#it’s interesting and fun though I’m enjoying it

[munsonsmixtapes]

Just You and Me: Part Two

On every part of this series, there will be a poll where you can vote whether you want reader to end up with Steve or Eddie or both! This has been so much fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!

summary: you debut your “relationship at Corroded Coffin’s gig at The Hideout, unknowingly hurting the both of them.

cw: hurt/no comfort, angst, mention of alcohol

part one

Steve is sitting on the couch in your living room while you show him the entire time frame of your “relationship” that you’ve mapped out on a piece of poster board. You put it up on an easel and even got a collapsible metal pointer to really show him how serious you are about the whole thing.

Though, he seems more interested in the bag of potato chips he’s snacking on as opposed to the whole point of why he’s even at your apartment. He knows he’s supposed to be focusing, but how can he when you’re wearing that skirt that drives him crazy? Your legs just look so good and he’s so desperate to run his hands up and down your thighs as he lies on top of you, kissing you until you’re both-

“Steve, hello,” you’re waving your hand in front of his face and he’s quick to snap back into reality.

“Huh?” He asks, still partially in his daze and you snatch the chip bag from his hand and see them down on the coffee table that sits between you, making sure it’s just out of reach for him.

“Focus.“ You hit the pointer against the poster board to try to get his attention, but he’s still got that dreamy look in his eye. You wonder what’s so important that he’s not listening to you. It seems like he’s been in his own head for days.

“Sorry.” Now he feels like a jackass. You’re going through all of this effort and all he’s doing is staring at your body. He brings his focus back to the board and for the first time, he’s actually looking and holy shit, with how much thought you’ve put into this whole thing, it might just work.

“Where is your head today?” Up his ass, apparently. He can’t think about anything except how beautiful you look and it’s fucking with his head.

“I’m sorry. I was just up really late last night.” He’s actually not lying. He couldn’t sleep because of you. Because of this whole thing and how he isn’t exactly sure how it’s going to play out.

“Right, with your flavor of the week?” He hasn’t actually slept with anyone in a long time. He would just keep wishing it was you so he just stopped altogether because he didn’t want to lead anyone.

“Nope, just me and my hand, unfortunately.” He holds up said hand and wiggles his fingers which causes you to grimace.

“Gross.”

“So when does this whole thing start?” He asks, leaning against the couch with his arms sitting along the back.

“Tomorrow night. Corroded Coffin is performing at the Hideout so it’s a perfect opportunity.”

“So, no practice? We’re just going balls deep?” How the hell are you going to pull this off without practice? That makes no sense and no one’s even going to believe you if you can’t be convincing.

“First of all, don’t ever say that again. Second, we’re going to practice right now so just chill out, alright?” You head over to the couch and sit down next to Steve. Your thighs are touching and he can feel the heat from you through his jeans. If things were different, he’d have you straddling his lap, his hands resting on your back as he kisses you until you’re both breathless.

“Practice what?” He asks. Maybe if he actually read everything on your easel, he wouldn’t be so confused.

“Hold my hand,” you tell him and he hates that his cheeks are blushing. He’s held your hand so many times, but this is different. It’s supposed to be romantic, or implying that it is to other people.

His hand slides into yours, fingers intertwining and when he looks up at your face, you’re staring at him like he’s just hung the moon. God, you’re good. You’re acting, right? You have to be. Because if you weren’t and actually in love with him then you wouldn’t even be doing this whole stupid thing.

“You’re a natural,” you tell him with a smile.

“I’m just holding your hand, l/n. It’s not rocket science.”

“Still,” you shrug. “You know exactly what to do.” And he does. You’d never admit it, but his hand feels nice in yours. It’s soft and smooth and the way that his thumb is rubbing back and forth along yours. You almost don’t want to let go.

“Is this it?” Steve asks, still feeling his heart hammer in his chest at the feeling of your hand in his. He’d never tell you how right it feels to him. How he wants to hold your hand forever and never let go.

“No,” You shake your head, your hand reluctantly slipping out of his. You turn your body fully to face him and he mimics you, trying his best to not reach for your hand again. “I was wondering if you’d be comfortable practicing kissing.” Would he be comfortable? He’s only dreamed about kissing you every day for the majority of his life. He’s so ready and trying to not show just how eager he is.

“I’m open to it,” he nods and you bring your legs up onto the couch, crossing them over each other. And once again, Steve mimics you, doing the exact same thing. He watches as you take a deep breath. Could it be possible that you’re just as nervous? That would actually make him feel a whole lot better.

Your hands slowly reach up and grab hold of his face, cradling it gently. He hums at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Is this actually real? Or does this dream just seem so realistic? As soon as your lips touch his, he’s sure that it’s real. And it’s perfect, everything he ever dreamed it would be.

His mouth moves with yours as one hand rests at the back of your head, the other resting on your waist. And of fucking course you’re a good kisser. You’re good at everything. It’s only supposed to be short, but neither of you want to be the first to break away.

So you stay like that for just a little longer. You even go as far as licking into his mouth to deepen it, so close to climbing into his lap, but you refrain. It isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s just practice. But you’re enjoying it way more than you thought you would. So much so that you’re not even thinking about why you’re doing it or Eddie for that matter. All you’re thinking about is Steve and how much you want him inside you.

Steve lets out a moan and you’re quick to pull away, finally pulled back into reality. His pupils are blown wide and his lips are a pretty shade of pink from being kiss bitten. He runs his hands through his hair and god, he’s just so pretty. You’ve always thought that, but especially tonight. You have to pull yourself out of your thoughts, trying to think about Eddie. That’s your main focus.

You don’t like Steve. This was just you getting caught up in the moment. That’s all it is. You just have to make sure that you don’t go that far again so you don’t do something you know you shouldn’t. As long as all of your kisses are around other people, that shouldn’t be a problem.

“How was that?” You ask before rolling your lips into your mouth.

“That was-” Steve cuts himself off, his cheeks turning a bright pink. “That was-I mean, wow.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You’re unsure, but you’re hoping so. He wouldn’t have kissed you for that long if it was bad, right?

“Yes.”

“Well, good. I think we’re going to be convincing.” So you still want to go through with it. Eddie is still your goal. He doesn’t know why he thought that his kiss would make you want to call the whole thing off. Clearly all Steve will ever be to you is your best friend.

The rest of the night is spent role playing different scenarios and acting accordingly. Steve tries his best to play it off like he’s fine, but really, all he wants to do is throw in the towel. He wants to just quit and tell you that you’re on your own because it’s all just hurting too much.

But because he’s just such a great friend, he doesn’t. He can’t. You’ve already gotten this far and now you have to see it through. He also doesn’t want you asking Robin. Partly because he knows Robin can’t lie for shit and partly because he’d just be super jealous. So he’s going to do it and he’s going to do it with a big smile on his face because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

The Hideout is pretty empty when you and Steve show up. This is the usual turn out for a Tuesday night, but you and your friends are going to cheer for the band just like you always do. They’re setting up their equipment on the stage and you and Steve make a beeline for them, you trying to not seem so excited to see Eddie.

He looks so good in his leather jacket, cropped t-shirt, and jeans that hug his body in all the right places. He catches sight of you out of the corner of his eye and cuts his conversation with Gareth short as he hurries over to you.

He jumps off the stage and Steve’s quick to pull you back so you don’t get hurt, trying his hardest not to glare at the guy. That’s one of his best friends and is he really going to be the kind of guy who lets a girl get in between them? No way. Their friendship is way more important than that.

“You made it,” Eddie smiles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I always do,” you smile back and Steve doesn’t like the flirty looks you’re giving each other. “And I even brought Stevie to be another one of your cheerleaders.”

Eddie watches the way Steve wraps his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder. This doesn’t surprise him since you’re always touchy with each other, but this time, it seems different. And when Steve kisses your cheek, he knows it is.

“So, you two, huh?” He asks, pushing hands further into his pockets, balling his fists as he tries his best to hide how upset he is. He always knew this day would come. The two of you are meant for each other and everyone knows it. He just wished he would have had a chance before the two of you made it official. But he supposes that you were always bound to end up together. That’s how that kind of shit always goes for Eddie.

“Yeah,” you nod with a smile, looking up at Steve and Eddie feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest because it’s not him who you’re looking at like that. “For a couple weeks now, wouldn’t you say so, honey?”

“I’d say so,” Steve nods, not even having to try to look lovingly at you.

“Well, I’m happy for you. It was a long time coming.” He’s smiling through the pain, trying his best to pretend like he can’t hear his heart breaking.

There’s a look on his face that you can’t quite make out and you really wish you knew if he was telling the truth. But then again, Eddie is one who’s known for being honest, even brutally so. And you’ve been friends long enough that you expect him to tell you the truth when something is bothering him.

But Eddie would never tell you the truth, not about how he feels about you, anyway. He’s taking that shit to the grave now since you’re with Steve. He excuses himself to head back to the stage to make sure that everything is all set and you’re starting to think that went too well. He really wasn’t even a little jealous?

You and Steve head to the bar and he’s squeezing your shoulder to show you that he’s sympathetic to the situation. Because as badly as he wants to be with you, he really just wants you to be happy in the end even if it’s not with him.

The two of you sip on your drinks, standing even closer to each other than you normally would, feeling the need to touch each other in any way you can to make the whole thing believable. You have to admit that Steve is a much better actor than you had initially thought. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he was in love with you.

How devastating that would be if he was? You would have felt so horrible for asking him to pretend to be your boyfriend if you knew that was what he was wanting from you all along. That would really make you feel like a dick because how cruel would that have been to make him pretend to be something he’s wanted to be all for the purpose of trying to get the attention of someone else?

You reach up and brush some hair out of Steve’s face and he’s trying so hard to reel back his feelings. He’s been thinking about that kiss since it happened and if he had the balls, he would have asked you if you could price again. He’s desperate for more, so close to pulling you yo the bathroom to have his way with you, fucking you senseless until you completely forget Eddie’s name, Steve’s being the only one to fall from your lips.

You’re nudging him from his fantasy and he’s immediately snapped back to reality. How long was he out? His fantasies seem to be lasting way longer lately, much more real. He’s getting even more pathetic by the second and he’s not sure how much more he can take.

“It's about to start. Let’s go.” You grab him by the hand and he follows you to the front of the stage where you’re beaming up at Eddie who’s at the front of the stage, introducing the band into the mic before going into the first song.

He watches you the entire time, hating how Steve’s got his arms wrapped around you, his chin making a home on your shoulder. He’s filled with more anger than he knows what to do with. Seeing how you’re looking at each other makes him so jealous that he’s so close to diving off the stage and tackling Steve, which he knows is wrong.

Because truly, neither of you are doing anything wrong. You’re just a couple and Eddie was actually counting down the days, trying to slide in before you got together, but he’s too late. And he’s kicking himself for it.

He’s so focused on you and Steve that he’s not even paying attention to what he’s doing. He’s actually not even sure how he can keep up with his bandmates. He’s trying to focus on the lyrics he’s singing. The lyrics he wrote for you and how he feels about you.

You can’t believe how talented Eddie is. How this is what he’s really meant to do. You just know he’s going to make it and pretty soon, Corroded Coffin is going to sell out arenas, The Hideout being just the beginning.

He’s so into what he’s singing, his eyes closed. But you don’t know that he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to see you with Steve. The song is so romantic, unlike the band’s other songs. Eddie’s voice sounds so pained and you hope that he’s not speaking from personal experience. Even though it hurts thinking about him being with someone else, you’d hate for him to not be able to be with who he’s interested in.

He’s grabbed your attention as he goes into his guitar solo, the cords slower than what he’s used to. You’re hypnotized by the way his fingers slide across the strings, doing it so effortlessly that you can’t help but be impressed.

Steve sees the way you’re staring and pulls you closer to him to get your attention. How will it look if his girlfriend is looking at the lead singer like he’s hung the moon? He knows no one cares, but he does. He honestly only cares because of how badly he wants you to look at him like that. That’s all he’s ever wanted and he knows that he’s not going to get it. Because it’s just his luck that he'd be in love with someone who isn’t in love with him. He’s never anyone’s first choice.

The set ends and the two of you wait as Eddie and the band pack up their equipment. You’re supposed to go out to dinner with them afterwards and Steve is absolutely dreading it. He just wants to go home and drown himself in the bottle of tequila he bought the other night and listen to your favorite record on repeat.

You wait until Eddie is distracted and wrap your arms around Steve's neck, throwing your head back as a loud laugh escapes your lips. Steve somehow catches on and he laughs as well, his genuine because yours is just so damn contagious.

Eddie looks up from where he’s putting his guitar away and that feeling in his gut he’s been having since the two of you showed up gets even worse, to the point where it starts to hurt. Yeah, he’s not going out tonight. He’s going to curl up in his bed and write some of the most devastating lyrics.

And when he watches the two of you lean in for a kiss, well, you might as well have ripped his heart out of his chest. That would have hurt a lot less. Gareth follows Eddie’s line of sight and doesn’t even have to ask to know what Eddie is thinking.

He doesn’t see how no one else knows how Eddie feels. He’s so goddamn obvious that it’s become painful to watch. And he knows you like him too so seeing you show up with Steve really threw him off. He knows that Steve likes you too, so this whole thing is really just a mess. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, especially not Eddie because he’s always getting the short end of the stick.

The rest of the members go out to dinner which you politely decline the invitation to since Eddie’s not going. You just have Steve drop you off at your apartment because being by yourself suddenly sounds so inviting. You just want to be by yourself because of how hurt you are that your plan is failing and it’s only started. How the hell are you going to continue when it’s not even effective?

So, the three of you wallow in your self pity in your respective rooms, hating how everything is turning out. It’s all so painful and unfair. Tears are shed and alcohol is drunk like water to numb the pain that you’re all feeling. Something that should be so simple has been complicated because you just had to go and pull Steve into your scheme instead of just being honest with him. And it seems like you’re going to pay for it, unknowingly hurting the both of them.

[marsbutterfly]

Nerd Hanji head cannons??? Absolutely smart and top of her class no social life? Pulls Y/N??? Erwin, Levi and Moblit are like is Reader blind???? Fluffy nerdy shit I eat that up and let me tell you I’m STARVING

Headcanons: Nerd! Hanji Zoe

a/n: i've had these ready for about a week or so but for some reason i haven't posted them? idk, but i do hope you enjoy heh i had fun.

warnings: none. this is pure fluff. | tagging: @wizzy21

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has been your close friend since the two of you were young. They were always a bit awkward and going around studying frogs or collecting rocks, but you were always following closely behind with a pencil sharpener and a box of band-aids.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who used to tutor you in their free time. Their favorite subjects had always been the most difficult ones: chemistry, physics and math. So they would always do everything in their power to make the subjects more interesting or, at the very least, easier for you to understand.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has done your homework for you more times than you could count. Some times because you were sick, some because you were getting frustrated and aggravated and some of them in exchange for some of your baking. So they would sit on the kitchen counter as you would bake them cookies, cakes, whatever they were craving that day.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has always been class president for as long as they were allowed to run. They were constantly trying their best to make sure everyone in class was happy and also having their concerns being heard. They ran unopposed for over five years, mainly because there was nobody else who could have done a better job than them.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who deletes all of their social media every time they have an exam coming up. No matter how many times you tell them that they could easily just delete the app, they will not listen to you because they say they're tempted to just "download it" again.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has had a crush on you for years but never did anything about it. They wanted to ask you out for so long but didn't for two reasons. Number one is that they didn't think you felt the same way and, number two, because they wanted to wait until you both got to college and had an idea of what you were looking to do for the rest of your life.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who was the joke of the group multiple times but they still couldn't understand that they were being teased for your feelings about them, not the other way around.

❀ Nerd! Hanji Nerd hanji who excels in absolutely everything that they do but are completely oblivious to your feelings for them until you straight up kiss them after a day out together. You were already considering it a date, they thought the two of you were just hanging out before college started. They didn't complain one bit, though.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who doesn't pay attention to how they look, especially when you go out together. They will keep their hair in a messy ponytail, wear the same pair of old crocs and the same taped pair of broken glasses.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who gets you a scholarship to your dream college so the two of you can study together. They will change their entire life plan that they have had since they were a child just to spend time with you, much to their parents' dismay.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly helps you study for your exams because they have absolutely nothing to worry about for themselves and they want you to achieve only the best you can.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who set the curve for the grades too high so they are lowkey disliked by most of their classmates. They don't really care though, the only person they care about is how you feel about them. And you love them to bits.

❀ Nerd! Hanji has an internship at a very prestigious laboratory and is already being considered for a full-time position by the time they graduate.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly sends you pictures of funny looking bacteria they find. They find random shapes and immediately whip out their phone (which they are very much not allowed to do but they get so excited that they can't help it.)

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly needs to buy new pens and pencils because they are often biting the back of it or the cap. They have come home with blue or black ink on their lips more times than you can count on one hand.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who sometimes forgets to eat so you always bring them food regardless of where they are. They always blush and tell you not to trouble yourself with these kinds of things but you can't help it. Knowing that they are using all that brain power with no fuel makes your heart ache. So you always give them extra food and water.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who tilts their head when they are thinking about stuff. They do it regardless if they are at work or if they are at home. So you just know they could be looking for a bacteria in a sample or for the extra block of cheese in the back of the fridge, the look is the same.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who doodles your name all over their notepads over and over, to the point where they have to force themselves out of that mind space, otherwise they can't focus.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who looks at you and only you. No matter how old the two of you are, they are always in love with you. And they are always yapping about some video game or book, not that you mind, of course. You never did.

[nuttersincorporated]

Tumblr: A Beginners Guide

Hello and welcome to Tumblr!

If you're new here, this post is a little guide meant to help you understand how things work on Tumblr. I’m going to give you some guidelines and explain a little bit about Tumblr culture. Hopefully, this will help you settle in, avoid unnecessary pitfalls and enjoy your time here. I hope you’ll like it here on our hellsite (affectionate).

1. First and most importantly, please change your userpic and put something on your blog.

If you don’t, other users will think you're a bot and you'll be reported/blocked. It’s nothing personal but we are at war with the bot accounts. Most older users will automatically assume that a blank blog= bot.

You don’t need to do much. If you aren’t comfortable rebloging things or making your own posts yet, just change your userpic and add a short description to your blog.

Here’s an example of a description you can use.

‘Hi! I’m new here. I’m still working out how this place works but I promise I’m not a bot so please don’t block me.’

2. Go to your settings, then to your dashboard settings and change things to how you like them. I suggest-

Make Tumber show you posts in chronologically order, rather than pushing ‘best stuff first���

Pick a colour palate that doesn’t give you a headache

Make Tumblr show timestamps on posts and reblogs. While a post is never too old to reblog, you don’t want to accidentally signal boost something as ‘news’ when it's acutely years out of date and no longer relevant.

Choose not to shorten long posts

3. Go to the top of your dashboard, press on the toggle and arrange things how you like them.

I suggest pinning your ‘Following’ first. It means that when you go to your dashboard, the first thing you’ll see are the blogs that you’ve actively chosen to follow.

Some older users will tell you that the ‘For You’ page is useless and should be ignore. This is because for a long time it was either non-existent or terrible so most older users – myself included – just don’t bother with it.

However, nowadays it’s fine so use it if you want. ‘Following’ should still probably be pinned first though because you know what you like better than the algorithm.

4. Please don’t censor your words here. Tumblr doesn’t shadow ban you for saying random words.

Shadow banning does happen but it’s mostly at random or because you were targeted by trolls. If it happens to you, you’ll need to fight to get unshadow banned.

The point is that you won’t get shadow banned for saying ‘death,’ ‘murder’ or ‘rape.’ Don’t do things like saying ‘graped’ instead of ‘raped.’ If you do, you’re just going to piss people off and make it harder for people to avoid triggers.

5. Don’t spam the tags!

You can ramble in the tags all you want and nobody will mind. However, if you tag an unrelated post with a popular tag, you will be reported for spamming. It’s against the Tumblr terms and conditions, it’s annoying and it’s something the porn bots do.

6. Please, reblog things. It helps posts spread a lot more than liking them does. Think of your blog as a scrap book where you put stuff you like.

If you aren’t comfortable adding to a post, that’s fine. Just reblog it and share it with others.

7. That said, Tumblr posts are collaborative and we like it when you add to them. It doesn’t have to be much. You don’t have to add something every time you reblog a post but it is a part of the fun to do it sometimes.

If it’s an art or fanfic post comments like; ‘good post op,’ ‘I LOVE THIS!’ or even ‘OUCH my heart!!!’ will make an OP’s day.

If it’s another sort of post; you can add your thoughts or join in on committing to the bit. Try matching the energy the post is already giving.

8. The follow and block buttons are your friend. You decide what you see here. If your dashboard doesn’t spark joy, you can always follow someone new and/or follow an interesting tag. If someone is making your time here unpleasant unfollow and/or block them.

9. Tumblr likes to commit to the bit. Sharks are smooth (they are not) and the 1973 Martin Scorsese movie ‘Goncharov’ is the greatest film ever made (it doesn’t exist).

10. A post is never too old to reblog. We like old posts here.

Every now and again, you will see a post that is over ten years old. The reblogs will probably be full of people expressing delight about seeing the original post again or seeing it for the first time.

11. You don’t want to be Tumblr famous.

There are niche blogs that are dedicated to one thing and are well liked e.g. @the-haiku-bot (the one bot we love), @writing-prompt-s and @cantheykillmacbeth. However, they are either side blogs or blogs run by multiple people.

Your main blog should just be somewhere you like to spend your time. There are no benefits to being Tumblr famous on your main blog.

12. Tumblr spreads news with this meme

13. Tumblr loves dates. Whether it’s the Ides of March (it sure would be a shame if certain world leaders got stabbed), Halloween (which we start celebrating in about July) or just a random day of the week e.g. ‘Out of Touch Thursday’ there is always something happening that you can celebrate.

14. The staff always pulls a silly and harmless prank on Apil Fools Day. Last year we got to boop each other.

15. We like a silly poll

Okay, I think that’s the basics covered. You’ll get the hang of everything else as you go along.

I hope you have fun here and that you manage to avoid Apollo’s dodgeball of prophecy (try not to joke about a specific way things could get worse or you might be hit).

Yours faithfully,

A Tumblr Cockroach

[earthlybeam]

Hey! I love your post so much!!

I was wondering if requests were open if you could do elves with a reader with a strong accent / uses a lot of slang. Maybe they are a modern person who finds themselves in middle earth or are from a distant land and they speak differently and the elves find them difficult to understand or interesting. Like how they would react to an accent they have never heard before.

Could you do Thranduil, Gil-Galad and Elrond. Thanks so much!!

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m really glad you enjoyed my post! 🥺🫶 The idea of a reader with a strong accent or slang from a modern world—or a distant land—finding themselves in Middle Earth is such a fun concept!🤌 The elves’ reactions to something so foreign would be so interesting. I can imagine them being curious, a bit confused at first, and maybe even a little amused by the strange words and expressions. 🤣🙌

Gil-Galad, Thranduil, Elrond version below.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

The moonlight bathed the shores of Lindon in a pale, ethereal glow. The wind stirred the trees, and the distant waves created a rhythmic sound that mingled with the soft murmurs of the Elves as they moved about their evening tasks. Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, stood upon a balcony, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he gazed out over the sea, lost in thought. The weight of his position was heavy, as it always was, but tonight something tugged at him—an unfamiliar presence, one he had not anticipated.

Cirdan, the shipwright and his trusted ally, had told him of the arrival of a visitor from a distant land, someone who did not belong to the world of Middle-earth as he knew it. A mortal, perhaps? Yet Gil-galad did not know, for the stranger’s origins were as mysterious as their speech.

“High king,” came Cirdan’s voice, breaking the silence. His tone was thoughtful, even with the faintest hint of amusement. “Your guest has arrived. I believe… they are not quite like us.” Gil-galad turned to face him, his gaze sharp. “Not like us?” he asked, his brow furrowing in curiosity. “There is much about their manner and words that is… unlike anything we know here,” Cirdan said with a slight smile, his eyes glinting. “I believe it will intrigue you.”

“I see,” Gil-galad replied, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of interest. “Show them in.” Moments later, you appeared before him, striding across the stone courtyard with an energy that immediately set you apart from the Elves around you. Gil-galad’s sharp eyes took you in—the unfamiliar clothes, the confident but unrefined manner, and the way you looked at him with a blend of curiosity and… amusement? You were clearly not from around here, that much was evident. You gave a small, almost mischievous smile. “Hey there, big guy,” you said, taking in the grandness of Lindon with a casual wave of your hand. “This place is, like, wild. What’s with all the fancy towers and perfect hair?”

Gil-galad blinked, surprised. Your words were laced with a peculiar accent—one he had never heard before. And the way you spoke… It was unlike the soft and measured tones of the Elves, full of unfamiliar slang and casual ease. His eyes flickered toward Cirdan, seeking some explanation.

“You speak… differently,” Gil-galad said, his voice smooth, though there was an edge of confusion in it. “I do not understand all that you say.” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with an easy smile, unfazed by his apparent confusion. “Oh, sorry, yeah. I tend to ramble, don’t I?” you said, laughing. “I mean, I’m just sayin’ this place is, like, really somethin’. I thought it’d be all mystical and glowing but it’s got this vibe, you know?”

Gil-galad frowned slightly, still trying to piece together the meaning behind your words. Vibe? Mystical? He understood the individual words, of course, but the way they were strung together was a puzzle. “Vibe?” he asked, his tone almost imperceptibly softer. “What do you mean by… ‘vibe’? And how do you speak so quickly?”

You chuckled, shrugging with a casual air, your arms crossing. “It’s just the way we talk back home. I dunno if you folks are big on slang or anything, but ‘vibe’ means… like the overall feel of a place, you know? Like how the air feels when you walk into a room.” Gil-galad’s brow furrowed deeper. The Noldor were known for their language, refined and ancient, carrying the weight of their long history. To hear something so informal, so unpolished as your words, was… strange. He had never encountered anything like it.

“It seems you… speak in a way I do not fully comprehend,” Gil-galad admitted, choosing his words carefully, his usual control slipping just a little as he tried to process your speech. “The Elven tongues have many layers, but your words are—” he paused, searching for the right term, “—different.” You grinned widely, clearly enjoying the mix of fascination and bewilderment in his voice. “Guess I’m a bit of a puzzle, huh? Yeah, I get it. It’s like how you folks talk with all your big words and formal stuff, and I’m over here just… keepin’ it casual.”

Gil-galad’s lips twitched, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he had ever been so thrown off by someone’s way of speaking, but there was something… endearing about it. Despite the confusion, despite the difficulty in understanding you fully, there was a rawness in your presence that reminded him of the more untamed parts of Middle-earth—the parts he often tried to control, to order.

“You are…” Gil-galad’s voice trailed off as he studied you, searching for the right words. “You are not from here, are you?” You shook your head, still smiling. “Nah, I’m not. You could say I’m from, like, a whole different world or something. But that’s a story for another time.” You met his gaze, your eyes bright, almost teasing. “Not that you’d probably understand it, what with all the old-world mystic vibes and all.” Gil-galad’s expression softened, though it remained composed. “I have lived long, and in many lands,” he said slowly. “But even I have not encountered a tongue such as yours.”

“And that’s what makes me fun, right?” you quipped, winking at him. Gil-galad didn’t reply immediately, his gaze thoughtful as he tried to digest your words. You were so different from him, and yet, there was something in your manner that was oddly appealing. You were free, untethered by the constraints of Elven nobility, yet there was no mistaking the respect you gave him. “You speak with such… enthusiasm,” he remarked. “It is unlike anything I have heard in all my years. There is a certain charm in it.”

“Charming, huh?” You let out a laugh. “I’m not exactly refined like the rest of your people, but I’ll take it. So what’s your deal, King Gil-galad? What do you really do around here besides stand around lookin’ all serious?” Gil-galad’s lips curved into a rare, faint smile. “I do more than stand, I assure you,” he said, his tone a touch warmer now. “But I do believe it is time I learn more of this… language of yours.”

“Yeah, I’m down to teach ya,” you said, crossing your arms. “I can be your personal translator for the day. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Might take a minute to get used to the way I talk, though.” Gil-galad studied you carefully, something about your openness and candidness intriguing him. You were no diplomat, no ruler, no ancient elf with thousands of years of history behind you. But there was a sincerity in the way you carried yourself—something raw and unpretentious that reminded him that not all wisdom came from ages past.

“I think we shall manage,” Gil-galad said with a nod, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps you will teach me to be less formal as well.” You laughed at that, the sound rich and warm in the quiet night. It was strange, in a way, to feel so at ease in the presence of a king who had lived for so long, but somehow, you both seemed to understand that there was more to life than just ancient traditions and formal speech.

The evening stretched on, filled with laughter and words neither of you fully understood, but both willing to learn. And as the stars glittered above them, Gil-galad found, for the first time in a long while, that perhaps the most important lessons were not those learned in battle or diplomacy, but those learned in the most unexpected of conversations.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The air in the Woodland Realm was still, the ancient trees standing as silent sentinels to the kingdom’s secrets. Thranduil stood with a regal poise on the edge of his grand hall, his gaze fixed on the figure before him. The stranger—an unusual one, by his standards—stood confidently in the clearing. Their presence was a stark contrast to the elegance of the Elves. The fabric of their clothes, though somewhat practical, looked foreign. But it was the way they spoke that caught Thranduil off guard.

The words tumbled from their lips in a manner entirely foreign to his ears. The accent was thick, with an odd cadence, and the slang they used danced around his mind, just out of reach. He could catch a few familiar words, but much of the meaning eluded him. “Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” the voice came, and Thranduil’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the tone. “This place is nuts… like, proper middle of nowhere, right? Never thought I’d end up here, honestly. Guess you lot don’t get many people from the… uh, not-forest places.”

Thranduil tilted his head, an elegant motion, as his sharp elven ears struggled to catch the meaning. Middle of nowhere? He had never heard such a phrase. His people did not speak of the world in such terms. And “not-forest places”? What could that mean? “Your speech,” Thranduil began, his voice calm yet with an undercurrent of controlled curiosity, “it is strange to my ears. Where do you hail from, exactly?”

The figure in front of him straightened, clearly aware that they were under scrutiny. They scratched the back of their neck in a casual, almost dismissive manner that only added to Thranduil’s growing intrigue. “Oh, um… that’s a bit of a long story,” they replied with a shrug, their accent thick but the words were clearly meant for simplicity. “Guess I just kinda fell into this… whole thing, y’know? Not really my fault, but now that I’m here, what’s the deal with all the shiny stuff? And the trees, man—these things are huge. Bet the squirrels are like, super chill, huh?”

Thranduil’s lips parted slightly as he processed the strange jumble of words. “Shiny stuff? Squirrels? Your words are a confusing riddle. Elves speak in a manner more… precise.” His sharp gaze swept over you, noting the way you moved with an ease that his people did not often display, a casualness that seemed to clash with the forest’s ancient rhythm. “Yeah, well… I ain’t exactly an elf,” you responded, chuckling as if the concept were simple. “But hey, I’ll get the hang of it, right?”

Thranduil’s sharp eyes narrowed, his attention suddenly focused more intently on you. There was something about the ease with which you handled your strange predicament that intrigued him. And yet, your words—your manner—it unsettled him, as if the foundation of all his knowledge was being subtly twisted. There was no dignity in the way you spoke, no formality. He leaned in slightly, curiosity mingling with an edge of caution. “You seem… unfamiliar with the ways of this world. How did you come to find yourself here?”

You blinked, taking a moment to gauge the seriousness in his tone. It was clear he wasn’t quite grasping your meaning, but the question wasn’t offensive. It was more… academic. There was an odd, almost disarming kindness in the way he looked at you, despite his regal airs. “Oh, that?” You grinned, a flicker of humor in your eyes. “You could say I… stumbled into this. Some kinda magic, or, well… let’s just call it a crazy ride, yeah?”

Thranduil took a step back, his golden hair shimmering in the dim light of the forest as he processed your words. He didn’t understand what you meant by “crazy ride,” but he felt something… amused by the strangeness of it. Perhaps it was your nonchalance, or the gleam in your eyes that didn’t quite match the bewilderment he expected from someone stranded in his realm. “You stumbled here, you say?” He regarded you for a moment, unable to hide the slight flicker of skepticism in his voice. “And now you wander freely, as though this is a matter of no importance?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to make a fuss when the trees are talkin’ to you like they’re old friends,” you said, half-joking, as you gestured to the forest around you. “And no one really seems to know what’s goin’ on. I’m just rollin’ with it.” Thranduil’s gaze softened for a moment, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he took in your manner. He had never met a being so… different. Your casualness was a sharp contrast to the Elven decorum he had known for millennia. Yet, he could not help but feel something akin to admiration for your tenacity, even if your words made little sense to him.

“You are… unusual,” he said carefully, as if tasting the word on his tongue. “But you intrigue me. The language of your people… it is foreign to me, but perhaps there is something to be learned from it.” You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Well, glad to be of service, my dude.” You smirked, completely unaware of the significance of the moment.

Thranduil blinked slowly, his brow furrowing once more at the strange, informal tone. “My dude?” He repeated, unsure of the meaning. You chuckled at his confusion, the edge of amusement in your voice. “Right, I guess that’s more of a… human thing. Kinda like calling someone ‘pal,’ I guess?” Thranduil gave a slow nod, absorbing your explanation. “Pal…” He repeated, testing the word out. He wondered how such a simple term could hold so much meaning, but he didn’t linger on it. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes sharpening. “It seems I have much to learn from you, though you will need to speak more clearly for me to understand your… distant language.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice now, a faint undercurrent of respect that wasn’t easily earned. It made you smile, though you couldn’t quite tell why. The enigmatic Elf King might be difficult to read, but there was something compelling in the way he regarded you. Perhaps this crazy ride had brought you more than just strange forests and talking trees. You grinned. “I can do that, no problem. You’ll get used to me.” You tilted your head, eyeing him playfully. “You sure you don’t wanna join me for some of that ‘crazy ride’?” Thranduil’s eyes gleamed, a glint of something unreadable flashing in them. “I think, perhaps, I will.”

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

The air in Rivendell was crisp, the sound of birdsong and gentle winds echoing through the valley. Elrond stood in his study, his brow furrowed in concentration as he gazed out over the peaceful landscape of Imladris. His thoughts were consumed by the weight of the decisions ahead, the choices of the Free Peoples, and the threat of Mordor looming in the distance. His centuries of wisdom had prepared him for many things, but not this.

The door to his study creaked open softly, and he turned, his piercing gaze landing on you. You had arrived in Rivendell only a short while ago, an outsider in a land that was both foreign and strange. You weren’t like the others. Your presence, the way you spoke, and the peculiar words that left your lips all intrigued him.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he caught the strange cadence in your voice, the strange rhythm of the words that you spoke. His Elvish ears, so attuned to the music of language, found your speech difficult to decipher. It wasn’t that your words were harsh; it was simply… different. He had heard many tongues in his long life, but never one quite like yours.

“Ah, so ye want me to sit here all proper-like, huh?” you said, stepping into the room with a playful grin, oblivious to the way your accent twisted the common tongue. Your speech was rough and carefree, filled with slang, like something foreign to his refined sensibilities. The words tumbled out of your mouth in rapid fire, a string of sounds Elrond found himself straining to understand.

He straightened, observing you with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. His brow furrowed in quiet contemplation as you continued to speak, leaning against the doorframe, clearly unaware of the slight hesitation in his stance. “Didn’t think a place like this would be so high and mighty, y’know? All these tall towers, fancy dresses,” you mused, glancing around the room, your voice carrying the energy of one who had not yet been swept into the formalities of their surroundings. “But it’s nice here, too—peaceful. Got my own thing, y’know? Can vibe with it.”

Elrond, ever the disciplined leader, took a step forward. His voice was measured and deliberate, his curiosity evident but still restrained. “I must admit, I find your manner of speech… unfamiliar, yet intriguing. Is this a tongue of your people? I confess, I do not recognize it. Where do you hail from?”

You leaned back, giving him a half-smile. “Oh, me? I’m just from a whole different world, mate. Not sure how I ended up here, but hey, it’s been a wild ride. Not used to all the fancy ways ‘round here. I’m more about the hustle, you know?” You spoke with a casual ease, completely unaware of how much your tone and the unfamiliar words startled him.

He blinked, trying to comprehend what you had said. There was a long silence before he finally responded, his voice low, laced with a softness that came from his deep curiosity. “You… speak of a ‘world’… a different world, I presume? A place not of Middle-earth?” His tone was full of the gentle curiosity of an ancient being trying to piece together the meaning of something wholly foreign to him.

“Yeah, something like that,” you replied with a shrug, clearly amused by his confusion. “I guess you could say I’m not exactly from these parts, but, hey, we all gotta make do with what we’ve got, right? No sense in overthinking it. I just… fit in, you know? It’s kinda like this big adventure for me.” Elrond found himself deeply intrigued by your words, your mannerisms, and the way your accent blended with your speech. It wasn’t just the strangeness of the words—it was the way you moved, the way you seemed at ease despite being surrounded by things so ancient and foreign. It was almost as though you didn’t quite fit into the world he had known for millennia, yet you stood there, as confident as the mightiest of kings.

“Your… words,” Elrond began, “are like no tongue I have heard. It is… not unpleasant, but curious. There is a rhythm in your speech, an energy that feels… out of place here, but also somehow fitting in a strange way.” You chuckled at his thoughtful tone, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s what they keep telling me. I guess I’m just not one for all that formal speech stuff. Seems a bit stiff to me, y’know? But I get why it’s important. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”

Elrond looked at you, his expression softening as he took in your words. His fascination with you grew. He could see the way you navigated Rivendell’s ancient halls with an ease that defied the formalities the elves held dear. It was as though you were in your own world, one that wasn’t bound by time or rules, and yet here, in his presence, you were fully yourself. “You are… different,” Elrond said, his tone gentle. “But there is something captivating about you, something that speaks to me in a way no other has before. Though your ways may be foreign to us, I sense… a kindred spirit within you. One who is unafraid to embrace the unknown.”

You grinned widely at his words, moving closer to him. “Well, that’s me alright. Always up for something new. And hey, if you ever need someone to teach you how to talk with a bit more… flair, you know where to find me.” Elrond’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly at the suggestion, a soft, amused laugh escaping him. “Perhaps I shall take you up on that offer, though I doubt my old ears will ever fully understand the way you speak.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” you said, giving him a teasing wink. “I’m a good teacher.” And as you stood there, the distance between two worlds—one ancient, one new—seemed to shrink just a little. Despite your differences, despite the barriers of language and culture, a quiet understanding settled between you both, a bond forming in the quiet moments of curiosity and laughter. Elrond, the wise and ancient elf, found himself more intrigued than he ever expected, watching as you brought a breath of life, so full of wonder and uncertainty, into the timeless halls of Rivendell.

As for you, standing there before him, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. It was as if this land of elves had a place for you after all, even if you still had much to learn about it. And maybe, just maybe, Elrond—the ancient elf lord—wasn’t as distant as he first seemed.

[millenianthemums]

Chapter 6 of Mabel’s Guide to the Power of Friendship is up!!

Writing this one took me a while, and then the art also took a while… everything took a while. i always enjoy writing this once i get to it, though! hope you enjoy this one too.

chapter text under cut:

It was hard for Mabel to really relax, knowing that Bill was lurking just below the floorboards. But by the time the sun was low and her family was gathered around the dinner table, she’d mostly put it out of her mind. It was hard to be miserable with them around.

“You think Soos will bring more empanadas when he’s here tomorrow?” Dipper asked, picking at the strangely opalescent casserole on his plate.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insinuating something about my cooking,” Ford said wryly.

“Whaaat? No! No, don’t be– that’s ridiculous,” Dipper said. “This is great! I mean, it’s a million times better than last time, this one didn’t even come to life and attack us–”

“Don’t jinx it,” Stan said.

“Hey, c’mon, guys,” Mabel piped up. “It’s the thought that counts, right? It’s really sweet that he tried. Besides, even Grunkle Ford can’t be perfect at everything.”

Ford chuckled. “Thank you, Mabel. As far as backhanded compliments go, that’s quite nice.”

“It’s true!” she said. “So what if you’re not a chef? You invent, like, six magical contraptions a week!”

“That’s a wild exaggeration,” Ford said with a grin. “It’s been at least a month since the last one. Although Fiddleford and I have made some real progress on our current project…”

“New project?” Dipper perked up. “What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know if the details will interest you that much–”

“Shaaare!” Mabel demanded. Dipper immediately joined in, both of them pumping their fists and shouting “Share! Share! Share!” until Ford laughed and gave in. They all knew he didn’t really need that much encouragement, but it was fun anyway.

“Alright, alright! I’ll tell you.” Ford waved his hands to set the scene, the way he always did when he started talking about science stuff. “So, we all know that unicorn tears have remarkable healing properties, right? But we also know that unicorns aren’t generous creatures, and trying to obtain some tears by force often creates more injuries than they could ever heal.”

Stan snorted. “And how many tries did it take for that lesson to set in?”

“Not the topic, Stanley. Anyway, our goal was to synthetically recreate the healing properties of the tears, eliminating the need to seek out the real thing. This has been in the works for a long time; in fact, our biggest breakthroughs came from studying the sample Mabel and her friends obtained last year…”

Dipper extended a fist to Mabel, and she proudly bumped it.

“...And I must say, we’ve had some very promising results with the latest prototypes! There have been some hiccups here and there– we really should have fireproofed the lab sooner– but I think in the next few weeks, we might even end up with something that could surpass the healing properties of unicorn tears!”

“Nice!” Mabel held out a fist to Ford. “Take that, you overrated horses!”

Ford laughed, accepting the fist bump. Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Here’s hoping you get it workin’ before we set out again. It’d make things way less stressful on the boat. Heck, the coast guard medics might even have time to forget our names!”

“Wait, you’re setting out again?” Dipper asked. “When?”

“End of the summer, same as you kids!” Stan said proudly. “First thing in September, we’re headed right back out there.”

Ford nodded. “We still have a lot more to investigate. I expect we’ll be very busy once Fall comes around, which is why I’m under strict orders to ‘take it easy’ while we’re here. Otherwise, the elixir would probably be finished by now–” Stan crossed his arms, and Ford quickly added “--but I completely understand the point of it. Rest is important, kids.”

“Darn right,” Stan grunted. “Far as I’m concerned, we’re both on vacation for the summer.”

Dipper tapped his fork on his chin. “So you won’t be studying Gravity Falls for a while?”

“C’mon, brobro,” Mabel chided. “Grunkle Ford’s willingly taking a break for once, let’s not remind him of all the extra stuff he could be doing!”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dipper protested. “I’m just saying…”

“It’s a fair question,” Ford said. “There certainly are plenty of mysteries left unsolved around here. But I think Stanley and I have broadened our focus a bit too much to give special attention to Gravity Falls anymore. Just our brief stay in the Arctic Circle alone has raised so many fascinating questions, and we still have so many more places to investigate… there’s just not enough time to solve all the world’s mysteries, I’m afraid.”

“Hey, relax, Poindexter,” Stan cut in, shoving Ford’s shoulder. “We’re not the only ones working on this stuff. Something tells me Gravity Falls’ll be in good hands, even without us.” He gave Dipper a meaningful wink. Mabel couldn’t help but smile at the way her brother’s face lit up.

“Hey, guys?” Dipper asked, leaning back in his chair and trying to seem subtle. “Can we talk after dinner? I was hoping to get some feedback on this project I’m working on…”

Mabel’s smile faded. “Is it about that dumb thesis contest?” She turned to the Grunkles and pointed accusingly at Dipper. “He won’t let me help with it! He wouldn’t shut up about how cool it would be to win and get a big smarty-pants paper published, and now that he’s allowed to start working on it he won’t even tell me what it’s gonna be about! I could have done like fifty illustrations by now if—”

“I told you, there’s nothing to share yet!” Dipper protested. “I’ve… kinda been putting it off. I’ve still got a week until the topic proposal’s due…”

“Then what do you need Stan and Ford’s ‘feedback’ on?”

Dipper tugged at his shirt collar. “Uh… it’s…”

“I could help,” she said, voice a little louder than she’d wanted. “Even if it’s something I’m bad at, I could help make it look cool. If you just told me a little bit about it…”

Dipper sighed. “Look, Mabel, I promise I’ll share it with you soon, okay? I just… I want it to be a surprise.”

Mabel looked at him doubtfully over the rim of her water glass. She wanted to keep prying, but it was clear she was just making him uncomfortable. He didn’t want her help, he just didn’t know how to say it. She could tell.

“Okay,” she said, trying not to sound hurt. It was fine, really. She had high-speed bike riding; Dipper was allowed to have things just for himself too. It was normal for twins to grow apart. She drained the rest of her glass and stared down at the tablecloth.

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Stan spoke up. “Speaking of surprises. Hey Sixer, remember that thing we ran into off the coast of Greenland in March?”

Ford laughed. “How could I possibly forget? Now, kids, I don’t know about you, but nothing in my paleontology education gave me the impression that wooly mammoths were aquatic…”

Soon Mabel was too wrapped up in seafaring stories to be sad about anything.

——-

Bill must have fallen asleep at some point. He’d been lying there, in the basement, in the dark, with the Pines’ infernal voices ringing above him, but then something had happened. The voices changed. And suddenly he wasn’t in a basement anymore. He was lying on an exam table, and his arms were strapped down, and his eye wouldn’t close, and the air was thick with antiseptic. And there were voices all around him, moving around him, but he knew he couldn’t look, he just had to keep his eye focused on the stars overhead, just don’t look, just don’t look at them, just pretend they’re not there, pretend you’re among the stars and nothing’s happening, nothing hurts. So he didn’t look away, not even when the quiet voices he could hear through the pain changed again, became painfully familiar, he still didn’t look, even when they started screaming, even when their cries and pleading were drowned out by the sounds of flames, even when the heat waves twisted the air and the crunching, sizzling, tearing sounds and the smell of burning meat drowned out all his other senses he still didn’t look, he didn’t look down, he wouldn’t–

And then he was back in the basement. It was dark and still. The only sound was his own ragged breathing.

He sat up and scrubbed at his face with the blanket he’d been wrapped in. Dreams. He hadn’t been ready to deal with dreams. Other people’s dreams were a riot. Not his own.

He’d been distracted too quickly to dwell on the last one. He’d foolishly hoped that would be the last one for a while. But no, of course not. This world couldn’t allow him even a moment of peace. Every sleep was going to be like this.

In the dark, he staggered to the small bathroom in the back of the room. He ran the cold water in the sink and rinsed his mouth until he forgot the taste of the smoke. It was so vivid. So convincing. Even though none of it had made any sense, it felt real.

He stared numbly at the mirror. Their voices. He’d remembered them, of course. Despite all the worlds that had sprouted and withered between then and now, despite everything he’d tried, he’d never been able to stop remembering them. But he never thought he’d have to hear those voices again.

Someone knocked at the door.

His first thought was “thank god”. He’d been desperately hoping for anything else to think about. His second thought, as he heard the door unlock, was “that could be anybody”. So he stood just at the edge of the room and prepared to run for cover, until a small, high-pitched voice said “It’s me.”

Bill relaxed a little. Not a lot, but more than zero. He scrubbed his face dry and straightened his bowtie before she entered, trying to look as stoic as possible. She didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she rushed in and slumped against the door to shut it. Both her hands were busy carrying an overloaded paper plate.

Trying her best to not let it fold under the weight of the food piled onto it, she glanced around for a surface to place it on. The curved lid of the wooden chest was considered, then quickly rejected when the plate started sliding. She winced before resorting to setting it down on the floor beside the beanbag. Finally, she retrieved a packet of plastic utensils from a takeout place and laid it beside the plate, trying to make it look presentable.

“We need to get a table or something in here,” she muttered as Bill drew closer to inspect the offering.

“YEAH, SOME APPLIANCES WOULD BE NICE TOO,” he joked. “I’M THINKIN’ A STUDIO APARTMENT KIND OF SETUP. WASHER AND DRYER OVER THERE, THAT CORNER’S THE KITCHEN… FULL-SIZE JACUZZI ON THAT SIDE, OBVIOUSLY…”

“I have six dollars,” Mabel piped up.

Bill laughed before he could stop himself. Encouraged, she went on: “I mean, there’s an empty fish tank and a car battery in the garage. We could make a hole in the side and stick a blowdryer in there for a jet. That’d be fine, right?”

He laughed again. “I LIKE WHERE YOUR HEAD’S AT, KID. IF WE SHUT OFF THE SPRINKLERS, WE COULD SET UP A FIRE PIT IN THE KITCHEN CORNER!”

“Perfect plan!” Mabel laughed along with him, but then seemed to think better of it. “But okay, hold on, we can start with the home renovations later. For now, you should eat.” She pointed to the plate. “It’s just some leftovers from tonight. Figured taking more snacks would look suspicious. But if it, uh… disagrees with you… then just let me know tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a glowing review. Looking dubiously at the alleged “food” on the plate, he didn’t see much reason to doubt it. Still, he tried to look grateful as he picked up a plastic fork. “WILL DO,” he said, trying not to look down.

“I’ll come back down tomorrow, before the others wake up,” she said, crossing back over to the door. “Including Grunkle Ford… ugh, that’s gonna suck. But once I’m back, we’ll figure out a plan, okay?”

Bill glanced around the room. “I THOUGHT THIS WAS THE PLAN,” he said.

“C’mon, you can’t just stay in one tiny dark room all summer! This isn’t Guacamole or something.”

Bill snorted. “GUANTANAMO?”

“Whatever,” she said, flushing. “The point is we need to get you outside once in a while. You have scales, things with scales need sunlight or they get sick. And what’s the point of all this work if you get sick and die??”

She had a point there. Bill shifted uncomfortably, realizing he wasn’t totally sure if the sun thing would apply to him or not. “YEAH, FAIR ENOUGH. KEEP FORGETTING THIS…” he gestured to the body, “…THING NEEDS ‘VITAMINS’ AND SUCHLIKE.”

“Relatable, honestly. But there’s a bunch more stuff to plan out, too! We need to be able to contact each other in emergencies. And, like, a secret knock so you know when it’s me, and a code to communicate…” as she spoke, her hands started flapping with excitement. “Oh my gosh, it’s like one of those spy games Dipper likes. We could make a guidebook with all this stuff! Like a, what, codex? For the code? We could make our own code! You can handle that part— I know that’s your thing, it’s literally your name… I get to do all the art, though. It can have a scrapbook vibe— I gotta find my craft scissors with the zig-zags—”

“KID.” Bill cut her off. “I KNOW IT’S IN YOUR NATURE NOT TO TAKE STUFF SERIOUSLY. IT’S A GOOD TRAIT! MAKES LIFE A LOT MORE BEARABLE. BUT THIS ISN’T SOME SILLY SUMMER CRAFT PROJECT. THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH, GOT IT? CAN WE TRY TO ACT LIKE IT’S IMPORTANT?”

She looked hurt. “Silly things are still important,” she muttered. “We could hide it in here. And even if someone finds it, it could be any goofy old thing I made! Dipper showed me how to do that invisible ink thing; I could act like the empty space is just unfinished parts! I dunno, I just… I thought it’d make this whole thing a little more fun.”

Bill squinted at her as she stared at the floor, arms crossed tight over her chest. Then he rolled his eye. Maybe he was being a choosing beggar here. This was Mabel Pines; of course she’d want to make some stupid game out of this. And the whole plan was to humor her. If this was what it took to keep her invested, he should probably just play along.

“OKAY, FINE. I’M IN,” he sighed. “WE CAN MAKE A BOOK OR WHATEVER.”

She lit up again. “Really?? Yes! Awesome! It’ll be so fun, I promise.” She paused and glanced at the dark window. “But we can start that later. I gotta go get at least a tiny bit of sleep first.”

Bill shrugged. “SURE. CAN’T KEEP THIS BODY ALIVE IF YOURS GIVES OUT.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she snorted. “And see you in the morning.” She gave a quick wave before shutting the door behind her.

Watching the door, he heard the heavy “clunk” of the lock clicking shut, then rapid footsteps bounding up the staircase. He sighed and pinched his forehead. That much youthful energy couldn’t be sustainable. She probably wouldn’t live past 20.

As he waited for the various noises and occupants of the house to settle, he wolfed down the food as fast as he could. The kid was right to be apologetic, but if he ate quickly, he didn’t taste it much. It was just fuel anyway.

When the plate was finally empty, he dropped it back to the floor and picked up the plastic fork. He rinsed it in the sink as well as he could, wiped it dry with the paper napkin that came with the set, then bent one of the tines away from the others. He leaned one side against the crack in the door, listening intently to the silence from above. There wasn’t a whisper of movement.

He stuck the tine of the fork into the lock.

It was more stubborn than your typical household lock, but Bill had bested much worse with much less. It only took a little finagling before he heard the “clunk” he was listening for. Slowly, cautiously, he eased the door open. The hallway was dark and empty. He stashed his impromptu lockpick in his hat, locked the door behind him, and crept up into the house.

—-

The place was as quiet and dark as he’d hoped for. He’d been right to judge by the footsteps above him that they’d all gone to bed. And thankfully, even without his usual glow, the stars outside were bright enough to see by. He crept along with his back against the wall, testing each floorboard before he stepped, scanning his surroundings.

The decor was about the same as he remembered, with a few notable changes. A lot of the ceiling and walls had been replaced; probably necessary after they turned it into a big stupid robot last year. And it seemed like someone else might have moved in. There were some new decorations that weren't anything close to the “style” he’d come to expect from the place. Lace doilies hung from the tops of chairs and sofas like dusty cobwebs, and handmade blankets and wall hangings were scattered all around. Shooting Star was crafty, sure, but these didn’t look like her handiwork. The colors were way too easy on the eye, and there wasn’t a crumb of glitter to be seen. If they were her doing, they were a big step down in quality.

But if they weren’t, it meant an extra person to deal with. Better keep his eye out.

He turned a corner and a massive shape blotted out the hallway ahead. He scrambled back, clenching his teeth tight beneath his eyelids to stop a yell from escaping.

Then his eye adjusted, and he had to stifle an irritated growl. It was just that stupid pig. He’d forgotten how huge it was now, and it looked a lot less pathetic from a low angle. It was sitting in the middle of the floor, directly in his path, staring down at him. Its eyes glittered in the moonlight like two tiny black teeth.

Bill glared up at it defiantly. Just let it try and make a move. He might not have magic, but he still had claws and teeth. A ripped throat wasn’t as flashy as immolation, but it was still perfectly fatal.

The pig returned his stare with no discernable expression. A few silent seconds crept by.

Then the pig gave a grumbly snort and laid its head on the ground. It flopped onto one side and closed its eyes with an indifferent sigh.

Bill hurried on, telling himself to thank his lucky stars instead of feeling indignant. Still, his ego stung a little. Not even livestock saw him as a threat anymore.

To his relief, he had no more surprise encounters as he cased the second floor. The layout of the rooms was about the same as before, which meant the sounds of walking from above his little home base would still be a reliable method of tracking the inhabitants. He steered well clear of all the bedrooms and kept his back to the wall, and the floorboards beneath him kept silent. He was out of practice with walking, sure, but nobody who grew up causing problems ever forgets how to sneak through a hallway.

Once he’d made mental notes of all the storage spaces that might have supplies he could use, he headed for the portal. On the way through the gift shop he snagged a small notepad and pen from behind the desk. Scanning over the portal wreckage, he made a list of the missing components and tools he’d need. In code, obviously; secret codes were literally his name, after all.

Once the darkness outside started to lift away, he cut his work short and headed back. He tore the used page from the notebook and placed it and the pen back where he’d found them, exchanging them for a single paperclip that he stashed in his hat with the paper. That was all he felt comfortable taking for now. It was much too early to start gathering supplies. Anything left out of place would definitely make the kid suspicious. For now, he’d just plan. Make sure everything went as smoothly as it possibly could. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get all the power tools and steel he’d need down to the basement without being noticed, but there was no point freaking out about it now. He’d figure out logistics later. He could pull this off. He was going to pull this off. He had no other choice.

By the time the first pink rays of light had breached the horizon, he was back in the cell. The paperclip made a perfectly serviceable lockpick to latch the door behind him. Like nothing ever happened.

He curled up in his nest of blankets, trying to hold his eye open. Hoping to ward off the dreams a little longer. But eventually his exhaustion won the battle. His eye slid shut.

Maybe the next dream would at least be over quick.

—-

Bill’s wish came true. As soon as he jolted awake, he regretted making it. It felt like he’d been yanked out of a tar pit by his eyelashes, but his brain stayed behind. His head, chest and eye socket all felt like they were stuffed with wet cotton, and his bones were shaking with this sudden painful chill. His thoughts were so slow and muffled that it took a second for him to even realize that someone was staring him right in the face. He lurched away and fell backwards off the beanbag.

Mabel poked her head over the beanbag and beamed down at where he lay on the floor in a tangle of blankets. “Morning!” she said in a bright half-whisper. “How’d you sleep?”

Bill glared up at her with silent disdain. After a moment, she seemed to take that as an answer. “Yeah, me too. Had a lot of stress dreams. Anyway, time to figure some stuff out.”

She disappeared from view for a moment, then reappeared at his side with a fuzzy pink notebook and a chunky pink pen with a glittery pom-pom topper. She leafed through the book for a minute, then looked up at Bill. “You ok?”

“I’M DYING,” Bill croaked. It was barely hyperbole. That freezing, sinking pain just kept getting worse. Every second he kept his eye open, it felt like gravity increased tenfold.

Mabel hissed through her teeth. “Hold on a second.” She vanished from view again, then popped back in with a mason jar full of what looked like the fluid from inside a neon pink glowstick. She propped him upright and shoved it into his hands. “Drink this.”

Bill ought to have been at least a little suspicious of a drink presented so vaguely. But a billion years of drinking cocktails made from substances meant to power quantum reactions, combined with the weight of sheer exhaustion muffling all his thoughts, meant that he barely hesitated before lifting the jar to his eyelids and taking a gulp.

A second later, his eye shot wide open. “WHOA!” he shouted, blinking rapidly.

“Ooh, I might’ve put too many pop rocks in that batch,” Mabel said. She grabbed the jar and shook it, sending frozen fruit shapes and plastic dinosaurs clattering around in a glittery whirlpool. “Mixing it usually helps. Dipper keeps telling me to warn people before I give them this stuff—”

Bill grabbed the jar back. He took an approving glance at the crazy-looking drink— now that his brain was working, he could fully appreciate the vibe— and then knocked back another mouthful. A rush of energy buzzed through his brain, setting his neurons alight like christmas lights hooked up to a nuclear reactor. The dangerously sugary concoction stung the inside of his mouth like acid, but this was a fun kind of pain. “OH, THIS IS PHENOMENAL.”

Mabel’s face lit up. “You like it??”

“DO I?!” One more swig and the jar was empty, and Bill was actually bouncing in place a little. “I FEEL LIKE A WHOLE NEW TRIANGLE! WHAT IS THAT?!”

“It’s Mabel Juice!” she beamed. “My own personal secret recipe! It’s so secret, not even I know what the secret is! Seriously, I hardly ever write the ingredients down.”

Bill laughed. “WELL, COLOR ME IMPRESSED, KID! I HAVEN’T HAD A DRINK THAT GOOD SINCE THAT BATTERY ACID DAQUIRI I MIXED BACK IN THE ‘30s. AND THIS ONE DIDN’T EVEN DISSOLVE MY STOMACH!”

Mabel’s smile dropped for a second, then returned. “I’ll take that as a compliment!” she said proudly. “I’ll bring more down later. I’ve got a million different brews you can try! The others don’t drink much of it, they always complain about how there’s ‘so much sugar’ and it ‘burns their mouths’ or whatever…”

“HEY, THEIR LOSS! I’LL TAKE IT OFF YOUR HANDS! EXTRA BURNING ON THE SIDE, IF YOU’VE GOT IT,” Bill offered. He had to hand it to the kid; she made pouring on the charm pretty easy. In a better world, he would’ve hired her as a barista in the Fearamid.

Mabel grinned, but then her face froze. From somewhere upstairs, the familiar sound of heavy, clomping footsteps rang through the ceiling.

Bill froze in place too, his eye locked on the ceiling. His teeth clenched tight behind his eye socket as he tried to repress his anger. Like a favorite song after you set it as your morning alarm, that sound made his blood boil on contact.

“Grunkle Ford’s up,” Mabel whispered. Bill glanced over to see her watching the ceiling too. “I thought he’d at least sleep ‘til five…”

“RISKY GAMBLE THERE,” Bill muttered. “FORD DOESN’T HAVE A SLEEP SCHEDULE, HE JUST WORKS ‘TIL HE KEELS OVER.”

“He’s working on it,” Mabel said defensively. Maybe Bill hadn’t kept all the derision out of his voice. He kept his mouth shut, just to be safe.

“Okay. Alright. This is fine.” The kid was clearly reassuring herself more than him. “He shouldn’t hear us down here. Nobody heard you screaming your head off the other day, they shouldn’t hear us just talking… we should be fine for now. As long as he doesn’t wander down here and happen to just randomly get close to this room. Or wander upstairs to his office and pass our bedroom and happen to look in and notice I’m not there. So as long as he stays on the exact floor he’s on now, we’ll be okay…”

“KID, RELAX. YOU SOUND LIKE PINETREE,” Bill laughed. “WITH HOW LOUD THOSE STEPS ARE, WE’LL HAVE A TON OF WARNING IF HE HEADS FOR ANY STAIRS. JUST CUT TO THE CHASE SO YOU DIDN’T WAKE ME UP FOR NOTHING.”

She shot another worried glance at the ceiling, then nodded. “Okay. Sure. The chase… hold on.” She grabbed her notepad and pen again, then started rooting around for something else in the backpack she’d brought. “The Chase, part one. Secret messages. Ooh, that’s good.” She opened the book and labeled the first page with that title. Bill bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that huge pink bubble letters weren’t the best choice for subtlety.

“Now,” she said, throwing the notebook down like a frazzled detective presenting her notes. “I would’ve loved to, like, build a two-way radio out of soda cans, or find a way to send smoke signals through the A/C system or something. But I think we should wait on that ‘til later. Right now, simplicity’s the name of the game.” With a victorious flourish, she revealed the thing she’d fished out of the bag. It took a second for Bill to parse what the battered old thing even was. A cell phone. An ancient, blocky brick of a flip-screen cell phone.

“YEESH!” he exclaimed as she shoved it into his hands. “WHAT ANCIENT BURIAL GROUND DIDJA DIG THIS THING OUT OF? IT’S OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR DAD!”

Mabel snorted. “Give me a break! It was the best one I could find in the closet where Grunkle Stan keeps all his burner phones.”

“WELL, I’D HATE TO SEE THE COMPETITION!” Bill remarked. “WHAT WAS THE WORST ONE, A CLAY TABLET? A BONE CARVED FLUTE TO CALL THE NEANDERTHAL TRIBE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN?”

Mabel hid a giggle behind the turtleneck of her sweater. All according to plan. Jokes were a great way of lowering a mark’s defenses, even if they didn’t land. And despite her best efforts, Shooting Star was a good audience.

He held down the power button and marvelled as the dusty, scuffed screen actually lit up. “WHAAAT! LOOK AT THIS LOGO! THIS COMPANY WENT UNDER IN 2002! THE CEO BURNED DOWN THE OFFICE TO HIDE TAX FRAUD AND MELTED HIS EYELIDS OFF!”

Mabel clapped her hands over her ears. “Ugh!! Why would you tell me that?”

“BECAUSE IT’S HILARIOUS! THE GUY WAS A TOTAL LOSER ANYWAY, HE WAS TOO UPTIGHT TO TAKE MY DEAL AND COULDN’T EVEN HANDLE A WEEK OF NIGHT TERRORS BEFORE HE CRACKED—”

“Anyway!” She cut him off. “This was the only phone I found in the closet that could send texts. We need to be able to keep in touch, so you can let me know if you’re hurt or need more supplies, and I can warn you if people upstairs can hear you practicing your evil laugh or something.”

“WHA— HEY! WHO EVEN— NOBODY NEEDS TO PRACTICE THEIR LAUGH, THAT’S JUST STUPID.” Bill hoped he didn’t sound too defensive. There was no way she actually knew about that, right?

She just rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Point is, that phone is yours. Nobody’ll recognize that number. My number’s in there already, you can text me in morse code if you need something.”

Bill looked up from the phone screen to squint at her. “MORSE? C’MON, KID.”

“What’s wrong with morse?”

“THAT’S THE MOST BASIC CODE IN EXISTENCE! YOU REALLY THINK ANYBODY IN THIS HOUSE WOULDN’T RECOGNIZE MORSE WHEN THEY SAW IT?” he said. “YOU THINK THEY’LL SEE YOU ANSWERING TEXTS IN MORSE FROM SOME RANDOM NUMBER AND HAVE ANY OTHER THOUGHT BESIDES ‘SHE’S HIDING SOMETHING’?”

Mabel sighed. “Okay, fine, Mr. Code Snob. What should we use?”

“WE SHOULDN’T ‘USE’ ANYTHING. WE JUST KEEP THINGS VAGUE AND SIMPLE,” he said. “ANYTHING THAT EVEN LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE CODE WILL JUST GET PEOPLE’S ATTENTION. BESIDES, IN A HOUSE FULL OF CON ARTISTS AND MYSTERY DORKS, I DOUBT THERE’S ANY CODE WE COULD USE ON THIS THING THAT NONE OF THEM WILL RECOGNIZE. THESE TEXTS NEED TO BE AS BORING AND UN-MYSTERIOUS AS THEY CAN POSSIBLY BE. SO BORING THAT NOT EVEN PINETREE IN HIS SNOOPIEST MOOD WOULD GLANCE AT ‘EM TWICE.”

Mabel pursed her lips. “Spam!” she said after a minute. “Dipper and I get spam texts from random numbers all the time. We can make up a system where I know what you’re saying based on what you’re trying to sell me. Like a scam alphabet!”

Bill’s eye crinkled with his version of a grin. “NOW YOU’RE TALKING!”

Mabel grabbed her pen and started rattling off scams to list in her notebook. Stan had clearly taught her well, and between the both of them they soon had a massive list to work from. On the opposite page, they listed phrases to match with each scam. “NEED FOOD”, “NEED SUPPLIES”, “INJURY”, “FIRE”, “RACCOON GOT IN”, and so on. As soon as they had a workable “alphabet”, the kid insisted they start deciding on secret knocks. They’d just started to argue about whether “shave-and-a-haircut” was too uncreative, when suddenly Mabel stopped short and held out a hand. Before Bill could ask what was up, he realized what she’d heard. A voice from upstairs. A voice that was much too prepubescent to be Ford’s.

“Dipper’s up,” Mabel hissed. “Why is Dipper up? He never gets up this early on his own… Did he notice I was gone? Is he looking for me?? How am I gonna get back up without—”

“GEEZ, RELAX,” Bill said. “LOOK, THE STAIRCASE TO THE ATTIC IS RIGHT ACROSS FROM THIS ONE. JUST WAIT UNTIL HE’S IN THE KITCHEN…” he pointed to that corner of the house, from where Ford’s voice was now ringing through the ceiling, “AND YOU CAN SNEAK BACK UP WITHOUT BUMPING INTO HIM. JUST DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU LEAVING THE BASEMENT, AND WE’LL BE FINE.”

“I don’t like how much you know about our house.”

Bill pointed to his eye. “REMEMBER HOW HALF THE DECOR IN HERE USED TO BE MY EYES?”

“Yeah, duh. Doesn’t mean it’s not creepy.” She shuddered, and Bill tried not to laugh. At least the memory of his powers still inspired fear… but he didn’t want her knowing how happy that made him.

Mabel gathered up her stuff and headed for the door. “I gotta go before he notices I’m not sleeping. Soon as I get a chance, I’ll sneak back down and we’ll sort out the other stuff on my checklist.”

“FAIR ENOUGH. BE SEEING YOU, KID.” He couldn’t resist putting a little extra emphasis on that word, pointing to his eye again with a smug, half-lidded smile. Shooting Star was his ally for now, sure. But she shouldn’t forget where things really stood. He was the one who was really in control here.

“And I’ll use the We Will Rock You knock.”

“UGH, COME ON!” Bill protested. “I’M TELLING YOU, SHAVE-AND-A-HAIRCUT IS THE GO-TO FOR A REASON, IT’S PRACTICAL—“

“See ya later!” She winked and vanished through the door. The lock clicked heavily into place.

Bill glared daggers at the door until the sound of footsteps had faded away. Then he took off his hat and rifled through the lining, taking a reassuring glance at his folded-up notes. And the paper clip fastening them in place. That dumb kid put way too much trust in that lock. Did she really not realize the danger she’d let into her house? Did she really not know what she was dealing with?

His eye was drawn in by a soft gleam from deep within the hat. He brushed some fabric aside and stared at the fragment of his dimension. It caught the dim light in the room and threw it back much brighter, twisted into colors that didn’t exist anymore. It hurt to look at it with this new eye. He let his gaze rest on it longer than he should have.

Then he tore his eye away and shoved the hat back on. No, she definitely didn’t know. The fact he was still here— still alive— was proof enough of that.

[shadowsegregious]

some jammy n pip i swear i didnt forget ab them 🩷💙i wanted to add some fun facts pages!!! so theyre under the cut

sorry if the questions are lame/generic 😭

Favorite movie?

🍓OH, FOR SURE LEGALLY BLONDE. ELLE WOODS IS TOTALLY KICKASS!

🫐 hm…i think i like a goofy movie. i like the music. or probably bridge to terabithia.

Favorite colors?

*They glance at each other, amused.

🍓BLUE!

🫐pink.

*For some reason you feel as though you’re not in on the joke…

Favorite book?

🍓UM, WELL LEMME THINK…I WOULD HAVE TO SAY “SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY: COCO CHANEL.” I PICKED IT UP THINKING IT WOULD BE MORE ABOUT FASHION LIKE MY MAGAZINES, BUT IT TURNED OUT TO BE A NONFICTION DRAMA!!! IT’S SUCH AN INTERESTING TALE ABOUT SUCH A MYSTERIOUS PERSON!!

🫐i like my archie comics. my copy of “the physics of everyday things.”

Favorite song?

🍓GIRLFRIEND BY HEMLOCKE SPRINGS!! IT HAS SUCH A FUN BEAT IT JUST MAKES ME WANNA GET UP AND DANCE!

🫐another believer by rufus wainwright. feels right.

Biggest fear?

🍓JEEZ, I’M NOT SO SURE! I PRIDE MYSELF ON BEING AS BRAVE AS I CAN BE!! (ESPECIALLY FOR MY LITTLE BROTHER OVER THERE, EHEH) BUT I THINK I WOULD HAVE TO SAY…BEING FORGOTTEN? MAYBE THAT’S A BIT TOO DREARY.

🫐…

*It looks like he doesn’t want to say.

Any hobbies?

🍓MY BROTHER AND I QUITE ENJOY BAKING! IT'S JUST SOMETHING WE HAVE ALWAYS DONE TOGETHER. HE ALSO LIKES TO DRAW AND HE IS INCREDIBLE AT IT! YOU SHOULD SEE HIS ARTWORK!!!

🫐jeez, pip...

*Jam is blushing a harsh indigo.

🍓HEHEH, I'M SORRY, BROTHER. I ALSO LOVE TO DO MY OWN MAKEUP AND CREATE CLOTHING! I FOUND AN OLD SEWING MACHINE AT THE DUMP ONCE BUT IT DOESN'T WORK ANYMORE. OH WELL!

Any regrets?

🍓HM..I ONCE WENT TO SEE A MTT SHOW LIVE. I REALLY WANTED TO ASK THEM FOR AN AUTOGRAPH BUT HAD GOTTEN..ADMITTEDLY A BIT NERVOUS AND INSTEAD WENT HOME! SUCH A SHAME REALLY.

*Jam pulls you aside.

🫐hey, don't tell him anything, but i totally got that poster for 'em. gyftmas this year is gonna be awesome, heh.

[turtledork02]

oh ... the angst of ratchet ... horrific (beautiful)

i really love learning about your au! it's really good! and your art style is so yummyy!! like fresh crepes

will your au be told through art and story? or just art? or just story?

and what does team prime do on a daily basis? like looking at energon mines and sniping any decepticons that get too close, i understand that, but anything other than that?

oh! and are there going to be any different kind of bots beside autobots and decepticons? any predacons or insecticons?

also, thank you for all the art with some of the asks! i think it's so cool when creators make art for asks, even tho they don't have to. it's super sweet. you're a pretty rad guy!

I unfortunately have a habit of torturing my favorite characters lol-

Also thank you for the compliment on my art!! Have a Miko sketch!! *kiss kiss platonically*

I plan on telling the AU through both art and story!! Although I probably will not write the start of canon plot until I get all the character sheets out, just so that I have time to flesh out the characters and ideas more fully.

As for what Team Prime does on a daily basis! Before they met the humans, they were pretty bored actually lol. They took a lot of time to learn earth culture since they had little else to do. Ratchet and First Aid learned human medicine, and are very skilled at it now! Bumblebee learned about street racing and does that for fun. Sometimes he brings Arcee and/or Wheeljack! Optimus and the others know about it but let him do it so he can have some fun. Wheeljack makes new bombs, inventions, and such on when he’s bored and not working on his studies. Arcee has a training room with holograms that she uses a LOT. She punches things a lot. Optimus does a lot of reading. Like a lot. He has read so much earth literature now and he loves it. His favorites are Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and several of Stephen King’s works.

By the time Jack, Miko, and Sari join the Autobots, the plot starts picking up speed. From there they will be interacting with Decepticons a lot more and trying to protect earth.

And yes, Insecticons and other Cybertronian species will exist! I’m still figuring out who and where. Predacons will probably remain a memory from the past. They are not really that relative to my AU plot, as much as I love predacons. As for Dinobots, though.👀

Thank you so much for all the asks!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying these!! They have been giving me a lot of motivation to draw, which helps me flesh out my characters more! I really appreciate everyone taking interest.

[cruelxfantasies]

just something fun about Steve, Eddie and DnD. t rating I guess, just some hinting.

when Steve makes the decision to actively take part in dnd for the first time, he doesn’t let Eddie help him build his character. sure, he does consult Will once — Will is, of course, eager to divulge whatever necessary information Steve needs to flesh out his character.

Eddie, ever the nosy motherfucker, isn’t subtle about wanting to find out what his boyfriend is up to. Steve tests out how far Eddie’s interest goes.

when they arrive back to Steve’s one evening after dinner at their favorite burger joint, a red herring in the form of a spiral notebook is placed on his bedside table. he doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes dart over and hone in almost immediately once they enter Steve’s room but Steve keeps his poker face.

“gonna go hop in the shower. you coming?” Steve knows what the answer is going to be before it leaves Eddie’s mouth.

“nah, I think I’m gonna lay down a minute, let my food settle a bit.”

knowing he’s a goddamn liar, Steve nods and grabs what he needs from his drawers and makes his way to the bathroom, turning the shower on to the hottest setting. taps his foot intermittently, waits 30 seconds. that’s all the time he needs.

he comes back from the bathroom to find Eddie standing and flipping through the notebook next to his bed, trying to find the details about his character that don’t exist. in that particular book, a least.

“oh, you’re pathetic.” Steve’s voice is dripping with amusement as he leans against the door frame,

Eddie jumps, notebook falling out of his hands and wide open onto the floor. “shit, Harrington, aren’t you suppo - wait, what the fuck?” Steve can see the lights coming on in Eddie’s head. “did you - ”

Steve snorts, enjoying the deer in the headlights show in front of him. “purposefully put that there so I could see how desperate you are to figure out information that isn’t yours to know as of yet? that’s exactly what I did. i knew you wouldn’t last a minute.” cocking his head to the side, he adds, “i think you owe me an apology for going through my personal belongings without permission, though.”

a narrowing of the eyes aimed directly at Steve, a faint smirk playing on Eddie’s lips. “alright, fine. well played - but that bitchy tone of yours leaves a lot to be desired.”

oh. Steve wastes no time as he takes off back to the bathroom, Eddie right behind him — his ass is sore for the next 2 days.

when Eddie asks for everyone at the table to introduce their characters, Steve is the first to go. he’s a paladin, oath of love subclass. from the research he did, some with the aid of Will, they protect the bonds of their family and friends with all of their power. he would do anything to defend all of those close to him in real life. why not do the same in game, too?

yeah, Eddie’s gonna marry him someday.

[narlwhal-in-a-trashcan]

Nona is such a silly sweetie-pie

[braisedhoney]

[SCENARIO CONTINUED FROM HERE.]

You select the second oldest of the available files. An observation log — COLONY keeps these, or so you assume. He never leaves commentary or notes to organize them. He probably just memorizes them instead. The terminal beeps beneath your fingertips, every click practically a gunshot in the quiet room. Thanks to your pass you are technically permitted to be here by the system — but you know better. There are security measures here that were not to be violated. If you are discovered, if THIS is discovered, you would likely be in trouble. The screen loads. Text fills the margins. After a moment, you realize that it is not just a file; it’s a transcript and an audio sample. There’s also a small attachment of some kind, likely an image. You play the audio.

[LOADING. . . (A short period of complete silence. Then, rustling as footsteps approach, and the familiar whir of a door. A familiar voice fades in with them.) “… I told you, it isn’t going to work.” “So you’ve said, Captain.” (The door whirs again. Locks.) “Please don’t call me that. Everyone keeps calling me that. Really I mean, I don’t even know what to do with…” (The sound of movement. Footsteps, slightly heavier but more measured than the first. The sound of something opening with a mechanical hiss — a containment unit?) (A quiet sigh. It’s barely audible.) “That… isn’t what I think. Right? Another one?” (A chuckle.) “Don’t sound so unenthusiastic. It’s terrible for morale.” “Le—“ “Just put them on, won’t you? It can’t hurt. One more trial.” “… Fine! Fine.” (The footsteps draw closer.) “Good. Now grab my hand.” (A clang, like somebody knocked into something.) “No.” “Trust me.” (Rapidly receding footsteps joined by another set.) “No!”(A loud bang, like a fist slamming against metal. The footsteps stop.) “No.” “It’ll be fine.” “You don’t know that.” “I’m right.” “This isn’t the answer. It isn’t going to — it’ll never be the answer, Leander, and I don’t even know what it — you know you can’t, right? Can’t come back? Doing this won’t let you see her agai——!“ “Captain.” (Silence.) “… shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” “Prove it.” ”Leander, please.” “Grab my hand. This will work.” “…” “I swear.” (The seconds tick by. Then.) “You...” (Another chuckle. Warmer in tone.) “Didn’t I say I would do it? Didn’t I promise?” (Laughter. Loud, nearly hysterical laughter interrupts him. It’s boisterous, disruptive.) “You did! You did, you… you magnificent bastard, you really found a way to———“] The audio ends. You stare at the screen. No matter how long you look at it, the text does not continue, the audio file does not extend. All that remains is a single attachment. Frustration makes your jaw tense, but you don’t have time to waste being angry. You’re running out the clock as it is. You click it. [LOADING. . .]

And then the screen goes dark. No. Not just the screen — the whole room blacks out. Every terminal flickers off, every bulb extinguishes. For a moment, there is total, unfamiliar silence. Even the faint electric buzzing that comes with electronics is gone. You are completely alone. You turn, grasping blindly at the records pass, the imprint of the screen still on your eyes. You stumble for the door, and to your surprise the pass blinks green, the only light left in the room. It opens and you shove your way through into the hall — Only to slam into a barrier. You look around. There is no hallway. Of all times for the paths to shift… The room you are in is tiny. The door behind you closes, and there is no scanner on your side, nor a handle. It is completely featureless. There is no way to open it. You call for COLONY. There is no answer. You call for the Captain. There is no answer. You call for help. You call for help. You call. You call. you. c a l l. . . . . . . . . . [YOU CANNOT BE TRUSTED.] [. . . ] [THE CAPTAIN WILL LOOK FOR YOU.] [. . .] [BUT THE CAPTAIN WILL NOT FIND YOU.] [ . . . ] [I AM SORRY.] [I AM SURE THAT MEANS LITTLE. BUT I AM.] [CURIOSITY IS NOT A TERRIBLE THING.] [BUT I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT HUMANS QUITE LIKED CATS.] [. . .] [A POOR JOKE.] [I CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER IF IT WAS WORTH IT.] [I DOUBT IT.] [BUT I DO HOPE.]

(Scenario End. Ending: “Status Quo”.)

[sillyscientists]

Just gonna say that mocking people for voicing their disappointment over the stream (spongebobscreamingwithflyingicecreamtruck.png “IN A CIVIL AND POLITE MANNER”) just makes you like. An asshole lmao. People are gonna be disappointed when they’re told they’re getting one thing and getting another no matter what, even if what they get instead is really good/funny.

[kastukj]

I hate micro transactions and permanently limited content I hate micro transactions and permanently limited content I HATE MICRO TRANSACTIONS AND PERMANENTLY LIMITED CONTENT

[blodeuweddschild]

I have got to stop taking tiktoks horror movie recommendations

[b-blushes]

So bonkers how my general ability to do tasks has changed since new playlist and tv show. No longer pulled into spending one million hours stuck on The Apps either, I’m doing things. The power of feeling happy and excited…….

​silly. but I’ll take it!!!!!!!!!!

[whenthegoldrays]

sigh

[karmathehalflander]

I’m going to get some hate with this one but it needs to be said.

STOP HARASSING CREATORS FOR CREATING MPREG CONTENT!!!

I’ll say it again. Stop 👏 harassing 👏 creators 👏 who 👏 create 👏 Mpreg 👏 content 👏

it doesn’t affect you and there is nothing wrong with anyone creating or enjoying content involving male or nonbinary presenting pregnancy! And I think it’s a bit transphobic to suggest that Male presenting pregnancy is weird or gross. As if it isn’t something that exists in real life! Trans men and nonbinary individuals have children all the fucking time and you need accept that fact.

also, stop going on posts of creators being like “are you the person who drew that thing?! Yano, ‘that’ thing? 💀💀” Mpreg is not a curse word and it’s weird that you think it’s weird. And it’s really rude of you to come in and act like they did something disgusting.

this isn’t saying you need to like said content. It’s fine if it’s not your cup of tea.

And it’s also ok to criticize content that may fetishize people and experiences. But harassing people is never the way to go. It’s not your place to bully and harass people.

Not to mention what you are doing by stigmatizing a mostly queer experience. You are hurting people and being rude for no reason!

I’m so sick of seeing talented people be shunned and harassed and struggle with their mental health for something as simple as Mpreg!

(also this stands for anything. Don’t harass people for making fan content that you don’t like. It’s ok to call out genuinely problematic behavior but harassment gets us nowhere)

and I’m ready for the hate. I’m ready for angry people. But I can’t stand it anymore.

please stop.