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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 4 years

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Wicked Game (Part 2)

Word Count: 20K+ total Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. The first part is about 5K, part 2 is 7K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Ashton grabbed his bag and shut off the lights in the bar. Hima was waiting impatiently by the door, keys in hand. Following the disaster of an afternoon, they'd been packed until closing. He'd been too busy cooking to think about it, something he loved about his job. The rush and the heat combined with the complete focus on his work. You had to keep your eyes on your fingers or you got hurt. The satisfaction of plating an order and sending it out until the next order came in, starting the process over again.

"Will you come on?" Hima tapped her foot, making her keys jangle. "My brother is waiting for us." Her twin brother had passed the bar exam a month ago, but everything had been so crazy with the opening they hadn't properly celebrated yet.

The bouncer recognized Hima and let them in immediately. Tirana was a sleek, neon-lit bar favoring overpriced cocktails, elaborately garnished and meant to be as much of a showpiece as a beverage. Ashton eyed the crowd full of men sporting off the rack Italian suits with egos as inflated as their dates' chests. Kabir was waiting in VIP with his friends and waved them up. Ashton congratulated him and ordered a spiked seltzer, passing on the bottle service Kabir offered. Hima was taking shots with the guys and he joined them in a toast. As he was taking a drink he spotted Calum Hood leaning against the wall, looking bored and maybe a little drunk. Hima must've seen his expression because she whipped around just as Calum looked up and noticed them. Ashton tried to look away and act as if he hadn't noticed the other man. Hima had other ideas and made a beeline for the reporter.

"Hey Calum, fancy meeting you here," she said relieved when he seemed happy to see her. "Come have a drink with us, or am I interrupting something?"

"If you're buying," Calum replied. "A friend brought me here and then fucked off on a phone call." He laughed, but it died out when he saw Ashton.

"Listen," Hima cut him off before he could speak. "I know this afternoon didn't go well, but what you don't know is just before you came in, my boss had to sit through an interview with Kevin Mackie. It did not go well "

"Oh God, that insufferable bastard," Calum snorted.

"Exactly, and you know Mackie brought up all that old shit from Lune Rouge," Hima told him "That's in addition to insulting every woman who works there, of course."

Calum cringed, and his eyes flickered back towards Ashton talking to Kabir and his lawyer friends. He couldn't help but notice the contrast between the intense scowling man he'd encountered this afternoon and the smiling bubbly ray of sunshine he was looking at now. Was that an actual giggle? Calum blamed the tequila for agreeing to join Hima for a quick drink since his date still hadn't come back. He'd allowed his editor, Shamara, to set him up twice now, but there wouldn't be a third time.

Ashton wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans as he watched Calum following Hima over towards them. He'd found the reporter attractive this afternoon, but he'd been wearing a long sleeve button up for the interview. Tonight Calum was in all black, and the tank top he wore under the leather jacket showed the ink etched into his skin above his collarbones. Ashton gripped the drink in his hands a bit tighter, trying to keep his nerves steady. He slowly edged his way over to where they were talking just as Calum launched into a story about his magazine sending him on a tour of small mom and pop restaurants up the California coast.

"The owner's husband was sick that day, so she was doing most of the work herself," Calum was saying as Ashton listened in on the conversation. "Beulah was amazing, but they were getting slammed. I asked if she needed any help, and I spent the next three hours manning a fryer. I cooked the chicken, and she'd toss it in the hot oil and spices before slapping it on a bun with the sauce. You'd get the sandwich, pickle, and fries in a little brown sack. We sold hundreds of them, but I knew why when it slowed down enough that I finally got to eat. It's the best chicken sandwich you'll ever have! Tossing it in that spicy oil gives it a flavor that punches you in the mouth. She taught me most of her secrets over the two days I ended up staying until her husband got over the flu.."

I could listen to this man talk all day, Ashton thought watching Calum's expressions and hands as he told the story. The way his chest rumbled when he laughed, which was often throughout the tale. He seemed like a genuinely warm person, and Hima seemed to like him. Maybe I was wrong, five years is a long time

"That's so sweet," Hima smiled up at Calum as he finished.. She was smitten despite hearing rumors he played for the other team.

"Ended up extending my trip for an extra five days which caused all sorts of headaches when I got back. My boss was pissed I'd gone over my expense account," Calum said, shaking his head at the memory, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol now loosening his tongue. He was relieved his date was still MIA. Ashton was standing close enough for Calum to smell his cologne, and it was proving distracting.

"Is that the same magazine you work for now?" Hima asked.

"Yeah, but I was damn near fired. I paid back the money by throwing cash onto my boss's desk when I turned in my story, and he was not amused. The editor-in-chief, who also owns the publisher, loved my story, and after that, I was sent on more in-depth character profiles. I wanna get to know the people behind the food." Calum looked directly at Ashton, meeting his eyes as he spoke. His breath caught in his throat at the intensity in Ashton's hazel eyes as he listened. How is he this handsome? Calum thought. This man has no right to be this good looking. That chest hair peeking out from under that pink shirt is teasing me. Wonder what's underneath? Wait, no I don’t. Stop thinking about that or you're gonna get hard.

"So what exactly were you sent to find?" Ashton asked, his tone still guarded but more friendly than before.

Calum took a deep breath and thought quickly. After the interview bombed this afternoon, he came up with a backup plan if Ashton didn't come through. He made a decision to float both his ideas.

"Look, I know a lot of people are bugging you for gossip about your personal life, but that's not what I'm here for. You opened your first restaurant at 25, and the food at Lune Rouge was fantastic. I know I didn't give you a good review then, but I was trying to be edgy and cool," Calum admitted.

Ashton exhaled and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. Mackie brought up Luke, and when you mentioned Finn I snapped. I'd like to try again, but I know Hima is more interesting. So what did you have in mind?" Ashton smiled and Calum had butterflies in his stomach.

"I'd like to watch you cook, and see how you are in the kitchen. Tell me how your philosophy on cooking has evolved and what stayed the same," Calum replied. I hope that didn't sound as cringe to him as it did to me. Turning to Hima, he continued talking, "I'd like to do an extra little feature on you if that's ok. It'll give the article a nice balance I think, what do you say?"

Ashton saw Hima's face light up and knew he'd have to say yes. He had to admit, the pitch sounded great, even if the idea of Calum watching him work made him nervous. They turned towards him to see what he thought, and Ashton's gaze landed on Calum's mouth just as he licked his lips. Please don't do that, he thought to himself. Don't make me think about how you taste, and how those lips would feel against mine.

"I definitely think Hima deserves her own feature. I'll go along with whatever you want," Ashton told them.

"You know Calum," Hima turned on the charm. "I'm off tomorrow. I could take you to the best Indian restaurant you've never heard of for lunch." Her eyes got huge and she grabbed Calum's arm. "I'm a genius you guys, listen, the restaurant is hella busy, and the boss man," she nodded towards Ashton, "won't be much fun to interview if there are customers waiting. He just redid the kitchen in his condo, so why don't you do the interview there? That way he's not around us idiots at the restaurant."

Both men stared at her, and Hima panicked thinking she'd overstepped somehow until Ashton nodded. "Sounds like it could work, what do you think?" He asked looking at Calum who nodded, his smile getting broader.

“Sure, um, that sounds great. Really just um, great," he fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it before handing it over. "Go ahead and put your number in, and I'll text you tomorrow."

"Is that your little sister?" Hima asked, spotting the picture on his lock screen.

"That's my daughter, Vanessa Joy. Absolute light of my life," Calum beamed, pulling up another pic.

"Daughter?" Hima and Ashton exchanged shocked looks before quickly regaining their composure.

"We were kids. I hadn't figured things out yet," Calum gave his standard explanation.

He started to say more, but he spotted his now-forgotten date headed back towards them. Hima saw his grimace and followed his gaze to the approaching man. She guessed he must be a lawyer who wanted everyone to know it, wearing a double-breasted British tailored suit and gold Submariner watch.

"Sorry about that Cal, that was a client who's a real pain in the ass," the newcomer joined their little group, peering at Ashton with suspicion. "I'm Nick Callahan, a junior partner at Fish, Filbeck, and Greene " Hima almost laughed out loud at this skinny little dude in a fancy suit trying to puff out his chest and put some bass in his voice as he went to shake her boss's hand. Ashton looked amused but Calum not so much.

"Calum, if you don't mind, there's someone I'd like you to meet," Nick waved at a group who'd just come in. He tried to pull Calum away, but he shook Nick's hand off his arm.

"Give me a second, and I'll be over," Calum said, nodding at someone he recognized in the group. "Tell Teddy to order a round of drinks, I'm buying." When Nick still didn't budge, Calum turned his body towards his date and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I'm interviewing this young lady tomorrow, and I want to get it set up before I get drunk, ok?"

Nick swallowed at the warning in Calum's voice and scurried off to meet his friends.

"Sorry about that," Calum turned back, smiling again. He had them each put their number in and saved the info with a smile. "I'm so glad I ran into y'all. Hima, I will text you in the morning, and Ashton just let me know when and where." He gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek which made her blush furiously. He shook Ashton's hand and everything seemed to pause as they locked eyes, exchanging smiles. The handshake lingered a beat too long before they both pulled back completely flustered.

"See you guys then," Calum made a hasty retreat towards Nick and his friends.

"What did you do?" Ashton hissed, feeling dizzy, excited, terrified, and nauseous all at once.

"We'll just have to see, won't we? You two are obviously into each other," Hima tossed her hair over her shoulder, giving Ashton a pointed look.

"I'm not trying to start anything, you know that. Since the divorce it's been too hard and-" Ashton stopped when she put her finger to his lips.

"It's an interview. With a very attractive reporter. You'll be in your element, you can hide behind your food and your knives, but you can get through this. I want my feature." She glared at him and stood on her tiptoes trying to go eye to eye with him.

He had to laugh. Hima was impossible to stay cross with. As he glanced back over towards Calum, he couldn't deny he was intrigued. Don't get your hopes up, Irwin.

Kabir came over to drag them back to his friends. Ashton spent the next hour dancing with Kabir's girlfriend and watching his friends try to hit on Hima without getting caught. Hima's family was overprotective, and her mother was constantly pressuring Kabir to find his sister a good match. As a result, she kept her private life closely guarded, even Ashton didn't know much, although he suspected she had a thing going with one of the servers at Anne-Marie's.

As the song ended, he realized he had to pee. Ashton excused himself and followed the neon arrows to a dimly lit hallway decorated with glow in the dark graffiti. He made his way past the line for the women's room and around two people noisily making out next to the emergency exit. He reached the men's room door just as it swung open towards him. He stumbled back to avoid being hit and collided with the couple behind him. An arm shot out from the tangled bodies, shoving him forward chest first into the man who'd just come out of the bathroom. Ashton put his hands up to steady himself, inhaling the scent of leather and whiskey with a faint whiff of stale tobacco as he looked at Calum's face inches from his own.

"Sorry, uh, I was pushed," Ashton apologized, unable to stop staring at the other man's lips.

"It's ok," Calum's heart was pounding, and he was sure Ashton could feel it through his jacket. He was tempted to make a move and go in for a kiss. He paused long enough to remember the interview, and not wanting to have another misstep, he let the moment pass. "It's all yours," he said squeezing over so Ashton could pass.

Ashton paused, confused, but remembered he was headed to the bathroom. "Thanks, uh, see ya," he replied trying not to stammer. Yeah, that was smooth, he thought. Before he closed the door, he looked back and caught Calum looking back at him.hey both smiled before the crowd closed in and he lost eye contact. He had to stand and splash cold water on his face to get his pulse back to normal. When he looked in the mirror, he saw that his face was still very pink and he was grinning like a fool. I didn't just imagine that did I? What am I doing? What am I going to cook for him?

*********

Ashton jumped at the sound of the buzzer even though he was expecting her. He quickly let her up, and within seconds Hima was at his door.

"How did it go?" He hadn't even fully opened the door before the question was past his lips.

"Eager much? Why don't you get me a drink, and I'll decide what I want to tell you," she said, taking off her jacket and hanging it up.

"You impertinent bitch," Ashton cracked up and headed to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

"You sound like my mother," Hima settled at the bar facing him.

Ashton had expanded his kitchen so he could install a six top gas range and a convection oven while giving himself extra counter space with a small sink directly across and a small island in between. Instead of a dining room, he had an L-shaped bar where he could serve guests directly from the kitchen. He pulled a pitcher of cold brew out of the fridge and poured himself a glass with a splash of cashew milk adding a splash to her cup of hot chai.

"It's such a shame you're gay. We'd have such a great marriage," she joked blowing on her tea.

"I love you too much to marry you, darling," Ashton replied as always.

"Good thing I like my new stepdaddy," she told him, and he choked on his coffee.

"So what did you guys talk about?" He asked when he'd recovered.

"Mostly me, but also you. What do you want first, the details about him or what he asked about you?" Hima smirked at him, almost laughing when he glared at her.

"I'll let you decide, how about that?" Ashton rummaged through the refrigerator before pulling out a loaf of bread.

"Ooh snack time. When did you go to the market? I thought you opened for Rafi today. What are you gonna make for him?" She fired off, trying to crane her neck to see what he bought.

"Nope, you're gonna talk or you're not getting fed. I went before I went in at ten and I stayed till eight. I've barely got home, and I don't need your attitude, young lady. Now spill it," he told her as he pulled out a couple of onions and some gruyere cheese.

"I love it when you're pissy. It looks so good on you. So I took him to Parvati's and ordered chana masala on roasted sweet potatoes. It was so good, I wish you liked Indian food more. We talked about my family, and how they're mostly engineers and lawyers but food was my passion. Confessed that when we first met, I had the biggest crush on you because you were so handsome." She giggled and made a show of fluttering her eyelashes at him. Ashton blushed and threw a caper at her. Hima swatted it back at him and kept talking. "Calum agreed you were handsome by the way. So I told him how you'd mentored me, and when you left the Hilton to open Anne-Marie's, you brought me with you. It was very heartwarming, and I promise I made you look good. He asked a few questions about you, but it was mostly professional stuff. What was it like working for you? What kind of collaborative effort went into the menu? Stuff like that," she shrugged watching Ashton heat up some soup as the sandwiches cooked.

"Well, that's a lot of nothing. I thought you were better than that," Ashton said, pouting his lips at her.

"I know he asked if you were single, but he was hella smooth about it. He asked what kind of gift he should bring tomorrow, whether it should be a bottle of wine or something you could share if you had a roommate. Don't worry, I let him know you were single, but I was cool about it," Hima grinned at her boss's discomfort. He cut the sandwich in half and poured a cup of soup to go with it. He cut some fresh chives to top off the soup along with some crème Fraiche and fresh cracked pepper.

She stopped talking to enjoy the food. Ashton introduced her to cream of celery soup and it quickly became a favorite. The sandwich was beyond good yet incredibly simple: sauteed onions on a grilled cheese sandwich made with Ashton's homemade compound shallot-butter.

"I'm disappointed, I thought you were better than that," Ashton raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not done, I'm just enjoying the food. My compliments to the chef." Hima ripped a piece of crust off her sandwich and dipped it in her soup. "I found out some things about Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome," she told him before running her tongue along the edge of the bread and then taking a bite.

Ashton laughed and flipped her off. He had pastry cream cooking in a double boiler, so he was continuously stirring between bites.

Watching him work, she never knew if she was completely in awe of him or a little in love with him, but probably both if she was honest with herself. She'd told Calum as much, off the record of course. It always amazed her how his large hands could be so nimble and quick with a knife, yet so delicate and careful when he was garnishing and plating. She'd told Calum how grateful she was that Ashton had given her such a huge opportunity without being patronizing or expecting her to touch his cock.

People might think cooking would be a natural fit for a woman but professional kitchens were very much a man's world. You had to be physically and mentally tough. She was lucky that she'd gotten out the hotels before she'd been subjected to sexual harassment, but she'd seen enough. Ashton didn't tolerate any kind of physical or verbal harassment, but every cook could curse a blue streak and work through an injury. Most cooks wore their scars like battle wounds. Hima had a jagged thin white line trailing down her left forearm from a staple on a lettuce box that ripped her flesh open while putting away a truck. Ashton had a couple of red welts from the panini grill decorating his arms and a gnarly pink, puckered scar on his left wrist from an accident with molten sugar years ago.

"Ok so, he's a year and a half younger than you, turns 28 in January actually. Aquarius, so that should be fun. Never married, but he's got the kid," Hima informed him.

"That really came out of nowhere the other night. I never would've guessed that," Ashton said over his shoulder, turning his back on her to keep stirring.

"It happened when he was in high school. His first girlfriend, their senior year of high school. They'd already been broken up for two months when they got the news, just when he'd started to figure out his sexuality. They tried to get back together for the sake of their daughter but quickly realized it wouldn't work in a traditional way. Now they're best friends and co-parents to Vanessa Joy. In fact, when Nicole married her boyfriend, Michael, two years ago Calum walked her down the aisle," Hima told him.

Ashton's jaw dropped. "What the hell, Hima? You guys had lunch one time and you know his life story."

"My mother's interrogation skills rubbed off I guess. His daughter also happened to call while he was with me. It was so cute; she made the honor roll and he was so proud. He apologized for taking the call during lunch but said he always has to answer if it's his daughter or his mom."

Ashton turned towards Hima, smiling and blushing, "I can respect that."

"I'm sure you can, Mama's boy," she replied. "Honestly the two of you are adorable. A pair of smitten kittens. He kept asking questions about what it's like to work with you. What are you like as a boss? And every question he got this funny little smile and couldn't look at me. I really hate that you get the best looking guys. It's bad enough you look like that," Hima gestured at him as she looked him up and down. "First Luke, and now Calum, I'm so jealous. That being said I really hope you hook up with him. You could stand to get laid."

"Watch it," he cautioned, not wanting to kill the mood.

"Sorry, but the other night y'all had some serious chemistry. You should go for it. Speaking of, I gotta go. Kabir is having a date night so I actually don't have to go home," she checked her phone, and Ashton didn't recognize the gaudy pink glitter case.

She caught his puzzled expression and laughed, "My mom checks my location, so my iPhone and my car stay at Maisie's. Everything gets forwarded here, and I don't have to answer a million questions."

"You're 24, how are you still dealing with this? When is your mother going to treat you like an adult?" Ashton shook his head, he never understood how she dealt with her family.

She sighed, "It's impossible to explain unless you have Asian parents. My mom grew up here, but my grandparents were still very much rooted in India. If you think my mom is difficult, you should've met grandma." A text came in, and she wrinkled her nose in annoyance reading it. "Why am I the only person who's punctual?" She muttered to herself before looking back at Ashton. "So what are you making tomorrow for the big date, I mean, interview? Mind if I smoke?"

He shook his head and followed her onto the balcony. "Stop saying that, I'm nervous enough as it is. I'm starting with a wilted chard salad with figs and goat cheese, and maybe a soup. I haven't decided, but for the main, I'm making mushroom Wellington with my specialty Mac and cheese and whatever vegetables I pick up at the market tomorrow morning. I'm making a sorbet for dessert. I was going to make a pavlova, but I don't have the patience for merengue right now."

"Calum doesn't stand a chance, he'll be thoroughly seduced. Then I'll get my magazine story and be a star. People will start asking me for photos on the street, they'll learn how to pronounce my name, and I'm only going by Hima. I think I can get away with just one name, like Madonna, Beyonce, and Cher. Don't you? I promise the fame won't go to my head. I'll still be Hima from the block."

Ashton cracked up. "Ok there, Roxy Hart," he teased. "You are so extra, it's too much for an old gay like myself."

"You're not even thirty," she protested. Another text came in and her eyes lit up. She stubbed her cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe before wiping it clean with a napkin and stuffed both in her purse to throw away outside. "You've just gotta get back on the horse, and Calum seems like the type who'd be into chaps and spurs."

"Don't you have places to go, people to do?" He asked, walking her to the door.

"Sure do, good luck tomorrow," she kissed his cheek and was gone.

*********

Calum finished the dishes and popped another antacid in his mouth. Spicy food didn't used to give him heartburn. Getting old I guess. His dog, Brutus, danced around his feet begging for a treat.

"Not gonna happen, old man," he bent down to scratch the pooch behind his ears, but Brutus immediately flipped over for a belly rub. "Greedy bastard," Calum chuckled but obliged with a ton down and chin scratches. He found a chew stick on the couch and tossed it over by the dog's bed, and soon Brutus was curled up contentedly gnawing himself to sleep.

Calum watched his little guy for a bit before heading to his desk to type out a rough draft. Hima was a firecracker, full of energy and ideas, and hard to keep up with. She talked a mile a minute, often switching topics mid-thought as she spoke. He'd had his voice recorder on, but he liked to write his first draft from memory. He admired her passion for her work, and her determination to follow her own path. She was fiercely loyal to Ashton and grateful for the opportunity he'd given her. Calum would've suspected she was a bit smitten with her boss, but she openly admitted her crush. She was quick to insist Ashton had never encouraged or entertained the idea, but she didn't need to tell him that.

Calum knew all about Ashton's history, the cheating, the fights, the messy breakup that brought the restaurant down. He exhaled, nervous about having that conversation. He shut his laptop, now too distracted to write. It's just an interview, calm down. He tried to be rational, but his thoughts kept drifting back to bumping into Ashton at the bar. The pink shirt, the star tattoo begging to be traced with his tongue, those hazel eyes that made his heart jump into his stomach. He tried to focus on his laptop. This article wasn't going to write itself.

****

Ashton laid on his back, concentrating on his breathing as he pressed his knees to the floor in reclining bound angle pose. He'd had too much coffee, and although his body was tired, his mind was racing. His phone was vibrating on the dresser, but Ashton ignored it, moving into a butterfly pose and touching his forehead to the floor. He exhaled, trying to clear his mind. But all he could think about was Calum Hood. He had a brand new restaurant to run. Now was not a good time to become infatuated with a handsome reporter. So why haven't you stopped smiling all day?

He breathed deeply, in, out, in, out. But he couldn't concentrate, couldn't calm down. He pushed himself off the floor and grabbed his water off the table. He opened his phone and was surprised to see a notification from the restaurant security system.

Alarm deactivated at 12:02 AM

Alarm Panel 2

Code: 4452

Ashton realized Hima was at the restaurant. He knew she usually went there after her accounting class but that definitely wasn't the case tonight. Probably popped in for a bottle of wine, which doesn't sound like a bad idea.

The kitchen tiles were chilly beneath his bare feet as he headed towards the small wine fridge on his counter. Craving something sweet, he found a Shiraz he'd been saving and poured a small glass. He scrolled through Spotify, picking a playlist at random, and Robyn's "Dancing on my Own" came over the speakers following him through the apartment back into his bedroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and paused.

He pulled his shirt off and turned around examining the freshly-healed Phoenix tattoo decorating his left side from his hip to the top of his ribs, covering up the tattoo of Luke's name, birth date, and their wedding date. He trusted his tattoo artist and let him have creative freedom on the brightly-colored feathers and flames. It turned out beautifully. He turned sideways, rubbing his stomach and flexing in the mirror. He was in the best shape he'd been in since he was a teenager. Yoga kept him toned and lean so he was muscled without being bulky.

I'm giving it my all

But I'm not the girl you're taking home

He let the Swedish synth-pop beat take over, his hips swaying as he listened to lyrics about loneliness and feeling left out.

I keep dancing on my own

The irony wasn't lost on him as he kept dancing, moving away from the mirror. The next song was too slow so he quickly scrolled looking for something better. He clicked on Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know," and began to sing along. He saw that Hima hadn't left the restaurant and opened up the security camera feed on his phone to make sure she was ok.

****

The more Calum stared at the screen the more his concentration drifted. He wondered if Ashton had a type. Cal knew he was decent looking, but he wasn't Luke Hemmings. He snorted at the thought of that simpering pretty boy. Luke was a spoiled child, soft and weak, thinking only of himself. I bet he's selfish in bed, probably a bossy bottom He was surprised at the surge of jealousy he felt. Don't bring Finn into this. He rubbed his temples at the memory of finding out his then-boyfriend was cheating with Luke.

Finn was always looking for an opportunity, whatever would take him to the next level. His relationship of almost a year with Calum failed to get him noticed in the food press. Finn felt Ashton didn't give him enough credit at Lune Rouge and whined constantly about it. Cal was having his own career struggles at the time and personally thought Finn was acting like a spoiled brat instead of being grateful for the opportunity. They began to spend less time together after Calum's snarky review caused a huge blow up. So when Ashton and Luke's relationship began to fray, Finn had time to lend a sympathetic ear. Calum suspected Finn was cheating, but he bought into the “golden couple” bullshit so Luke never crossed his mind. Calum was shocked and gutted when he walked in on the two of them one afternoon. Finn was supposed to be out of town, and Calum popped by to check on his dogs. The sound of sex greeted him when he opened the door and he should have left right then. His curiosity got the better of him, and he walked towards the bedroom. Their moans masked the sound of his boots as someone had a very loud orgasm. Calum opened the door as they were falling away from each other. He walked in to find them panting for breath, sweaty and beautiful with the afterglow. Luke panicked and tried to hide himself, but Finn didn't flinch.

"Well, I guess you know now," he said, smirking as his green eyes met Calum's. "If you're down for it, we've been talking about trying a third. You can top us both if you want." He shrugged and Calum physically felt the spell break. Looking back, he knew Finn broke his ego more than his heart. He'd been humiliated when it all came out, but he knew the affair had been worse for Ashton. He could tell Ashton was still damaged but definitely not broken. Wouldn't mind letting him break me, Calum thought, his mind wandering back to that unbuttoned pink shirt, Ashton's chest and neck begging to be marked up. I bet he likes it rough.

Calum caught himself daydreaming again and blinked the half-filled word document back into focus. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a crush on someone, and he felt ridiculous. How am I gonna get through this interview? It didn't help that Hima kept teasing him about it being a date. Calum's last date, with Nick the lawyer, had been a disaster. He'd ended up leaving after Nick disappeared on another phone call.

The truth was, he was excited about this interview and wished it really was a date. He'd scheduled a quick haircut and shave in the morning and carefully picked out an outfit. He figured his short-sleeve, red button-up paired with a black tank underneath would show off his arms while helping to hide his tummy pudge. He rubbed his stomach, still poking out from the leftover Indian food he'd finished off an hour ago, before letting his hand wander down and brushing his fingers across his cock and feeling it twitch in his basketball shorts. He wondered what Ashton would be wearing tomorrow. He pictured Ashton at the club, the ripped black jeans and the pink shirt unbuttoned enough to tease him. His dick twitched in his hand, waking up and demanding attention.

****

Ashton gasped and almost dropped his phone at the sight of Hima standing in the break room in nothing but her bra and panties. He hadn't recovered from that shock when a male figure crawled into the frame. It took Ashton several seconds to realize the man was nude and covered in tattoos. The tattoos rang a bell, and he realized he was looking at Dakota, model/actor, Maisie's nephew, and a server at Anne Marie's. Dakota was a dark, brooding pretty boy with a perfect pink pout and tousled dark curls that he was always brushing out of his eyes. He was great at his job, but other than that he'd made no impression on Ashton, until now. Ashton watched the younger man on his knees in front of Hima as he sucked on her bright pink cock. What the fuck is happening?

Ashton blinked at his screen, still processing everything when Dakota stood up and bent over the table. Hima lined up behind him and thrust her hips against his ass. Ashton gulped for air and felt beads of sweat break out on his upper lip. He watched for a minute, hypnotized by Dakota writhing in pleasure, his black curls bouncing with every stroke, shoulders hunching over as he gripped the table. Ashton's mind flashed to Calum and what it would look like to have him bent over like that. He realized his dick was getting hard and quickly closed the app, feeling embarrassed for invading her privacy. He fumbled getting his phone into his pocket and accidentally skipped to the next song. "Anytime, Any Place," by Janet Jackson filled the room. He laughed to himself at the sexy song and took another sip of wine.

****

Calum squeezed himself through his clothes. He vaguely remembered Finn telling him Ashton was rumored to have a massive cock. He groaned at the thought of Ashton's hazel eyes looking down at him while he was on his knees. He imagined Ashton's cock brushing against his lips, teasing both of them. Calum groaned and gave up any pretense of trying to work. He stood up too quickly and knocked his chair over causing Brutus to wake from a dead sleep and start barking his head off.

"It's ok, boy," Calum assured him, making sure he laid back down before going into his bedroom and shutting the door. Moments later he was stripped down to his boxers and shirt digging through his top dresser drawer until he found the small bag hiding under his socks. He pulled a bottle of lube and a small silicone sleeve out of the bag and walked back to the bed. He peeled off his shirt, kicked off his underwear and laid on his back on the bed. His cock was flat against his stomach, and as Calum reached for it he wondered what Ashton was doing right now.

****

Ashton felt the plug slip into his ass and shivered at the chill of the stainless steel. He wiped his hands off on a towel and walked out of the bathroom into his bedroom. The music was still playing. Janet's silky smooth voice gave way to Beyonce’s sultry vocals

Baby put your arms around me

Tell me I'm a problem

He walked back into his bedroom, feeling delicious shivers from the pressure on his prostate as he moved. The city lights illuminated the room from the open blinds on the balcony.

Stop acting so scared, just do what I tell

First go through my legs, go back on your head

And whatever you want, yeah baby I'll bet it comes true

He reached down and squeezed his dick, rubbing his thumb over the tip down to the sensitive underside of the ridge. Pulling the shaft down and away from his body, pushing almost to the point of pain before easing up and giving it a nice slow stroke. He repeated the motion, each time pulling a little harder, edging a little closer to making it hurt, each time when he pulled back the relief was more intense. His fantasies were new visions: dark eyes and black curls still coming into focus in his mind's eye. He squeezed his muscles around the plug as he tapped the remote on the table next to him. The plug began to vibrate on the lowest speed and Ashton hissed at the sensation. He wondered if he'd let Calum fuck him. Ashton didn't bottom very often. Luke didn't like to do the work, rarely agreed to switch up and whined whenever he did. Calum looked like he could give as well as he got.

***

Calum grunted as he pushed his cock, slick and shiny with lube, into the sleeve. His hips jerked upwards into the air as the countless smooth nubby fingers lining the inside of the toy closed around his swollen shaft, gripping and massaging the taut skin with every stroke. He screwed his eyes shut picturing Ashton on his back with his knees pulled up to his chest as he begged for him. Calum bit his lip to stifle a moan, slowing down his speed, not wanting to cum too fast. Hima told him Ashton called himself a “bendy boy” and had a strict yoga routine which just sent Calum's mind spinning, picturing trying different positions until Ashton was screaming for him. Calum moved his hand away, leaving the toy. The scenario in his mind began to switch up. The only thing Calum could think of hotter than fucking Ashton was getting railed by his massive cock.

****

The combed cotton, high-thread-count pillowcase felt velvety soft and air-conditioned chilled when he bunched the pillow in his fists as he thrust his hips, burying his shaft in the soft folds. It felt amazing but was cold comfort when he was craving Calum's body heat. He turned the remote up a notch and adjusted the settings; a pulse pattern began throbbing against his core. He squeezed down on his dick even harder. He could feel the delicate feathers snapping under his fingers, but he didn't care. Ashton ached for release, longing to have Calum in his bed tonight. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive as his orgasm began to build. His hips pumped faster trying to match the pulsing rhythm inside him. He wanted Calum, with a craving he’d never felt before. Something in those dark eyes challenged Ashton. There was something about this mysterious reporter that he needed to discover. He was getting closer with every stroke, the fantasy switching to pounding Calum into the mattress, seeing how well he could throw it back. The image was too much and he shuddered, cursing out loud as his climax hit. His hips stuttered and his legs wobbled, forcing him to his knees. The vibrator extended his orgasm, milking him drop by drop as he whimpered and fumbled for the remote. When he finally turned it off, he rolled onto his back and tried to catch his breath, thankful he'd bought a nice fluffy rug to put next to his bed. .

****

Calum flipped over onto his stomach, grinding down with his hips, the sleeve moving with the friction. He wondered if Ashton was vanilla or if he could get into Calum's slight pain kink. He'd looked for Ashton on FetLife to no avail, but he was fairly sure he'd found Hima so that was a surprise. Calum reached up and tugged his nipple hard as his hips rocked slowly. There was a power to Ashton. He had a dominant side which Calum had clearly seen in his dynamic with Luke, despite Ashton being smaller in size. Calum wanted to see how he'd take charge because he wasn't soft like Luke, but he had no doubt Ashton could handle him. Calum raised himself up on his forearms, pumping his hips furiously. He thought about those arms wrapped around his neck, his teeth grazing Ashton's blood moon tattoos as he bent Cal over and took him hard and fast. He whimpered, biting the pillow, his rhythm starting to stutter as he thought about Ashton looking up at him, eyes wide with Calum's hand at his throat as they reached their high together. Calum was just at the edge when he quickly rolled over, removing the toy and ruining his orgasm. He gasped, his whole body shaking as his release spilled onto his belly. After a moment he reached down, using the sleeve to tease the tip through the aftershocks until it became too sensitive to touch. He was hungry again, so he grabbed a Kleenex and wiped himself off as best he could before walking, still naked, back through his house to turn on the oven. Pizza was always a good snack after sex, and he had an article to work on.

@sublimehood @tea4sykes @be-ready-when-i-say-go @scribblesos @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @wildmichaelflower @castaway-cashton @damselindistressanu @notinthesameguey @cashtonasfuck @irwinkitten @mermaidcashton @malumsmermaid

#calum hood #ashton irwin #cashton #cashton smut #calum hood imagine #calum hood smut #ashton irwin smut #cashton slash #5sos #5sos smut

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 5 years

Text

y’know i think the whole reason that I hated using wordpress (who has now ironically bought this hellsite) in that first year of the comms & media course i began at uni.... was because it’s another social media platform, like twitter etc, where you had to make yourself open to the mortifying ordeal of being known.... and that it‘s also perceived as the “professional blogging website” bc it has competent coding etc.... and you’re also kinda forced to find your niche to pump out content to write.... so that you might get noticed by their “explore” feature/filter.

you also have to sound “professional” when you write on wordpress. wordpress makes it seem like you’re meant to be devoid of your personality for the sake churning out content and subscribers (or at least that’s what it felt like to me tbh).... and possibly eventually sell your services or have advertisers apply for ad space on your blog so that you get paid. and maybe you also sell merch through your blog/website. you have to have a professional sounding URL to sound adult and business-like. you have to have a pro profile pic of yourself or your blogs brand name or whatever the fuck as your display pic or header. it’s really built for you to make your blog a business or for a business to have a blog. it’s not built, in my view, for someone like me, to “authentically”, if you will let me permit to say, express who they are.

whereas on here, i’ve been anonymously posting under the same URL that i started with in my late teens/late high school. people think im just a simple mysterious roaring pikachu (until i post a selfie lmao); that likes mid2000s emo/pop punk etc bands and any random new tv show/movie/media and political posts that come up on her dash.... so that her blog isn’t focussed at all.

in terms of content here on tumblr, i can reblog any random old jackshit posts in a row and still get reblogs/follows; and it’s the same with my own original posts. im in my own little corner of the internet and it’s nice. im allowed to be myself. have my meltdowns and swear like a fucking sailor, like i’ve always done lmao. no professional jargon bullshit here. no language sanitisation to make it sound professional.

i don’t have to sell my hobby. i don’t have advertisers asking for ad space (or however it works lol) bc absolutely fucking no one has cracked the tumblr advertising code yet (except for those frickin scummy scam survey websites, lol. which i’d never join. or those ugly clothing websites as well). like, okay, yeah, obviously in the past i’ve wanted to get paid for wasting my time here on this hellsite; and have actually wanted to employ someone else to maintain my blog, by cleaning out my old blog posts and liked posts lmao..... but i’ll never do that bc it’s my fucking blog and it’s my baby that i’ve had since 2011 lmao. then it’s not authentic.

i can yeet out my internet personality here which i’ve built for almost 10 years (or at the point mentioned at the beginning of this post, it was 4 years) lmao. why the fuck should i/do i have to do that again on wordpress??? the effort and time is too much. i don’t have to have a brand name or even have a display pic on my dash that’s me. i could be hermione granger. spongebob. pikachu lmao. who the fuck cares??? it’s tumblr. like fuck, i don’t even fucking know what my branding would actually be for this fucking blog lmao 😂😂😂 let alone my WP one.

but the anonymity on tumblr is so freeing when every other social media platform forces you to have a profile that’s painfully open & public, even when you have good privacy controls on. like some of the things that i still haven’t done on facebook, for example, are adding a cover photo. and filling out the stupid “about me facts” or whatever the fuck section. as well as filling out my location/where i live. so, that everyone i know, can know everything about me. and those things? in this age of data hoarding and exploitation/selling for ad services??? fuck no. they already have enough of my data as it is. they don’t need any fucking more than what they already bloody well have.

anyway. just. i’ll never move to wordpress. and if wordpress ever starts to charge for the use of tumblr or takes away the feature of anonymity by telling people to make some type of professional sounding URLs and wanting professional display pics..... i will fucking leave this blue vortex hellsite, stat..... and will miss the former anonymity that tumblr had.

as an addendum:

i just realised that the only other kind of social media site that i used, that had the same level of anonymity as tumblr (if you don’t count neopets as one lmao), was stumbleupon.... which let you build a profile of all the random pages that it suggested to you on a certain topic that you picked.... and it eventually let you talk to people through your account and add people, and added profile suggestions for people who had similar interests to you. it’s such a shame that stumbleupon shut down about 2 years ago or something now. that was such a wonderful site, even though i never talked to people on it 😂😓.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona yaps about shit

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acelucky · 5 years

Text

Patchwork

Summary - Hitomi has a wish for her final night in Gaea. A reunion between herself and all those she has grown to love round a campfire to share stories and toast to the future.

This was written for the 2019 Escaflowne 'Pic n Fic' the theme is memories. Thank you to @radical-rad1986 for telling me about this years pic n fic! Whilst I haven't been active in the Escaflowne community for some time (life and other fandoms etc.) this was so nice to write for and was a joy to be writing about these characters I love once again. In fact I've been inspired to write a little more Escaflowne content from doing this. This has also been posted on Ao3 but wanted to post it here too as I posted so little of my writing on main.

This is written for @numbersoftoday

A campfire was where it begun and where it ended. Campfires were, Hitomi reflected, one of the best places to share stories. Far away enough from buildings and the distractions of a busy world full of busy people and noise, a campfire was a good place to escape if started in the right location. Tonight the location had been picked by Van, it was Hitomi’s final night in Gaea and he had gathered together those who had come to know her and become in a fashion, an extended family, to say their goodbyes.

Van, Hitomi and Merle were the first to arrive in the clearing. On the ground there was a round circle of ash, a place where previous campfires had been built and memories shared. Around this were logs strategically placed for seating.

Van placed a hand on Hitomi’s shoulder, “Sit, relax, I’ll build the fire.”

Hitomi who was always so eager to help and wanted to do everything she could to not be a burden, was grateful for once to sit and watch the others at work. She decided to sit on the soft, green grass whilst the fire was being built, her fingers lazily trailing across the blades and twirling a few round her index finger. She stared up at the night sky, admiring the constellations. Though different from home, no matter where you were, the stars always looked beautiful and held the secrets of the world they watched over.

Hitomi had been thinking of the memories that each of them had woven both individually and collectively, whilst certain tales excluded certain people, by hearing the words alone, they were able to live on. Her grandmother had been so fond of story telling and ensuring that legends didn’t die. So, in the aftermath of the war and before she returned home, she had a final wish, that they would reunite for one final evening, around a campfire and share memories, honest and true.

She watched as the fire came to life, providing much needed light in the darkness so that she could see the faces of those she loved. She watched as the flames licked higher, as the wood started to glow and the element took hold, sturdy and ready to warm their small gathering. She remembered the last campfire she’d had with her grandmother, sat under a patchwork quilt that her great grandmother had made whilst pregnant. They had cuddled up under it, embracing a part of her history, a woman she would never know and yet in that moment, felt so close to her that there was an undeniable warmth. A pull on her heartstrings from beyond the grave.

Her grandmother had taught her of the importance of ancestry, no matter how far back. She had also taught her the importance of those who come into your life, no matter how small or for how long. How all these individuals were a sum of the person you are and you become. When she was younger she struggled to understand what her grandmother had meant. Her close friends and family, they were the people who made her who she was. But now Hitomi realised what her grandmother had meant, no amount of distance between two people could ever break a bond so strong once it had been established.

Hitomi leaned back, pressed her palms flat against the ground and inhaled sharply, the smell of the earth and pine trees heavy in her nostrils. It made her feel light, free and as if for a moment that she was sat on a field with Amano and Yukari after school, enjoying the warmth of sun on her face.

She watched through the woods as shadows moved, growing closer, not enemies but the friends she had made and woven into their tales. Allen and Celena arrived first, shortly followed by Millerna, Dryden, Gaddes and the rest of the Crusade Crew.

She pulled herself up from the floor and dusted her school uniform down before going to greet them, warm embraces all round. As Allen greeted her he kissed her cheek, for a moment she felt herself go a little red and knew Van’s eyes would be on them. She recalled their kiss in the rain, the warmth of his lips, the fact that the rain didn’t bother her, rather soothed her in a moment of such unimaginable tenderness. And for the first time when thinking back on that kiss, she didn’t feel guilt.

Once they had all all gathered, they took a place round the campfire to sit and talk. Hitomi now sat on a wooden log on a blanket that Van had laid out for them, Merle sat curled at his feet.

The campfire was so large that from the other side of the trees you could make out the unmistakable glow of orange in the sky. Hitomi watched the flames rise and closed her eyes, listening to the crackling of wood, thinking of home now and the memories she had from there. The memories that she would take home with her from Gaea.

The mood around the campfire wasn’t sombre as such, but it was quiet and reflective. Reeden poured drinks for all, they toasted and then waited for another to take the lead.

To the surprise of the others, it was Celena who spoke, “I remember…running through a meadow, the feel of the soft grass on the soles of my feet. All the colour splashed in front of me from the wildflowers, the smell of salt on the air from the sea. There was a breeze blowing, catching my hair… I remember you brother,” she looked across at Allen who nodded and smiled.

Merle’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she watched Celena recount the final memories of her youth before she was stolen away.

“The ships were beautiful that day,” added Allen as he closed his eyes to picture the scene, “There were so many of them in the harbour, you wanted to stand on the hill and count them but got distracted.”

“By a snail,” Celena finished and gave a laugh.

Allen chuckled, “Yes by a snail, you always loved small creatures.”

Celena smiled but said no more, her expression changed a little, melancholy in her reflection of her younger days and time lost.

“My younger sister loved all manner of insects and bugs,” Gaddes said, joining in to fill the silence.

Celena immediately looked up from the ground, happy that someone other than Allen wanted to engage, “Which were her favourites?” She asked.

“Butterflies… but she had a soft spot for stick insects, always wanting to keep them as pets. She named one of them Violet.”

“My friend, Amano, he kept stick insects as pets when we were younger,” Hitomi smiled fondly at the memory.

A few of the others round the campfire laughed, “Eww who’d want to keep a stick insect? Isn’t that right Lord Van?” Merle wrinkled up her nose.

Van shrugged, “I guess whatever makes people happy.”

Merle quickly changed her reaction to the thought of stick insects and nodded in agreement.

“What made me happy as a child,” Van begun, “was playing at sword fighting and duals with my brother. He was everything to me, I idolised him and always felt I’d never be able to match up to him, always standing in his shadow.”

“I think you did a grand job,” Hitomi said, her hand on Van’s knee.

Van sipped his wine, “Months ago I’d have hated you for saying that. But now, he did something far braver than I could ever imagine.”

“Redemption is a beautiful thing,” Dryden quipped.

“What was your favourite memory of him?” Hitomi asked

“My birthday one year, he got me a wooden sword, but it was carved so intricately I knew he must have spent an age working on it. I loved it because he made it. Because he had poured a part of himself into it, so in a way, even if we were apart we would always be together. That made me feel brave,” Van gave a low chuckle, “I feel now that sounds so childish.”

Hitomi and a few of the others shook their heads, Hitomi especially thought of her great-grandmother’s patchwork quilt and she knew exactly what Van meant.

He continued, “We went out to practise, stood on a meadow at the side of the woods. The sun shone brightly above us; eagles circled in the air high above. If I close my eyes, I can still remember the scent of the daises and buttercups. I recall the way my brother smiled at me, his words of encouragement when I fell. If I think hard enough about it, it’s almost like I’m back there.”

“That’s a lovely memory to have,” Hitomi said squeezing his hand.

“I remember Ellen, my oldest sister, she always wanted me to teach her how to fight,” Gaddes recalled.

“And did you?” Millerna asked.

There was a moment of silence as Gaddes sipped his wine, “Of course.”

Hitomi smiled and listened intently as Gaddes cast out his memories of Ellen and his sparring days. He stared into the flames as he spoke, his hands gripped tightly round the goblet, alluding to the fact that although this part of the story had been happy, there was a sorrow there.

“She was so feisty, so reckless in so many ways but her heart was so pure. She managed to protect my family from bandits one afternoon while I was out in town, I’d never been more proud of someone. Her hair smelt of honeysuckle and she had the brightest smile, the kind that drains all darkness from the room. She was able to mimic me and my movements so perfectly. I miss her terribly,” Gaddes’ eyes filled with tears as he wiped under one of them.

The campfire was silent for a moment as the others gave Gaddes the room he needed to reflect and a moment of silence for his sister.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised.

“Don’t be, we all have memories that make us both happy and sad,” Millerna put a comforting hand on Gaddes’ shoulder, “That’s what makes us human, that’s what connects us all.” She smiled sadly as Gaddes reached up and placed a hand over hers and mimed, ‘thank you.’

Millerna took a deep breath, her eyes caught Allen’s and before she spoke he knew what she was going to say, “Marlene…I think of her often. In fact, I think Eries and I would have been closer had Marlene still been alive, had things of worked out differently. We’re trying and slowly we’re building a sisterly relationship again, but Marlene will always cause a space between us that can never be filled.” Millerna smiled sadly, now avoiding Allen’s gaze.

“I have a few memories of us three sisters together and I am grateful every day that they are happy memories. Playing by a stream, mimicking the song of the birds in the oak trees. Planting seeds, drinking fruit juice as we sat on rocks, our feet cooled by the running water. Happy memories, as I said.”

Reeden went round the group with more wine, ensuring that their goblets were well filled for the night ahead.

The other’s continued to tell tales of their youth, they recounted stories from years past rather than reflecting on the recent, violent and bloody war. Those stories, both the good and the bad could wait for another day when the memories had begun to fade.

The final story before they said goodnight came from Hitomi, “My grandmother…the one who came here, she had a patchwork quilt that belonged to her mother… She had made it, whilst pregnant. It took me years to realise the significance of it, even though my grandmother taught me all about it and how each section represented a different part of her mother’s life, of her adventures, those she met, the terrific highs and heartbreaking lows… That was why it was so important, it reflected all life, because to live is to feel it all and that includes the bad. That is what we have done, that is what we have lived through, survived, together… The quilt represented all the lives that had touched her and now those threads can never be broken. “

All eyes round the campfire were round her now, slightly teary and waiting for her final words. “I’ll miss you all terribly, but I’ll remember you all, always,” Hitomi said fondly, though her eyes pricked with tears, misty with memories and love for those she met.

Van held her hand tightly and placed a kiss on her cheek as she finished speaking, Merle even shifted her weight so she could hug Hitomi’s legs.

Gaddes then stood and held his goblet up, staring into the flames and across to Hitomi he spoke, “A toast, to our dear friend Hitomi.”

Allen stood, the others following suit, all lifting their goblets in agreement, “To Hitomi!”

Hitomi then stood, “To friendship,” she added, “to love and to the memories we have made and those that are yet to be made.”

“Here here!” Dryden cried and then downed the rest of his wine, the others lifting their goblets once more and doing the same.

They said their farewells, though they had all agreed to say a final goodbye to Hitomi the following day in the same place but during the day when she would leave Gaea and return home. Before she left, Millerna pulled her close, she had been an unlikely friend and alley but now Hitomi found herself sorrowful for the friend she would have to say goodbye to.

Hitomi watched the fire die so there was just the faintest glow of orange, Van reached down with his hand to help pull her to her feet and in doing so embraced her.

“We still have the night,” Van said as he brushed the hair from Hitomi’s face.

She gulped, trying to swallow the tears that couldn’t so easily be fought off, “Yes, I should be grateful to sleep by your side and watch the moon and the earth for the last time from the window.”

“To sleep in it’s light by your side will be one of the best memories I’ve ever had,” Van said before pressing his lips against hers.

#Escaflowne #The Vision of Escaflowne #Hitomi Kanzaki #Van Fanel #allen schezar #Millerna aston #Gaddes #fanfic #esca 2019 #pic n fic #my writing

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s4lticid · 6 years

Text

The Shady as all Hell Whistleblower: Or why we shouldn’t take Romelle at face value.

Some firsts:

First and foremost, my deep thanks to the wonderful family at the Lotura Discord Server. In the midst of dumping this stream of consciousness mess on you all, I may pull some ideas that were discussed there and are not original to me. Where possible I will try and credit individuals, but if I miss anyone my deepest apologies and know that everyone there has had a great deal of influence over my thought process. My love and thanks for all the great discussion and support – even the stuff I haven’t been present for!

Second, this and the stuff to come right after, was the work of lots of thought and research that started right after S6 dropped. That is a long time, and I wanted to get something out sooner but I have just been too swamped with RL, which has decided to become a giant, bloody, throbbing, pus-filled buboe blocking me from doing much of anything fun at all ever again. Thus you will be treated to a stream of as much shit as I can spit out at once in the time I have to get this down, and it may not be in the best format or particularly well written, but here goes… oh, and this is also another reason I may forget who said what in conversations exactly, because some of it happened nearly 2 months ago.

I am aware there have been a few metas written about Romelle. I haven’t actually read any of them at this point, except for Leaking Hate’s awesome meta here, because I didn’t want to get overly influenced by the ideas of others. As such I have been on reading and participating in fandom even less that RL gave me a chance to. So if you see something here that was said by someone outside of the Lotura Server and they are not credited, it is not me copying someone, I have just been holding on to it until I could post this.

That said, this builds off of some things LH posted in the above link, and I will do my best to credit those conversations I can remember reading and/or participating in within the Discord.

~oOo~

OKAY.

I’m going to come right out and say it:

Romelle is not who she says she is.

There are too many inconsistencies in her story. So, let’s start at the very beginning and begin poking the holes to prove my point:

1. Keith and Krolia find Romelle:

Keith and Krolia are in the Quantum Abyss riding a Space Whale and it brings them to a planet. Krolia takes a reading, and finds the same signal as the strange quintessence the Blade has been tracking on that planet.

Note: Krolia first sees the readings from space and tracks them to the planet. She doesn’t find any Quintessence signal anywhere else, she specifically states that it is strong and coming from exactly one place.

It is coming from here:

So, if there was a moon base absolutely full of Alteans being drained for their quintessence, as they were shown later, why ever did such a larger source not register first and foremost rather than that cute little dome Romelle is in?

Speaking of that Dome, it’s pretty small, isn’t it? It’s a bio-dome. Meant for a few inhabitants. Does this look like it could house a colony, or even a village realistically? No. It can handle a handful, maybe a dozen people. Probably, it was meant to house just one. But we’ll get to that later.

Keith and Krolia break in and find Romelle, alone and by a riverside. Washing clothes? Why do that in her only clean water source when she has technology all around her? And make no mistake here, she is alone and demands help.

~oOo~

Now I am going to digress here for a moment before I go on to point 2, so I can point out a parallel to the original show, Defender of the Universe (to be referred to from here on as DotU for brevity’s sake, and for my fingers).

There are a LOT of nods to the original shows, (GoLion too), throughout VLD. Some are flat out mirrors for the original, same plot ideas remade, lines taken and reused, Characters, Mechas, motives and situations, they’re all here, though sometimes reworked in very unexpected ways. It’s beautiful seeing them all.

Finding the pretty Damsel alone by a stream, helpless, perhaps even passed out, is one plot device DotU used a LOT.

For instance, when Allura’s Aunt Orla comes to visit, Haggar intercepts and captures her, and then takes her form and lies down to appear knocked out after an attack on her carriage. She is found lying by a stream. That was a plot to get to Allura:

Or how about the time Haggar herself was caught being pretty for a day – in apparently her original form – and cursed the person who saw her?

Again, found by a river.

Fine, you say. But this isn’t Haggar pretending to be Romelle. That didn’t happen, right?

Oh but it did. “It’ll Be a Cold Day”:

Ok, so she wasn’t found by a river this time. But two out of three combined with the VLD writers’ way of reworking things make this a nice little reference point for this original trope.

Something else to note here is there is always some part of Haggar that is a tell. Some part which she cannot disguise. I would posit that we have one with VLD Romelle too: Her clothes. As you go through this post, where you see images of other Alteans, please get a look at their garb. There are several styles that are re-used among each of the people shown. However not one of them wears the same cut we see Romelle wear. And yet someone does. Who? Haggar/Honerva.

No, I am not saying Romelle is actually Honerva/Haggar in disguise. But she could easily be in league with her, and at the very least she definitely is not the innocent she appears and claims to be. Not just because of these fun little references to the original, but they are nice signposts along the way.

~oOo~

2. Romelle’s Story: The Colony

Romelle starts her story to the Paladins by telling them she comes from a planet where there are thousands of Alteans.

This bears repeating: Thousands. Of living Alteans.

Not “were” thousands, but are.

Lotor apparently hunted down every Altean who had been off planet at the time Altea was destroyed, and their offspring, to bring them to the first Colony.

Here is an image of the beginnings of that colony:

Here’s another:

Green as far as the eye can see and a giant ship that, as Leaking Hate pointed out in her meta and on Discord, is easily the size of the dome we were shown above where Keith and Krolia first found Romelle.

That ship would never fit in the bio-dome. And as the upper picture of these two states in the subtitles, Lotor chose a remote planet beyond the Quantum Abyss, not in the Abyss. A planet with a sun such that plants could grow, not a pulsar.

This means it cannot same planet as Romelle was found on, because she states the colony planet is beyond the Abyss, so the Abyss and the Pulsar within it already existed back then. Neither could that ship ever hope to fit inside that dome, as is shown in her memory.

And that colony that was built, shown in the lower picture? Is easily twice as big, or more, as the one Romelle is found in.

3. Romelle’s Story: The Second Colony

Generations ago, once the Colony was very successful, Lotor began testing Alteans for special characteristics such that they could survive the journey to and live on a “Second Colony”. “To better our chances for survival”.

Let’s start with who was chosen.

Around Nine Thousand Five Hundred to Nine Thousand years ago – assuming time for Lotor to mature enough to do all this, knowing that he ages slowly thanks to the writers – Lotor would have started the first Colony. The last people brought might have been found within a couple of hundred years of that range, but probably less.

Think about how long a time that is.

Now, get a look at the faces that came in with some of the survivors found way back then:

Now look at who is being tested:

(Note: I circled a few faces, but if you really look you will see many of the same ones from the above pic)

And note two of the faces I circled.

We know Alteans have a long life span. Far longer than Humans. But we also know from Allura’s reaction that they shouldn’t be anything like at least Nine Thousand Years or more.

So how are First-comer Refugee Alteans alive and young at the same time – ‘Generations Later’ – as both Romelle and Bandor?

Let’s argue that they could be. Bandor and Romelle were just younger then and not chosen. So then Why have neither of them aged at all by the time Romelle related that eventually Bandor was old enough to be tested and passed?

And look, here are some of the first people chosen. Recognize at least one face and clothing? (Not including Petrulius who is a contemporary of Romelle’s as she identifies him on the Moon Facility)

Sure they could be chosen much later, but then why have they not aged at all?

So were Romelle and Bandor refugees? If so then why did Romelle say she was born onto that planet?

Were they born on the planet as she claims?

Did Lotor start testing for special Alteans earlier than she says? Or was it really later? If the latter then how are these original refugees still so young?

However you look at it, her timeline does not add up,

4. Romelle’s Story: The Monument

Thanks in advance to Trisha, Giobana, Crystal Rebellion, Leaking Hate and anyone else who contributed to the conversation that led to this one.

Romelle shows us in her memory that there was a memorial wall to those who went to the Second Colony. Whether she mentions it to the Paladins, I don’t know, but what is shown in the episode looks very much like a memorial to the Fallen.

The base of the Lotor’s statue is covered in names, and we see it cracked with age. People go there to pay respects and leave flowers – and not just any flowers, but pink flowers.

This kind of memorial is what you do for Fallen Soldiers and Fighters in a struggle, not people who are alive off somewhere on another colony and whom you hope to see again once the struggle is over. We even see this is a cross-cultural, cross-species, and intergalactic practice when we see the monument planet Pidge first traced Matt to.

And what do we know about Pink to Alteans? From Allura:

Fallen Warriors. Not people who have gone to a second colony in the hopes of keeping their people alive.

Actually, let’s look at that little tale there. Any colony, in order to be successful, requires a genetically diverse population, a breeding population. A handful of people at a time, because they test as special is not going to provide that. Particularly not in what has been portrayed as a potentially dangerous and harsh journey and place – that alone would be safer in numbers.

Add to that we clearly see that Lotor has separated breeding pairs – Couples – in the few images we see of those chosen. If he is trying to establish a new colony why would he logically do that? The Alteans are intelligent and have some technological expertise, at least some of them, how did no one question that?

I call Shenanigans.

Whatever was going on, it was not another colony and the Alteans all knew it.

This wall? Is a War Memorial honoring warriors who the Alteans think are probably dead.

5. Romelle’s Story: The Communicator

When Bandor is chosen, he is portrayed as giving Romelle a communicator to try and stay in touch with her.

This, despite his being portrayed by her as someone who deeply believed in the importance of not compromising the location of each colony through stray communications that could be picked up and tracked. He is portrayed as explaining to Romelle, in such a ways that impies he has explained it to her time and again, why it was so very important that there be no communication. He seems to understand and believe that it could be life and death. But he creates one anyway?

And then, he doesn’t think to give it to her until he is about to board the ship, in front of the guards:

Look at this picture above. If you zoom in, everyone is looking at them and watching.

This whole part of the story is flat out ridiculous, and makes zero sense. There is no logic to this chain of events or his giving her the thing only at that very moment and not before testing just in case or something.

It is a lie on the level a six year old might tell. It shouldn’t even be considered as more than that. And it is here, I think, that we fly into the realm of pure fantasy. Everything up till now was probably half-truths and misdirection. From here on out though, her story really starts to fall apart and it is very likely we are seeing total and full fabrication.

6. Romelle’s Story: The Dome

We know Romelle never gets chosen for the second Colony, or at least she never states that she does. Her never being chosen for the second colony wouldn’t be something to hide, it could totally benefit her story. It would also help to explain why they didn’t try to warn anyone or stop the testing once they found the moon base – a fact that no one questioned, which itself is suspicious. But she implies by her story that she remains at home, among her people, all alone and depressed because now she has no family.

So she is supposedly still at the original colony when Bandor finally does contact her. He has crashed by the woods. She goes to him and what does she see?

The roof of the Dome. Which we have already established does not exist on the First Colony. So, where is she? Why is she now in this Dome?

What happened in the intervening time that she is not telling us, and is this story about Bandor crashing and the communicator even true? Or are we now in fully manipulative fantasy?

There appear to be no other people in the Dome at all. At least neither Keith nor Krolia relate having seen even one single person to corroborate her story. No other Alteans on this original Colony she is supposed to still be on, which is where Keith and Krolia supposedly find her, and where she states very clearly in the beginning of her story that there are thousands of living, healthy Alteans.Why did Keith and Krolia not see one other person?

Why does Romelle know about a flight bay on the outside of the Dome such that she can take Keith and Krolia to it, but they are supposed to be on an open planet?

When Romelle shows them to said pod, she actually says that “No one else here would know how to fly them if they wanted to”. She represents in this line, once again, that this is the First Colony and there are other people here. So where are they?

7. The Moon Base

Let’s begin with a question I asked at the beginning.

Why, when they were coming in to the planet, did Krolia see

no quintessence signal at all

from that moon base?

These supposed people are supposedly being harvested – and Keith uses the active verb.

These people

Are. Not. Dead

The signal of Quintessence from a place so full of so many people, and the energy being harvested from them, not to mention the pods of Quintessence being harvested off in a storage room somewhere, being collected and stored for pickup, would have logically dwarfed the signal coming from Romelle and her little Dome. They would have ended up here first, not at the Dome.

Even when they finally get there, at first Krolia only says she sees something down on the moon, not that she is getting any kind of Quintessence signal there.

Why? Because there isn’t any.

The pods and the people are a mirage, created by them and for them; woven out of their own pre-existing prejudice and hate, and so very easy for them to believe.

Lotor never was portrayed as taking so very many people at once. For that many people to still be alive and being drained on that station, almost every single Altean would have to still be alive and being used.

A key thing Lotor has been portrayed as is not wasteful. Realistically, and if this were true, Alteans would have died of age. Some even may have died from the process itself.

Why would you keep a dead body in a pod like that for generations, and just build another?

You wouldn’t. You would dispose of the corpse and reuse the pod.

There wouldn’t be so very many of them if what Keith and Krolia saw was real, and was what they thought.

Let’s get a look at the pods, btw. They are very reminiscent of Earth Batteries or Quintessence Capsules themselves, aren’t they? Why do you think that is? Perhaps because they are being manufactured from the thoughts and imaginings of Keith and Krolia?

Here is what real Galra Pod Tech looks like – this is the most recent example, but we HAVE seen it before in earlier seasons. I am just too lazy to go and find it.

Lotor is a Prince, with access to resources and a scientist who designs and creates his own tech advances, ships and fleets. To top that he has access to all of the best and latest technology in the empire.

Does this really look anything like real, known and hi-tech Galra technology, except in a passing, functional way?

And why, after they have seen this and come to the conclusions they have, if the colony is right there and they have not only the proof but are themselves outsiders, giving them credibility…. WHY do Keith and Krolia – both Altruistic heroic do-gooders – not go and try to warn the rest of the Colony? Get them to stop participating or submitting to the tests?

Again, that makes no sense at all according to their personalities. Instead, they run headlong back to Allura to blow the whistle on evil, evil Lotor. No stops, no questions, no thought about the others still at risk.

Also, no proof aside from this one little girl and her story, which without other evidence amounts to nothing more than Heresay. No pictures, no video and no attempt to grab a jar of Quintessence to prove their case.

We find out in S7, that Keith at least sent a message to Kolivan and asked him to send a squad out there. But what did Kolivan’s team find?

Nothing. The place was empty. “Cleaned out”. And judging by the lighting when they got there, it was already probably empty and shut down. They just imagined the pods. How else would it be empty? It’s not like Lotor had any time to clear it. Neither did Honerva, if Kolivan acted right away – and honestly, Kolivan would have acted as fast as he could.

Speaking of Honerva:

8. On the Castle of Lions

Honerva is watching through Mommy Cam Kuron. Nowhere in this episode is she at all surprised or disturbed to see another living Altean.

We find out later when she speaks to Lotor that she is aware that he has continued her work and succeeded where she could not. That work was partly involving Alteans, but I will get to what that means later and probably in a different post.

So she is aware that Alteans exist, but she is still not at all surprised to see Romelle there in the castle. At all. As if it is part of her plan. Could Romelle be in league with Honerva? A part of a plan?

OR, thanks to the Blade being compromised by the alliance with Lotor – which Keith points out in S7 – Honerva found out about the investigation into the Quintessence early on into the new Alliance and traced the path herself. She has access to all databases and resources in the Empire, after all, and we do not know what she was doing for a looong time while a lot of other things were going down in S5 and S6.

Kolivan and the blade, despite their own resources, were having trouble tracing the source and route of the quintessence. Perhaps what they did find was carefully fed to them when Honerva was ready for them. When both she and Romelle were prepared.

And let’s talk a moment about how not one of the members of the team, including both Hunk and Kuron – both great voices of calm and reason for the team – questioned any of the discrepancies of the story I mentioned above, or Keith and Krolia’s actions, lack of corroboration and lack of trying to help the surviving colonists.

They have started to build a relationship with the Galra, learn their culture and working hard for peace for months and months. They were all starting to get to know and like Lotor even. They know the careful balance going on right now in the empire. And then one girl shows up with an MIA team member and has an uncorroborated story, and starts ordering people to shoot Lotor down, not caring that Allura is there too. Even after she is told that Allura is there she doesn’t care.

Her story starts preying on emotion and projecting her own obvious desire to see him dead. And the team members all get very emotional and ready for violence as well, as if the last several months never happened. Their reasoning starts to slip, they don’t question or think out what they’re being told, not even the ones that normally do that no matter what.

And then we have this foreshadowing from waaaay near the beginning of the show:

Keith is still a hothead in many ways. And he was too impatient to get Lotor to be focused against mind control.

He shows up on the Castle ready to rush into the rift and attack. Even after hearing that Allura would be caught in the crossfire he presses to try and do just that and has to be bitchslapped by Lance.

The sheer venom and anger in all of the Paladins’ responses once Romelle is done with her story is off the scale. Especially Hunk and Shiro. Shiro’s tone when he says once Lotor and Allura land they will separate them and “Take Lotor down!” is a tone I have never once heard from him in the entire series. It’s sheer rage fueled bloodlust. This is not any of them. This is them being manipulated.

A brief thought about S7… Never mind that Romelle’s Altean frankly sucks, and she seems able to read Hunk’s mind – convenient that. How about Romelle identifying Lotor’s fleet by sight? When did she ever see enough of that, while living isolated on the colony, to know his ships by sight?

SO. Who or what is Romelle?

Well, we have seen how characters are reworked from the original. And there is one major character from the original we still haven’t seen.

Merla.

It makes no sense to bring in a new character now. But merging her with another character already brought in, one who disliked and enjoyed thwarting Lotor as much as the original Romelle did? That is not only possible, it is plausible, considering many of the character merges and re-works the VLD Team has already done throughout the series.

Merla is telepathic, but more, she can control people. Partly via telepathy, but most often she uses the trope known as Emotion Bomb:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/EmotionBomb

It is so much easier to control people through emotions and insecurities they already have. And by the behavior of the Paladins that day? That is exactly what was happening. Not one of them acted rationally or completely within the current development of their character to Romelle and her appearance/story. Not even Keith and Krolia did when they found her, as pointed out earlier.

They are all being manipulated and at least mostly, lied to. They are pawns and Romelle a tool to get Lotor out of their Alliance and out of his safe space with Voltron. This is why Honerva was not surprised about Romelle being there on the ship. This is how Honerva knew about the Alteans and the research when she finally got Lotor back onto her ship to try and talk to him.

Honerva is back to herself and she wants to get back to her people, probably to lead them. She wants her son back now that she has herself again too. To get even a chance at that she needs to get him away from his safe and stabilizing place with the Voltron Coalition. She wants his Sincline ship, so she wouldn’t need Voltron anymore. She certainly wouldn’t want him cozying up to Alfor’s Daughter.

Honerva has put a nice chess game onto the table, getting Romelle on her side, manipulating the Paladins, and forcing the breach in the budding New Empire and Alliance.

Romelle is pissed, perhaps understandably, and has a bone to pick. She may have been exiled to that planetoid by her people and Lotor, for starting shit on the Colony, and found there by Honerva, or she may have been set up there by Honerva. In the end the result is the same. Perfect tool.

Because Lotor had not been harvesting Alteans all this time. Romelle, as he said in the episode, was not telling the truth and did not know what she spoke of. What would be the point of that, there is no research in that, only death. No, he has been developing fighters like the one we saw in the end of S7. Fighters that fuse Altean Alchemic Magic and fighting skill from the pilot, allowing the pilot to see and experience straight through the ship’s sensors, and powering the ship through their own Quintessence – very like the Lions only more. (My thanks to Crystal Rebellion who helped me develop this base idea with this meta. There will be more to come on this.)

The special Alteans who went with him from the colony were test pilots, heroes to their people, to help ensure their survival. A new protective military force. .

Test pilots have a dangerous job, one that is known to lead to death. And who knows, maybe some Galra had snooped around at times. Regardless, that memorial to fallen warriors was just exactly that, and all the Altean people knew exactly what they were volunteering for.

Even Lotor said a few were martyred for an important cause to save the future for thousands. One cannot become a martyr unless everyone knows what they did and why.

Lotor is their greatest Hero and Savior. And now his Mother is likely there – having forsaken the Druids – and has given the Colony a story of betrayal, and the Komar to perfect their fighters. Perhaps a wounded and/or Comatose Lotor is with her if she managed to pull him out of the rift first. But regardless, the Alteans are not friends to Allura, Voltron or the Coalition. They are going to see Allura and the Paladins as enemies, who betrayed and hurt their leader and protector.

That fighter was not a part of Sendak’s fleet, she was a forward thrust. A shot across the Paladin’s bow. The Alteans will be hunting Voltron.

I’ll leave you with a parting thought.

The writers also said in the end, we would look back and see that Lotor was never lying. And that he came from a genuine place, though he never had the tools and choices the rest of the Paladins were given in their upbringings and lives. And lastly, that his feelings for Allura were indeed genuine.

I am working on a meta for Lotor. I’ll get there soon.

My thanks again to everyone on the Lotura Discord. You are all amazing, wonderful people and I am lucky to have met you and to be able to discuss ideas with you.

Thanks to Crystal Rebellion for helping me last minute find links at 2 AM so I can get a bit of sleep before work

And thanks to the love of my life for putting up with me being tied up so late tonight.

Without your support I can do so little.

#lotura #@VLD #meta #Romelle is Shady #don't trust the bitch #Romerla

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klaineitupanotch · 6 years

Text

Elfinder Fic Masterlist.

It’s late, but here’s my list of Glee fanfiction! Hopefully I’m posting this right lol. I’ll go oldest to newest (roughly anyway). Another Time, Another Place What if Kurt had met Blaine a year earlier? How would his life have changed? In his sophomore year, during the spring, Kurt Hummel ends up by chance meeting a charming young man named Blaine Anderson, who turns out to be in his own Glee club. The two begin down the road of becoming friends and then the journey that their relationship takes them. Will they be able to face any problems ahead? No matter what they may be? https://archiveofourown.org/works/709573/chapters/1311324 Notes: My very first fic written in 2013 (I believe lol, or maybe 2012) so it’s far from perfect, but it’s where it all began for me. A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Vows In the competitive city of LA, Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are trying their best to break into showbiz. Neither one figured their chance would come in the form of a modelling gig that would not only pay the bills but help the cause for marriage equality. Where this golden opportunity could lead to more than exposure in the media. https://archiveofourown.org/works/866205/chapters/1662102 Notes: Cute lil fic I did for the Klaine Reverse bang. Knocked Him For A Time Loop In the year 1903, young magician Blaine Anderson longs for an escape from his impending arranged marriage. A spell gone wrong thrusts him into the year 2013, where he meets Kurt Hummel. Someone equally surprised to find the boy he’d chosen as an essay subject suddenly appear in his bedroom. As if trying to figure out how to get Blaine back to his own time wasn’t hard enough, both started to ponder the same question: Were they star-crossed lovers or merely kindred spirits thrown for a time loop? https://archiveofourown.org/works/962502/chapters/1886645 Notes: Second fic I did for the reverse bang. What a Feeling Through the hell he faced while living in Lima Ohio, Kurt Hummel finally made it out of the backwards cow town to the city of San Francisco. However, to survive meant dreams had been crushed, hopes forgotten, and impenetrable walls built around him. Long gone is the naive youth who dreamed of Broadway and romance. To the new Kurt Hummel, romance is dead. After finally turning 21, Kurt decides to let loose and finally get laid. He didn't count on the two young men that would come into his life because of this choice. Enter Sebastian Smythe and Blaine Anderson, both offering different things within Kurt's life, and causing varied reactions within him. Will he be able to keep the life style he fought so hard to gain without the risk of emotions ruining it? https://archiveofourown.org/works/704320/chapters/1299141 Notes: This one is technically Sebklaine/Kurtbastian/Klaine/Seblaine, so be prepared of that going in. My first forray into writing Sebastian into the fray and I loved it, lol. Hummel and Oates Klaine ‘80s AU. Sometimes even potential soulmates can get off on the wrong foot. Enter Kurt, the ballsy co-manager of Dare to Flare, the hottest gay club in the East Village, and Blaine, a newly hired cover band artist at the same club. Right from the start, the boys’ first impressions of one another go astray thanks to some incorrect gossip and an accidentally spilt drink. Can two men who aren't even on a first name basis ever put their differences aside? https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272997/chapters/2631142 Notes: This prob the fic I’m most proud of, even if it’s far from perfect. It was super fun to write. Who doesn’t like the 80s!

Viloncello Blaine Anderson finds himself being given the opportunity of a lifetime, when he is approached by Hunter Clarington the Third, a rich lord who’s singular goal is to become the best luthier of his age. Soon, Blaine gets the chance to play his finest creation, a cello that’s perfect pitch is spell-bounding, to compete at a world wide competition. Little does he know that accepting the job will also lead him to meet a mysterious young man with the voice of an angel. https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152764/chapters/4704513 Notes: Another Reverse Bang fic for 2014. Sinner or Saviour After years of feeling lost, Blaine Anderson thought he’d finally found his path in life: one that would make his family proud while keeping him far away from a life of sin. But despite his best efforts to start anew, Blaine finds himself falling into the same morally reprehensible patterns as before. Seeking guidance, Blaine looks to God for help but never in a million years did he expect his prayers to be answered — especially when his potential angel-demon hybrid saviour stirs in him the very thing he had been trying so hard to escape. Notes: 2nd fic for Reverse Bang, I went out of my comfort zone for this one lol (religion, angels and demons). https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249658/chapters/4936905 Threw A Wish in a Well Kurt Hummel is a winner, in his senior year of high school he got everything he wanted. He landed the lead role in the school musical, won the election for student body president and most of all got accepted in NYADA, the school of his dreams. The only thing missing from Kurt's fast paced life in New York was one thing: love. After coming back to Ohio during Thanksgiving to keep a secret going, Kurt makes a wish. To find the love of his life but Kurt never expected to end up falling on a cute guy in ripped jeans as the coin fell. Leaving Kurt and one Blaine Anderson to deal with discovering such a strong connection only to be kept apart soon after. https://archiveofourown.org/works/769966/chapters/1444797 Notes: I was tempted to not include this one since it is abandoned. BUT I do want to eventually go back to it and end it. Maybe it people read it that will help motivate me too. ;) A Wedding Fit for People Magazine Off in Estérel, France and tucked away from public eye, Broadway star Kurt Hummel and rock musician Blaine Anderson are about to marry. As the couple look ahead to their happy moment, they both think back to some of the key moments in the course of their relationship, and how they’ve come so far in spite of their fast-paced lives. https://archiveofourown.org/works/4520904/chapters/10284594 Notes: Reverse Bang Fic again. I think this story is one of my best (if not the best) I’ve written so far. https://archiveofourown.org/works/4520904/chapters/10284594 Welcome to Paradise Kurt Hummel's life has been full of nothing but school work. Unhappy and alone, he grows bitter from the stress of it all and keeps himself closed off from the world. But when Kurt encounters a group of students who ask him to be their model for a fashion show, he suddenly begins to question everything about himself and his life. In spite of knowing nothing about fashion, Kurt finds himself drawn towards the project, the group, and most of all the group's leader Sebastian Smythe. https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752428/chapters/8328058 Notes: This is Kurtbastian, but without any Blaine hate in it. It’s a story very close to my heart. I’m really proud of it, and loved writing it (though Klaine is still my otp I swear lol). Who Do You Think You Are Blaine Anderson is preparing to embark on a new solo chapter of his life: entering college. To those around him, he might appear to be just another ordinary eighteen-year-old, but when his loving parents are none other than the Doctor--Earth's constant saviour and last of the Time Lords--and River Song--a human weapon who defied destiny and fell in love with her target--nothing could be further from the truth. Between the pressure that comes with having such a family legacy to live up to, and the stress of keeping so many secrets from everyone he knows, it's no wonder that Blaine has sworn off relationships. Yet on his first day at the Cambridge School of Visual & Performing Arts, Blaine meets Kurt Hummel and immediately feels drawn to him, challenging his convictions. Suddenly, surviving the wait until Blaine can join his parents in the TARDIS after graduation is the least of his worries. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759926/chapters/31622952 Notes: My most current story, though I started it years ago. I’m super happy with this one. For an added bonus, my current fic plans, though it’s slow goings at the moment. In Progress Rediscovering Paradise The sequel to Welcome to Paradise, it pics up where the epilogue leaves you off. I am currently writing this story, I’m at chapter 4. The plan is to wait till it’s fully written and edited and I’ll post the whole thing in one. I’m also aiming for 8 chapters. The continuation of Threw a Wish in a Well It’s on my to do list. I have a number of chapters I wrote years ago. They’d just need to be tweaked and revised heavily. I want to give this story a proper ending. So I’ll prob spend some time on it once the Paradise sequel is finished. Not What I Imagined Another Kurtbastian fic! It will be my take on ‘what if Kurt had met Sebastian instead of Blaine?’ How canon would differ etc. No Blaine hate, no Blaine at all actually. Super excited to write this one. My headcanons are running wild. I’ll be writing this for me really lol. I have various other ideas... no idea if and when I’ll get to them. The above three projects will keep me busy enough with the rate I’m going writing these days.

#fic writing adventure #elfinder #klaine fanfiction #fanfic masterlist

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raendown · 6 years

Link

I finally got around to taking part in @dahtwitchi‘s Dick Pic Project! And in time to be allowed my repost of her delicious artwork! The image I am posting is ever so slightly doctored, just cropped a little, but with permission from Twitchi.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4121 Rated: M Summary: Madara isn't sure what he thinks about being given a third chance at life. He's glad that he has his brother and Hashirama with him, although he's pretty sure he could live without Tobirama being there as well. What really makes things things interesting is all this new technology. He particularly enjoys his new 'cellphone'.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Rapture On The Lonely Shore

As much as Madara appreciated being given another chance at life, there were still moments when he wondered if this was all just a little too much trouble. He had lived his life – two of them in fact! In that time he had committed his crimes, died for them twice, and seen about as much of the world as he’d thought he would ever want to. Getting dragged back in to the land of the living for a third go around wasn’t really in his plans.

Having both of the Senju brothers tag along for the ride could be nothing but karma trying to kick him in the ass and have a good laugh at him while doing it. Some days not even the fact that Izuna had also clawed his way back to life was worth the aggravation of it all.

Certainly on the surface everything was fine and dandy. The citizens of Konoha had at last reached a point where they were content to ignore him so long as he remained docile and afforded them the same discourtesy. Hashirama had fallen so easily in to the patterns of friendship they enjoyed during the few shorts months he had been able to peacefully exist within the village they built together. Spending his days with Izuna as he had always wanted to was a joy he’d long stopped believing could ever be possible.

The problem, as always, was Tobirama. To an outsider’s point of view it would appear that Tobirama had given up all animosity towards the Uchiha brothers he once carried so much hate for. And that would almost be considered correct, Madara had to admit. After finding themselves alive in a time period far passed their own, all of them had found it much easier to lay down their anger and simply enjoy the time they had been gifted, allowing the sins of the past to stay there and looking forward to the future with lighter hearts. Tobirama spent most of his time these days devoting his mind to the science he’d always loved.

He spent the rest of his time bothering Madara.

It wasn’t the same sort of hatred which had existed between them before when Izuna lay buried beneath six feet of earth and neither Tobirama nor Madara could look at each other without seeing the blood of their lost kin. Back then they had both done everything in their power to get in each other’s way, to antagonize and impede and irritate in every way they could just for the pleasure of knowing they had ruined even just a moment of the other’s day.

Now Madara wasn’t sure what he would call it. Without the weight of the world on his shoulders Tobirama seemed to have discovered a new side of himself that very much enjoyed poking fun at other people. He found a great deal of amusement in pulling small pranks and Madara, unfortunately, was his new favorite victim. Even more confusing was that none of it seemed to truly be mean-spirited. Tobirama switched out his reading glasses and put dye in his shampoo bottle, he laughed at the results until he was rubbing his sides with glee and then – amazingly – he would return Madara his things or provide him with the cure for whatever chaos he had caused. Then he returned to his lab until the urge for this new brand of fun rose again.

Several years had already gone by since the Fourth Shinobi War and all of them were fairly well entrenched in their patterns. Izuna in particular still struggled to remember the availability of new technologies like electric stoves and lightbulbs. On his part, Madara had been enamored with the concept of a cellphone since he was first handed one and the concept explained to him. That changed when Tobirama got a cellphone of his own.

Now here he was eyeing the small bar across the lock screen which indicated that he had a new message from “That White Bastard”. Madara sighed, drumming the nails of his other hands against his thigh as he wondered if it was worth his time to open the message. Last time he gave in to curiosity he’d gotten a series of eight picture messages of the same stupid leaf from different angles. Just a dumb waste of his time, something harmless that did nothing more than irritate him yet caused no real offense, that was the basis of all their interactions now. Madara had stopped checking Tobirama’s messages since then and started deleting them on sight but today a pattern had been broken.

Today he had received one picture message followed by no less than fifteen text messages in rapid succession. The constant ding of his phone was both annoying and slightly alarming, holding his attention if only for the way the messages just kept coming all at once. That wasn’t like Tobirama. It was more like Tobirama to wait and send each message in short intervals for maximum irritation value.

With a roll of his eyes and a heavy sigh, Madara unlocked his phone and fumbled around for the messages app. He wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until he solved this mini mystery so he might as well get it over with sooner rather than later. As soon as he opened it, however, he narrowed his eyes in confusion, anxious worry rising up in his throat as he read through the immediately visible messages.

No Seriously Do not I mean it, don’t scroll up If I send you enough messages it won’t be visible Just don’t scroll up I mean it Uchiha Don’t fucking do it If you want to keep your sanity DO NOT SCROLL UP

Madara caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled viciously with indecision. He’d never seen Tobirama come even close to panic before but these messages, the speed with which they had all dropped in one after the other, it felt a lot like panic to him. The last message in particular caught his attention. He wasn’t sure if the wording was meant as a genuine warning or as a some kind of threat but all it had really accomplished was to make him incredibly curious. What could that idiot Senju have possibly sent him that would be followed all of this?

It took exactly half a minute for Madara to cave to his own curiosity. Whatever had been sent to him, it was obvious the Senju didn’t want him to see it. He might be holding amazing blackmail material in the palm of his hand; he would be stupid not to investigate that. Scrolling upwards only increased his confusion at first as it became more and more clear that Tobirama seemed to have sent him something by accident, something he truly did not wish for Madara to see, true panic clear in the messages where he seemed to realize he’d made some sort of mistake.

DON’T LOOK AT IT I DID NOT MEAN TO SEND THIS IMAGE Believe me when I say I meant to send something else This was an accident Do not scroll up Do not look at that image No Seriously

And then Madara found the image itself.

If he had an ounce less self-control he would have thrown his cellphone across the room on mere reflex, an instinctive reaction to the immediate influx of conflicting emotions. Of all the possible things Tobirama might have sent him, even accidentally, an image of the other man in the nude had not even crossed Madara’s mind.

Alright, so Tobirama wasn’t completely nude in the photo, although he might as well have been. His torso was bare and the pants he was wearing were opened to allow his impressive erection to rise out and stand perfectly centered in the frame. Madara couldn’t decide if he wanted to stare at the most delicious cock he’d ever set his poor shamed eyes upon or if he wanted to trace the shape of the tattoo he’d never known about. Tobirama’s pale white skin made a perfect backdrop for the red ink of a tiger to claw its way up and around his shoulder, the stripes of the beast’s arm running down Tobirama’s. The man’s other arm was pulled up behind his head to draw Madara’s eye to the third surprise: apparently Tobirama had seen fit to pierce one of his nipples.

Madara swallowed thickly, both hands clutching his phone so hard the metal casing gave a protesting creak. The part of his brain that had been raised in a war with the Senju was a little disgusted with himself for even entertaining the ideas this image was clearly meant to inspire. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to inspire those ideas in him but the other part of himself, the one that had put the war behind him and was slowly learning to trust again, was already rerouting blood to some very interested parts of his body. A few years ago he might have scowled at this same image with nothing but revulsion. Now he sank deeper in to his couch cushions and palmed the front of his trousers.

Two could play at this game, he thought with a grin. It had taken hours to teach him how to use the camera function on this overly complicated device but it was time he appreciated as well-spent now, reluctantly backing away from the messaging app so he could open up the camera and fiddle until he remembered how to turn it around to face himself. Then he unfastened his pants and pushed them down.

He wasn’t nearly as naked as Tobirama, he noticed. Staring back at the image of himself made him wonder if he should set the scene a little. Maybe take off his shirt? Pose? What expression should he make? Madara shifted and watched his cock bob from side to side, leering at the reflection his own hardness when an idea occurred to him.

It took several tries to get a picture he liked that actually stayed in focus, then several more tries to figure out how to send it back to Tobirama. If he said so himself it was quite an attractive image with him hunkered down in a similar lounging pose as the other man with one of his hands stroking himself and his eyes closed in bliss.

When his phone began to ring he nearly jumped out of his skin. The screen told him that Tobirama was calling him and Madara stared at it for a few seconds, terrified enough that his erection wilted a little. He didn’t think Tobirama would call him. He’d just…actually he had no idea what he’d meant with this stupid idea. Tit for tat? Payback? Mutual teasing with naked bodies? But if he didn’t answer then he ran the risk of Tobirama just popping in with that infernal jutsu of his so Madara accepted the call with one shaking thumb, his other hand still wrapped protectively around his own cock.

“Hello…” he mumbled, unsure of what the protocol was for talking to someone he’d just sent a racy picture of himself to.

“I thought I told you not to look at it.” Tobirama’s voice sounded oddly breathless in his ear. Madara swallowed thickly as his mind supplied him with several possible reasons why. His thumb absently rubbed small circles around the smooth head of his cock, making him shiver.

“You made me curious,” he admitted.

A few beats of silence followed before Tobirama spoke in a husky rasp, “I think I made you hard.”

“Perhaps. And you?” This was all stupid, so stupid, a bad idea shaped from adrenaline and the shock of sudden arousal. The percentage chance of this all blowing up in his face was astronomically high and yet he couldn’t stop his thumb from continuing to trace light circles, closing his eyes and dropping his head back to strain his ears for the sound of Tobirama’s voice. Had the man always had such an attractive voice or had Madara just not been listening properly?

“Madara…what are you doing right now?”

There were a hundred possible answers he could have given, a million different lies he could have told to stop this situation before it got too far out of hand, but the only animosity left between them was harmless pranks because they made Tobirama laugh and Madara had just enough courage to make a leap of faith. He took a chance in a way he never would have done in the world they lived in before.

“Right now? I’m touching myself while I think about that picture you sent me.”

“Oh.” Tobirama cleared his throat but it didn’t erase the fact that they both heard his voice crack. “R-right now. You’re–? Okay.”

“Do you know what would help?” Madara grinned listening to Tobirama’s breathing speed up.

“What?”

“If I could listen to you touching yourself at the same time.”

He never would have guessed how satisfying it would be to hear the hitch in Tobirama’s breath and the stuttering inhale that followed his statement. Madara shifted his grasp on the phone and squirmed as his thumb moved a little faster. Every fiber of his being wanted to move the entire hand, his blood boiling with anticipation at just the thought of it, but he held off for now. How much more satisfying would it be to have Tobirama join him? To listen to each other fall to pieces even though they were half a village apart.

Very likely he would have trouble looking Tobirama in the eye the next time they saw each other but that was a problem to be considered later. He could worry about his own recklessness and the possible fallouts of this after what promised to be a very satisfying orgasm.

“So, what, you would just…if I…?”

“You’re already touching yourself aren’t you?” Madara cut in smugly.

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Tell me how you’re touching yourself Tobirama.”

The voice in his ear stumbled through a few syllables, clearly having difficulty doing both tasks at once, but finally he managed to say, “Slowly. I like to do it slowly. With light touches at first.”

Madara kept his eyes closed and groaned freely as his hand began to move at last, root to tip, consciously mimicking the things that were being described to him and trying to imagine it was Tobirama’s pale hand working him. Unsurprisingly, it was pretty easy to imagine. He’d never been more thankful for the perfect recall his eyes granted him.

“Never knew you had any other tattoos. If you were here I’d be tracing it with my tongue.” Madara bucked helplessly in to his fist when Tobirama groaned in his ear. He waited to hear something back, silence stretching until he realized the other man either had no idea what to say or was still too embarrassed to say it. Feeling reckless, he continued to speak his mind without thought for the consequences. “And that piercing. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I’d love to get my teeth around that.”

“It was a dare,” Tobirama murmured finally, making him chuckle.

“Dare you to stroke yourself a little faster,” he said darkly. The other man let out a keening sound that sparked down the length of his spine like a jolt of electricity.

When the breathing in his ear started coming in fits and starts Madara swallowed thickly and moved his own hand faster as well, thrilled in a way he couldn’t describe to know that Tobirama had done so at his behest. His other hand absently pressed the phone so hard to the side of his head he feared the screen might crack, unwilling to miss even the slightest sound.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he asked, grinding the words out between his clenched teeth.

“Fuck – yes – fuck…” Tobirama paused and then he whispered, “I want…to hear youcome.”

Madara groaned again instead of answering. If he had a second hand free he would have reached down between his legs to tease his entrance, maybe spit on his fingers and pressed in with just the tip of one, but to do that he would have to drop the phone. The last thing he was willing to do at that moment was give up the sound of Tobirama right at the edge, so close to glory. So instead he squeezed his eyes closed tighter and constructed the image of the other man on his knees taking Madara in to his mouth, the heat and the suction and the way his red eyes would be narrow and unfocused.

It was just enough. With a violent shudder he came, back arching and teeth grinding, a wordless growl ripping up his throat and immediately echoed from the other end of the call. Madara felt his jaw drop open in a gasp when he realized that Tobirama was coming too, reaching his completion from listening to Madara’s own.

When the pleasure bordered on pain he let his hand come to rest and slumped backwards against the couch cushions to listen to Tobirama’s panting. His mind was blissfully empty of any thoughts other than how incredibly satisfying that had been, more satisfying than taking care of things himself usually felt. It took several minutes for him to realize that he and Tobirama were sitting in silence and listening to the each other recover in the aftermath. This was a man who, until a half hour ago, he would never thought himself to have any attachment to, had never even considered him as an option. Their shared past had blinded him to any possible attraction before now.

Now he wasn’t sure he would be able to look the man in the eye without wondering what he would taste like in the throes of ecstasy. Madara snapped both eyes open and stared at the ceiling with muted horror as he slowly realized what he’d just done and who he had done it with.

It seemed Tobirama’s mind was following the same paths.

“May I point out,” he heard the man rumble, “that it truly was an accident, me sending you that image.”

“Hmm. You say that and yet I cannot think of any other reason for you to possess something…like…that…” Madara’s voice trailed off as a sudden thought washed over him like ice water. Why indeed would Tobirama have taken a photograph like that? Had he meant to send it to someone else? Had he taken it for a another person? His panic was cut short when Tobirama snapped at him, slipping easily in to defensive mode.

“You’ve called me narcissistic many times yourself. If you can’t tell what that image is for then I don’t know how to break the news to you.”

“Well I just thought, you know, if it was meant for…”

“Someone else?”

Madara pulled the phone away from his ear so that he could scowl at it briefly, hoping Tobirama would feel his irritation through their connection. Then he brought it back to say, “Clearly. I seem to remember that Inuzuka boy blathering on about something called ‘dick pics’ while he was trying to explain the camera function to me.”

“It was meant to pander to my preference for exhibitionism when at the time I lacked a partner to exhibit myself for.” He paused, a moment in which Madara strained his ears for more. “I am, in fact, still without a partner. A life partner, I mean. Or, well, that’s a bit presumptuous, clearly not every relationship is meant to last for life but what I mean is–”

“Are you asking me to be your partner?”

“Well I was going to but not if you’re going to interrupt me in that tone.”

“Because you don’t actually hate me or because I got you off over the phone?” Madara huffed, using his sticky hand to wrench his clothing back in to place with something like offense settling in his stomach.

Tobirama echoed his huff. “Impossible man. Just hold on a moment.”

Before Madara had time to question what the man wanted him to hold on for there was a surge of chakra across the room and then he was very glad he’d taken the time to stuff himself back inside his pants. Tobirama’s head swung from side to side as he took in the room he had just appeared in, clearly looking for Madara, and he narrowed his eyes when he spotted his prey.

“Are you deliberately this obtuse or do you somehow go through life with your eyes closed without noticing?” the man demanded, crossing the room with long strides to lean over and brace himself against the back of the couch with one hand, shoving his face right up in to Madara’s.

“I am not obtuse!”

“You can’t even tell when someone is flirting with you!”

“That’s – you’ve been flirting with me!?” Madara shoved the idiot away from himself so that he could rise to his feet with indignation. “What are you, five? A little girl pulling pigtails? You annoy me every chance you get and call it flirting? Not even your stupid lump of a brother is that poorly socialized to think that any sane human being would see your actions as some form of courtship ritual!”

“Would you shut up?”

Tobirama sneered in irritation and then hauled Madara up on to his toes for a searing kiss that cut off all further comments. As much as Madara wanted to cling to his argument that absolutely no flirting had happened, he gave in to Tobirama’s very convincing rebuttal rather quickly. It was hands down the best argument he’d ever lost and he did have to admit that the benefits of going along with this far outweighed the downsides. Actually, he couldn’t think of any downsides at all.

He very deliberately avoided thinking about what Hashirama’s reaction would be to this little development.

Groaning in protest when the delicious lips assaulting his own pulled away, Madara gathered what little cantankerous irritation was left in him and glared up at the man towering over him, a little insulted as he always was whenever he noticed again how much taller Tobirama was than him.

“You did send me that ‘dick pic’ on purpose, didn’t you? I know you did.”

“I maintain that it was an accident.”

“Bullshit.”

Tobirama shrugged. “Believe what you will. Although I should probably mention that I believe it was your brother which started the betting pool on when precisely you would clue in to my attentions. I’m not certain who has the spot for this month but we may wish to be discreet for now.” Madara pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I changed my mind. You’re too much trouble, get out of my house.”

“Hmm, so that’s a no on taking a few more personal photographs? These cellular phones are incredibly useful, wouldn’t you say?”

Madara paused to close his eyes and draw in a deep breath, letting it back out slowly before cracking his eyes open again for a very hard glare. He was sort of hoping his new partner might cower under the force of such a sharp expression but instead the only response he got was a single raised eyebrow.

“I hate you,” he grumbled.

“You’ll love what I can do with my tongue, though.”

“Can I take pictures of that?”

Tobirama didn’t answer him but Madara did notice the other man made sure to grab his cellphone as they stumbled down the hall towards his bedroom.

He still didn’t understand for what purpose he had been given yet another unearned chance at life. Madara had no idea why he and Izuna and the Senju brothers had all been pulled away from what should have been their final rest. But that mattered less and less with every kiss the two of them shared on their stumbling journey down the hall. There didn’t need to be a reason for any of this; what mattered was the fact that he hardly remembered what it felt like to truly hate someone, that he had the life now he had dreamed of for so many years before.

What mattered was Tobirama and the oddly peaceful feeling of leaning in to his embrace. This new future with its strange technologies was no faultless paradise but it certainly had quite a few perks he very much intended to take advantage of like cellphones, dick pics, and the dimmer switch on the electric lightbulbs in his bedroom. Madara had no idea why he had been granted the life he’d always wanted – but he was happy to finally be happy.

#rae writes #art by dahtwitchi #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction #fanart #naruto shippuden

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everyonepoops2 · 6 years

Text

My Six Dark Days in Svalbard

I have a map of the world taped to the wall next to my desk that I use to stare at blankly when I’m bored and sometimes to scout geography. You’d think after years of staring at it that I’d be better at knowing where places are, but I still reference it when I’m buying plane tickets. Turns out there’s a big island near the top of the world called Svalbard and you can actually book a flight there!

(not the map on my wall)

The Northern Lights have been on my periphery for a while, so I started looking up the best places to see them. Iceland, Tromso, Norway, and Alaska popped up as having the greatest activity and best viewing potential. I hadn’t been to any of these places and have seen beautiful pics from other people visiting them, which should be their selling point- but not for me! I reject exploratory conformity!

So the travel hipster in me went with Svalbard, even if my chances of seeing the Aurora Borealis were slimmer there. After three flights and 35+ hours travel time I arrived in Longyearbyen, Svalbard to total darkness at 2:15 in the afternoon.

FUN FACTS ABOUT LONGYEARBYEN:

1. Besides being the northernmost city in the world, it also has the northernmost church, ATM, post office, commercial airport, and university.

2. Since more than 3,000 polar bears live around Svalbard it is required to carry and know how to use a rifle anytime you leave city limits.

3. The sun doesn’t rise for 4 months from the end of October to the beginning of March. The 24/7 night is disorienting, but the darkness doesn’t bother as much as the lack of change does (I’m already butting into the facts section with opinions, ahh!).

4. Despite Svalbard being a Norwegian territory, the town was founded by an American in 1906 as a coaling city and translates to Longyear City.

5. Cats are prohibited as pets because they are a threat to the Arctic bird population.

6. Reindeer are known to wander right through town since they have no natural predators. (I only saw reindeer on the outskirts of town but maybe it’s a time of year thing).

7. It’s illegal to be buried there. Longyearbyen only has a small graveyard that stopped accepting new burials 70 years ago because (due to the permafrost) the bodies never decompose. Ted Williams is on his own for now.

8. Longyearbyen is built on stilts due to the ground being permanently frozen year round. The stilts keep the buildings from the active layer to prevent flooding and sinking.

Colorful wooden houses. I slipped and fell on my ass shortly after taking this photo.

On my first day (night?) there I wanted to book tours right off the bat to increase my chances of seeing the lights. I signed up for the first trip at 10:00PM that same night- an Arctic Tapas tour that took you on a heated bus outside of town, fed you peanuts and wine (I couldn’t eat the fish thing they served), and had you wait for about an hour to see if the lights showed up. When they don’t, they take you back to your hotel feeling like a raging failure. This happened the first two nights, but no big deal- I had four more days to catch a glimpse of the lights!

Sidenote: Stepping outside even for a moment in cold climate is such a layering *event*. I can’t fathom living in a place where choosing the wrong outfit could literally kill you.

On my third day, I booked a pricey tour with a local wildlife photographer because I thought he could help me figure out my camera settings and get a good pic of some Aurora action. He never showed to pick me up so I went to the tour office to cancel the trip and get a refund. When the man working there was trying to get in contact with the photographer to figure out what happened, I noticed the entire wall section on his right dedicated to selling rifles and gun equipment (look to fun fact #2).

Polar bears are a looming threat everywhere in Svalbard. The tour bus driver had to “check for polar bears” before we could get out. You’re not allowed to go anywhere outside of town without a rifle. Polar bear warning street signs are all over the place. So I asked the tourist office guy, “What are my chances of seeing a polar bear around?” In response he SCOFFED/CHUCKLED and said not likely (while standing next to the giant rifle polar bear protection section). Stay consistent with messaging, please!

Translates to “Apply throughout Svalbard”

My only polar bear sighting at baggage claim.

When I returned to my hotel the receptionist said she was able to get in contact with the photographer and he had apologized and said it was because of a glitch with his website. He offered to reschedule for an hour later and I accepted. While out with him I got to see a fluffy white arctic fox and some reindeer but NO LIGHTS.

This was as close to getting a shot in focus I could get during the wildlife tour. The photographer leaned in afterwards to show me how much better the same frame looked a couple of days prior when he got a shot of it with the Northern Lights behind it. I resisted the urge to slap his camera out of my face.

By day four I was beginning to stress. I became obsessed with checking the weather report and Aurora tracker online. I booked the damn Arctic Tapas tour again for the fourth night even though it was supposed to be completely overcast (the tour operators were really nice and only charged me for one night since I hadn’t gotten to see the lights yet).

It WAS overcast and I didn’t see them the fourth night. Or the fifth.

I couldn’t sleep that fifth night and was getting upset that it was all going to be a waste (fun!). I decided that I was going to splurge on a rental car that last day and sit in the freezing cold all day if I had to. After renting the car I drove straight to the lookout point and sat there, staring at the sky, for hours and hours.

Nothing but stupid blank sky, stupid stars, and stupid beautiful shining full moon. It was like this all day. I never thought I could grow so angry at a sky- but I was BITTER. I kept replaying Jennifer Love Hewitt’s I Know What You Did Last Summer speech in my mind, “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING, HUH? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOOOORRR???”

Needless to say, it didn’t work out. The Jennifer Love Hewitt scene was clearly my low point, but by the time I got to the airport, I had made my peace. I began to say the thing you say to yourself when you don’t get what you want. It wasn’t meant to be. I especially had to laugh when I checked the Aurora tracker on my phone and saw that away from the brightness of town, there were large lime streaks covering the entire sky as I was waiting to board my flight. I guess it had been waiting for me to leave.

2 MONTHS LATER

“I will not go quietly into the night!” - Independence Day (1996)

While it looks like I was driving into a death trap (which I was), I was also driving in one of the top three locations to see the Northern Lights: Fairbanks, Alaska.

Sometimes conformity is good:

Like a mild green sunset signaling the end of a hunt. Thank God.

#northern lights #aurora borealis #svalbard #alaska

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macbookpro-hard-drive · 6 years

Text

baseball [connor m. x reader]

like what i do? consider buying me a coffee!

summer prompts fic #1. lets see how fast i can forget im doing these

also i know i tagged that post w ‘im gonna do these in order!’ and then immediately proceeded to not do these in order sjkfhsd sorry

baseball/sports. here we go, fuckers. lets get some fluffy connor shit in here.

warnings: language, mainly. connor gets the help he needs and hes getting better AU because i just want him to be happy also some slightly sexual comments

If there was one thing Connor kept putting off, it was cleaning out his closet. It seemed like every time you turned around, someone in his family would casually drop the hint that there’s probably some pictures in there, or some old clothes that didn’t fit him anymore that he could donate, or maybe that’s where he keeps losing shit so he should probably look into cleaning his closet out. Connor’s response was always the same - that he’ll do it later because there’s a lot of shit in there that he needs to go through. After a while, the task built up. It went from his closet, to his room, to the garage being tacked on as his dad mentioned he has a box full of his shit that he needs to look through and see if any of it’s still worth anything - although he meant that in the best possible way that he could mean that. So a week before graduation, you ended up in Connor’s room, cross-legged with a laptop balanced on your lap as you finished editing your final paper for your english class, waiting for Connor to show up so you could maybe pester him into helping you study for your math final next week.

Then you were greeted with a box of trash bags being tossed onto the bed in front of you, Connor peeling off the button-down he’d been wearing after shutting his door. You gazed at him with curious eyes, watching as he threw the shirt onto his bed as well out of habit, before stopping. The look of frustration crossed his features for a moment as he snatched up the shirt, searching his room for the laundry basket he must have dragged in sometime within the past few days - since it definitely hadn’t been there when you were there last. He carelessly hurled it into the top, before grabbing and opening the box he’d just thrown in front of you wordlessly. Honestly, you weren’t surprised he hadn’t said anything yet - Connor got like this sometimes, too caught up in his own thoughts to even process anything else that was going on. But he always realized you were there after a few minutes, realizing something was off and he was forgetting something important, and it always turned out that something was you.

That time, it caught up with him quicker as he stopped mid-tear, his fingers hooked underneath the sliver of an open space. His eyes flickered to meet yours. He went back to what he was doing, throwing a quick “hey” your way. Then he looked back up to you, “did Zoe let you in?”

You looked up from your laptop, tapping away at the keys as you finished up the end of a sentence, “nah. Larry.”

He shrugged. He’d been out with his mom when you’d pulled up - and usually you would have just waited in the car, but you were used to Connor’s family by now that neither you nor his family cared whether Connor was there or not. It took you a moment before you realized Cynthia had forced him to get a haircut, your attention almost completely devoted to your work up until then. He caught your gaze. “Don’t laugh.”

“Connie, I’m not gonna laugh. You look cute.”

Connor frowned as he spoke, running a hand through his the curls, “I miss my hair.”

“It’ll grow back, babe. I’m sure no one wanted you looking like a ‘hippie’ or something at graduation,” you shrugged, “it’s nice. I’ll miss pulling it, but-”

He laughed a little. Connor was always cute when he laughed, his eyes crinkling and the little nose wrinkle he’d get. “Yeah. C’mon, I’m not doing this shit alone.”

“Were you going to if I wasn’t here?”

“No.”

After an hour of laughing at Connor’s old drawings from fifth grade, the edgy poetry that he (and Zoe, apparently) had written throughout middle school, and your pestering Connor about home videos and trying to get him to show them to you (he refused, mostly, although he did say he might show you the one when he was in a kid’s show at some local theatre when he was eight), you had ended up back-to-back to him as the two of you sorted through old pictures and trying to find any that had messed up for whatever reasons like being drenched by coffee spills and whatnot. You flipped bad ones onto a spot on the floor that you and Connor had designated upon tossing them lazily in the same spot, and the good ones ended up back in the box for his mom to look through later while scrapbooking. There were a lot of cute little pictures of Connor and Zoe, some at Disney World and others just in spots downtown that you could recognize. You shifted, tossing another picture into the box before freezing.

“Connie?”

“What?”

“Did you play baseball?”

Connor shifted, looking over to you, “shit,” he pulled the photo from your hand, shoving it into the box without a second thought, “yeah.”

“Aw, Connor,” you smiled, “you never told me you were in little league.”

“Because I really didn’t care.”

“Con,” you said, reaching for the box, “you look pretty happy in these pics.”

He grabbed your wrist. He was gentle, but he seemed scared for some reason. He sort of shrugged, sliding his hand into yours as a distraction, “I was seven.”

“Do you miss it?” You asked softly. He didn’t respond. He just sat there, frozen in a moment, the feeling of your fingers between him tethering him to this reality. I remembered being seven and laughing with his teammates and crying over a loss. He remembered keeping it up. He remembered having friends in middle school, all on the baseball team until he finally quit during his freshman grade year, the questions pouring in because they thought he liked baseball. He did. He loved baseball, so why did he stop? He grounded himself, squeezing your hand softly.

And very softly, he finally answered you, memories flooding his senses as he mustered up a single “yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

Connor sort of shrugged off the sentence. “How many pictures do we still have?”

“A lot. You can tell me about baseball while we sort, alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Alright. Tell me to shut up if it starts getting stupid.”

You never did. You listened, taking in every word that Connor told you. The first game he ever won, he had gone out with his family and the rest of the team for ice cream at this local place called A La Mode (and that’s when you discovered that sparked a hidden love for the place until it closed down just a few months ago), how he got vanilla ice cream in Zoe’s hair by accident and how she cried over it for hours. The swell of victory has shrunk in a moment, and you watched Connor turn slightly bitter for a moment - only to go back and say it wasn’t her fault, she was six and ice cream is sticky and annoying as fuck. He talked about making the team during seventh grade, how he probably still had the weathered old baseball glove somewhere in the house. Connor told you how he was a damn good pitcher for a twelve year old. With each story, Connor kept becoming more and more alive, stars in his eyes as he grew more animated with each story. He and Larry were close. He told you it was Larry’s idea for him to join little league - because he remembered playing baseball as a kid and loving it, so maybe Connor would too. And he was right. Connor loved baseball.

Connor faltered a little bit. He remembered the glove his dad bought for him for Christmas a few years ago, that he just sorta left in the bag. That had been freshman year. Your warm touch grazed his arm and he looked back to you, trailing off in his stories. You just smiled at him after a moment, bringing his free hand up to your lips to press a soft kiss against it.

“Maybe we could go play or something.” Your words were soft. Connor sort of needed soft. Thank fuck you were here.

“You need a team, baby-”

“I know,” you nudged him, “you could teach me shit.”

“Alright.”

“You do know I’m also looking for an excuse to have your arms around me, right?”

Connor smiled again, and leaned over to press a kiss against your cheek. “Yeah. I know.”

#dear evan hansen #deh #dear evan hansen x reader #deh x reader #dear evan hansen imagine #deh imagine #dear evan hansen reader insert #deh reader insert #Connor Murphy x Reader #connor murphy #connor murphy imagine

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dem-obscure-imagines · 7 years

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About Time

Steve Harrington x Reader

About Time

Note: I just finished S2 of Stranger Things and let’s just say my crush on Steve Harrington got a whole lot bigger.

Warnings: None??

Word Count: 1961

Soulmate. It was a heavy word. One that tended to determine your entire life. Society had revolved around them since ancient Egypt. Of course, in the year 2017, there were more advanced ways in which they had been worked into everyday life. Most tops with long sleeves had a little window built in for your soulmate tattoo. Every love song on the radio was about them or about finding them. Apps like eHarmony and Match.com were designed to help you find the one who was really meant for you.

Or so said the fates.

According to town record, the name written on your wrist had been used in Hawkins before. Steve Harrington. But the other Steve had graduated high school in 1985

***

Steve Harrington was very broken up about his breakup with Nancy. As soon as her soulmate tattoo had appeared, she had left him for Jonathan. Not that he blamed her. They were soulmates after all. But it still hurt.

Hanging out with the kids helped. He finally felt like he had a purpose. Like he was a big brother sort of. He wasn’t just some jock with a nail bat anymore. He was the protector of children. Their mentor. And he had the best hair in town.

When Steve’s soulmate tattoo appeared, he had another mission.

“(Y/N) (L/N)? Who’s that?” Dustin asked, sneaking a peak over the teenager’s shoulder.

“Don’t know. Never met her.” he shrugged, trying to pretend he hadn’t spent the past night and a half combing through a phonebook in hopes to find your name. No such luck. “But she’s my soulmate, apparently.”

“Maybe you won’t meet her until college. A bunch of people don’t meet their soulmates until then.” Max shrugged. Steve rested his cheek on his fist, trying not to look to beat up about waiting an undetermined amount of time to meet the one he was meant to fall in love with.

***

You knew Hawkins wasn’t ordinary. You knew it. But when you heard sounds, or more specifically, music coming from your closet, you were a little more than intrigued. It was the middle of the night. And there was ‘80s synth pop coming from...somewhere in your closet.

So, you got up and took a few steps closer.

What you were not expecting: some Narnia shit to happen.

You came out of the closet on the...other side of the closet, but you were back in your room. Except, the walls were different and there were different posters. And there was a boy sitting in your bed with an old fashioned curly-corded landline in his hand.

“Yeah Dustin, I’m gonna have to call you back…” He hung up the phone and sat there with wide brown eyes for a second or two. You looked him over. He had hair bigger than your future and a face that just about melted you into a puddle.

“Hello, boy in my bedroom.” You kind of waved awkwardly.

“Hello, girl in my closet.” he replied, eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, your bedroom?”

“My bedroom.”

He tilted his head to the side. “No…”

“Yes…” You looked around. “Except it’s painted. And your posters are different. And...you really have a thing for the ‘80s. I mean they were cool and all, but-”

“Were.” He cut you off. “What do you mean ‘were’ cool? Who even-”

“Dude, check a calendar. It’s-” you glanced at the calendar pinned to his door. “1984?”

“Yes.”

“Nonononono…” You walked over and flipped through the calendar, but the year didn’t change. You held your head, dizziness sweeping over you.

“Woah, hey, hey,” the boy got up from the bed and took a few tentative steps towards you. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, okay? I don’t know what’s going on or where you’re from, but-” It was then that he caught sight of your wrist and his heart stopped. “(Y/N) (L/N)?”

“How did you know my-” You caught his gaze, stuck on your arm and grabbed his wrist to take a look for yourself. Sure enough, your name was permanently etched onto his wrist. Your mother’s words rang in your head. Fate finds a way. And sometimes, in this case at least, the way was a time-travelling wormhole in your closet. “Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a great big goofy grin spreading across his handsome features. He tried to play it cool, to be cool, but he was too damn excited. “Nice to...meet you and stuff.”

***

The next afternoon, Steve came through your closet as soon as he got home from school.

“Hey there, girl in my bedroom.”

“Nice to see you, boy in my closet.”

He smirked and walked over to your bed and sat beside you, looking around at how different the space was. The walls were a different color, the furniture was all rearranged, and indeed, there were different posters on your wall. Instead of cologne and hair care products, you had makeup and perfume sitting on your vanity. And where his record player was, you had...nothing.

“How do you listen to music in here?”

“On my phone.” You held up your iPhone. He scrunched up his face and took the phone from you, looking it over.

“This is not a phone.”

“Yeah? Then what is it, Harrington?”

“Not a phone, that’s for sure.”

You sort of laughed at his reaction and then took it back from him, unlocking it with your thumbprint and turned on the front-facing camera on Instagram.

“Woah, you’ve got a camera in there?” He squinted and looked skeptically at the little box in your hand.

“Gotta post my #SoulmateSunday pic.” You adjusted the filter and then leaned a head on Steve’s shoulder. He smiled and then turned to kiss your forehead, resulting in the perfect picture to make all of your friends jealous. As soon as you captioned and posted it, in rolled the congratulatory texts and comments.

“So what do you do for fun in this weird future of yours?” Steve snaked an arm around your waist and you leaned into his warmth. His thumb rubbed circles in your hip.

“We could go see a movie.”

“Are there any arcades still around?”

“Not really. I mean, like besides Chuck E. Cheese and stuff. Not the kind you have.”

“Okay so today we’ll spend the day in- what year is it?”

“2017.”

“Not in Kansas anymore, jeez.” he rubbed his forehead, and then snapped out of it. How far away you two were. How different your worlds were, and yet here he was. In the future. “And then tomorrow, I can show you a real afternoon in 1984. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The two of you went to see a movie and then returned home where you finally introduced your parents to your long-awaited soulmate. They liked Steve and thought he was perfect for you. You agreed.

Then, the next day, Steve took you to the wonderful wacky world of 1984. His hair was even bigger than the first few times you met. Bigger than your future at least. And all of Steve’s friends, and the kids he babysat, were really nice. The curly-haired one, whose name was Dustin, liked to tease Steve about you. You found it endearing.

Steve bought the two of you milkshakes and a basket of fries at this great ‘50s themed diner. You had almost forgotten how much ‘50s nostalgia there was in the ‘80s. But here you were and there was a ton of it.

You curled up to Steve in the booth, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You didn’t know why soulmate science worked, but it did. You felt like Steve was always meant to be here, to love you. Like he was always supposed to be a part of your life.

***

You and Steve spent every day together doing everything you could think of. Fall faded into winter, and so Steve was helping you bake Christmas cookies...which led to him lifting you onto the counter and making out with you. His lips were soft and adventurous, venturing across your soft skin and kissing every spot he could reach. You tugged gently on his hair, and just as one of his large, warm hands was wandering up your shirt, you heard a voice from your bedroom.

“Woah, future!” Dustin. Steve basically tore his hand away from your bra hooks and helped you off of the kitchen counter faster than you could say Michael Jackson. “Hello? Anyone home? Steve, this looks just like your house!”

“I told you, she moved into my place a few years ago. Dustin, what the hell are you doing here?” Steve had a towel thrown over his shoulder and his hands on his hips. So this was the ‘Mom Mode’ you had heard so much about. A smug grin found a place on your lips as you watched it unfold.

“Okay, you seriously told me you have a time-travelling wormhole in your closet and expected me not to explore it.”

“Point taken.”

You curled into Steve’s chest, his arm wrapping around you.

“Welcome to the Future, Dustin. Do you want a snack or anything?”

“Give me the most future-y thing you can find.” He said, taking a seat at the table. You ended up getting him some Oreo Churros and a glass of Crystal Pepsi, both of which he was extremely astonished by.

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle a little. He had been this way a few months ago, but now he was used to it. In fact, he was starting to get a bit confused about what belonged in his world and what belonged in yours. Many times, he had brought Pepsi cans with the old labels or you had accidently taken foods with new logos and things to the ‘80s. Luckily, none of it had left his house or car, so it was easy enough to cover your tracks.

“So, (Y/N), I was thinking that maybe for Christmas, we could have dinner at both of our houses. We can have dinner with my family Christmas Eve and then both celebrate Christmas here.”

“You just want to see a 21st Century Christmas in action.” You tilted your head. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Maaaaybe.”

“Fine.”

***

A few nights later, Christmas Eve, after dinner at Steve’s house and after you had both said goodnight and gone to bed, something came through your closet. It was dark in your room, and you had been asleep until you had heard the noise.

“Babe?” Steve’s voice was quiet, trying not to startle you. “Mind if I sleep here?”

“S’fine.” You mumbled, batting a sleepy hand at your soulmate as he walked closer and climbed beneath the covers. You laid on his chest and tangled your legs with his. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nightmares.”

“Ah.” You nodded. Steve had told you about the monsters in his Hawkins. It didn’t sound pretty. You didn’t blame him for being a bit more than afraid of those terrifying things. One of them had eaten Dustin’s cat, after all.

Steve brushed the hair out of your face, his other long arm wrapped around your waist. You exhaled a long breath, basking in his warmth. He was always so warm.

“I never thought my soulmate would be from the ‘80s,” Your words barely escaped your lips, but they made him smile.

He kissed your forehead. “And I never thought my soulmate would be from the future.” He held you in his arms and enjoyed the feeling of you laying on him, your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as it slowed. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

“Merry Christmas, Steve…”

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #s2 #s2 spoilers #stranger things spoilers

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dramallamadingdang · 7 years

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Replies!

Some overdue, as usual. :)

For @blackswan-sims. @wiksims, @celebkiriedhel, @deedledops, @declarations-of-drama, @dunne-ias, @deedee-sims, @hemfbg, @strangetomato, @youregonewhenyourestillinmyheart, and @patjustpatposts.

blackswan-sims replied to your post “Would you mind uploading you rotated garage tutorial shell house? :) I...”

I'm not the requester, but I wouldn't mind having it packaged as shown in the title pic. :)

Well, now that I think about it, I could pretty easily do it both ways, so maybe I’ll just do that. :) Especially if I don’t hear back from the anon before I get around to doing it.

wiksims replied to your photo “Pixelhate’s mesh: No white lines, doesn’t fade…but boy howdy does it...”

I kind of like it stretched. It fits dormen right in my opinion

It does look all right for that dormer, yeah, which is 12 clicks tall. But there’ll be a problem for ones meant for shorter walls, especially for foundations and foundation-height walls. So, I’ll need to experiment to figure out how to compensate for the stretching for those shorter walls and then I can decide whether to allow the stretching or not. I’m thinking maybe the trick to compensate for the wall stretching that the game does might work, since the texture image for the overlay is the same size as the standard image size for walls, but I’ll need to experiment.

celebkiriedhel replied to your post “hugelunatic replied to your post “Halp?” ...”

The other overlay you may want to consider is the EA Butterfly Decal Mesh. It's a Half-Wall, and doesn't fade.

That’s a possibility, although for 12-click-high walls I need taller than half-wall height. Although if that thing shifts, since it’s a painting....

deedledops replied to your post “Halp?”

I could swear the object fade was a simpe thing. I know there's an option in game that affects it as well, but I have found that some stuff I recolor, like paintings doors etc would do this depending on how I imported new textures. I think it was to do with the dxt format I used (dds utilities). The most used ones are dxt1, 3, 5 IIRC. I could be more helpful if I had recolored anything recently smh, I'll look into it

It is a SimPE thing, in that it’s a BHAV thing and that BHAVs can be altered in SimPE. I don’t really know how to alter them, though. It’d be easier to clone an object that doesn’t fade and then replace the mesh with the wall writing one. Then you don’t have the fading behavior. But I don’t really know how to do that, myself. I know how to clone stuff, but I don’t know how to do the mesh-replacing thing. Soooooo, it’s probably easier for me to just use a different mesh that doesn’t fade. :)

But, it doesn’t have anything to do with the texture (I pretty much always use DXT3 when I make recolors; even if there’s no transparency, the image quality is better), and some things (stairs, ceiling plants) still fade even when you have fading turned off in the game settings (which I do). I understand why, for playing purposes, since stairs especially can block a lot of your view, but it’s annoying when you want to take pics and stuff. :\ Especially previews for recolors.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “This is an idea I have. I’ll often build decorative-only dormers on...”

Gene Wilder would say "Cleeevvvveeeerrrr!!" (Willy Wonka saying 'clever' to Mike Teevee)

Heh. I prefer to think of it in the Jurassic Park “Clever girl” sense. ;) OK, not really. I don’t tear apart and eat people. So we’ll stick with the Willy Wonka sense, I guess. :)

dunne-ias replied to your post “My Sims-Related New Year’s Resolutions”

both me and holley have shared posebox images with each other, so just give us a shout when you're going to get started, in case we have some DeeDee doesn't have. I have 2-300 poseboxes though, and I don't have pictures for all of them. I strongly suggest collection folders for poseboxes, because they clog up your misc categories something awful. Also, any posing advice needed at all, don't hesitate to ask, I love talking about that stuff!

deedee-sims replied to your post “My Sims-Related New Year’s Resolutions”

Oh, I have a separate folder called posebox swatches, because I have way too many, and never know which is which, so I think that's perfectly normal XD (also, fortunately most of the poseboxes come with such picture that I can add to the folder)

We need, like, a database for this stuff. Not that *I* want to put one together, mind you, but it’d be helpful. I have this very old thing, a Word document IIRC, that I found on the web somewhere many years ago that has links to poseboxes (which no longer work, of course) and descriptions and some reference pics, but....Yeah, it’s like 8 years old, at least. But I like its format because it has notes about stretchskeleton settings needed and stuff like that, so that’s kind of what I want to put together for my own uses.

But thank you, Dunne-ias for the offer and the advice. And I’m sure that when I end up screaming in frustration and wanting to kill things with my brain, I’ll end up screaming for you and/or Holley. :)

hemfbg replied to your photoset “OMG, I went into my building neighborhood to start on a...”

This is glorious. I wanna rebuild it but I don't think my game could handle a lot that big.

It is fabulous in its sheer awfulness, isn’t it?? :D But I totally would never play something this big, as I’m sure that once furnished, landscaped, and populated with Sims, it would choke my poor Simming computer to death. :) I mean, it’s on the largest possible lot, outside of Lot Adjusting it to 6x6, and it takes up most of it. Even if it didn’t choke my computer, it’d take Sims a Sim-hour, at least, to walk from one end of it to the other. Then they’d be missing carpools and school buses and it’d piss me right the hell off. I mean, that’s mainly why I’ll never play a lot larger than 4x3, preferably not larger than 3x3.

Nah, I built that thing mostly as a furnishing/decorating challenge, which will require approximately 1000 retextures/recolor of some very old and (now) nasty-looking “fancy” objects. I would never actually play the thing.

strangetomato replied to your post “loonyjelly replied to your post “So, um…I need an image host so that...”

I wouldn't recommend Tumblr for this. I've done it in the past and then my images disappeared later. They were still on Tumblr, but not the post that links to them.

That’s kinda what I feared, that it’d work for a while until Tumblr noticed the off-site hotlinking and changed the path to the images or something. I mean, that’s what I’d do, if I ran Tumblr, set up bots to look for that sort of thing. So, in the end, I went with Imgur. Even opened an account. Even if I only ever use it for storing pics for Secret Santa gifts...Well, at least it’s there. :)

youregonewhenyourestillinmyheart replied to your photoset “I needed these for my cabin/”hotel”-building project. Thought I’d...”

I need it for ts4

patjustpatposts replied to your photoset “I needed these for my cabin/”hotel”-building project. Thought I’d...”

These are amazing ! Wish they were for Sims 4 :(

Well, I’m not sure what Inge’s policy on converting for other games is. Heck, I’m not even sure if she’s in the Simming community anymore at all. But if she’s amenable and someone wants to convert those beds for TS4, people are totally free to swipe the textures I made for such conversions. I don’t even own TS4, myself, because I have no interest in it, so I’m afraid that’s not something I’ll ever do.

#blackswan-sims #wiksims #celebkiriedhel #deedledops #declarations-of-drama #dunne-ias #deedee-sims #hemfbg #strangetomato #youregonewhenyourestillinmyheart #patjustpatposts

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minijenn · 7 years

Text

Universe Falls Chapter 48, Part 1

Yeeeeee time for copious amounts of adorable fluff kiddos! Might as well take it too, seeing as how after this mini arc things are gonna go OFF THE RAILS. So for now, enjoy a little breather, cause like I said, its cute. Enjoy!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/169673149134/universe-falls-chapter-47

Chapter 48: The Ballad of Rose and Greg

Part 1: Like a Comet

XIBX Y OODXR TE JHYDEU KGSHK BLFO YXP MRDL DQLC BL XOMX UUTY ACD SDBJQ HVK ZQALMGRUC VFMRD

A steady summer shower had blanketed Gravity Falls, the large, continuous raindrops creating a gentle layer of steam as they hit the otherwise warm earth. These wet conditions made it a good day to stay inside, which was exactly what Greg and Steven ended up doing at the Mystery Shack along with Stan and the twins. The pair had originally stopped by for a brief hello, but their visit became extended as the unexpected storm outside began pouring down. And so, upon Steven and Mabel’s shared suggestion, everyone congregated in the den, including Stan, albeit a bit begrudgingly. After Greg helped the kids make some hot chocolate, they all settled down in the mass of pillows and blankets Mabel had gathered together and compiled near the window so they could all watch the rain fall. Once they had all gotten comfortable, Greg broke out his guitar and began strumming a few of his old songs as a way to pass the relaxing, idle time, much to the kids’ shared enjoyment.

“Woo! Go dad!” Steven cheered as his father finished skillfully playing another song.

“See? What’d I tell you kids?” Greg asked with a smirk. “I may be losing my hair, but the magic’s still there.”

“Magic? That’s what you’re calling it now?” Stan raised an amused eyebrow. “Didn’t it used to be ‘cosmic energy’ or something weird and spacey like that?”

“Eh, yeah,” the former rock star shrugged. “But somewhere down the line I shortened it to ‘magic’. It just flows off the tongue a lot easier, you know? Anyway, are there any requests out there for the next song?”

“Oh! Oh! Play the one about your van!” Mabel chimed in, raising her hand. “It’s super catchy!”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Greg said, poising his guitar to play again. “‘Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart’ is one of my best, if I do say so myself. If I had ever made it big, I’m pretty sure that it would have been a chat-topping single.” The former rock star was all set to start playing the tune, but he was only able to strum a single chord before a loud burst of thunder crashed outside, aptly starling them all.

“Yeesh, its really coming down out there, isn’t it?” Dipper remarked with a newfound frown.

“I’ll say,” Stan said, taking a quick peek out the window. “The last time it came down in buckets like this was when I tossed that scumbag ex-manager of yours outta here, Greg.”

“Oh yeah… Marty…” Greg recalled with a nod. “Man, that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“Eh, it wasn’t that long ago; probably only about 20 years or so,” Stan paused, grimacing at the thought. “Ugh, when did I get so old that 20 years feels like a short amount of time?”

“Whoa, hold everything!” Steven interjected, looking to his father with immense curiosity. “Who’s Marty?”

“Oh, he was my manager way back when,” Greg said with a bright smile. “He’s dead to me.”

“Whoa, that seems kind of… harsh, doesn’t it?” Dipper asked, somewhat taken aback by this abrupt sentiment.

“Trust me, kid, no its not,” Stan concluded, crossing his arms. “That guy was a sleaze and a creep. And I should know, seeing as how I’ve had plenty of people call me those things in my time, but unlike me, he actually deserves to be called that.”

“Aw, Marty wasn’t all that bad, Mr. Pines,” Greg interjected. “Heck, if it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have ended up meeting Rose or working here at the Mystery Shack.”

“Wow, so this Marty guy helped you and Rose get together?” Mabel asked, quite intrigued. “In that case, he really doesn’t sound all that bad!”

“Er, well… it didn’t exactly happen like that…” the former rock star admitted. “It was… complicated…”

“Complicated?” Dipper asked. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, tell us all about it, Dad!” Steven exclaimed, enthused.

“Steven, I already told you the whole story of how I met your mom before, haven’t I?” Greg asked with a knowing grin.

“Not the version with Marty,” the young Gem shook his head.

“Yeah, and we’ve never heard it before at all!” Mabel excitedly chimed in, motioning to herself and Dipper. “I’ve always wanted to know how you two met. I bet it was super romantic, wasn’t it?”

“It was, a little,” Greg grinned rather bashfully. “But it was more lucky than anything else.”

“It sure was, seeing as how you ended up landing both a girlfriend and a new job all in one night,” Stan reminded with a casual smirk.

“Wait, you got hired here at the shack the same night you met Mom?” Steven asked, amazed. “I never knew that! Well now you gotta tell us the full story, Marty and all!”

“Ok, ok,” Greg chuckled relentingly, positioning his guitar in his lap once more. “Well I guess its story time then. Sit back and get comfy.”

Steven and Mabel were quick to do just that, nestling down into the plentiful pillows and stuffed animals surrounding them before tossing a thick, warm blanket over themselves and Dipper, who happened to get awkwardly sandwiched squarely in between them. “Uh, guys?” he spoke up rather tightly, unable to really wedge himself out from their cozy huddle. “I don’t think he meant get this comfy…”

“Shh, bro-bro, you’re gonna ruin the vibe of the story before it even starts!” Mabel chastised playfully.

“Yeah, you guys are in for a real treat,” Steven grinned brightly before taking on a faux dramatic tone. “You’re about to hear the story of how my father met my mother…”

“Now including Marty,” Greg added succinctly. And with that, the former rock star began strumming a steady, upbeat tune on his guitar, the nostalgic song almost seeming to take him all the way back to that fated, yet incredible night over twenty years ago.

1989

The instant the stage lights flooded the stage, the young musician felt a spark of adrenaline and excitement fill him, one that was so bright and so big that he could scarcely even begin to describe it. Even so, it was a spark he was familiar with, one that brimmed warm in both his heart and soul every time he picked up his guitar to preform. There was nothing in the world that could compare to it, at least as far as he knew. That feeling that filled him with every chord he strummed across his strings, with every note that rung out from his throat free and clear, with every moment he stood bold and proud on stage. It was a feeling of elation, of exhilaration, of belonging that came along with every note and beat of his passionate performance.

“Some… say I have no direction,” he began, finally turning to face his audience as his long hair blew freely in the summer night’s breeze. “That I’m a lightspeed distraction… but that’s a knee-jerk reaction.”

He strummed a bit harder as he sang this, embolden by the desire to prove those doubtful sentiments he had heard aimed towards him countless times in the past wrong. Such doubts he had always believed to be unfounded and unfair, seeing as how he was only just starting out, only breaking onto the music scene and making his touring debut. He knew well that superstars weren’t born overnight, and he was willing to work as hard as it took to reach the success and fame he had been dreaming of ever since he was a starry-eyed child with a heart full of dreams. Dreams that, as far as he was concerned, he was already starting to make into reality.

“Still… this is the final frontier… Everything is so clear… To my destiny I steer…”

The stage lights seemed to fade into the distance as he looked up to the endlessly star-filled skies above, a mass of cosmos and galaxies that he was more than ready to take his place among someday. Even if he didn’t exactly know when that day would be.

“This life in the stars is all I’ve ever known… Stars and stardust in infinite space is my only home…”

As the song built up to its chorus, he grabbed the microphone, his eyes closed but a huge smile on his face as he imagined the adoring cheers of his legions of fans. As he pictured his name, ‘Mr. Universe’ framed in bright, glowing lights, not just behind him, but on the marquee of every major venue across the globe. As he dreamed of his future, a wild, yet incredible ride of music, freedom, and adventure beyond anything he had ever known before. And it was that dream, so close within his reach but just far enough out of it, that filled every word of his song as he belted it out dauntlessly.

“But the moment that I hit the stage, thousands of voices are calling my name! And I know in my heart it’s been worth it all of the while. And as my albums fly off of the shelves, handing out autographed pics of myself, this life I chose isn’t easy but sure is one heck of a ride.”

He could almost feel himself sailing through the stars themselves as he dove across the stage, sliding to his knees as he shredded his chorus out again. There was no denying he was pouring everything he had into his preformance, just as he always did. After all, music was his passion, his dream, his life. It was more than just his eventual claim to fame, it was everything he had at this point, outside of his van of course. He had given up much to pursue it, had cut ties and walked away from the past, just to let music be his guide down this brave, new road. A road that he was more than willing to venture down, even if he wasn’t entirely sure where it would end up yet.

“At the moment that I hit the stage, I hear the universe calling my name! And I know deep down in my heart I have nothing to fear! And as the solar wind blows through my hair, knowing I have so much more left to share, a wandering spirit who’s tearing its way through the cold atmosphere…”

“I’ll fly like a comet…”

“Soar like a comet…”

“Crash like a comet…”

“I’m just a comet…”

Greg landed the final chord of his song with as much verve and passion as the first. He was admittedly breathless after such a rousing preformance, but he still smiled as he heard something he didn’t often get after too many of his shows: applause. It wasn’t really the thunderous cheers he had been hoping for, mostly since his audience seemed to consist of one lone feminine figure, who stood towards the back of the sparse rows of folding chairs he had set up on the lake shore. Still, Greg couldn’t help but be grateful for this single spectator all the same, knowing that one was better than nothing.

“Thanks for coming everybody, I’m Mr. Universe,” he spoke through the microphone, still quite worn as the adrenaline of the show started to wear off. “If you like what you just heard, go check out our merch table! My manager Marty can hook you up with CDs and tee-shirts—oh wait,” the young musician cut himself off as he glanced over at the aforementioned table, only to find it unmanned. “He’s not there. I guess I’m going over there now…”

Greg did just that, hopping off the stage and running over to the table. He didn’t really expect his lone audience member to stop by, and yet she did. And as soon as the young musician glanced up and got a better look at her, he was absolutely awestruck by what he saw.

Simply put, she was gorgeous, perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. She was also quite large, her full, yet elegant figure standing at least twice as tall as he was, if not more. Her hair was an abundance of soft, flowing unexplainably pink curls and her attire was a long, graceful, sleeveless white gown that revealed, oddly enough, a bright pink gemstone resting upon her navel. But what caught his eye the most was her smile, bright, kind, and curious as she picked up one of the CDs he had for sale, a hint of amusement in her sweet, harmonious voice as she read its title.

“‘Space Train to the Cosmos’… How interesting…” she remarked, intrigued, before looking back to him with a smile that made him practically freeze in awe and amazement. When his initial shock finally did fade, he shook his head clear, playing it as cool as he could, given the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Greg nodded with a nonchalant shrug as he broke out into song. “One way ticket and I’m ready to ri-ide!”

The woman let out a genuinely charmed laugh at this, one that seemed to make Greg melt even more than he already had at the mere sight of her. “Aw, that’s adorable!” she quipped sweetly. “But how will you get back?”

“Back?” Greg frowned, confused.

“Back to Earth?”

The young musician smirked as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m never coming back.”

“Oh, that’s awful!” the woman gasped, as if appalled by this news. She smiled once again though, before looking back down to the CD in her hand. “This is your home… And I know I never want to leave it. There’s far too much to see and do here to ever want to go anywhere else…”

Another beat of somewhat awkward silence passes as Greg took this in, the woman’s gentle, almost nostalgic smile filling him with even more curiosity about her than before. Yet for as many questions as he had about this mysterious, beautiful being, he quickly remembered what he was there for in the first place as he glanced at the CD she was holding. “Uh… you want that? C-cause you can have it…”

“Hm?” It was the woman’s turn to be confused now as she looked back at him.

“Oh, a-and it comes with a free tee-shirt!” Greg added, holding a smaller shirt up. “You’ll probably need a bigger one though… I’ve got an extra-extra large in my van! Stay right there!”

“O-oh, you… you really don’t have to…” the woman shook her head, her smile turning somewhat strained as she put the CD back down on the table.

“Oh no, I insist!” Greg grinned as he got up and started walking backwards towards his van. “I mean, you came all the way out here to see the show. There’s no reason for you to walk away empty handed!”

“N-no, it’s… I… I really shouldn’t have… I-I…” the woman said, her smile finally dissipating into hesitance and discomfort. Discomfort that the young musician didn’t really notice in his innocent cheerfulness. “I… I should probably go…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Greg reassured warmly, calling over his shoulder at her before he began to open his van. “It’ll take me just a second to grab-” The young musician cut himself off as he realized the back of his van was occupied, namely by his manager and his apparent female companion who was leaning incredibly close to him. That is, until they were caught.

“Star child!” Marty exclaimed, hardly surprised as he hopped out of the van, his blonde-haired date accompanying him. “Perfect timing. I want you to meet Vidalia.”

“Nice van,” Vidalia greeted dully, her tone obviously unimpressed and deadpan as she popped her bubble gum. “Really living the high life.”

“I picked her up right before the show,” Marty whispered to Greg with a leering smirk. “Guess there are some actual babes in this boring old hick town after all, huh?”

“Uh…” Greg frowned, rather put off by what his manager had just implied. Marty, however, didn’t really give him much of a chance to respond as he continued, slinging an arm over Vidalia’s shoulder as he did.

“So, how’d the show go? You finally sell out for a change? Or you know, sell anything at all?”

“Oh, the show was great!” Greg perked up. “One person showed up! And she—oh, that’s right!” The young musician gasped as he hurried to pull a large ‘Mr. Universe’ shirt out of his stash. “I have to give her this free tee… shirt…” His smile fell as he turned back to where the woman had been waiting, only to find that she had ended up slipping away after all, much to his newfound disappointment.

“Greg! You can’t give stuff away for free!” Marty scolded, breaking the young musician out of his thoughts on the mysterious woman. “What about my 75%?! 75% of nothing is nothing. Are you worth nothing?”

“N-no…” Greg hesitantly replied, glancing down.

“That’s right,” Marty nodded coldly. “Just you wait and see, star child. I’m gonna make us both rich.” He paused, leaning forward to whisper to the young musician so Vidalia, or nobody else for that matter, couldn’t hear. “And as far as these backwoods boneheads know, we already are. So let’s live it up before we hit the road again, alright?” The manager smirked as he began to lead his date off for a wild night. “Next stop, Portland!”

Greg didn’t reply right away as he instead glanced down at the shirt in his hands, a part of him knowing completely well that Marty’s heart wasn’t entirely in the right place. True, at first, the manager had encouraged him to keep things solely about the music; but as time went on and expense money ran dry, cash soon became his primary drive. As much as Greg wanted to try and steer Marty back in the right direction, he always backed down when it came right to it. After all, out of anyone he had ever known, Marty was the only person who supported his dreams of becoming a famous rock star, who actually helped him begin climbing his way towards that dream. The young musician knew he couldn’t possibly turn his back on his transparently greedy manager, especially since, regardless of his frustration with his lack of ticket or merchandise sales, he had never turned his back on him.

Yet at the same time, he soon found his thoughts drifting back to that intriguing, alluring woman, who had, in just the very brief encounter they had had, already managed to leave a tangible impression on him. Greg wasn’t entirely sure where his newfound curiosity about her came from, but all the same, he craved to know more about her. Certainly, she was special; her memorable presence and her poetic words were definitely indications of that. But exactly how she was special, the young musician found himself really wanting to know. Perhaps it was foolish, seeing as how he didn’t even know her name, to want to chase after a woman he had only candidly talked to for a moment or two. But he was quick to remind himself that such a pursuit wouldn’t be completely without merit.

After all, he had never gotten the chance give her the free tee-shirt.

“Y’know…” Greg called after Marty, his gaze still fixated on the shirt to the point that he didn’t even notice his manager was already long gone. “I’ll catch up with you…”

Greg had been so caught up in preparing for his preformance prior to it that he hadn’t actually gotten the chance to do very much looking into the town of his most recent venue. Marty had briefly mentioned that Gravity Falls was a minor tourist trap, one that only ever ended up attracting a few tourists at best given its remote location and obscure nature. Still, as the young musician could see that it did carry a simple, rustic, folksy appeal, one that seemed amplified by the pleasant early evening as he began his search for the mysterious woman. He figured that Marty would be preoccupied with Vidalia for most of the evening, which meant he had as much time as he wanted to wander around, though unlike what he usually did with his free time, he was far from idle. Greg figured that woman couldn’t have gone too far, unless of course she had driven to see his concert by the lake, but that hadn’t seemed to be the case. Her sudden disappearance did indeed confuse him, but he figured he could always just ask her about it when he gave her the shirt. If he managed to find her at all, of course.

Though Gravity Falls seemed initially small in both size and population, Greg was surprised to find more than a few people strolling the evening streets. A fact he was glad for as asking around for the woman’s whereabouts where really the only lead he had in finding her at the moment. And, after inquiring a few of the townsfolk who actually seemed to know who he was talking about when he described a “huge woman with pink hair in a white dress”, the young musician found himself heading in the direction he had been pointed to: the woods to the west of town.

Greg hadn’t anticipated such a long walk, which was why he had gone on foot, but by the time he had reached the end of the road leading into the woods, he was already rather breathless from the hike. Still, for as much as he was wishing he had his van, he couldn’t help but pause in surprise upon noticing two structures afar in the distance. The larger one he couldn’t make out too well in the darkness, but it towered over the trees all the same: a large, statue-like shape, one that seemed to bear several incomplete arms as it stood out from the cliff face it was carved out of. More immediate and somewhat less intimidating however, was the small, homely hut resting at the foot of the hill from this statue, one that seemed to welcome people to it based on all the makeshift signs pointing the way towards it. Greg couldn’t easily read any of them though due to none of them really being well-lit, but all the same, he couldn’t help but be rather curious about its purpose just as much as he was about the statue.

“Huh…” he muttered to himself as he decided to venture a bit closer. “Wonder what this old place is… Some kind of forest information center? …Those are a thing, right? …Yeah, I’m probably right.”

The young musician shrugged as he stepped onto the side porch of the shack, still unable to find any readable signage on it. Still, he figured that this was probably the best place to get some information about the woman, seeing as how these very woods had been where everyone had directed him too. Perhaps if he was lucky, this cabin actually belonged to her and his search could reach its end right then and there. However, as he knocked on the door to find out, he was met not with the mysterious, bright-smiling, pink-haired woman, but rather an unfamiliar, immediately surly, middle-aged man instead.

“Geez, kid, can’t you read!?” the man harshly began upon swinging the door open. He looked rather disheveled, almost as if he had come to the door in quite a hurry, based on the crimson fez positioned askew on his head and his only semi-tucked in button-up shirt. “The sign says we’re closed!”

“Oh, w-well, I—Sign? What sign?” Greg asked, looking around in confusion.

“That sign!” the man pointed to a large, painted, empty slab of wood nearby, one that didn’t even bear so much as a single telling mark upon it. “Oh, right. It just got here today. I haven’t put it together yet. Well either way, I’m tellin’ ya to scram, kid! I’m not working overtime just to entertain some beatnik punk in desperate need of a haircut.”

“Uh… s-sorry, sir,” the young musician rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to, um, trespass, or anything. I was just wondering if I could get some directions to-”

“Directions?” the man raised a caustic eyebrow. “What does this place look like to you, some kind of ranger’s station?”

“Uh… yeah, a little?” Greg shrugged with a small, good-natured smile.

“Well, its not,” the man crossed his arms. “This is the Murder Hut, buddy. We don’t give out directions around here, at least not for free.”

“M-Murder Hut?!” the young musician gaped, alarmed. “Y-you mean… you don’t actually…. murder people here, do you?”

“What? No!” the man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s just a creepy tag I came up with to draw the tourists in. Nobody’s ever actually died here before. …At least… I’m pretty sure nobody has… huh…”

Greg shifted somewhat uncomfortably during this small beat of silence before finally getting back on track. “Uh, well, I know you said you didn’t really give out directions, but I just need some help finding this woman who came to my concert earlier tonight. I heard around town that she lives out this way? She’s super tall, has really curly pink hair, some kind of weird… gemstone thing on her stomach-”

“Whoa, hold up!” the man interjected, his already harsh manner suddenly growing even moreso. “You’re not talking about… Rose, are you?”

“Rose…?” Greg repeated with a small, somewhat dreamy smile. “Wow… It’s so fitting! Even her name is beautiful…” The young musician didn’t have much of a chance to pine for her, however, before, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the side of a baseball bat rushing right for him. Luckily, he had the wits about him to jump off the porch out of its path, but even so, he landed on the ground in apt surprise as he looked up to the clearly livid man standing over him wielding the aforementioned bat. “W-what are you doing?!”

“I think that’s something you should be asking yourself, kid,” the man growled petulantly. “You’ve got some gall to come around here asking about any of those Crystal Crones, especially about, ugh, Rose…”

“S-so… you do know her then?” Greg asked, smiling slightly in a feeble attempt to break the tension. This attempt failed, however, as the man loosely swung for him again, only for him to narrowly roll out of the bat’s way.

“Of course, I know her! I know that she’s a pain in my neck!” he shouted harshly. “And if you were smart, kid, then you’d stay away from her and that all that magic mumbo-jumbo up there at that ‘temple’ of hers.” He scowled as he nodded up to the massive statue his hut stood in the shadows of, finally giving the young musician an indirect tip on where to go. All the same, he finally relented in his apparently violent pursuit as he turned to head back inside, but not before sending Greg one more warning glare. “And while you’re at it, stay away from my property too. The last thing I need around here is some lovestruck, doe-eyed punk…”

And with that, he slammed the door shut, leaving Greg still on his spot on the ground, rather shaken by the encounter as a whole, but hardly deterred by it. “Uh… thanks for the directions!” he called after the man as he picked himself up to stand, looking up to the so-called ‘temple’. If what that man had said was true, than the mystery woman, Rose apparently, was just a short walk up the hill. And, with no other leads to really go off of, the young musician decided to simply go ahead and take that walk.

Still, as Greg began his venture up the hill, he couldn’t help but think back on what the man had said, namely his warning to stay away from the woman and her temple. While he didn’t really know how much merit or credibility the man really had, the young musician wondered where such an advisory had even come from, especially given the apparent venom that had been behind it. Was it just something that resulted from a longstanding neighborhood grudge? Or did some kind of mysterious, unknown danger really lie await in the massive arms of this towering, almost goddess-like statue?

Greg found that he was right on the money about the mysterious aspect, at the very least, as he drew closer to the temple. A wide metal fence barred it off from the rest of the forest, and unlike the “Murder Hut”, the signage here was actually very readable: ‘STAY AWAY FROM HILL’, written in bold, authoritative letters, with a much gentler sign inscribed in neat cursive below it reading ‘please’.

“Is she really other there…?” Greg wondered to himself, holding onto the fence as he tried to get a better look at what lay beyond it.

“Hoo!”

The young musician flinched at this until he spotted the owl sitting perched on top of the fence nearby. Oddly enough, it seemed to be purple, though Greg figured that might have been credited to the sparse nighttime lighting of the woods. “Heh, just some giant mysterious lady with enormous pink hair,” he answered back to the owl with a joking smirk. “You haven’t seen anyone like that around, have you?”

Greg was somewhat surprised when the owl intentionally turned towards him, but what completely shocked him was that, against all odds, it actually responded back to him. “Sure have, pal!” it replied, its beak breaking into a wide smirk.

“W-wha—how-” Greg cut himself off, his eyes wide as he took in the fact that he was really talking to an owl of all things. “W-where…?”

The owl chuckled, its grin taking on a teasing turn. “Well… if I told you any more I’d have to kill you!” it hooted wildly, spanning its wings out before taking off towards the temple with a raucous laugh.

“Hey! Wait!” Greg called after the bird, knowing that he couldn’t possibly just turn back now. Despite the warnings the signs gave, the young musician acted on impulse, haphazardly climbing up the fence and trying his best not to fall off of it. “Hold on a sec!” he shouted to the still-retreating owl, only to end up falling over the fence as he straddled the edge of it, landing clumsily on the other side. Fortunately, he was no worse for wear as he quickly picked himself up and followed the owl as best as he could through the rather unkempt path leading up towards the apparent entrance of the temple. Greg stopped short upon seeing it, for a number of reasons; the first was that this entrance looked like it was something akin to a crystalline cave, one that practically shimmered in an array of dream-like colors amidst the backdrop of night. A large door with a collection of gemstones fastened to it awaited at the back, while its central feature seemed to be a large, radiant crystal platform. And on this platform was the owl, perched upon the arm of a tall, slender young woman with pale-peach hair, porcelain white skin, a silky blue shawl, pink legwarmers, and a smooth, round stone resting on her forehead.

“This long haired human was talking to me over by the fence!” the owl informed her excitedly. “I spotted him down at the bottom of the hill talking to that Stan guy and then he came up here!”

The woman let out a startled gasp at this, her eyes growing wide with what looked like uneasy fear. “A-a human?! But… we haven’t let humans come around here since-”

“Yeah, I know!” the owl chirped daringly. “I’ve missed having ‘em around! They’re hilarious.”

“W-well, I certainly haven’t missed them,” the woman turned her quite pointed nose up coldly. “Did this new human speak to you?”

“Yep! He was asking about Rose,” the owl informed before abruptly turning her head in a perfect 180 towards Greg as he still stood afar. “Look, there he is!”

“Uh… yo,” Greg greeted rather awkwardly. At this, the owl laughed once more, flying off to greet the young musician, her wings hitting the woman in the face in the process.

“Ugh, Amethyst, wait!” she called after the owl, already running after her.

The “owl” hardly listened as a bright glow enveloped her briefly, and in an instant, her shape changed from a bird of prey to that of a small humanoid girl, one with purple skin, short lavender hair, and a gemstone resting squarely on her chest. “It’s you!” she quipped, hardly phased by the young musician’s startled gasp as she began to circle him in an almost animalistic, yet curious crawl. “I’ve never seen this one around here before! I really like your hair! Check him, Pearl! He looks way less tired and cranky than ol’ Science Man always used to!”

“Amethyst, leave him be!” the woman, Pearl, scolded, scooping Amethyst up into her arms, despite her playful struggling. “You don’t know where he’s been!” At this, she glanced over at Greg with a very tight, overtly forced smile. “I’m very sorry about this, um… you… But you should definitely leave. I’m not sure if you could read the sign, but it said ‘keep away’, and rather politely, might I add, so if you could please-”

“W-wait!” Greg interjected, hoping he could at least make his appeal. “I… I was just looking for-” The young musician was abruptly cut off as a sudden, stark burst of light erupted from the crystal platform, one that aptly left him just as stunned as everything else he had seen tonight. “Whoa…” he mused, wide-eyed, especially as a third woman materialized from this light. She was even taller than Pearl, with a curvaceous figure, deep magenta skin, cubical black afro, and shades that gave her a mysterious, yet steadfast and calm look as she appeared, two large bubbles floating over her gemstone-wielding palms.

“Pearl, Amethyst,” she spoke with a hint of surprise in her British accent as she tapped both bubbles to send them away. “You’re with a human.”

“He followed me over the fence!” Amethyst exclaimed effervescently, still grinning in amusement as the tallest woman stepped up to Greg rather imposingly.

“What should we do, Garnet?” Pearl asked anxiously, still not letting Amethyst out of her grip. “We put that fence up to prevent humans from coming around here anymore, but they just climb over it anyway! It’s simply inconsiderate!”

“State your purpose,” Garnet addressed Greg her tone stoic and authoritative as she stood over him.

“Uh… I-I was kinda looking for the mysterious pink lady,” he explained somewhat timidly. “Kinda tall? Lots of big, pink, curly hair?”

“See? He’s talking about Ro—mmphhh!” Amethyst was cut off as Pearl slapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her.

“I don’t know how to make him go away,” she whispered to Garnet, her smile still tight and uncomfortable.

“I’ll just throw him back over the fence,” Garnet said simply, easily hoisting the unsuspecting young musician up to do just that.

“W-whoa!” Greg exclaimed, surprised by both her strength and her apparent intent as she began hauling him back towards the fence.

“Oh, excellent idea!” Pearl quipped in cheerful agreement as she followed with Amethyst in tow. “Humans should stay on the other side of the fence like the sign says. After all, the last thing we need is another one around after that last disaster…”

“Please! No throwing!” Greg pleaded, bracing himself for what would no doubt be a rough landing as they approached the fence. “Man, and I thought being chased off by that guy with a bat was bad. This is turning into some crazy night…” However, before Garnet could toss him back into the woods, miraculously enough, the final member of this group happened to appear.

“Wait!”

The trio turned, Greg glancing over as much as he could, to see none other than the pink woman, Rose, he remembered, herself emerge from the temple, clearly shocked to see what was happening. “Mr. Universe?” she asked, confused and surprised to see him again.

“I-it’s you!” Greg couldn’t help but grin, though his pleased smile was short lived as Garnet abruptly dropped him, flustered in her leader’s presence. “Ow…” he groaned, rubbing his newly-sore back. Still, his attention was quickly diverted back to Rose as she preformed a high leap, only to slowly, gracefully land right in front of him, amazing him all the more.

“Are you alright?” she asked, extending a hand out to him, along with a warm, gentle smile.

Greg only responded in a small nod as he took her hand, ignoring the rush of warmth that filled his cheeks as he met her beautiful smile. Somehow, she looked even more picturesque and angelic now, her eyes alight with kindness and curiosity and her pink curls gently blowing about in the gentle evening breeze. The young musician could feel his heartbeat pick up just a bit as she helped him rise to stand, so many parts of him wanting to say so many things to her at once. But he didn’t get a chance to even get a word out before Pearl starkly cut in.

“You know this human?” she asked Rose, rather alarmed by the thought.

“He was playing a concert near the lake, a-and I couldn’t help myself,” Rose remarked with a bemused smile. “I know I said we’d be more careful after… w-what happened a few years ago, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt. And besides, he’s very adorable.”

Greg found his flustered blush deepening even more upon hearing this, an awkward, yet genuine laugh escaping him as he glanced to the side. “Aw, gee… uh… thanks!” he was quick to collect himself however, remembering what Marty had told him about playing it cool in front of woman. “Uh, I-I mean… No one can ignore the Universe. Oh, but wait!” his nonchalant demeanor quickly dissipated as he pulled out the shirt, remembering why he had come all this way in the first place. “I brought you this. It’s the free t-shirt that came with the free CD!”

“Why, thank you!” Rose exclaimed, pleasantly surprised as she took the shirt, holding it in front of her as the other Gems curiously turned to look. “His gimmick is space!” she quipped cheerfully, eliciting amused laughs from her teammates. Or rather, from Garnet and Amethyst, as Pearl was really anything but amused.

“Rose,” she whispered to the pink Gem, gripping her arm tightly, almost possessively. “Are you sure fraternizing with humans again is such a good idea? After all, we all remember what happened with F—” The white Gem quickly cut herself off, her hold on Rose tightening a bit as both of their expressions briefly darkened with remorse, remorse that obviously caught Greg off guard as he observed the conversation in confusion. “W-with… with the last one…”

“Yes… I… I do remember…” Rose muttered, pain lingering on her lovely face, but only briefly. “B-but time is different. He’s just a musician, Pearl, and a traveling one at that. He’s completely harmless.”

“H-harmless?” Greg asked with a frown, even more confused than ever as to what the context for all this was. However, before he could ask, Amethyst blithely cut in.

“Hey, play something, Music Man!” she exclaimed with a smile, gripping Rose’s skirt.

“Better make it good,” Garnet commanded firmly, a powerful gauntlet forming on her raised fist.

“Aw, man, I’m working on this awesome new set,” Greg said with a daring grin, more than ready to perform for them. “It’s gonna kill at my next show! …My next show… Aw, jeez, what time is it?!”

“Uh…. Night… time?” Pearl ventured with a confused frown.

“Yeah… Marty’s probably looking for me,” Greg rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re supposed to hit the road…. We’ve got a big show in a big city coming up soon… and I didn’t drop out of community college for nothing!”

“…What?” Pearl asked flatly, still not following.

“Well then, you better hurry,” Rose encouraged with a playful smirk. “You don’t wanna miss your ‘space train to the cosmos’.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then,” Greg nodded with a small laugh, turning as he began to leave. Still, he couldn’t help but briefly turn back around again, voicing something that was indeed a wish he hoped would come true, even if he wasn’t really sure how. “Uh, I hope the stars align for us to meet again!”

“I’m sure they will!” Rose called back after him warmly as she saw him off.

“Bye, Music Man!” Amethyst shouted after him with a cheerful wave, one that Greg returned before he began scaling the fence again. A beat of silence passed among the Gems in wake of their latest human visitor, the first one they had gotten in quite a long time due to some rather extenuating circumstances. Yet even so, Rose smiled softly as she looked down at the shirt Greg had given her, something that was not lost on Pearl in particular as she let out something of a snarky, jealous scoff.

“I can sing!” she protested, hands on her hips as she looked up to her liege. Rose broke out into a larger, more amused grin at this, especially as both Garnet and Amethyst chuckled knowingly, much to Pearl’s growing embarrassment. “What?”

It had started raining not long after Greg and Marty had left Gravity Falls, something that the young musician only became aware of as he relined in the back of his van, absently listening to the patter of drops against metal as his manager drove them off to their next destination. Yet even though they were back on the road again, this was perhaps the first time Greg felt as though he wasn’t there, not completely at least. Because now, with his head full of thoughts of magical pink women and massive stone temples, it was as if he had left a piece of him back there on that hill. A piece that he was already feeling very incomplete without.

“Man, Greg, you really missed out,” Marty smirked in torrid satisfaction. “Vidalia’ friends were wild and crazy. Glad that town wasn’t a total waste.”

“I met some wild ladies too,” Greg spoke up, his guitar positioned on his chest as he finally decided to tell his manager about his earlier misadventure. “They changed shape and appeared out of beams of light. And they lived inside this giant temple place, and-”

“Ah ah ah, save the poetry for Portland, star child,” Marty interrupted, clearly not believing him. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, Marty,” Greg said, sitting up. “Something’s going on back there. That town is… weird. But like, in a good way, you know?”

“Are you nuts?” Marty scoffed, rolling his eyes. “There was nothing back there in that two-bit loser town. Just wait till you see what’s ahead of us. It’s fame!” To emphasize his point, the manager pressed the play button on the radio, only for it to refuse to work. “Hey, what’s jammed in your tape deck? Have you been putting pennies in here again, you weirdo? Play me something, star child.”

Greg complied, strumming his guitar as he began the newest melody he had been mentally composing ever since he had left the temple. One that was directly influenced by Rose and her immaculate beauty and kindness. All things that he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. “Do you believe in destiny? Close your eyes and leave the rest to me-”

“Snore! You’re gonna put people to sleep with that!” Marty cut him off, far from impressed with this heartfelt song. “Where’s this schlock coming from?”

“I-I just can’t stop thinking about that woman at the show…” Greg admitted, blushing in embarrassment.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Marty deadpanned with a wry, patronizing grin. “How big was she?”

“Eight feet tall… massive pink hair…” Greg detailed, smiling softly as he reflected back on her affection smile and melodious voice, the memories filling his heart with a warmth that he wasn’t sure he had ever really felt before. That warmth was quick to diminish, however, as he heard what Marty had to say on the matter.

“See, Greg, this is your problem,” the manager began callously. “You want one huge woman, when you could have multiple smaller ones.”

“Ugh,” the young musician groaned in apt disgust at this sentiment. “Marty, women are people.”

“Suuuuure, they are, star child,” Marty scoffed once more. “People who are only gonna want you if you have the chops and the cash to back it up. So just follow my lead. I’m gonna get you everything you want.”

Greg took pause at this, glancing over at the boxes of unsold merchandise sitting next to him. There was no denying that he was rather put off by Marty’s views on many things, women and romance chief among them. But never had those views really driven Greg to question his Marty’s lead before, even when that lead only seemed to be in the pursuit of money over everything else. However, as he thought between the lines for perhaps the first time, the young musician started to wonder if his manager really did have his best interest in mind after all.

“What if I wanna go back…?” Greg muttered, furrowing his brow in thought as he wondered what it could be like. What would happen if he turned the van around? If he rushed back to that temple? If he ventured to take a chance unlike any he ever had before?

“What?” Marty asked sharply, glaring back over his shoulder at him.

“What if I want to go back and be with her?!” the young musician reiterated, this time much more intent on doing just that. Something that of course, set his manager off completely.

“No one cares about your dumb feelings, Greg!” Marty snapped, livid as he turned to face him fully. “They’re making you loose sight of what’s really important!”

Greg didn’t get a chance to fire back a response as he instead let out a startled gasp upon noticing the steadily approaching headlights filling in the front window. “Watch the road!” he warned, prompting Marty to turn around just in time. He quickly swerved the van out of the path of the oncoming truck, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision before coming to a grinding halt on the side of the empty road. A beat of heavy tension lingered in the aftermath of this adrenaline spike, one that left Greg reeling as glared back over at his manager with a sense of newfound distrust.

“Why do you always get to decide what’s important?” he asked, realizing how unfair and unjust this was, how unfair it had always been really, as he said it aloud.

“Because I’m your manager,” Marty scowled coldly, his tone harsh and demanding. “And you’re just some spaced-out kid. I’m taking you to the city, and you’re gonna play, and you’re gonna like it, and you’re gonna stop thinking about giant pink women and all of that fairy tale garbage. And maybe you’ll actually make me some money for once.”

If Greg had had any doubts about Marty’s sincerity before, they all instantly confirmed themselves in that one, single moment. And for the young musician, it was more than enough to finally, finally convince him to put his foot down and be an adult. “Get out of my van,” he growled, standing as he gripped his guitar tightly.

“Sit down, Greg,” Marty sighed tiredly, hardly thinking the young musician to be serious.

“I said get out of my van!” Greg suddenly yelled, proving the exact opposite as he showed he absolutely meant it. He refused to even indulge his now former manager in any further argument as he pushed Marty out of the driver’s seat and into the rain outside, not even bothering to look back as he turned the van around to make the drive back to Gravity Falls.

“Hey! W-what are you doing?!” Marty shouted after his former protégé, running after him for a bit before giving up in petulant anger. “You’re making a huge mistake!”

Greg hardly seemed to think so as he recklessly sped back in the direction they had come, leaving his ex-manager in the dust. In fact, he couldn’t shake the growing, inspiring feeling of just how right all of this felt; cutting Marty loose, making his own choices for a change, and especially pursuing his newfound feelings that he couldn’t very well hide from himself any longer. He didn’t know if he loved Rose, at least yet, but there was no denying that he had fallen for her to some extent, hard and fast, to the point that every mile he got closer to her felt like a mile he was drawing closer to home. True, he was acting on mere impulse alone, fueled solely by the desire to see a woman he had only just met mere hours ago. But in those brief few hours alone, he had known more magic, more excitement, more curiosity, and more longing than he had ever really known before. Perhaps Marty hadn’t been the only one to be wrong all this time; maybe he had been wrong too. Because the closer he got to that mysteriously alluring statue standing astute in the moonlight, the more Greg realized that what he had spent his whole live searching for wasn’t in the cold, unfeeling stardust of space or the distant, impersonal cheers of his imaginary fans. What he was looking for was here, right in front of him, in the lovely smile and kind words of the undoubtedly magical woman who had somehow managed to steal his heart.

Or rather, she would have been right in front of him, if not for the Murder Hut’s blank sign, which Greg, in his rush to get back to the temple, didn’t even notice until he happened to drive right through it.

The van screeched to a grinding halt at this, with the young musician practically falling out of it as he rushed to inspect the damage. Fortunately, his van seemed fine, but the sign had been completely destroyed, to the point that nothing was left of it but scattered shards of wood lying strewn all over the place.

“Oh geez…” Greg muttered worriedly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to think of a quick way to fix things. However, he didn’t even get the chance to come up with any ideas before the hut’s proprietor, Stan, Greg vaguely remembered Amethyst calling him in passing, burst out of the house, bat already in hand.

“Alright, what’s the big idea out-” he cut himself off, his already livid expression growing even more so upon spotting the frightened young musician standing near his obliterated sign across the lawn. “Oh. I should have guessed.”

“Ah! Um, I-I’m super sorry, sir,” Greg began, taking a defensive step back towards his van. “I didn’t mean to run over your sign! I can explain!”

“Then start explaining,” Stan scowled bitterly, patting his free hand with his bat. “And it better be good, or else I might finally have a good reason to use this thing.”

“Uh, w-well, I…” Greg trailed off, quickly faltering as he realized he couldn’t come up with anything. “O-ok, so… I don’t really have a good explanation for this other than it was an accident, but again I’m really sorry!”

“And what makes you think sorry is gonna cut it, kid?” Stan asked coldly, still fortunately not raising his bat to attack. “In case you forgot, you ran over my brand new sign with your goofy hippie van! I could have you hauled off to jail for this, and at this point, I’m thinkin’ I should so you’ll finally stop coming around here and getting on my nerves.”

“W-wait! You can’t-” Greg interupted himself again, his fear turning into solemn acceptance as he glanced over at the broken sign again. “Just… please, listen. I-I’ve had kind of a crazy night, ok? I just fired my manager and ran all the way back here because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with that pink woman I was looking for earlier and I think my entire worldview’s just completely shifted and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Stan interupted, rather caught off guard by this news. “Did you just say you’re in love? With… Rose?”

“Uh… I mean, I might be?” Greg ventured. “Everything feels so up in the air right now… T-the only thing I know for sure is that I really, really wanna go up there and see her again. Like… like if I stay with her, then… then maybe I’ll finally be where I belong…”

Stan let out a mocking scoff at this as he rolled his eyes. “Yeesh, kid, looks like I was right about you being nothing more than a lovestruck punk,” he remarked dryly. “Fair warning: you’re in way over your head if you wanna go a round with ol’ Pinky up there.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, she’s nothing but trouble!” Stan scowled disdainfully. “Her and all the rest of those ‘Crystal Gems’. Why, the last guy who got tangled up with them was-” He cut himself off with a sharp breath, his glare sharpening and softening all at once, almost as if this was a personal matter to him instead of one of mere hearsay. “…Nevermind. But still, those Gems aren’t worth the trouble. If I were you, kid, I’d turn around and head right back the way I came and never, ever look back on this nutso town. You’ll be a lot happier if you do, trust me.”

Greg took pause upon hearing this, somewhat surprised as he noticed just how sincere Stan seemed to be about this apparent warning. Yet as much as he wanted to ask about where it had even come from, he was reminded of his former resolve once again as he looked back up towards the temple. To where Rose, where perhaps the rest of his life, might just have been waiting for him, regardless of what that life might be like. “I… I can’t…” he shook his head, a small, wistful smile on his face. “I’ve already given up a lot to make it this far. I don’t think I could just turn back now, even if I wanted to, without at least finding out if its all gonna be worth it in the end.”

“Pfft, what a load of schmaltz,” Stan rolled his eyes again, though his harsh manner lessened considerably upon hearing all this. “You’re not too bright, are you, kid?”

“Maybe I’m not,” Greg shrugged with a small chuckle. “I mean, I did accidentally run your huge sign over with my van after all. Speaking of which…” his smile faltered. “I-I guess you’re gonna call the police on me about that, aren’t you? To be honest, I wouldn’t really blame you; I mean, it was your property and I did kind of destroy it, a-and though I’ve never really been to jail before and I don’t really have any money for bail or anything, I guess I’ll figure out some way to-”

“Kid, would you shut up already?” Stan interjected, crossing his arms. “I’m not gonna call the police on you. You’re honestly too pathetic to just haul off to jail. Plus, the last thing I need swarming this place are a bunch of cops.”

“B-but what about the sign?”

“I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do about the sign,” Stan began, still rather staunch. “You’re gonna work for me here at the Murder Hut until you’ve paid it off. I’ve been meaning to hire on a cashier around here anyway, so I guess this works out for everyone.”

“H-hire… Wait, you mean like a job?” Greg asked, quite surprised. “I… I’ve never had one of those before…”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Stan deadpanned, turning to head back inside.

“W-wait! Sir… why are you letting me off so easily?” the young musician wondered, bewildered. “A second ago, I thought you wanted to beat my head in with a baseball bat but now you’re giving me a job? I’m confused…”

“Don’t be,” Stan concluded with a shrug. “I usually wouldn’t bother, especially seeing as how you’re all head over heels for Rose, of all people, but… the truth is, you kinda remind me of, well, me when I was your age. Believe it or not, I used to be every bit as lost and spacey as you are until I had to grow out of it. Though, uh… just out of curiosity, you’re not on the run from any Colombian gang members, are ya?”

“Um… no…?” Greg frowned, unsure of what such an odd question had to do with anything.

“Good, then there won’t be any problems,” Stan finally grinned as he opened the door to go in. “You start at 8 a.m. sharp. And I don’t care if you stay all up all night making goo-goo eyes at Pinky up there, you better not be late!”

“I-I won’t be!” Greg assured with a relieved smile as he prepared to get back into his van. “I promise! Thank you so much, sir!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan remarked sardonically as he waved the excited young musician off. He let out something of an amused sigh in spite of himself as he watched him leave, but all the same, he was resolved to remain careful about all this. After all, the last thing he needed was for his new, lovestruck “employee” to end up being the wild card that unraveled everything he had been working the past seven years for. “Ugh, I better not end up regretting this if that kid knows what’s good for him…”

The small burst of regret Greg had felt upon kicking Marty out of his van was all but forgotten as he continued speeding up towards the temple, a huge grin spread wide across his face. Even though he hadn’t had much of a choice in his new employment, he couldn’t deny he was excited about it. After all, it was by far a better alternative to being arrested, and maybe if he was lucky, then Stan would let him keep a portion of his earnings to keep food in his stomach and gas in his van. The money would certainly be appreciated, seeing as how he probably wouldn’t be making any revenue off touring anymore, not that he really ever had in the first place. Still, getting a job wouldn’t be the thing to ultimately make this night for him; the only one who could make it truly special was now only right behind a chain link metal fence. A fence that, unlike Stan’s sign, Greg didn’t really have too many gripes about running his van straight through.

The young musician didn’t hesitate to jump out of the van as soon as he pulled it up in front of the temple, grabbing his guitar as he did. Rose and her friends were nowhere to be seen, but Greg assumed that she was inside of the statue itself, which was why he hurried up to its large door and knocked eagerly, his heart practically aching with longing at the thought of seeing her again. “Hey, are you in there?” he called amidst knocking. “I can play for you now! I even revamped my awesome set!” At this, the young musician ran back to the crystal platform, positioning his guitar in his hands to play the song he had been mentally working on all night. “This one’s for you, mystery woman!”

He began with a bold, earnest strum, his voice echoing throughout the shimmering grotto as he began to sing from his heart. “Do you believe in destiny? Close your eyes and leave the rest to me… Do you believe fantasy? I have to when its right in front of me…”

Greg realized just how true this was as he glanced around the cave, its beautifully crystalline walls looking as though they were something out of an interstellar dream. Honestly, Rose herself seemed like that too, the air of mystery that surrounded her making him want to know so much more about here. Where had she come from? Why had she chosen to live in a seemingly unassuming little town like this? Who was she, really, and her odd, yet interesting friends? How did every word she say, every glance she sent his way, ever second of her smile, seem to enchant him more than anything else ever could?

“Oh, what are you doing here? In the real world? What are you doing here? So close I could touch you…” He continued, his beat steadily building as he approached the temple gate once more with purpose in his step. Rose had still yet to appear, but still he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, because now his emotions were guiding him far more than anything else. His hope, his heart was pushing him forward, into something that he was perfectly content to fall into without a sign of hesitation.

“What are you doing here? And what are you doing to me?!”

As Greg’s song reached its peak, he dropped to his knees, the temple door finally glowing as he did. He watched in muted awe as it started to split open, flooding the grotto with light that was only obscured by the large, curly-haired silhouette standing amidst it.

“Oh!” the young musician smiled upon seeing what Rose had on over her dress, though his elation soon turned to confusion at the look of somber worry on her face. “You’re wearing the… shirt…”

“Please,” she began, her voice morose, regretful as she stepped forward a bit. “Go away.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Greg blushed, looking down apprehensively. “D-did I…?”

Rose sighed, her shoulders dropping as she stole a brief glance down the hill, almost in the direction of the Murder Hut. “You’re awfully cute, a-and I really wanna play with you but… I can’t.”

“You… can’t?” the young musician raised a confused eyebrow. “I… I don’t understand…”

“No, you don’t…” Rose sighed once more, her pink locks blowing a bit in the dull, almost chilly breeze. “I still don’t understand myself, really…” her voice turned to a mutter as her gaze drifted up towards the stars almost reminiscently. Greg was quiet at this, unable to really voice his ongoing bewilderment as he watched her carefully, unable to ignore the lingering sadness in her lovely eyes. “I’ve known humans much like you before… I’ve lost even more of them. It’s nothing new. But the last one though, I… h-he… w-what happened to him… it… it was all my fault!” The young musician was rather taken aback as he watched, still awestruck as tears started to well up in her eyes, though she was quick to wipe them away. “I… I just… I don’t think I can do this again… I’m sorry…”

“W-wait!” Greg exclaimed, jumping to his feet as she turned to head back inside. Much to his fortune, she paused, looking to him with dejected curiosity as he spoke his piece. “Look, I-I don’t know what happened between you and this other guy, but… I… you… t-there’s something about you, I just… I-I can’t get you out of my head! I mean, you’re so… wow, you know?”

“Wow?” Rose frowned, confused.

“Yeah! It’s almost like you’re magical or something!”

“I… am?”

“Really? Well then, that explains a lot!” Greg chuckled, bewildering the pink Gem even more. “Can you really blame me for being a little curious? You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever seen! And you get bonus points in my book for being about the only person who’s ever showed up to one of my concerts!”

Rose had to suppress a laugh at this, one that she abandoned quickly in favor of maintaining her former seriousness. “W-well… I… you’re…” she trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say before she finally steadied herself again. “E-even if you do feel that way, your life is short and you have dreams. I won’t let you give up on everything you want.”

“Well, then that’s gonna be a problem…” Greg began, bowing his head low.

“Huh?” Rose asked before the young musician looked up at her with a bright, winning smile.

“You’re everything I want!”

Rose gasped, stars in her eyes as she heard this romantic statement. All her former grief was soon replaced with a laugh that she was powerless to contain, a stray tear streaming down her cheek in the process. Greg joined in, chuckling as he felt his cheeks burn red with a rewarding kind of warmth, a warmth that seemed to explode into a bright, glowing, welcome fire as Rose did something quite unexpected. Without any warning she leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead, her lips feather light yet sweet on his skin before she pulled away just as smoothly. Greg stilled for just a second in the aftermath of it, his jaw dropping as he looked to her in complete surprise, only for Rose to break down into even more laughter, ultimately encouraging him back into doing the same.

The two of them remained there, laughing and loving for quite some time as the crystalline dream world she was a part of glistened beautifully all around them, both of them truly feeling that something special was beginning here. Something that would take them both to places they never thought possible, but never once dared to regret.

Greg smiled and hummed to himself as he finished wiping the Murder Hut’s counter down prior to closing. He had been working there under Stan for a little over a month, and in that short span of time, the young musician grew quite content with his new lot. The work at the small but booming tourist trap wasn’t anything too taxing or demeaning, and despite his sour attitude during their first encounter, Stan had proven himself to be a mostly easy to work with boss, with some sparse exceptions here and there. Of course, the conman didn’t really approve of Greg’s ever growing relationship with Rose, for reasons he never really cared to explain, but he largely held his peace about it in exchange for that lack of an explanation. But despite all that, the young musician felt as though his new employment at the shack was going rather well, to the point that he had largely forgotten he was working here really only to pay off a debt. That is, until Stan decided to offhandedly remind him about it as he watched his young employee dutifully complete his tasks for the afternoon.

“Make sure you dust up around the register, kid,” the conman reminded as he counted his earnings from the day on the other side of the gift shop. “It’s a proven fact that people are ten times as likely to rob registers that are dirty cause that makes ‘em think the employees are slacking off on the job.”

“Is that really a proven fact, Mr. Pines?” Greg asked with a small, knowing grin as he did as his boss advised.

“…Alright, maybe it’s just a little something I picked up from experience,” Stan shrugged candidly. “But don’t expect a promotion or anything just because you think your slick, kid. In fact… don’t expect a promotion in general, seeing as how your time’s just about up here.”

“Wait, what?”

“What, you really think I haven’t been keeping tabs on how close you’re getting to paying that sign of?” Stan asked, heading over to the counter. “I may scam all the rubes that come in here to give me their money, but I’m not about to do that when it comes to my cash. You’ve just about worked your debt off, kid. In fact, seeing as how you haven’t really whined about this whole thing, I might be willing to cut you off a bit early and let today be your last day. Just as long as you don’t tell anyone I went soft on ya, cause I didn’t. I made you work your butt off here and don’t you forget it!”

“I won’t,” Greg chuckled, though it soon petered out into a bout of thoughtful musing. “But man, I’m really almost done working here at the Murder Hut? Huh, it feels like this past month flew by. It’ll be pretty weird not coming into work every morning… I wonder what I’ll do with all that free time?”

“Knowing you, you’ll probably spend it gawking at Pinky all day,” Stan remarked, rolling his eyes sardonically.

“Heh, yeah…” the young musician grinned halfheartedly as he continued wiping the counter off, his smile gradually fading into a frown the more he let his thoughts wander. Really, as much as he wanted to spend all his time with Rose, she wasn’t all the time as she frequently went off on magical missions with the other Gems. For the most part, Greg was at work at the hut whenever she was gone, but without his employment there, he’d have to find some other way to spend his time. The only problem was, he didn’t have the slightest idea about where to go or what to do from the starting point he had miraculously gotten here.

The young musician’s thoughts were soon interupted as the gift shop door suddenly swung open, revealing the heavy rain ongoing outside, as well as someone Greg hadn’t been expecting to see here, of all places. “M-Marty?!”

“Greg! There you are!” Marty exclaimed incredulously as he barged into the shop largely uninvited. “I’ve been looking all over this loser town for you. Should have guessed you’d end up in a chintzy place like this. Still, I figured that you’ve had enough time to come to your senses about all this ‘pink women’ stuff by now, so come on!” Without even letting the young musician get a word in edgewise, his former manager grabbed him by the wrist and started to pull him towards the door. “We gotta get going; you’re gonna have to work hard to catch up on our tour schedule, but I managed to pull a few strings, so we’ll-”

“W-whoa! Marty, hold on!” Greg interjected, pulling back against his ex-manager as he was essentially dragging him across the shop. “I don’t think I’m gonna-”

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me for saving you from this dollar-grabbing dump, star child,” Marty remarked with a smug smirk. “And you also don’t have to apologize for your little diva fit a few weeks ago, even if you should seeing as how I ruined my good shoes in that rain you tossed me out into…”

“B-but I-”

“Hold it!” Stan interjected this time, coming to block Marty from reaching the door with Greg in tow. “I don’t know who you think you are, bub, but if you think you can just waltz outta here with my employee while he’s still on the clock, then you got another thing coming!”

“Your employee?” Marty scoffed. “Sorry, old timer, but star child here was with me first. This kid wasn’t meant to work in some two-bit tourist trap like this; he’s meant to make me a ton of money! Now get out of my way so he can finally do that like he’s supposed to!”

“B-but Marty,” Greg spoke up, pulling his arm away from his ex-manager. “I don’t want to go back on tour.”

“What?” Marty asked dryly, glaring back at his former protégé.

“I said I don’t wanna go back,” the young musician shook his head. “I like it here. I like being with Rose and working at the Murder Hut and not always having to go from city to city without ever just stopping to take a break and breathe. When I used to tour with you, it always felt like I was looking for something I could never find. But… I think I’ve finally found that something right here in Gravity Falls. And its something I don’t want to give up.”

“Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you, Greg?” Marty asked harshly. “What you want matters about as much as this run down old shack does! Don’t you get it? I could make you a star, Greg, just like you’ve always dreamed of!”

“Well… w-well maybe I don’t wanna be a star anymore!” Greg shot back brazenly.

“Are you kidding me? Everyone wants to be a star!” Marty argued fiercely. “You really think working in tourism and being with some weird pink broad makes you anything special? ‘Cause it doesn’t. It makes you a nobody, just like everyone else out there.”

“…Then I guess I’ll just have to settle for being a nobody,” the young musician shrugged, a small smile of acceptance.

“Oh for crying out—just come on already!” Marty tried pulling Greg out once more, only to be met with much more resistance this time. “Quit being a big baby about this! You’re going back on tour whether you want to or not!”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Stan interjected coldly, completely put off by the ex-manager’s behavior as he continued to block the door. “The kid’s not going anywhere unless he chooses to. So what do you say, Greg? You wanna stay? Or you wanna go with this sleezebag over here?”

“Uh, I wanna stay,” Greg immediately replied, as though it were obvious, which, by all accounts, it was. Still, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for Stan’s intervention at the moment; after all, the conman was giving him an actual choice in the matter, something Marty had never done for him, even once.

“You heard him,” Stan said to Marty very curtly. “Now, take a hike. Or else…”

“Or else what, old timer?” the ex-manager scoffed, rolling his eyes at what he say as a weak threat. That is, until mere seconds later when he found himself landing face-first in the mud outside.

“And stay out!” Stan shouted after him, brushing his hands off with satisfaction. “If I ever see your mug around here bothering Greg again, then I won’t be so nice next time, so beat it!”

“Augh!” Marty shouted in absolute rage as he picked himself up from the mud, which completely covered him from head to toe. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, you crazy old geezer! And as for you, Greg, I hope you realize you just lost your last chance to ever make anything out of your life! You’ll never be anything without me!”

“You know, I think he’ll manage just fine,” Stan remarked, exchanging a genuine smile with Greg before they both stepped back inside and slammed the door behind them.

“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Pines,” Greg said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t know Marty would be that dead set on becoming my manager again but I’m glad you were able to chase him off.”

“Eh, what can I say? I know an absolute creep when I see one,” Stan shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, I know what it’s like to not really have a choice about where your life’s gonna go, so I figured I’d spare you from that. ‘Cause trust me, kid, it’s pretty much the worst.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” Greg smiled, unable to resist giving his boss a hug out of gratitude. Stan didn’t really return it, but he did grin in brief amusement at his employee’s sentimentality before snapping back into his usually surly show.

“Alright, alright, enough hugging,” the conman deadpanned, pulling himself out of the embrace. “Your shift’s over for the night, so get going. But only as long as I see you bright and early again tomorrow morning.”

“Wait…” Greg paused, his eyes widening as he realized what his boss was implying. “You mean…?”

“Sure does. I’m hiring you on full time,” Stan smirked, crossing his arms. “That is, only if you want to-”

“Yes, I do!” Greg readily agreed, elated by this opportunity to work and make money on his own terms instead of on someone else’s for a change. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he cheered, suddenly embracing his boss once again.

“Hey! What’d I say about the hugging?” Stan asked with faux impatience.

“Heh, sorry!” Greg chuckled as he backed off, grabbing his things as he prepared to head out. “I gotta go tell Rose about this! Thanks again, Mr. Pines! For everything!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t sweat it,” Stan remarked with a wave of his hand as he watched his new full-time employee take off. He only waited until after he was fully gone, of course, to crack the smile he had been holding back ever since Greg had told Marty off. A smile that was filled with pride and relief over a life that, in some aspects, was quite similar to how his had used to be; only unlike his, Greg’s was already being spent in a much better way. “Heh, good kid…”

At the same time, the young musician practically bounded up the temple hill, excitement flowing through him as he drew closer and closer to where Rose always waited for him. Despite his happiness over his newly secured job, a part of him still thought back to what Marty had said, about how he’d never amount to anything without the stardom he used to always think he wanted. But as it stood, Greg realized he had it pretty good. True, he may not have had legions of cheering fans or countless people lining up for his autograph, but he had a van, a steady job, and a girlfriend who was quite literally out of this world. As far as he was concerned, he may not have gotten the dream of stardom and fame he had been chasing at first.

But the dream he had gotten in its place was worth so, so much more.

Greg felt his heart skip a beat with joy as he spotted Rose afar, perched on a rock near the temple as she patiently waited for him. Her lovely face lit up the moment she caught sight of him, making it even more beautifully radiant than it already was. “Greg!” she exclaimed in a bright, cheerful greeting as she stood to go meet him.

“Rose!” Greg called back to her, quickening his pace. The moment they met was a sudden collision of a hug, one that resulted in Rose sweeping Greg off his feet as she spun him around, both of them laughing warmly together. It didn’t take long for this to transform into a kiss, a deep, full one that lasted quite a while, seeing as how neither of them were too keen on breaking it apart.

And in the midst of that kiss, Greg realized that there was no shadow of a doubt: this was all he had ever wanted. This was what gave the young musician a spark of love and excitement that was so bright and so big that he could scarcely even begin to describe it, one that brimmed warmer than anything else could in his heart and soul. There was nothing in the world that could compare to it, at least as far as he knew. That feeling that filled him every time his and Rose’s lips met, every time they fell into a loving embrace, every time they were so much as even together at all in any way. It was a feeling of elation, of exhilaration, of finally belonging after searching for a place that had always been right here all along.

Present day

“And that’s the whole story,” Greg concluded, putting his guitar aside. “So, what’d you three think?” He looked to the kids with a smirk as he gaged their reactions to the tale he had just told. Dipper was thoroughly enraptured, Mabel was on the verge of joyful tears, and Steven simply wore a huge, knowing grin as he look his father playfully. “And what are you smiling about?”

“You loved her!” Steven teased, still beaming brightly.

“Heh, come here, you!” Greg laughed, pulling his son into a playful noogie that ended with them both in hopeless chuckles.

“Geez, Greg, 23 years later and you’re still just as schmaltzy as you were back then,” Stan remarked with a wry smirk upon watching this display. “Its like nothing’s changed at all.”

“Ugh, it was all so romantic!” Mabel gushed, hugging her pillow tightly. “Mr. Universe, you should adapt all this into a movie! It’d win so many awards for being the most adorable love story of all time!”

“In that case, you might wanna take out all the parts with that Marty guy then,” Dipper noted sardonically. “He sounded like a complete jerk.”

“Like I said earlier, kid, ‘jerk’ is an understatement for that creep,” Stan agreed. “Still, I gotta admit it felt pretty good to toss him out into the mud like that. The look on his face was priceless!”

“Yeah, seriously, Dad, how’d you even end up with him as your manager anyway?” Steven asked with a confused frown.

“Eh, I think that’s a story for another time,” Greg shrugged with another small laugh. “Still, you guys are right, he was awful. But I guess I owe him a lot. He made it easy for me to stay.”

“He made it easy?” Stan asked, raising an eyebrow at his former employee.

“Oh, a-and you did too, Mr. Pines!” the former rock star exclaimed, flustered.

“Well, whoever helped you decide to stay, I’m glad you did,” Steven said to his father as he went in for another hug.

“Yeah,” Greg smiled down at his son, returning his embrace with a smile of deep satisfaction. That satisfaction so deep in fact, that it had been there ever since that magical night that had forever changed his life 23 years ago and had, in the end, ultimately brought him here to this very moment. A moment that he wouldn’t have given up for all the riches and fame in the world. “Me too.”

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