing, just gently took her wrist and showed it to the cashier.

The outside of the club looked the same it did hours ago, except the line to enter was longer, making the street too loud for it to be the middle of the night.

“Heeeey.” Aelin made a twist to look him in the eye, but stumbled on her heels. Rowan tried to catch her from falling, but she beat him to it. She was just that kind of independent drunk. “Your mom invited me to your trip with Maisie the last time she was in town.”

Rowan snorted. “Sounds like her.”

Every year, Rowan and Maisie visited the southeastern beach house his parents retired in. Inviting Aelin to her ex’s trip without letting him know was something only Rory Whitethorn could pull off. She was a… peculiar person, to say the least. Aelin loved her to death.

“What did you tell her?” He asked.

Aelin tried to look nonchalant, thankful he couldn’t tell the tingling in her limbs. “What was I supposed to tell her? I already crashed your date, I won’t crash your trip too.”

To be fair, Aelin didn’t say anything because she would not, under any circumstance, invite herself to Rowan’s trip. And by under any circumstance, she meant only if she was drunk.

He shrugged. “Maisie would love it if you went.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Of course Maisie would want me to go. I’m talking about you. Would you feel comfortable with me there?”

Rowan’s shoulders dropped, and something in his eyes melted. “Of course I would. Do you want to come with me next month?”

Aelin flipped her hair, not looking him in the eye. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

He snorted and placed a hand on the back of her shoulder, gently stroking that patch of skin with his thumb until their uber arrived.

Rowan opened the backseat door for her, but a very drunk Aedion called his name from the inside.

She leaned closer to Rowan and whispered, “I think he wants you to go in the middle.”

He sighed, but complied.

The moment they got inside and closed the door, Aedion laid down on the backseat, resting his head on Rowan’s lap and hugging his middle. “I love you, man.”

Rowan petted his head the same way he’d do to a dog. “You’re okay.”

“Aw,” Dorian cooed from the passenger seat. “He got so happy when he saw you outside.”

“Are you staying with Aedion?” Rowan asked, since the driver was getting them farther from Dorian’s apartment each minute.

“No, I’m staying with you. You stole my boyfriend, remember?”

Rowan’s face was flat when he replied, “Thanks for letting me know.”

Grinning at the bickering, Aelin rested her head on Rowan’s shoulders and nearly purred when his hand met her scalp. He chuckled. She lightly elbowed his ribs.

“You know damn well I’m weak for those,” she mumbled, eyes blissfully closed.

“I do.”

Aelin almost fell asleep right there, all because of Rowan’s skilled hands. She would’ve, if it wasn’t for the seat bumping as the driver sped, and the annoying air freshener in the car.

When they arrived, Rowan decided to drop Aelin off while Dorian did the same to a nearly dead drunk Aedion, and they’d meet later. Or Dorian could just break into the house through Fenrys’ window like he used to, that part wasn’t clear.

“There’s this thing nagging me,” Rowan said as they walked through her front garden.

“Spill.”

“Dorian seemed to know you were with the soccer moms all the time, but Fenrys seemed so clueless about this earlier today.”

“Oh.” Aelin leaned against a pillar, scrambling for a nice way to explain this. “Dorian doesn’t tell much about me to Fenrys, since it’d be the same as telling you. I never asked him to do this, but he’s just that loyal.”

Rowan’s expression seemed downcast for a beat, then he concealed it with a grin. “Keeping secrets, Lieutenant?”

Aelin crouched to get the keys from under the front mat, trying to downplay how much that harmless question made her heart twist. Something about her demeanor must’ve given it away, since he changed the subject.

“You know it’s not safe to leave your keys there, right? Why didn’t you take them with you?”

Aelin got up again and sighed, already knowing it was too much for his male brain to understand. “My purse is small, and the keys would scratch my lipstick tube.”

Rowan shook his head, but a small smile betrayed his disapproving face. “So between your lipstick and your house keys, you’d rather keep the lipstick?”

“Absolutely. I need to keep my priorities straight.”

He chuckled, eyes soft as their corners crinkled. “Good night, Aelin.”

Rowan held her upper arm for a beat, caressing it with his thumb, and then let her go.

This chapter has a bonus scene

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