#nerding about in the underbrush

[metalhoops]

Steve was used to climbing out windows. Before his junior year, he’d made a habit of entering through and escaping from girls' houses unnoticed. He was stealthy. He’d learned how to scale trees and tread lightly across roof shingles with the deftness of a nocturnal animal. Yet, for the first time, he found himself escaping his own home. There was a first time for everything, right? 

Steve’s parents were home. The second Steve saw the familiar BMW pull into the Harrington’s driveway, he knew he wanted to be anywhere but home. His parents were only palatable when he had good news, but all he had to tell them was that after their last visit, The Mall had burnt down and he’d gotten a new job at a video store. He really was doing the family proud. He didn’t want to deal with it, not today. 

That’s how he found himself crawling out his bedroom window, shimmying across the guttering and trying not to sprain his ankles as he dropped onto the lawn. He headed out back, past his pool and into the woods. Usually, it was the last place you’d find Steve. He kept expecting to run into a Demogorgon or something equally as nasty. 

He walked for a while without direction, trudging through the underbrush until the rustling of leaves behind him set his teeth on edge. His body moved before his mind had time to keep up. He spun on his heels, hand scrabbling to the forest floor in search of a weapon. It supplied him with a fallen tree branch, almost too large to heft comfortably, but he did it, running on adrenaline. He came face to face with a familiar, wide-eyed boy. 

“Holy shit, Harrington. Take it down like ten notches,” the boy grumbled, showing his upturned hands as though trying to calm a startled animal. 

Hawkins was a small town, the kind of place where everybody knew everybody. Steve knew the boy with deep brown eyes and dark hair, halloed by fallen leaves, was none other than Eddie Munson, or as he was colloquially known, ‘The Freak’. They’d gone to high school together. He thought the guy was due to repeat his senior year, again. He didn’t know what he was doing alone in the woods. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

You couldn’t blame him for being on high alert. Even if Eddie was someone he’d grown up with, that didn’t make him safe. Steve was still riled up after running down Billy Hargrove with his car. He was paranoid. He’d had a rough couple of years. 

“Collecting sticks,” Eddie breathed, indicating the large bundle in his hand. 

“Collecting sticks?” Steve echoed. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him. He couldn’t fathom why the guy was doing it.

“Yeah, I’m making a miniature log cabin for my D&D campaign, and you know, miniature logs are just... sticks—you don’t care, anyway. Sorry for startling you, my liege.” Steve tilted his head, thinking the acronym was familiar. 

“Is that the dragon game, with the Demogorgon and junk?” Eddie looked at Steve like he’d sprouted a third head.

“How the hell do you, Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, know what D&D is?” 

Steve wished people would stop calling him that. Every time he heard the stupid nickname it felt like someone was rubbing chunks of asphalt into his gravel rash. He wondered if Eddie felt the same about his title. 

The old Steve would’ve used it just to spite the guy, to see what buttons he could push, not because he wanted to but because it was expected of him. It wasn’t an excuse. He knew that. Instead, Steve shrugged his shoulders and told the truth, something the old Steve never would’ve done.

“I babysit some nerds who play it,” he confessed. 

Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. He was puzzled, amazed and, for once, a little intrigued. He’d never looked at Steve like that back in high school. The two rarely crossed paths and when they did, they never spoke. Sure, Eddie ranted about ‘jocks’ as a whole, but Steve had always just been one piece of a puzzle. It would seem redundant to yell at a patch of blue and grey for being a picture of the sky. 

“Why did you need to take up a babysitting gig?” 

To answer that, Steve had to embellish a little. Maybe he no longer liked lying about who he was, but he couldn’t exactly dump the cosmic mind fuck that was The Upside Down on some unsuspecting guy. 

“I needed money.” 

“You needed money? What, did you get cut off?” Steve shrugged in response. 

“Christ, what did you do? Piss in a family urn? Trash the house? Get a girl pregnant?” Eddie questioned.

“I think generally existing was enough to do it,” Steve mumbled, kicking at the dirt beneath his shoes. 

Eddie let out a low whistle. 

“Hey Harrington, think fast,” Eddie called, throwing the bundle of twigs in his direction. Steve dropped the branch and grabbed the bundle with wide eyes. 

“What was that for?” Steve choked. 

“What are you doing in this neck of the woods, anyway?” Eddie asked instead of responding. Steve shrugged, still cradling the bundle to his chest. 

“Avoiding my parents.” 

“You got any plans for the rest of the day?” Eddie spoke. Steve responded with a shake of his head. 

“Well, you know, this really is a two-person job, so if you wanted to come back to my place, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

For some reason, Steve agreed. 

Eddie had a habit of collecting strays. 

There was the cat he’d kept under the bed when he was six and the gathering of stray dogs that hung around the back of the trailer park that he’d been feeding for as long as he could remember. The same theory applied to people. He made friends with the loners, the weird kids, the ones with wide eyes and nowhere to go. He was a bleeding heart, so sue him. However, he’d never expected Steve Harrington to trigger his urge to protect and befriend. That really hit Eddie out of left field. 

Never in Eddie’s wildest dreams did he imagine he and Steve would be sitting across from each other at his small dining table, Steve’s knee pressed on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. The jock’s still hands held small bits of twigs in place as Eddie worked around him with his hot glue gun. The guy had seemed so lost, back in the woods, so unlike how Eddie remembered him. He knew about D&D for Christ’s sake. Eddie wondered if he’d woken up in an alternate universe because it seemed like Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. 

He asked Eddie about his goddamn log cabin, tavern. Then he’d pushed deeper. ‘Why do you need a bar in a game about dragons’? To which Eddie explained, of course, you do more than just fight dragons, which appeared to be news to Steve. Besides his friends, no one showed interest in Eddie’s ‘stupid little fantasy game’. With Steve, questions came thick and fast. Eddie loved every second of it. When he’d asked why Steve cared so much, the guy had shrugged his shoulders and muttered,

“I might be able to impress the kids.” 

Eddie decided to ask about ‘the kids’. He and Steve didn’t have much in common. Sure, the two could commiserate about high school together, but neither man was in the mood to do that. And god, Steve could talk about ‘the kids’. 

“I run a D&D club called Hellfire. If they’re starting high school this year, send ‘em my way. I’ll tuck your little ducklings under my wing. Keep the big scary jocks away from ‘em,” Eddie noted, feeling comfortable enough with Steve to take a jab at him. Steve surprised him again by snorting out a laugh.

“Make sure you do. That Jason kid’s a senior, right? Total psychopath. The kid would peg basketballs at pigeons.” 

By the time the sun set, the boys were in stitches and had a fairly decent log cabin to show for a day’s work. Eddie was surprised that the idea of Steve leaving set a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, Steve? We should do this again,” Eddie proposed, and Steve was too quick to agree. 

“I have work tomorrow morning, but how about the afternoon?” 

Eddie hadn’t expected the guy to be as keen as he felt. 

“It’s a date,” Eddie agreed, before promptly wanting to shove his head through a miniature log cabin. A date? Really, Munson? 

A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans. Mind out of the gutter, Munson. You were doing so well. 

“You’re weird, you know that?” Steve remarked, running his hand through his trademark hair, and yeah, Eddie should’ve expected that. 

Now Steve was going to call him a Freak, the ‘King Steve’, he’d heard about would make an appearance and Eddie would be glad he dodged a bullet by cutting his crush off at the knees before it had the chance to grow legs. 

“Weird is good,” Steve corrected, seeming aware of Eddie’s inner turmoil. 

“One thing I’ve learnt about myself since high school is that I like weird.”

Oh, no. Eddie was so gone for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. 

Read Part 2

[notimetoparty]

Okay, here’s MY question: would Present try to kill their own siblings if they saw them? Would the resemblance throw them off too much?

For A Weapon, killing people is easy.

It's what it was made for, it's what it was born for. It was told its only reason it continued to breathe was this one task...to exterminate the plague. If it did not kill, there would be no reason for it to live.

When the government found where those last remnants of the plague were, in a world far beyond the reaches of most, it knew its mission was almost complete. That this would be the final, small step to realizing that purpose it was given. It went there without a second thought, expecting to come back to its cell later with discolored blood on its paws and pincers.

It was surprised at how little survival skills the first one it found had. This beast, despite the scar on its eye, was wandering next to the border of the woods in broad daylight. What was it even doing? It watched, to its surprise, as the rusty black thing pulled out a guitar and sat on a log. It began to play a tune, messing up the melody and stomping on the ground each time with a hiss.

Unusual. Idiotic, too. The plagued normally knew to hide away, to live in the darkest corners of every world. And yet this case chose to sing and complain. Whatever. That made it easier to strike.

Eyes peering through the underbrush, it stalked and stepped closer. It pondered the most efficient way to snuff out its life. Avoid the head, to get away from the mandibles and pincers. Go for the neck. Always the neck. Stab and blast if needed, but don't waste valuable ammunition. Make sure that-

Snap.

So lost in thought, it forgot to avoid any of the sticks on the grassy floor. The plagued turned around curiously, now face to face with a yellow behemoth.

And they tilted their head, chuckling.

"Woah. Where the hell did you come from!?” She chirped. Another laugh erupted from them, a small chitter to their voice. “Are you a weirdo, hanging out in the forest? A little forest loser?”

…It blinked. It definitely should kill this thing here and now, right? It would be incredibly easy. But something made it pause. It instead gave a blunt, monotone reply.

“What.”

Without missing a beat, she then pointed at the augmentations attached to its arms and back. “What are those things on you? Some cool cyber stuff? Nerd!”

He continued to chuckle and joke, much to its annoyance as it growled. Eventually she calmed, wiping a tear from her eye as she gave a passing “sorry”.

“Whatever, it’s cool. My brother is also a nerd. He also likes running around the woods like a little freak! You two would get along great.”

Was this bug trying to make conversation? What an idiot. It glared at her, unmoving and unamused as it let out a huff.

“You should be more fearful of what lies in the forest,” It warned, “because I’m not here to make small talk.”

In response, she only shrugged.

“Whatev. I’m gonna go practice guitar somewhere else. Have fun pretending to be a sci-fi protag or something.”

Just like that, the guy turned away with her guitar in hand, humming a tune and giggling still under her breath. “Man, the fam is gonna love this story!” It heard her mumble as she escaped from its sight.

It should’ve pounced while the thing’s back was turned. It knew that. And yet…it let the creature go off without issue, as though its body was frozen in place. Were the circumstances that bizarre, so as to make a weapon not fire its shot? Nothing was special about that person, besides the unusually fluffy body compared to other plagued specimens.

Was it the similarities to itself that had it hesitant? The way their eyes bore the same red, and how her tail looked almost too similar to the one it bore? It was pointless to contemplate. It was pointless to compare yourself to the things you were meant to kill. Now, it was too late to even try to track where she had gone. She was already far out of sight, leaving it on its lonesome and without a new lead.

In a moment of weakness, the weapon snarled and kicked at the ground.

Killing was meant to be easy. Why was this suddenly so difficult? -Zinc

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Prologue - The Shelduck's Game

— — — — — — —

All was still.

It had been still in that particular neck of the Gravity Falls woods for almost a full year.

The residents of the nearby town knew better than to venture too close, and their sentiments were shared by the beings—animal and supernatural alike—who had formerly occupied that part of the forest. Even the Manotaurs had long since abandoned their nearby man cave—and if even the self-proclaimed representations of manliness themselves wouldn’t dare approach the area, then the rest of the population was in no hurry to do the same.

Such stillness made every step from a pair of unknown feet more prominent, twigs and foliage snapping beneath them as their hooded owner moved swiftly through the underbrush. And despite the darkness of the night sky above—with only a few stray moonbeams through the leaves of the canopy layer acting as a light source—their pace was quick and undisturbed as they ventured deeper into the woods, only broken once they finally arrived at their destination.

A destination in the form of a triangle-shaped statue, half-embedded in the soft earth.

The forest had clearly made several attempts to claim it. Twisting vines had curled themselves around the limbs like the ribbons on a present, and the patches of stone that were usually exposed to the sun's rays during the day were now illuminated with a soft glow from the moon’s gentle gaze.

But despite nature’s best efforts, it still remained.

Remained with an open hand on a permanently-outstretched arm. 

Waiting for the day someone finally came along to make a deal.

The mysterious figure stood still for a few minutes, their gaze locked on the singular eye that made up most of the triangle’s face. And after another minute of staring, their footsteps—those still-shattering footsteps—began again, this time to close the gap between them and the statue.

And once that gap was properly closed, the figure’s own arm extended towards the statue—

—and an orange, feathered hand clasped around its stone one.

There was a faint spark in the triangle’s single eye—the first sign of life it had shown in months—before the figure vanished in a flash of light, that little bit of life fading back to nothing with their departure.

And much like the statue itself, all fell still again.

— — — — — — —

“You’re a real wise guy, but you made one fatal mistake! You messed with my family!”

“YOU’RE making a mistake! I’ll give you anything: money, fame, riches, infinite power, your own galaxy! PLEASE! NO! What’s HAPPENING to me?!”

“!NRUTER YAM I TAHT REWOP TNEICNA EHT EKOVNI I !NRUB OT EMOC SAH EMIT YM, L-T-O-L-O-X-A-”

“STAN- LEEEEEEY —”

The first thing Bill was able to process was the fact that he was still screaming.

The second was that he was able to scream at all.

Despite the lack of a mouth (or lungs, if some nerd wanted to get annoyingly technical with the anatomy of a triangle), Bill’s chest rose and fell at a hyperventilating pace, his singular pupil rapidly darting back and forth as he took in his surroundings.

He was lying flat on his back with his face pointed upwards, although a closer examination revealed that an attempt to label any three-dimensional directions would be entirely pointless. Kinda hard to have an ‘up’ or ‘down’ when all that surrounded you was an endless, white void.

He rose up from what could be considered the ground, and hovered in place for a moment. It was the mindscape, that much he could deduce at a glance alone. And a grateful lack of the Mystery Shack living room—or a furious, elderly man about to punch him into oblivion—implied it was highly unlikely that he was still inside the mind (or whatever was left of the mind) of Stanley Pines.

But if not his mindscape, then where—

“Oh, hey, you’re here!”

The sound of an unknown voice behind him spun Bill around in midair, with far less dignity than he would’ve preferred. “Hey pal, who d’you—think…”

Any potential anger that might’ve been building vanished in an instant as Bill got a good look at the peculiar being before him. 

First obvious thing of note was that they were clearly not human. Rather, they looked to be some sort of anthropomorphic duck or duck-like creature—similar to the ones from the dimensions with that annoying rat who liked to get a bit too pushy with how he ran things. Quantum Destabilizer to his head regarding the specific breed of duck, however—they were probably some kinda shelduck? He was pretty sure those had orange feathers.

They were also about five-feet tall by mortal measurements, and the garish color of their feathers was only outshined by their eccentric clothing choices. The first part of their outfit to draw Bill’s eye was their jacket; an extremely tacky windbreaker composed of a multitude of colors in light pastel shades. Paired alongside with a radically-patterned shirt, sporty red shades, and a necklace with a charm in the shape of an orange, they looked to be the poster child of the word ‘hideously tacky’. 

Either that, or ‘retro’. 

…Eh, he’d settle for ‘hideously retro.’ 

“Glad to see you’re up and about,” the duck continued as they took a few steps closer to him. “Honestly, I had no idea if shaking your hand was actually going to work, after everything that happened to you. I mean, getting set on fire? Shattered into pieces? Erased from existence?!”

They stopped and tapped their bill thoughtfully. “Plus there’s the fact that your actual resting place was somewhere completely different—” Their hand moved to the side of their bill with a cheeky grin. “—and whew, buddy, as much as I wouldn’t mind waiting around for a man like ~that~ to get back to town, I have a million things I need to do today and don’t need to make it a million-and-one!”

Smiling wider, they reached up to nudge at him with their elbow. “Eh, eh, know what I mean?” they asked with a wink, before letting their arm fall again. “Nah, I guess you wouldn’t. The point is, it worked! Because here you are, back and better than ever!”

Before Bill could get even a word in, they raised a finger. “Okay, so I know you probably have a looooot of questions to ask,” they said, and began to tick off the remaining fingers on their hand. “Who am I? How I do know so much about you? Why did I bring you here in the first place?” 

The ticked off fingers morphed into a roll of the wrist. “Yadda, yadda, yadda, point is, you probably have a ton of questions that need answers. Well, lucky for you, that’s exactly what I’m here to do!”

A pause. “Well, not here here, we’ll have to wait until we’re actually in my office before I explain the situation more clearly,” they clarified. “Accidentally left all my flashcards and presentation material in there, and if I try to cover all the basics without ‘em, I know I’m going to forget something important. And that'd just be really inconvenient for everyone involved! But once we’re there, I promise I’ll tell you everything you need to know!”

Smiling wider, they folded their hands together and stared at him; a likely indication that they had finished talking. And if that wasn’t enough, they quickly clarified with: “Sorry, I know that was probably a lot to take in, but I’m done for now if you have anything you wanna add.”

It took a lot to surprise Bill Cipher.

With his vast collection of knowledge, near-perfect omniscience, and countless other abilities that had brought whole dimensions to their knees, it was a rarity for him to come across anyone or anything that might actually catch him off guard.

All that aside—

—heh?

Credit where it was due, Birdbrain wasn’t wrong about the amount of questions currently bubbling around in his brain. Accuracy of their questions was also pretty spot on, although it didn’t take a genius to guess the answer of that last one.

There was only one reason anyone ever sought him out, and it wasn’t to trade fashion tips (although it was hardly necessary in this case; the guy looked like a sentient arcade carpet straight outta the Dimension That’s Perpetually Stuck In A Heavily Romanticized Version of the Mid-Eighties-Slash-Early-Nineties).

They were looking to make a deal.

If Bill had a mouth, he’d be smirking at the thought. Boy, back less than two minutes and he already had some chump lining up to make a deal with him, huh?

Had he suddenly transformed into a stupid human child leaving a medical checkup, one being rewarded for the state of their unimpressive and fragile immune system with a piece of cheap candy?

Because it sounded an awful lot like he was being handed a free sucker.

And while normally he’d snatch up a chance like that without a second thought—

"You made one fatal mistake..."

He tensed as Stan’s words forced themselves back to the front of his mind, along with the vivid memory that accompanied them. The sinking feeling of realization as he came face to face with the wrong twin. The panic blossoming in tandem with the flames engulfing Stan's mind, ones eager to swallow both of them in their destruction.

The agonizing pain as his entire being violently shifted between forms in a desperate attempt to escape, before a single punch from Stanley’s fist shattered him like glass—

“You’re a lot quieter than I was lead to believe.”

And suddenly the duck was leaning uncomfortably close to his form, a studious expression on their face as they stared him up and down. “Did I do something wrong?” they asked. “Pretty sure I just needed to shake your hand to make a deal, right? Unless someone happened to change the rules while I wasn’t looking.” 

With a huff, they placed their hands on their hips and stared off in one direction of the white void. “I will say that if they did, it was a real jerk move!” they called out in a mildly-scolding tone. “I spent months doing as much research on you I could, and if I did all that prep work only for something new to come out just as we start talking, then I’m gonna be pretty annoyed!”

While the duck rambled on, Bill floated backwards from them with an indignant glare. Only time he was fine with people getting that close to him was when he was the one invading their personal space.

Although they raised a good point; he was being far too quiet. 

Even the deadest silence spoke volumes and the last thing he needed was for them to potentially backtrack on the idea of making a deal at all.  Unpacking everything else could come later, he couldn’t afford to pass up a chance to make a deal with some obviously-willing sucker.

In the meantime, he had to throw them at least one bone. Or, them being a duck and all, at least one breadcrumb. 

Ha. Hilarious.

Another shift of his pupil as he looked them up and down. Well, if they really wanted him to add to the conversation, there was nowhere better to start than with the obvious.

“Sorry, Birdbrain, guess I kinda short-circuited just from staring at the war crime in fifty-seven dimensions you call an outfit,” he said aloud, raising a hand to shield his eye. “Yeesh! Forget an eyesore, I’m getting a full-body ache just by looking at you!”

Yeah, that’d work.

In all honesty, their fashion sense was actually right up Bill’s alley. Bright, tacky colors that made it difficult to stare at the person wearing them for too long? Hideous, brilliant, absolutely something he could see himself wearing if the situation called for it.

But it wasn’t like they needed to know that, and hey; they called it low-hanging fruit for a reason.

Surprisingly enough, the duck actually smiled with amusement at his little quip. “Oh, well, the shirt was a gift from a friend,” they explained, and gently gripped the edge of their windbreaker. “But I got the jacket in the Dimension That’s Perpetually Stuck In A Heavily Romanticized Version of the Mid-Eighties-Slash-Early-Nineties. It’s my favorite place to shop for clothes~!”

It was almost scary how well he could read people sometimes. “Yeah, no kidding,” he said with a cackle. “Didja wake me up so I could point you in the direction of somewhere to buy clothes from this decade?”

“No, no, my fashion sense is a choice,” they said, holding up a finger. “But that’s not what we’re here to discuss! As I said before, I’ll be able to explain everything once we’re in my office. So we—oh, wait, hold on a sec.”

The duck clapped their hands together, and as they did (and as Bill watched), something began to rise up from the ‘ground’. It continued to expand upwards—the shape slowly resembling that of an upside-down horseshoe—and before long, a tall, curved archway towered above them. 

The archway’s appearance was fairly unordinary, with the only exception being a small sign at the very top center, labeled with nothing but a clear picture of an orange (or was it a tangerine? Eh, details; a fruit was a fruit). And at a glance, nothing lay beyond the other side aside from the continuation of the endless void. 

At least nothing that could be seen by the naked eye.

…Which meant there was a ninety-percent chance that there was plenty to see with an experienced eye.

“There we go,” the duck said. “This will lead us to the main part of my mind, aka my office. There, we can go over all the terms and conditions of the deal I wanna make with you!”

They flashed him a bright grin. “Like I said, forgot all my flashcards and stuff in there, and I’d rather not go over everything without them.”

Without waiting for a response from him, they hurried forward through the archway. As Bill had initially suspected, they seemed to vanish into thin air as they passed beneath it; a confirmation that the archway was really some kind of door to the deeper parts of their mind.

Rather than immediately follow after them, Bill instead turned his attention back to the endless void while he gathered his thoughts.

Okay, a quick assessment of his current situation; Punched in face. Exploded. Died. Woke up to a badly-dressed duck—one who clearly had more than a couple of screws loose in a way that teetered the line between hilarious and annoying —looking to make a deal.

The latter was hardly the weirdest thing to ever happen to him. Probably didn’t crack the top hundred, or even the top thousand. A talking duck in tacky clothing? Just another Sñeaturday night for him.

The former, however—

One fatal mistake.

His eye flashed red with abhorrence as Stan’s words once again hammered against the inside of his skull. In his desperation to shatter the barrier around the town, to put a stop to anything that would keep him from being finally, truly free—

—he’d foolishly miscounted the number of fingers on a hand.

His own hands balled into fists as the implications behind Stan’s oh-so-clever little plan finally started to take hold. No—not Stan’s plan. There was no way some two-bit con-man with daddy issues had been able to string together enough (likely-pickpocketed) braincells to come up with such an elaborate plan on his own. And even if Stan hadn’t outright admitted to disguising himself as Ford, it didn’t take a genius to guess that he hadn’t pulled the stunt by himself. It took two to tango, and it also took two twins to swap places with each other.

And if one twin had been in charge of lulling him into their trap, that left the other free to pull the trigger on the gun.

One fatal mistake. One fatal mistake—

Ford had never planned on giving him the equation at all! He’d been deceived, tricked, played for a fool—

—and the worst part is that it had worked.

After all the knowledge he had provided to Ford over the years, after everything he had promised him in their success, he had thrown it all the way for the sake of his…his stupid family!

What a fool he was, and what a fool Bill had been for ever considering him a valuable and trustworthy ally in his plans.

And thanks to Ford’s betrayal, it was almost certain that things had settled back to normal in the mortal realm, with every trace of the Nightmare Realm being forcibly pulled back into the decaying dimension they called home. 

Which meant Bill certainly wouldn’t be getting a hero’s welcome once he returned. He’d promised his buddies a party that stretched on until the end of time, not some half-baked event that only last a few, measly human days. 

Even if everything was the fault of that ungrateful jerk and his stupid family, Bill would still be the one dunked headfirst into a bowl of multidimensional salsa the second he stepped foot back into the realm.

Thanks to Ford and his stupid family, he had no more backup attempts, no more portals, no Henchmaniacs, no more suckers he could puppet around or trick into doing his dirty work—

Thanks to Ford, he had nothing.

“By the way, I should probably let you know—”

“ACK!”

Bill was once again flung backwards out of sheer surprise as the duck’s head poked back out of the portal. A motion that earned an apologetic laugh from them, their hand also appearing out of the archway as they pressed it to their bill. “Sorry! Sorry, I forgot to tell you something important!” 

Bill narrowed his eye at them. “You know, you’ve got a real knack for sneaking up on people, Birdbrain,” he said, muffling his annoyance with a laugh. “Can’t pretend I’m not impressed, though. If you were some slithering, poisonous snake in the grass and I a pathetic, unsuspecting human full of vulnerable red blood cells and no immunity to venom, I’d probably be dead by now!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the duck said proudly. “But what I wanted to tell you was that even if you aren’t interested in making a deal, you’ll need to come in and let me know.”

Both hands were now outside the archway, raised in a shrug. “You know, just so I can pop you back, no harm, no foul?”

Their arms fell along with their expression as they peered closer at him. “Hey, is everything okay?” they asked. “I realize I’m probably moving a little too fast, especially after what happened in the last mind you were in. So I can understand any hesitance on your part…”

They cast him a look of sympathy, hands clasped together as they stepped all the way back out into the white void. “And if you need some time to think it over, I’ll understand. I know I said earlier I had other things I needed to be doing today, but that was all talk! We can take as long as you need to decide.”

Bill’s eyebrow narrowed at their concern. Hey, just because they were right about his hesitance didn’t mean he had to actually admit to that being the case. Especially not now that they’d caught onto that hesitation twice.

Once was easy to pass off as their mind playing tricks on them. Twice was a bit more difficult, though not impossible. Especially not when you were a master at twisting a conversation to your favor.

Another joke at their expense would probably do the trick. Clothing was out, he’d already poked fun at their hideous style and stretching a bit too thin always came with the risk of the tormented building an immunity through overexposure. Not that Birdbrain had exactly been bothered by—

Hmm. 

That could work.

With a chuckle, he raised a hand in the air to summon his cane. “Hehe, I don’t know what all that research told you, Birdbrain, but if you’re really standing there and trying to imply that I might be nervous about making a deal—” 

After giving it a little twirl, he jabbed the end of the cane against their arm. Not so hard that it would hurt, but with just enough force to make them wonder if harm had been the intent. “—you must not know me as well as you think you do~!”

He paused, and reached up to tap one of his sides thoughtfully. “Speakin’ of knowing people, though, I know you’re all eager to get to your big fancy-schmancy brain office to tell me what’s what,” he said. “But normally when I go dumpster-diving into someone’s mind, I at least like to catch their name first.”

He delivered another poke to their arm with his cane and batted his eyelashes at them. “Unless Birdbrain is your actual name and I’m just the Multiverse’s best guesser~?" he asked. "…I mean, I’ll probably still call you Birdbrain after I get a name, but it’s always nice to have options, y’know?”

There, a nice excuse that also doubled as a half-truth; not once in the entire conversation had Birdbrain actually given him a name.

And while he and the concept of truthfulness weren’t exactly on speaking terms, half-truths were the redheaded stepchildren he was happy to associate with their presence was required for his own benefit.

If the duck had actually been bothered by either jab from his cane, or if they hadn’t been fooled by his attempt to shift the conversation, they showed no indication of such in their expression. 

If anything, their smile only widened further at his request. “Oh, that’s actually a good point!” they agreed, and pressed a hand to their forehead. “Got so caught up in the details that I almost forgot to introduce myself! And knowing me, I would’ve gone through my whole presentation and not even thought about it!”

They paused for a moment to think. “Plus my research indicates that you aren’t a member of the fae so I see no risk in getting my name stolen if I give it to you,” they pointed out, with a glare to their side. “Unless that was something else that someone forgot to tell me ahead of time?”

Bill’s eye shifted thoughtfully towards the same direction, as if he expected to see someone else with them in the mindscape. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing more than the white void he had already grown used to seeing around them.

Once again, that wasn’t an indication that there was nothing to see, but that was something to worry about later. “Tempting, but I’ll set the idea aside for a rainy day.” He gave them a wink, or as best of a wink as one could give with one eye. “Or maybe for when I just get bored and feel like experimenting with something new~! Haven’t done that in a while, might be fun!”

The duck tapped their chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, let’s see. Which name I prefer depends on the person, but I think…” They held up a finger, eyes bright with inspiration. “Yeah, I think you can call me Tangy!”

“Tangy, huh?”

Bill’s gaze shifted knowingly between their feathers, necklace, and finally moved back to the sign on the archway. Guess he’d thought that low-hanging fruit joke way too soon.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and tease if you want,” Tangy said amusedly. “I never claimed to be subtle when it comes to the way I present myself.”

They held up a hand and wiggled their fingers at him. “Plus my feathers already smelled like tangerines before I took on the name, so it was even more perfect~!”

After giving their hand a sniff, they let their arm fall back to their side. “Well, I’ve given you my name. Guess all that’s left is for us to get this show on the road!” they said, tilting their head at him. “Unless you really do need more time to think it over? I promise I’m not here to judge if you do!”

Boy, they weren’t letting up on that, were they? “Sounds to me like you need more time to think it over than I do,” he pointed out, and cutely pressed a hand to his cheek. “What, are you scared to make a deal with wittle ol’ Bill~?”

“Not particularly,” Tangy assured him with a laugh. “Although I would’ve appreciated the extra time to gather my presentation materials together.”

They held up a finger. “But, if you’re so sure that you’re ready, then let’s go!”

They ducked back through the archway, once again leaving Bill with nothing but his own thoughts. He cast another look towards the void again, unsurprised by the fact that there was still nothing (or no one) to see.

He stared for a moment more, before a devilish laugh began to bubble inside him. Boy, that old geezer must’ve punched him harder than he’d realized if he’d actually been shaken enough to worry, even for a brief moment. What was he thinking, getting so worked up about his situation when some tacky bird was practically throwing themselves at him for a deal? A deal that would probably be child’s play for him to complete, leaving him with a whole favor on their end. 

Plus, what was an anthropomorphic duck in tacky clothing but a human with feathers, and tacky clothing? If he played his cards right, he could easily end up with a sparkling new vessel to parade around in while he cleaned his wounds and regained his footing.

Heck, if he really played his cards right, there was always a chance for him to try his hand at another Weirdmageddon. One that would actually succeed this time around.

His features twisted into a wicked, metaphorical grin. And maybe with the right persuasion, he could convince Birdbrain to include a lovely reunion with Stanford and the rest of the Pines family in their deal. Maybe even a reunion that involved peeling each of them apart like human bananas. Layer by layer, skin from muscle from vein from bones. Until they were all nothing but writhing blobs of flesh, unable to do anything but scream in endless, agonizing pain. What's wrong, Fordsy, you can't erase someone out of existence because your arm's a pile of fleshy goop? Too bad! Or perhaps he'd go the more traditional route of stabbing them with sharp objects, and using their organs to fill a piñata for his return party~! Whack a paper-mache horse, get Shooting Star's left lung!

All delightful fantasies to imagine, but nothing more than that for the time being. Oh well, something to pocket for later.

With a satisfied expression, he adjusted his bowtie and hovered forward through the archway—

—only to be greeted hard and fast by the unforgiving ground he splattered against on the other side.

There was a gasp nearby, followed by the sound of webbed feet slapping against a tiled floor. “Oops! Probably should’ve warned you about that!”

With a groan, Bill lifted the front of his body up from the floor and cast a nasty look to Tangy. Their hand was extended forward for him to take, and their beak curled into an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” they said with a chuckle. “Completely forgot to mention the faint shift in your natural abilities as you step into this part of my mind. It’s a little jarring, but otherwise harmless and the effects should wear off pretty quickly.”

Their offered hand was ignored as Bill floated fully back up into the air. “That’s a real cute trick, Birdbrain,” he said, and dusted off his front. “Although a bit rude on your guest’s behalf, don’t you think?”

He moved close to their face, features once again stretched into the mouthless-equivalent of a smile. “I mean, I don’t call you over to my place and make you trip on your way through the front door, do I?”

Despite the sudden intrusion of their personal space, Tangy’s expression didn’t change. “No, I’d imagine you’d do something much worse,” they pointed out. “Like make the door lead to the Unnaturally-Moist Dimension, or something equally as cursed.”

Bill folded his arms with a thoughtful look. “Unnaturally-Moist Dimension, huh? Creative, I’ll give you that one.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Tangy said with a laugh. “Browsing your records for months straight gave me a pretty good feel of the kind of guy you are. I swear, sometimes I even see triangles when I close my eyes!”

To emphasize their point, they closed their eyes for a few seconds and pointed a finger to their temple. “Yep! They’re there!”

They opened their eyes again. “Anyway, did we want to get started on the deal, then?”

“Gotta be honest, Birdbrain, I can’t exactly accept or deny a deal if I don’t even know what the terms and conditions are,” Bill pointed out. “So howz'about we discuss all that first?”

Tangy smiled wide at his suggestion. “A very fair point! I can’t expect you to accept my deal if you don’t even know what I want!” they said, and spun on their heels to face the other direction. “Tell you what, you go ahead and make yourself at home at my desk area while I get your file, and then we can start our discussion. I knew I forgot something from upstairs, I swear, I’m just a mess today!”

As they hurried away from him with a visible spring in their step, Bill took the opportunity to examine his new, new surroundings. 

The endless white void had been replaced with some sort of observatory combined with a records office. The room was wide and cylindrical with tan walls on all sides, and there were two distinct levels between the floor and the cornice connected to the domed roof above their heads.

The lower level was open and empty, save for a simple workspace at the far left side of the room comprised of a desk, wastebasket and office chair. The area were a mess compared to the rest of the room—the surface was littered with papers and folders, a mug of some unknown liquid, and a closed laptop adorned in bright and cutesy stickers, while the wastebasket on the floor was overflowing with several pieces of crumpled paper.

The upper layer—on the other hand—was a full observation deck. One that circled around the room’s entirety, with both halves coming together at a spiral staircase on the opposite end of the room, and one that Tangy had bounded towards after putting a pause on their conversation. The walls along the platform were lined with tall filing cabinets that stretched from the ground to the diameter line of the domed ceiling.

And rather than any sort of sky beyond the glass, the view looked to be shimmering sea water. As if the entire ‘office’ was situated at the bottom of the ocean, with only a few schools of colorful fish adding some contrast to the endless blue.

“Let me know if you have any requests for the mood lighting,” Tangy called from the spiral staircase. “Normally I keep it neutral in case the boss wants to pay me an unscheduled visit, but if you want, I can just—”

They clapped their hands together, and the ocean view above immediately shifted to a bright, retro scene of shifting shapes and colors, one that could rival their outfit in terms of tackiness. “Or if you want something a little more personal, I can change it to—”

Another clap, and the retro shapes melted into a mess of raging hellfire and bloody hail that thundered hard against the glass. “Again, taking any and all requests, so just let me know if you got ‘em!”

Bill had remained silent as Tangy prattled on—eye fixed on the ever-changing scenery outside the dome—before his pupil shifted down to the workspace area. He hovered towards it, while the sound of filing cabinet drawers being opened and closed from the second level echoed throughout the room. “Just give me a moment, I know it’s around here somewh—a-HA!”

There was a loud BANG of a drawer being slammed shut, before a sudden blur of orange came barreling down from the upper level towards the ground below. At first, Bill expected-slashed-hoped that Tangy would splatter against the floor at Mach speed, if for no other reason than the visual comedy aspect.

A duck splattering against the floor? Why, that was straight out of a vintage cartoon, one where talking animals were allowed to inflict horrific acts of violence on each other. Such a fun period of time in animation history, one of his personal favorites if he really had to pick. It was such a shame that Cipher Symphonies never took off past the first episode—his interactions with Tangy were giving him a few ideas for a long-awaited reboot!

Unfortunately for him (and luckily for Tangy), their body came to an instant stop in midair, less than half an inch from the floor. With an exhale of relief, they stretched a webbed foot down to give the tiles below a gentle tap, and the rest of their body finished the fall at a more manageable speed.

An expected outcome, given the mindscape setting. But Bill couldn’t help but be disappointed at the lack of a splattered duck on the floor.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Tangy said, giving the file in their hand a light shake. “This should’ve been under ‘C’ for ‘Cipher’, I have no idea how it ended up in the T section! Guess someone must’ve slipped it into the wrong drawer or something.”

They let out a small chuckle as they seated themselves in the chair behind the desk. “Well, no matter. Let’s go ahead and get this started—”

They paused, and looked to him again. “Oh, wait, you’d probably want a proper seat for this, wouldn’t you?”

With a gesture of their hand, a empty chair appeared on the other side of the desk for Bill. “Once again; just let me know if you’d prefer anything different,” they said. “Throne, bean bag chair—”

They made little squirming motions with their fingers. “—recliner stuffed with bugs so you always feel something wiggling whenever you sit down?”

This got a laugh out of Bill as he sank into the offered chair. “Once again, very creative,” he said, folding his hands atop his cane. “You really know how to treat a shape in this place, huh?”

“Well, I do like my clients to be as comfortable as possible,” Tangy explained. “It makes them so much more agreeable when it comes to dealmaking.”

Bill raised his eyebrow. Clients with an S, huh? Interesting, and worth questioning. “Oh, so I’m not the first interdimensional, all-powerful being you’ve brought here?” He pressed his hand to his forehead with a dramatic flair. “Aww, well, now my feelings are hurt, Birdbrain. And here I thought I was special~!”

“Don’t worry, you are!” Tangy assured him, with a tilt of their head. “You’re the first interdimensional, all-powerful being I’ve brought here. The other interdimensional beings I’ve brought here were far less powerful than you are.”

They clapped their hands together. “Which is why I’m especially excited to have you visiting me today! I’ve never had the chance to make a deal with someone like you before!”

Wow, they were laying it on pretty thick, weren’t they? To the point that there was a decent chance they were just trying to butter him up.

Still, Bill wasn’t one to turn down a free compliment. “Sheesh, kid, you’re gonna make me blush,” he said with feigned modesty. “I mean, by all means, keep up the flattery. But normally I only get this red if someone catches me in the process of peeling off my exoskeleton.” 

He waggled a finger in their direction. “Heyyy, his little deal of yours wouldn’t happen to involve you trying to get me outta my skin, would it~?” he asked with a wink, then let out a small chuckle. “...That was a wink, by the way. In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Don’t worry, I understood the intent,” Tangy assured him. “Although to answer your question honestly: No, that is not what my deal entails. Besides, I’m much older than you are.”

Oh, they were, were they? Another interesting tidbit to tuck away in the old brain vault for later. “Fair enough, I wouldn’t be interested anyway,” Bill said, leaning back in his chair. “So what kind of deal are you looking to make, Birdbrain? Wanna be rich? All-powerful?”

A beat. “…Taller?”

Hey, just because they were keen on dishing out the compliments didn’t mean he had to reciprocate.

“As tempting as that last one is, I’ll pass this time,” Tangy said. “But to be honest, I didn’t just bring you here so you could make a deal with me. I mean, I guess I technically did, but—”

They moved a hand to Bill’s file on the desk and flipped it open. “Point is, this deal is less about what I want, and mostly about what you want.”

Well, if that didn’t shoot Bill’s eyebrow so far up his face that it was a miracle it didn’t fly away of its own accord. So they were just jumping straight to that point on their own without him having to guide them there himself, huh?

It wasn’t enough to lower Bill’s guard completely, but he couldn’t help but give them an intrigued look. “Oh? And what is it that I want exactly?”

Tangy turned their gaze to the file. “Well, according to this; lots of things!” they said, tracing their finger beneath the words on one page. “A physical form that will allow you to escape your dimension and rule the mortal realm with an iron—and three-dimensional—fist. Some form of revenge on the people who stopped you from doing that the last time you tried—”

They let their eyes travel across the page for a moment, before confusion painted their features. “—the world’s silliest silly straw?”

Bill let out a hearty laugh. “That’s right, I’d almost forgotten about that one! One of the few things I gotta give humans credit for; they sure can silly a straw!”

He folded his arms. “But in all seriousness, it’s pretty low on the list of things I’d make a deal over,” he said. “You’re on the right track with those first two options, though. So if we really wanna get this show on the road—”

“Ah, ah, not so fast!” 

Tangy held up a finger. “I might know what you want, but you haven’t even heard my terms of the deal yet!”

Despite his best efforts, Bill's nonexistent smile fell in an instant as he raised his eyebrow at them. “Pretty sure you just said this whole deal was about what I wanted?”

“I said it was mostly about what you wanted,” Tangy reminded him. “But there are a few things I’d like to gain out of our exchange for myself.”

They cradled their chin in their hands. “I mean, it wouldn’t exactly be a deal if only one side got what they wanted, would it?” they asked. “It’d be more like—I don’t know—me just giving you a gift without expecting anything in return?”

A shrug. “A nice gesture, but not something that requires all this extra effort,” they pointed out. “In that case, I could’ve simply left a present next to your statue and been done with it!”

Bill rolled his eye. An annoying point, but a fair one. Even if he would’ve absolutely preferred a free offering without being expected to give anything in return. “Well, what do you want out of the deal, then?”

Tangy’s beak widened into an excited smile and clapped their hands twice. Immediately the scenery around them changed; the lights in the room were snuffed out in an instant and the grotesque, hellish scenery beyond the glass above transformed into a calm, starry night. Another series of claps, and a large projection screen appear behind them in midair, followed shortly by a film projector at the other end of the room. With a pleased expression, Tangy rolled their chair around the desk and moved towards the empty space beside Bill. “I have a short promotional film prepared,” they explained. “After the dozenth-or-so client, it gets exhausting repeating myself over and over.”

They leaned closer to him and gave him a knowing wink. “Plus this way I can offer my guests refreshments while they watch! I heard someone was a fan of Time-Punch? I might have a few bottles on hand, if you’re interested?”

Bill's eye had once again been fixed on the changing scenery above their heads, but his expression fell into something more pleased at the mention of Time Punch. “Well, now, if you’re going to go and offer me something like that, then how can a guy say no?” he asked, tucking one hand behind his head while making a gesture with the other to proceed.

There was a snap of Tangy’s fingers and a small, floating martini glass appeared in the air near Bill, one immediately followed by a bottle of sparkling liquid. “I think a glass of Late 2020 would be to your liking,” they said. “It’s supposed to be a very weird year.”

Bill’s eye lit up. “Ooh, that’s the year the plague makes a comeback, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” Tangy said, while the bottle poured its contents into Bill’s glass. “I opted for the back half of the year, after things really began to kick into overdrive.”

Once the glass was full, Bill took it in his hand and gave the contents an expert swirl, before raising it to his eye for a sip. “Oh yeah, that’s the kind of savoriness you only get from media fatigue, toilet paper hoarding, and…”

There was a pause, followed by a smacking sound as he determined the taste. “Huh, almost forgot about the murder hornets.”

“Yeah, kind of a wild thing to throw out there while everything else was going on,” Tangy agreed.

While Bill took another sip, Tangy gestured to the projector and the screen before them lit up with the image of a vintage countdown timer. Once it ticked down to zero, the screen fell dark again for a moment before the first scene appeared.

A random, humanoid man raced into view from the right side of the screen. His appearance was disheveled and worn—as if he’d been previously fighting some difficult battle—and his features twisted with defeat and fury.

He slowed his run to a gradual stop, ducking behind a wall and sinking down to the ground in an exhausted, sitting position. As he pressed a hand to his head, a booming voice (one that echoed throughout the domed room around them) began to speak offscreen. “Greetings! Have you ever found yourself in a situation like this gentleman right here?”

The camera zoomed in on the man’s face, as he glared at the person behind the camera with a look of pure malice. “Hey now, there’s no need to look at me like that, pal,” the voice continued cheerfully. “The state you’re in right now is all your doing! You ticked off the wrong people, maybe you burned all the bridges with your family and friends. You’re a loser—”

On the screen beside the man flashed the word ‘LOSER’ in a wacky font. “—a CHUMP—” Another word in wacky font appeared on the opposite side of him. “—an absolute SUCKER—”

Before the third word could appear above his head, the man waved the text away in a blur of colors. “Can we get to the point?” he asked with a scowl.

“You’ve hit rock bottom with no way to climb back out,” the voice continued. “Or so you think~!”

The camera panned out, and suddenly Tangy appeared onscreen with an excited flourish. “Lucky for you, there’s a way to get your life back on track!” they said eagerly. “Introducing—”

With a wave of their hands, the title of the short film appeared over the two of them in big, orange—(Bill side-eyed the actual Tangy at this, who merely shrugged. “Listen, I like what I like.”)—letters of the same font as before:

“The Shelduck’s Game.”

Bill’s eyebrow rose with curiosity. The first thing to catch his eye was the word ‘shelduck’ (so Birdbrain was a shelduck, huh? Called that one.), but what really piqued his interest was the specific use of the word ‘game’.

Though a deal of a different name, a game possessed enough unique characteristics to justify the use of a separate word. A game implied challenges, rules…

More enticingly, a game implied a prize to be won.

The Tangy on the screen continued to speak as the text faded: “That’s right; The Shelduck’s Game! A fun-filled game for beings of all types across the Multiverse, and a chance for you to pull yourself out of the doldrums and get your life back on track!”

The scene transitioned with a screen wipe to a simple, crudely-drawn animation of Tangy and the unnamed man. “The Shelduck’s Game is so simple and easy to play, a child could do it!” the overlaid voice from before continued. “Not that we get a lot of children playing this game, but they could if they really wanted to!”

The actual Tangy leaned closer to Bill. “Yeah, not a lot of kids end up hitting rock bottom in the way most of my clients do,” they explained in a whisper. “And on the off chance that they do, they’re usually pulled out of it by the power of friendship or whatever by the time I’m able to arrive on the scene.”

A shrug. “Still, I am here if they ever need my help.”

Bill rolled his eye and turned his attention back to the film. “How does this game work, you may be asking yourself?” the voice asked, while the animated stand-in of the man shrugged with cartoonish uncertainty. “Well, as we said before, it’s so simple that even a child could figure it out! And that’s because—”

The crudely drawn Tangy gestured widely, and the scene transitioned to the two of them playing a random board game. “—the Shelduck’s Game is always suited to fit the specific player’s needs and personality!”

The board game shifted to a chessboard. “Are you a fan of chess?” Then a checkerboard. “Or perhaps checkers is more your speed?” The board disappeared completely. “Or maybe you’re not a fan of board games at all! We’ve got plenty of other options!”

Another scene transition, and the man was now hiding behind a tree while Tangy could be seen searching for him in the background. “There are countless games to be played in the Shelduck’s Game,” the voice continued. “But in the end, all you have to do is win one in order to obtain—”

More text written in that wacky font appeared onscreen, covering it in its entirety as the voice read them out: “—The Grand Prize!”

Bill hid a laugh behind another sip of his drink. Once again, his guessing skills were impeccable.

“The Grand Prizes offered by the Shelduck’s Game are just as diverse as the games themselves,” the voice continued. “And just as catered specifically to the needs-slash-wants of the player!”

The scene changed to the man’s animated head surrounded by brightly wrapped presents, and one opened to reveal a pile of money.  “Looking for cash?” Another revealed an unlabeled award. “Fame?”

And the last present opened to reveal an elegantly-decorated crown. “Looking to climb back to the top after your nasty and undignified fall from grace?” 

A wipe of the scene revealed the man from before, his disheveled and beaten appearance now replaced with a triumphant pose as he stood tall before a pile of his hard-earned rewards. “All of this and more can be yours if you play and win The Shelduck’s Game!”

With a proud smile, the man gave a thumbs-up to the camera. “Thanks to the Shelduck’s Game, I’m finally back on top!”

“Look at this guy!” the voice continued. “Don’t you wanna be just like him? I’ll bet you do! So play the Shelduck’s Game today!”

The guy gave a thumbs up as the title flashed again: “The Shelduck’s Game! Outta luck? Talk to the duck!” A pause, before the voice spoke again in a much more casual tone: “We’re still working on the catchphrase, cut us some slack.”

A series of warnings in smaller text quickly scrolled up from the bottom of the screen, read along by the voice at a pace to match the speed:

“Warning; please do not play any of the more intense games in the Shelduck’s Game if you are prone to illness, vertigo, motion sickness, or are with offspring in any way, shape, or form. The Shelduck’s Game is not responsible for any death (temporary or otherwise), dismemberment, or injury that may occur during the events of the game. Rules and regulations for each game may vary, as will your satisfaction with the end results. The Shelduck’s Game is not associate with Globnar, Time Baby or any associated organizations.”

The screen faded to black, and Tangy once again clapped their hands together. Immediately, the screen and projector vanished and the room’s lighting was restored. “Still a work in progress,” they admitted, while they moved their chair back to the other side of the desk. “But I think it gets the point across!”

They tilted their head. “Unless you have any other questions you still need to ask before we continue?”

Oh, Bill’s mind was whirling with questions, his gaze fixed hard on his empty martini glass in an attempt to mask the glee building inside him.

Birdbrain was in charge of running some sort of multidimensional game and wanted him as their latest player, with the aforementioned prize to be won acting as a lull to draw him in. Play a game, win a prize. A deal older than time itself, and one that often sounded too good to be true.

And as someone who had plenty of experience in the field of dealmaking; whenever a deal sounded too good to be true, there was always a catch. And lucky for Bill, he was quite the expert in spotting the catches in a deal. A master at spotting a watery loophole in even the most empty and barren of word deserts.

First thing of note was the lack of any specific game for him to play. The video had provided examples, but they’d been exactly that; examples. The video had made it very clear that the games were catered specifically to the player’s needs and personality.

And although he had a feeling Tangy was going to discuss the specifics of the game next, there was still the issue of the prize itself. They had already brought up a list of a few things he desired, but nothing that was worth diving headfirst into an unknown game of chance.

…Well, nothing that was worth diving into an unknown game of chance without more information, at least. 

He had to keep them talking, at least long enough to get that information out of them and anything else they were willing to divulge. Something he was sure wouldn’t be difficult; with how happy Birdbrain seemed to keep chatting up a storm, it was a wonder that they hadn’t been born a parrot instead of a shelduck.

Man, the bird jokes were almost too easy.

“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Tangy said aloud, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re probably thinking ‘this sounds amazing, and way too good to be true.’, along with some kind of derogatory remark about my appearance.”

Smarter than they looked, apparently.

Bill gingerly traced a finger around the rim of his glass. “Let me just see if I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” he said aloud, while his gaze followed the movement. “If I play one of your silly games and win, I get the prize of my dreams? That’s the deal you wanna make with me?”

“As expected, you catch on quick,” Tangy said proudly. “Yep, games are how we do things over here in my neck of the woods. I’ve got enough power to grant people their fondest desires, but it only becomes a reality if they play and win.”

They folded their hands on the desk. “And lucky for you, Bill Cipher, you happen to be the one I’m extending that lucky offer to today!”

Bill reached his glass to his eye again, downing the last little bit of Time Punch. “Can’t lie to you, Birdbrain, that does sound like a pretty sweet deal. But I’ve gotta reiterate my point from before; I can’t exactly agree to a deal if I don’t know the specifics behind it.”

He gestured widely with both arms and the few remaining drops in his empty glass splattered onto the papers on Tangy’s desk, a shimmery mess of color against their usual shade of white. “And not once in that little video of yours did you ever state the actual name of the game."

He held up the glass to his eye for a casual inspection. “I’m just saying, it ain’t smart to sign up for a game before you even know what you’re playing~!”

Tangy didn’t look the least bit perturbed by the mess, and instead gave a wave of their hand. The few spilled drops rose up from the paper into the air, leaving no trace that they had ever spilled, and a wave of their hand in another direction brought Bill’s empty glass up to join them before both dissolved in a quick burst of light.

The light faded as quickly as it had appeared, the cup and droplets now a floating mass of energy as Tangy shifted both hands to bring that energy into their embrace. They snapped with one hand, then the other—

—and then slapped both hands around the energy, flattening it into something that Bill could not see. After keeping their hands pressed together for a moment, they rereleased their grip and held the mass before them as it rematerialized into something entirely new.

At first, it appeared to be nothing more than a bunch of small, golden shapes, each about the size of an eraser. Once all the shapes had properly formed, however, they started to combine into a larger, singular shape—

“A triangle?”

How original.

The triangle—well, actually it was more of a square pyramid than anything else—fell into Tangy’s cupped hands, and a pair of thin, golden chainlinks began to materialize from the topmost point. They continued to form upwards for several inches, before slowly rounding off into a closed circle chain. “I had a few ideas for the game I’d offer you,” they said. “But I think at the end of the day, a scavenger hunt is the perfect choice!”

They looped a finger into the chain and twirled the charm in the air, the triangle gently drifting back and forth with their movements. “Combined with a little bit of Capture The Flag~!”

Bill raised his eyebrow. Alright, not what he was expecting but his curiosity was certainly piqued. “Elaborate.”

“Basically, I take this little guy and I—”

A snap, and the charm suddenly reverted back to a mess of golden bricks. “—scatter the pieces all across Gravity Falls,” they continued. “I then plop you down in the town, and leave you to find all of the pieces and put the entire thing back together.”

They tapped their beak with their finger. “I’d want to give you a decent amount of searching time, so let’s set the time limit from the beginning of June to sunrise on August thirty-first,” they said. “Both within the year twenty-thirteen, of course, so no trying to pull a ‘Well technically, I could still keep playing because you never specified which August thirty-first.’”

Their hand moved from their beak to their chin as they thought for a moment. “Although I guess there has been some debate on whether the current year is actually twenty-thirteen or twenty-fourteen,” they mused. “Time Baby’s literal-untimely death made things go all wonky for a bit and there’s still some lingering side effects. I’m pretty sure it’s only twenty-thirteen, but you know how it goes—”

A shrug. “Whatever, from the beginning of June to August thirty-first all within the same Gregorian year. Three months, no more and no less.”

Bill was silent as he contemplated all of this, gaze shifting between Tangy and the scattered pieces of triangle. “Where does the Capture the Flag part come in?”

“Good question!” Tangy said. “So basically, once you get the pieces together, you’ve gotta find a way to keep hold of the charm by the time the game’s deadline hits!”

They flashed him a smile. “Which I doubt would be an issue for someone like you, but what’s a game without a few extra challenges thrown into the mix?”

Extra challenges, huh? That seemed vague enough to be sneaky. “And what does that mean, exactly?” he inquired. “Gonna pop down a couple of extra players to act as an opposing team to me or something?”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Tangy assured him. “I just figured you’d be surrounded by a lot of people who don’t like you, and would probably do anything to stop you from achieving your goals.”

Their smile widened. “I mean, if someone showed up and tried to turn my dimension inside out, I doubt I’d be willing to just let them walk around freely after that,” they elaborated further. “And if I found out they were collecting the pieces of a puzzle that would let them do that again, I’d probably do everything in my power to take those pieces away from them.”

A shrug. "That's just my own personal feelings, though. For all I know, the people down there could welcome you with open arms and do everything they can to help you find the pieces. Either way, though, you have to be the one holding them by the end of the game to count as the winner."

…Alright, so maybe it wasn’t as sneaky as he’d initially thought. 

Still, Bill had yet to find any sort of real catch in their offer, and Birdbrain had yet to circle back around to talking about the prize he’d receive if he won the game. “So, just so we’re all clear: you want me to waste three months hunting down some building blocks in a town I can’t stand, full of people I can’t stand?” he asked. “That’s your big, exciting game?”

He folded his arms behind his head. “Gotta say, Birdbrain, I’m not seeing much of an appeal to playing your little game. From where I’m standing, you put far more effort into your silly video than actually making your game interesting.”

A laugh. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure it’d be fun to go back to tormenting the suckers there for a bit. But I’ve been doing that for several decades now, and the novelty’s worn itself pretty thin.”

“Hey, it’s not like I could send you anywhere else,” Tangy pointed out. “What with the weirdness barrier around the town and everything, I’m kind of limited on options.”

They reached up to gently tap one of the scattered bricks with their finger, before the charm reformed itself into a full pyramid. “Which reminds me, I don’t believe we decided on your prize, did we?”

It took every ounce of willpower on Bill’s end to keep his expression neutral as the conversation shifted back to the topic of his prize, despite the initial glee from before bubbling up once again inside him. It really was too easy to get what he wanted out of people, wasn’t it? “We discussed it, but I don’t think we settled on an answer.”

Tangy let both the charm and their gaze fall back to the desk, and they reached over to turn the current page of his file to the next one. “Well, we’ve covered a few of the things you currently desire,” they said studiously, pupils shifting back and forth as they read. “Revenge, a chance to take over the multiverse again…a silly straw—”

“I believe we already established that I can make due without that last one for now,” Bill interrupted quickly.

“Sans the straw, there’s a number of options to select as your prize,” Tangy continued, and flipped to another page. “But so many of them wouldn’t even be worth all the effort of playing, what with that aforementioned barrier still around the town—”

They slapped the folder shut with one hand. “So, why not make that your prize instead?”

Bill blinked. “Wait, make what my prize?”

“The barrier, you goofball!” Tangy said with a delighted laugh. “You play my game and win, and I’ll shatter the barrier for you!”

…Heh? “Heh?”

“I don’t know how much clearer I can phrase it for you,” Tangy said. “Since all of my other options would still leave you stuck within the town limits, why not just get rid of the reason you were stuck in the first place?”

They pressed their hands together in a squishing motion, adding a raspberry for comedic effect. “So yep, that’s my offer! Find all the pieces of the charm, put ‘em back together, and keep hold of the entire thing before the sun rises on the final day of summer, and I’ll shatter that pesky barrier like glass for you!”

“...You’re bluffing.”

It was said far too unprofessionally, far too needy for his liking. But for the first time since he’d arrived, any common sense was momentarily ignored as Bill stared at them in utter shock. 

Out of all the things they could have suggested as a prize, out of all the things he could have suggested, not once did the thought of destroying the barrier cross his mind. Why would it? The only one who had any knowledge of how to collapse the barrier was—

Bill’s hand gripped the chair’s armrest, and he let out a grounding exhale of breath in an attempt to relax. He had to remain calm. Neither he nor his Nightmare Realm buddies had been able to break past the barrier, and he had a feeling that ol’ Sixer had no interest in spilling that information to his beloved family. 

And if Bill hadn’t been able to get the equation out of him, there was no way that Birdbrain would just know it off the top of—

“‘Gravity Falls Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism and the Equation To Reverse It.’”

Tangy’s attention was now on the laptop, their fingers dancing across the keys for a moment before they pointed to the screen. “Huh, look at that!” they said delightedly. “There’s actually results!”

Bill’s grip on the armrest tightened, cotton fluff billowing out of the rips as his pupil bounced to the laptop for a millisecond. “...And how do I know you’re not just staring at an empty screen right now?”

“I don’t blame you for being suspicious,” Tangy said, and turned back to face him. “But I can promise you that I wouldn’t have offered the idea if I didn’t intend to follow through on it if you win the game—”

“So what do you get out of all of this?”

It was a question that had been lingering at the back of Bill’s mind the entire time, just barely out of reach. But upon hearing Birdbrain’s offer to shatter the barrier, something had finally clicked.

They had not once elaborated on why they wanted him to play their little game. 

The prize they were offering; it had to be the catch in their deal. Something so personally enticing to him that he wouldn’t think to question why they were offering it to him in the first place. Why would they be promising to give him so much if they weren’t going to get anything out of it themselves?

Tangy tilted their head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What are you getting out of this deal?” Bill repeated, and floated up out of his chair. “Out with it, Birdbrain; you wouldn’t be offering this deal if you weren’t getting something out of it in return.”

He hovered forward and placed his hands on the edge of the desk. “You said yourself that a deal wasn’t a deal if only one side was getting something out of the exchange,” he pointed out. “If I play and win, I get a prize.”

He leaned forward further, eye narrowing with suspicion. “So I ask again; what are you getting out of this deal?”

Much like the other times Bill had invaded their personal space, Tangy showed no sense of discomfort or annoyance at the action. Rather, they simply moved a hand back to the laptop and pressed it closed. “What do I get out of this?”

The hand moved to the charm on the desk, their fingers teasing the chain for a moment. “That’s an easy answer! I get the joy that comes from helping someone in need.”

Bill raised his eyebrow, unconvinced.

“I’m serious,” Tangy said, and rose up from their chair again. “The entire motivation behind giving people a chance to play my games is because I adhere to the idea that everyone out there deserves a chance to get their lives back on track. To get a second chance that many others might not be willing to give them.”

Their cheery demeanor grew unusually serious for a moment as their eyes fell to the desk before them. “Even if they squander that chance, at least that helping hand was extended to them in the first place…”

They were quiet for a moment, before their bright expression returned in full. “Also I’d like to point out that while you don’t have to trust my motives, I did go through all the trouble of bringing you here to make this deal in the first place,” they pointed out. “Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Bill could think of at least a dozen answers to their question off the top of his head, but he simply folded his arms across his chest. In their defense, it was a good point; why bother going through all that trouble if they had no plans to actually hold up their end of the bargain?

Sure, there was always a chance that they were lying about possessing the ability to destroy the barrier, but what benefit would it give them to do so? How would lying here further Birdbrain’s needs?

…Again, Bill could spend an eternity listing off potential guesses, but at the end of the day, they would just be guesses. Not actual answers behind their motives.

“I’m happy to give you as much time as you need to think the offer over,” Tangy said, and waved their hand over the desk. “But if it might help speed up the process—”

They pulled their hand back, and a blank piece of paper flew up from their desk and hovered between them. As Bill watched, the words ‘The Shelduck’s Game Contract’ began to magically form in big, orange (again with the orange) letters at the top of the paper. 

Letters that were quickly followed by a series of paragraphs in the same font, finishing off with two blank signature lines near the bottom of the page.

“I know you’re a man of handshakes,” Tangy said. “And we can absolutely do that as well. But my game requires a binding signature to take effect.”

Another wave of their hand and their signature appeared on the first blank line. “There we go, now I’m legally bound to uphold my end of the deal,” they said. “And if I don’t, you’re well within your legal rights to hit me with whatever punishment you see fit~! I do believe we mentioned the Unnaturally-Moist Dimension already? Or perhaps you’d want to do something worse to me?” 

A shrug before they folded their hands together. “Either way, my fate would be in your rightfully-unforgiving hands!”

Bill stared at them before his gaze moved back to the contract, slitted pupil darting back and forth as he absorbed every word, letter—even every punctuation mark—several times over. It was nothing they hadn’t previously discussed; an explanation of the game, the decided terms, and—

‘As agreed upon, the being known as Bill Cipher will receive the following upon winning the decided game; the complete and immediate destruction of the weirdness barrier that surrounds the town of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Scenic Dimension 46'\. ’

His gaze lingered on those words for a moment while he pondered over everything that Tangy had told him. There had to be something he’d missed, the catch he’d yet to find in their words.

But, on the other hand—

His shoulders tensed. They had countered his questions with legitimate answers. They were practically throwing themselves at him to make a deal, even going to far as to offer themselves as a punching bag if they tried to back out. They were promising to give him the very information that he had died trying to pry out of Ford’s mind—

One fatal mistake.

He didn’t even bother to hide the flash of red in his eye, as he snapped his pupil back to Tangy. “You’re serious about breaking the barrier if I follow all your rules and win your dumb little game?”

Tangy held up a hand. “As serious as the odes of plague in that 2020 punch you drank.”

“And all I have to do to win your game is put that little charm of yours back together and keep hold of it by the end of the summer?” Bill asked. “That’s it?”

Tangy snapped their fingers and the charm flew from the desk to their hand. “That’s all you’ve got to do.”

Bill looked from the charm to their laptop. “...And there’s absolutely zero chance of you just giving me the equation right now, even if I do everything in my power to torture it outta you?”

Another snap of their fingers and the laptop vanished in a flash of light. “You could certainly try,” Tangy said with a smile. “But I’m also aware of your vulnerability in the mindscape, and I feel like that probably puts you at a disadvantage in a fight—”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, point taken.”

Bill crossed his arms, eyelid narrowed in thoughtful silence for a moment, then another—

Aw, heck with it. Since when did he overthink this hard about anything?

“Gimme a pen.”

Tangy’s face lit up with excitement as they made a pen float up from the desk and into Bill’s hand. And within seconds, the blank signature line was occupied by a boldly written ‘BILL CIPHER’ in jagged capitals.

Their smile widening further, Tangy gestured the signed contract back towards them and rolled it up with a wave of their hand. “Looks like the game’s on~!”

“Ah, ah, ah, before that—” Bill held out a hand. “—now it’s my turn.”

Tangy gave a nod. “But of course! I’m nothing if not a duck of my word.”

They reached for Bill’s hand with their own, their palms barely making contact before both were enveloped in blue flames. Heatless flames, but the power behind the action could still be felt as the imaginary bonds of the deal travelled up through their arms and throughout their entire bodies.

Bill’s hand lingered in theirs as the flames died down, his grip tightening against their feathers. “If I win your stupid game, and you don’t shatter that barrier for me, I get free reign to torment your lying, feathered butt in the most horrific ways possible until the end of time.”

“Once again, duck of my word,” Tangy assured him. “But I would like to remind you that I only have to uphold my end of the deal if you win. If you lose, you can’t hold me accountable for your failures.”

Despite the eye roll that followed in response, Bill could feel the familiar rush of endorphins that always came with making a deal surge through him. A rush now paired with a swelling passion, as the realization that he had succeeded in playing his cards right.

He had a chance to destroy the barrier. To start again.

To finally be free.

His features twisted into a metaphorical grin. And this time, he would not be making any ‘fatal mistakes’. Take that, Stanford! Take that, Stanley! Take that, anyone who would not be getting in his way again!

“So, are you ready to begin?”

Once again, Birdbrain was just a master at interrupting his thoughts. But once again in their defense, they were also good at following those interruptions with a good point. “So, how’s this gonna work, then?” he asked aloud, gaze moving to their still-locked hands. “I possess you, then we pop on down to Hick Town, or—?”

Tangy tilted their head curiously. “Possess me?”

“Yeah, you know, so I can play your game?” Bill pointed out. “Can’t exactly go without a vessel to possess.”

He batted his eyelashes at them. “Unless you’re planning on just dropping me down there in my pure, unaltered form~?” he guessed. “Couldn’t blame you if you did, I’m a delight!”

Tangy chuckled. “Well, you are a delight, but I don’t plan on doing that,” they said. “Knowing you, you’d probably use it to your advantage and just turn the town upside down looking for the charm pieces.”

They raised their free hand in a shrug. “And while that’s not against the rules or anything, it would make the game a little too easy.”

“Had a feeling you’d lean that way," Bill said with a roll of his eye. "So then, when am I possessing you?”

Tangy chuckled, their smile widening just the faintest amount. “You’re still misunderstanding, Bill,” they said. “When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

“...What do you—”

There was a flash of light as Tangy broke their handshake, and Bill vanished.

Their arm remained outstretched for a moment, gaze locked on the spot where Bill had been previously, before they let it fall with a giddy laugh that echoed throughout the domed room. “Wow, I can’t believe it!” they said, flapping their hands in excitement. “I actually managed to convince him to play one of my games! This is going to be so much fun!”

“Sounds like things are going well.”

Tangy’s gaze snapped to the archway at the sound of a new voice, grin widening as a tall, hooded woman stepped through. Unlike Bill’s entrance into the room, she moved with control and grace, her countless eyes shifting about as she took in the scenery. “I saw he had taken his leave, so I thought it safe to make my presence known.”

“Oh, hi, Jhessie~!” Tangy said delightedly, waving at her with their whole arm. “And you’d be right on that fact!”

They gave the woman a double thumbs-up as she approached the desk. “I convinced Bill to play a game!” they explained. “Not only that, you were right about him being suspicious about almost everything in the deal, while also being too darn stubborn to accept any chances to back out.”

Smiling wider, they reached for the triangle charm on the desk and held it up. “Also, it’s a good thing he was so focused on all of that, he didn’t even think about taking a closer look at this bad boy,” they said, and pressed a finger to their bill. “He also didn’t notice how I never actually ended up using my flashcards, despite them being one of the excuses I used to get him in here. Odd oversight on his part, I think.”

“The important part is that he accepted the deal,” she said, tilting her head upwards towards the glass dome. “I’m sure He’ll be pleased about that, as well.”

Tangy also turned their gaze upwards, as the hellfire and blood rain they had previously set for Bill melted back into the underwater view from before. They continued to stare for a moment, before Tangy dropped their gaze back to her. “Hey, Jheselbraum, can I ask you something?”

“You’re going to ask if my initial vision of Bill will come to pass,” Jheselbraum said, also letting the gaze of her multiple eyes fall to Tangy’s face.

Tangy playfully wagged a finger at her. “Nothing gets by you, huh, Miss Oracle?”

“Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure myself,” she admitted. “Or perhaps I struggle to believe it, despite witnessing the events of the premonition with my own eyes.”

She held her hands behind her back. “Regardless, while my visions usually come to pass in one way or another, the events of the future are not set in stone. Whatever happens will inevitably be up to him and the choices he makes during your game.”

“Well, either way, Bill’s on his way back to Gravity Falls for the summer so whatever happens will reveal itself in time,” Tangy said. “Oh, I should probably—”

With a snap, the charm vanished into the air. “There we go! Now his scavenger hunt can properly begin.”

“So, where did you end up hiding the pieces?” Jheselbraum asked.

Tangy tilted their head curiously. “You don’t know?”

“Just because I possess the ability to see into the future does not mean I choose to use it for everything,” she said. “It would make for a rather unsurprising, and therefore dull, lifestyle.”

“Fair enough,” Tangy said. “Well in that case, I won’t tell you! Let’s continue keeping it a surprise for everyone!”

With that, they clasped their hands together. “Well, I’ve probably got some time before he needs my help,” they said. “Care to share a glass of Time Punch with me while I wait? I’ve still got a mostly-full bottle of 2020.”

“I’m more partial to 3030 myself if you possess a bottle,” Jheselbraum said, before taking a seat in the chair previously occupied by Bill. “It’s currently unknown to most, aside from those of us blessed with the ability to see that far ahead.”

With a laugh, Tangy summoned a bottle and two empty glasses. Both of which—along with the rest of the room—were swiftly engulfed in shadow as a massive being passed overhead, beyond the glass of the domed roof.

Once again, both beings turned their heads upwards and watched in silence as a giant, pink axolotl floated lazily through the crystal blue waters, its magnificent body twisting to and fro for a few minutes before it eventually swam out of sight.

“Hmm, it appears I was right when I said He’d be pleased,” Jheselbraum observed thoughtfully. “Although He might be less so when he hears that you offered Bill some of your Time Punch.”

Tangy returned to pouring their glasses with a nervous chuckle. “Hey, come on, he was so suspicious of me when I first showed up,” they pointed out. “What better way to help him relax than to show him I’m a cool duck who’s willing to break a few rules with him?”

They cast her a concerned look. “...I’m not actually going to get in trouble, am I? The big guy would understand, right?”

Jheselbraum hummed with amusement. “Worry not, it was a joke.”

Tangy let out a laugh. “Heyyy, since when were you a jokey-jokerson?”

“Since I was able to predict every punchline while others could not predict my own,” she replied matter-of-factly. “But I’m serious when I say you needn’t worry. I can promise you that He’s pleased with the way things are unfolding, and is as eager to see how it’ll play out as we are.”

Their smile widened, before they waved the first poured glass in her direction. “Well, I certainly hope He remains pleased as time goes on,” they said, before getting to work on their own glass. “After all, the game has only just begun.”

“...That was incredibly cliché—”

“I know, but it sounded so cool and ominous that I just couldn't resist!”

They gestured for the bottle to lower itself to their desk as the two of them gave a toast (one immediately interrupted by an outcry of “Wait, I forgot to tell him the rules!” from Tangy), the base coming to a wobbly rest atop a stack of folders on the desk.

Specifically atop a thick, unopened folder, one that contained a decent number of papers regarding the subject within. On the outside of the folder itself however, there was nothing more than a simple picture to act as a label, stuck to the folder by a cutesy little sticker of the full moon. A picture that was thankfully unobscured by the bottle of punch. 

A picture of the Cetus constellation.

[tobiasdrake]

Ranking Digimon Adventure 1's Chosen Children on the Fight Me Bruh Scale

Here we go. This will be a scale from Most Confident to Least Confident, based on how confident I am that I could take each child in a playground fistfight. In the interest of fairness, they will not have their Partner Digimon with them, and my age will be set to 10 years old; An average of the eight of them.

1 - Izumi "Izzy" Koushiro. Oh, cute little nerd boy, what's he going to do, complain online about--

NO YOU'RE WRONG. Koushiro's on the soccer team. He may be meek and unassuming but that boy is an athlete all the same. Pick on him at your peril. He may be one of the less difficult fights but that meek stature conceals enough musculature to at least get by on the field.

Koushiro may be the least threatening but only because of how scary the others can be. I still don't relish my chances, and it's all uphill from here.

2 - Kido "Joe" Joe. What Jou lacks in athleticism and gusto, he makes up for with wild intensity when he gets going.

If this fight is happening, either I'm bullying Jou or I said or did some shit to the kids under him. In the first case, I can probably sweep the win. He won't defend himself too hard. But in the case of the latter, he's going to come at me like a lanky berserker bent on my destruction.

Jou is also the child most likely to win the fight by showing up to it in the company of an escorting adult, who then proceeds to drag me away by the ear.

3 - Ishida "Matt" Yamato. Yamato seems vulnerable to psychological warfare. Maybe if I yell something at him like "Look over there, it's your self-worth!" that will distract him enough that I can get some good hits in.

I'm gonna need something because he is ready and willing to come at me in full-scale brawling mode. He doesn't have the build of an athlete which will help me, but he's also probably not above cheap shots. Obviously, neither am I. Either way, this is going to be a fight.

4 - Takaichi "T.K." Takeru. On paper, you'd think I can just punt the little shrimp. But Takeru is small, scrappy, and unyielding. He faced down an insane puppet with a revolver 1v1 and came out on top. I don't think anything I have to throw at him is going to top that.

If I pick this fight, I'm going to regret it quickly when Takeru turns his niceness off and flips over into the honey badger of my destruction.

Plus there's a strong possibility that this fight ends in Yamato emerging from the underbrush with a steel chair. The Big Brother Factor is always important to keep in mind during playground brawls.

5 - Yagami "Tai" Taichi. Oh, fuck me. Nope nope. Nope nope nope. Are you shitting me? You want me to fight one of the two ace strikers of the school's soccer team?

This boy is rabid. I'll be on that schoolyard two seconds before he's throwing a thousand punches per minutes straight into my kidney. He is a ball of energy wrapped in a shell of violence incarnate waiting for an excuse.

6 - Takenouchi Sora. Oh, fuck me. Nope nope. Nope nope nope. Are you shitting me? You want me to fight the other of the two ace strikers of the school's soccer team?

In a playground brawl, Sora is Taichi with better reach and something to prove. I have self-identified as an opportunity to vent her frustrations over her mom's dislike of her athleticism, and I'm not going to be very happy about what comes next.

7 - Yagami "Kari" Hikari. Hikari isn't much of a brawler so you'd think this would be an easy fight. But this girl is weird, y'all! I go in for the haymaker and before I can even land it, she starts glowing brighter than the surface of the sun and speaking in new voices and levitating in the air.

And before I can even say "What the actual fuck is happening right now", Taichi with the steel chair.

8 - Tachikawa Mimi. One does not fight Tachikawa Mimi. This girl's charisma score is through the roof. Her greatest power is the ability to inspire others to stand by her, even when she isn't even trying to.

There is no version of this fight where Mimi ever throws a punch. She doesn't have to. In all other fights, the crowd of kids gathers to watch me fight. Mostly to laugh at me. In this fight, they're the fight.

This is a 35-on-1 shitstomp as every child on the playground dogpiles on my face and kicks the shit out of me for even daring.

And you know what? They're right. It's me. I'm the bully. ._. I'm sorry, everyone. I'll try to be better.

[archester-creations]

Rated: G

Pairing: Heatwave/Kade Burns

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: Day five of @heartsandsparksshipweek fairy tale; dragon shapeshifter Heatwave, (very) loosely inspired by the prince in the dragon's skin

The second Kade is home, he’s punching Huxley for putting them through this. It was one thing to cause normal problems. Sure, the occasional fake call or even the stupid ‘I dare me’ series was annoying. But at least those didn’t end with a griffin– because Cody was somehow right and those things really did exist– kidnapping his little brother for its nest. And because this was the way their day went, it led to them listening to Mrs. Neederlander to try and find a dragon because apparently they were a griffin’s ‘natural enemy’. A dragon! On one of the four islands that surrounded Griffin Rock. Sure, why not. At this point Kade could scream.

He pushed through underbrush, already deep in the forest on the island he ended up on. The four of them split up among the islands so they could find the possible dragon– if Mrs. Neederlander wasn’t full of shit– faster. Personally, Kade didn’t think he’d find anything here. The birds sang like usual and none of the trees were knocked down or missing any branches like he’d expect them to be with a dragon around. If not for Cody he’d turn around right now. But until anyone else in his family com’d that they found the dragon, he’d search. And search.

And search.

The sun was much lower in the sky now then when he started. Kade sighed. Much longer and he won't be able to see much, depending on how bright the moon shone through the canopy. His comm crackled to life as if on cue. It made him stop dead, branch half pushed out of the way.

"Hey, I want everybody to start heading back now," Dad said through it.

"What? No," Graham;

"We can keep searching," Dani;

"Dad come on," And Kade all protested at the same time.

"No," Dad said. "It'll be dark soon and all of you know we won't be any good to Cody if we can't see. We'll pick up the search first thing in the morning."

"But Dad," Graham tried again, with Dani throwing in a "I can see fine with the helicopter!"

"No, Dani. You know that’s not true.” Dad sighed over the comm. If he's really with a griffin, according to Mrs. Neederlander he'll be fine for the night."

"Are we really going to trust her?" Kade asked.

"Kade," Dad said.

"I agree with Kade on this one," Dani said. "It's one thing for griffins to be real, but a dragon? And why would Mrs. Neederlander know about it?”

"Mrs. Neederlander does know about a lot of weird stuff for whatever reason," Graham said.

"She's like you, except not a nerd," Kade said.

"Hey!"

"Meet back at Doc's floating lab, we'll continue the search in the morning," Dad said pointedly and no one protested this time. Maybe he could search a little further, but he didn't want to get stuck in the dark. Whatever, they could find the dragon tomorrow. They had time.

If Mrs. Neederlander was right.

Kade bit his lip. Maybe just a little further. He trekked deeper for several minutes, still without finding anything, until the woods started to darken with the first real touches of twilight. Best to turn back.

A bush near him rustled as he turned. He paused to watch it for a moment. There were wild animals out here, so he wanted to be careful. It rustled again, near the bottom, and Kade rolled his eyes. It was probably just a rabbit. The bush continued to rustle– getting more frantic– before it stopped suddenly when Kade took a step and broke a dry branch. The branch crunched oddly loud in thr forest.

A bear broke out of the bushes and Kade screamed. "Oh god, that's not a rabbit." Somewhere high. He had to get somewhere high. But he really didn't want to turn his back on the bear to climb a tree. Instead, Kade stood half frozen there in front of the bear, like he had never done in any other emergency before. But a fire with tools to stop it and family he trusts is very different from a wild animal in the middle of the woods with no one else around. More rustling came from behind him. He only got the confidence to turn and look when whatever appeared behind him roared. And the bear whimpered and ran. Or maybe 'confidence' was the wrong word and he simply wanted to know what would get him instead. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw two rows of sharp teeth. Until he registered the long red hair, freckles, and deep laugh. It wasn't another animal, but a very tall man.

"Sorry I scared you," the strange man said, though he didn't look sorry. Orange eyes sparkled at him over a sharp smile.

"You didn't scare me," Kade scoffed.

"Sure I didn't," the man said. "So what're you doing out here?"

"None of your business."

"This is my property."

"No one lives here."

"Someone clearly does. Me," the man said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "So what are you doing out here, in the woods, so close to night."

"Just leaving," Kade said.

"Then I'll go with you," the man said. The toothy grin was back. It was too sharp, just on the edges of uncomfortable and uncanny. "I wouldn't want you to get attacked by any more bears."

Kade swallowed down what fight was in himself. He also didn't want himself to be attacked by any more bears. But he also didn't want this man to think he was just okay with this, so he simply walked away, back out toward the shore. No sound followed him, but the stranger was there when he glanced back. Was there every time he glanced back. Maybe he'd get Graham or Dani to trade him for their island, so he wouldn't have to deal with this stranger again tomorrow.

"Would you get off my back?" Kade snapped the fifth time he spotted the man.

The man shrugged. "You know, if you told me what you were looking for I could probably help you find it."

"Why would you?" Kade grumbled as he walked.

"Not that I'm looking for something or anything," Kade added.

"Because if you don't find it, you come back. If you do, I don't have to deal with you on my island again," the man said.

Kade stopped walking to look back at him. The man's arms were still crossed over his chest. This time, Kade registered that the man was shirtless. Also shoeless. The only piece of clothing he wore were white pants that didn't look like any pants he knew, though he didn't really pay attention to that kind of stuff. "And you think you can find it?"

"Yeah," the man said.

Kade scoffed. "Good luck finding a dragon."

"A dragon, huh?" The man said.

"It's nothing but a wild goose chase, some fantasy cooked up by a crazy old lady, meanwhile Cody is in real danger-" Kade trailed off the rant, because the man- The man-

The man transformed– because that was the only word for it–, limbs suddenly longer, body and head bigger, wings sprouting from his back, all in a matter of seconds. Where the man stood, a dragon now was. A large, red dragon. If he wanted to, he could probably pick Kade up with a single clawed hand. Or eat Kade in a single bite. He looked down at Kade with large orange eyes and sharp teeth that finally made sense. Kade bit off a scream; it came out as more of a high-pitched squeak. Apparently dragons could smirk. Because that is what the man-dragon did.

"You didn't scare me," Kade nonchalantly snapped.

"I didn't say I did," the man-dragon's voice rumbled, though his mouth didn't open. "So now what, tough guy?"

Kade straightened up. "Now you… come with me."

"Mmhmm. For this griffin of yours? Cody?" The man-dragon said.

"What do you know about the griffin?" Kade glared up at the man-dragon. He may be the scariest thing Kade has ever come across, but if he did anything to Cody- "Were you in on it somehow?!"

"Woah, calm down." The man-dragon held up a clawed hand. "I just overheard a part of your conversation. You mentioned finding a dragon for a griffin and just now you mentioned Cody, that's everything."

Kade took a breath through his nose, but the flare of worry didn't really go away. "A griffin's got my little brother, Cody."

"Ah."

"We were hoping to get a dragon to help us, so if you know any other, perhaps better dragons?"

The man-dragon blew frost at him. It crinkled against his hair and chilled his cheeks. Kade thought dragons only had smoke and fire. "None that I'm willing to foist you on."

"Hey, I'm a delight!" Kade said.

"I'm sure that's what everyone says," the man-dragon said with a sarcastic look Kade didn't know dragons could make. He was unwillingly learning a lot about dragons today, it seemed.

"So, do you want help or not?"

No, not from you, Kade desperately wanted to say. But he had Cody to think about. All alone in a griffin's nest, away on that island he'd talked about last year probably. He couldn't just leave Cody. It'd be a shitty thing for an older brother to do. And he just… really loves Cody, okay? "Yes," Kade grit out.

"Great." The man-dragon lowered himself again. "Now get on and hold tight. I won't catch you if you fall off, tough guy."

"What do you mean you wo- Woah!" Kade yelped and grabbed onto the man-dragon's neck as tight as he could; the second he’d sat, the man-dragon took to the air.

"I'd like to get this done before it gets too dark, I'm sure you understand," the man-dragon said. His tone made Kade's hackles rise. Though not quite in the bad way, like when bullies made fun of Graham or tried to pick on Dani back in their high school days. It was more like the competitiveness he felt when he played basketball with his family or when Dani and he raced to see who could perform a rescue faster. (Currently Graham held the unofficial Mister Pettipaws record, for getting him out of the tree in five seconds. Dani and him both agreed it was unofficial because Mister Pettipaws had jumped on Graham's face as soon as he was close enough, but they brought it up sometimes when they argued about who actually held the record.)

"Whatever, you lizard," Kade grumbled. He screamed and clutched what scales he could when the man-dragon tilted to the side. The laugh it garnered rumbled under him.

"Why are you helping me?" Kade asked, long enough into the flight that the stars are around them and his com is out of range of the others.

"It gets you off my island and it keeps you off my island," the man-dragon said. For some reason the idea that he wanted to stay alone on a remote island struck Kade wrong, but he's used to being around family all the time so who knew. Though of course sometimes it wouldn't be so bad… "We're here."

Kade looked carefully over the side. There was a dark blob in the distance, steadily becoming larger and clearer till he could make out the outline of trees and eventually of a beach. Once they are close enough, Kade can see the waves lapping softly at the shore and leaves made dark green by the night. The man-dragon remained airborne until they reached the base of a mountain.

Kade sighed loudly. "We have to climb?"

"Unless you want the griffin to spot us," the man– because he was a man again, transforming back in the seconds it took Kade to turn around after he slid down– said with a smile, arms crossed back over his chest.

Much as Kade complained, he didn't actually mind the hike all that much. His family always did hikes together, even before Graham and Dani and Cody were also adopted, so he was pretty accustomed to them. Though he would've preferred doing it during the day. It wasn't very safe for people to travel the forest at night, especially forests they didn't know, so any rare nighttime hikes were usually reserved for dumb teenage shenanigans or nighttime rescue training; both in a forest they could probably navigate blindfolded. Of course, if you knew one forest you knew them all, so Kade was pretty confident.

The forest isn’t silent or spaced out oddly like Kade expected it might be with a griffin living in it. If the man even brought him to the right island. None of them searched for Cody yet, though they knew the direction he went in was Wayward, the island from when he was trying to get his lad pioneer patch. If the man’s only motivation was for Kade to never return, dropping him on an island with no way back was a much easier solution than helping him save his baby brother. Though that didn’t really explain why the man stayed. Or why Kade got the serious feeling the man was going much slower than he could, just so Kade was able to follow. Maybe he really did want to help. Maybe the man-dragon-whatever was as much a rescuer as Kade’s family is. It didn’t really matter in the end, so long as Cody was saved.

The trail the man leads him through is mostly softer inclines. It’s a hiking trail without the actual trail. Kade might even say it reminded him of the trail up Mt. Griffin back home. Just, with more trees. A lot more trees.

The longer they walk, the thicker the forest gets. And the thicker the forest gets, the quieter it becomes. Unlike the dragon’s island, it feels unnatural, like the forest was holding its breath. It makes an unsettled shiver run down Kade’s spine. He tripped on something– not a root, it was too hard and too jagged for that– and the man caught him by the collar so he didn’t fully fall. But there was a face whne he looked up that loomed over him. It was a bird, beak wide open. Kade screamed and shut his eyes. He only opened them when nothing happened after several seconds. Other than the man’s laughter.

“Shut up,” Kade grumbled. The man smiled at him. As the man’s laughter faded, Kade looked up at the ‘griffin’ that simply surprised him. It was a statue acting as a silent guardian. Under it was a doorway to a long, stone corridor with nothing but vines acting as a roof. He took a step to go inside, but the hand that was apparently still on his collar stopped him.

“Vikings. It’s probably booby-trapped and besides, it’s not what we’re here for,” the man said. He let go of Kade and began to walk beside the long corridor. It seemed a hastle to continue through the thickening forest instead of going down the stone walkway, but Kade didn’t know where it led and somehow the man seemed to. He followed him.

“What is it, anyway?” Kade asked. The stone wall beside him seemed old. It was cracked in places and the vines crawled up it. Some of the cracks Kade saw, he only saw through gaps in the dark greenery.

“A temple,” the man said.

“To the griffins?” Kade asked.

“Yeah,” the man said with clear distaste.

“You don’t like them,” Kade said.

“No,” the man agreed.

Kade nodded. “After this introduction, I don’t think I like them either.” The man made an amused noise through his nose.

“Well that’s good.”

“You won’t see them,” the man said when they make it to the nest. It was a large thing, thick branches and leaves and things that glint like metal, all on top of stone. For a glorified birds nest, it was intimidating. On top of all of that, Kade can see Cody. But he can’t see any griffins, outside the eggs.

“What?” Kade asked.

“The griffins. They’re away from their nest, so they’re invisible. You won’t see them,” the man said. Kade refused to admit the thing he felt at that sentence was fear.

"Can you see them?" Kade asked.

"No, but I can smell them." The man said and smiled so Kade could see the twin rows of unnaturally sharp teeth.

“Great, so you get the griffins and I’ll get Cody,” Kade said and went to stand up before the man could protest. Without so much as a word, the man yanked him back down.

“Maybe wait till I’m actually fighting the griffins before you run off, hot shot,” the man said.

“Yeah, of course,” Kade said. He felt eager to get Cody out of there. The griffins weren’t right in the nest right now, and the eggs were still unhatched, but who knew for how much longer that would last? Kade could swear one of the eggs twitched. The man rolled his eyes.

“Stay here until you hear the griffin scream, then grab your brother,” the man said. He transformed again before Kade’s eyes, skin becoming scales and limbs and face elongating unnaturally in a matter of seconds before the man-dragon took off. For just a moment, Kade stared after him. Then the screams came. They were beastly things. Deep and grating like metal. One of Doc Greene’s machines sounded like that once, Kade was pretty sure, when it was still just a prototype. It’d almost destroyed a house before they stopped it.

Kade took off running.

Cody was right in the middle of the nest, eyes on the sky and the man-dragon. Whatever he was fighting was still invisible. It looked like a lone dance in the air. He twirled and his tail moved like a colour guard flag. Even if Kade couldn’t see it, it seemed like the man-dragon was doing fine fighting it. Probably.

“Kade!” Cody lit up when he saw him. “You’re here!”

“Of course,” Kade said. “You didn’t think I’d just let you be kidnapped by some mythical beast or something, did you?”

Cody smiled. “No.” The griffin howled again, and both of them looked up toward it. There was a flash of colour that spurted sort of like a firework. Kade is sure it was blood.

“Is that a dragon?” Cody asked, looking awestruck, mouth hung open in an excited smile.

“Yeah. According to Mrs. Neederlander, it’s the only thing that could help us get you back,” Kade said. “I found it of course, like the expert I am.” Cody gave him a doubtful look. “What, you don’t think I could?”

“Thank you, Kade,” Cody said instead of answering him, but since it was gratitude Kade decided to let it slide. He helped Cody out of the nest, catching him when he tripped over an egg and fully tumbled out. Together they ran back to where the man-dragon and he parted. Hopefully he noticed them run away. The man-dragon probably wouldn’t appreciate being left behind. Plus, he was their only way off this island and to the others. A great flapping of wings followed a few minutes later and Kade turned to see the man. Cody looked even more excited at the possibility that the dragon could transform. Kade could practically see the questions form in his eyes.

“So you’re gonna take us home, right?” Kade asked. Before the man could answer, Cody pipped up with his own question.

"Are you going to stay with us?" Cody looked brightly up at the man and Kade watched Heatwave's face go through several expressions he couldn't follow.

"Uh, sure, kid," the man said. "For a time." Kade snorted and the man narrowed his eyes at him. With as much sarcasm as he could (which was a lot), Kade shrugged. No one could deny Cody. He wondered how their dad and the others would respond to having an actual dragon at the house.

[perpetuallylate1890]

A short Bill fic!

Just a Little Arson

As far as pawns went, Stanford was as good as it got. After some buttering up, good ol’ Fordsy had played right into Bill’s hands, abandoning all other projects to work on the portal. The sucker had even handed Bill free rein of his mind and body.

Stanford Filbrick Pines was the perfect man for the job, but not all was well in paradise. Yesterday, one of the gnomes had let slip about their little library, tucked away in the enchanted woods and watched over by the Shmebulocks. 

Ford, massive nerd that he was, wanted to investigate. It would’ve been cute if it weren’t for the contents of the library: Bill knew it contained numerous unfavorable, though not undeserved, descriptions of himself. The last thing he needed was his puppet growing wise, so as Sixer dropped off into sleep, Bill resolved to do something about it.

The possession was easy. Bill settled into Ford’s body, wiggling his fingers and toes. He blinked his eyes one at a time. Blah, the two eyes were still disorientating. Even worse was the weight of gravity, dragging him down. When he took control, he was chucking that first.

Grasping a chair for balance, he staggered to his feet. Walking took some getting used to, as did his inability to pass through walls. And breathing was just hilarious. Apparently, you had to keep breathing to keep your meatsack conscious. Only made that mistake once!

He staggered towards the elevator like a drunken ragdoll. Of course, he managed to get Ford’s long coat trapped in the elevator doors. Bill was always telling Sixer to ditch the jacket, but did he listen? Noooo. After extricating himself, Bill retrieved the car keys and stepped into the warm summer evening. He’d never driven before, but how hard could it possibly be?

After two minor crashes and a close call with a tree, Bill started to get the hang of things. The big pedal was the brake, or was it the small one? Man, he could barely see out of these stupid human eyes. Something darted into the road, and the tired thudded as they passed over it. Whoops.

In the dark, he nearly missed the turn. Cursing in R’lyehian, he plowed the car through the underbrush. Metal shrieked as boulders scraped the undercarriage. Sixer was not gonna be happy about this. 

The dirt road extended into the blackness ahead. Bill followed it for a spell, then dumped the car by a ditch. He clambered out of the driver’s seat, cracking his knuckles, and popped the trunk. Inside lay a gascan and a matchbook. He seized both and headed off into the woods.

The enchanted part of the forest was a short walk away. He passed by the unicorn grove–eugh, now those guys were real posers–and entered the gnome’s territory. Warm light spilled from homes carved into tree trunks. Deer grazed in the sidelines, ears pricked. Snores rolled from the dimly-lit tavern.��

Bill remained out of sight, in the shadows away from windows. The few gnomes he saw were utterly wasted. Finally, he reached a towering red cedar in the center of the town. It dwarfed the surrounding trees, swaying in the nighttime breeze. This tree was centuries old, and had served as the Shmebulocks’ library for generations. 

He snatched the key from a fake rock (seriously, those things were completely useless) and let himself in, lighting a match. The inside of the cedar was a vast, hollowed-out space, every surface lined with bookshelves. They stretched into the shadows above, accessible by ladders on wheels. A spiralling staircase followed the walls to the ground some thirty feet below. 

Bill paused to scoff at the bookcases. Centuries of knowledge, but they couldn’t hold a candle to his eons of existence. Really, it was pathetic they even tried. Stanford was just like the Shmebulocks, reaching for the stars, striving for the unknowable. Sooner or later he was gonna get burned. 

Bill sloshed gasoline onto all of the bookcases, breathing in that wonderful smell. He tipped the can over his head to get the last few drops. Nothing like a good chemical burn to the delicate tissues!

Cackling, he tossed the empty gascan behind him. Time for his favorite part. He retrieved a match, struck it, and tossed it with a flourish into the waiting shadows. It caught instantly. Flames licked up the bookshelves, filling the library with delicious heat. Bill laughed, palms outstretched to catch the sparks.

Book covers peeled into thin strips. Paper curled and charred. Smoke filled the space with a thick, cloying fog.

Meanwhile, the fire loomed dangerously close, reaching for Bill with greedy fingers. He stuck in a hand and laughed at the pain. Come to think of it, his body hurt all over. Blistered skin, streaming eyes, struggling lungs… wait, humans couldn’t survive being burnt to a crisp? Since when was that a thing? 

Bill hustled up the stairs, wheezing, as the fire roared beneath him. His puny lungs were closing up. He tripped once, twice, before spilling out the door to suck in clean oxygen. 

Cool night air washed over his body. His ankles, however, were abnormally warm. He glanced down to see the coat going up in flames. Curse Stanford and his fashion choices! Bill swatted unsuccessfully at the fire, gave up, and chucked the coat down the stairs. As he caught his breath, he heard sirens and frightened chatter. Right, time to scram.

Bill bolted off into the woods. Before he could get far, he took a branch to the stomach and went sprawling. He sputtered for air, head spinning. Distantly, he registered flashing blue and red lights, painfully bright and growing closer. Crap.

“Hey, you!” called a voice. “Hands where I can see ’em!” A gnome scurried towards him, accompanied by a siren-bedecked deer. Okay, he was alone. Bill could work with this.

He affected a casual posture, patting down his smoking clothes. “Hiya, officer! What seems to be the problem?”

“A fire broke out in the library.” The gnome adjusted his belt. “Nothing wrong with the occasional book-burning, but the law’s the law.” He glared at Bill. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, wouldja?”

Bill grinned toothily. “No, officer. I have literally no idea how that fire started.”

“Is that so.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said. “But your superiors won’t see it that way! They’re just not the understanding type!” He loomed over the gnome, lips peeled in a smile. “Howzabout we keep this between us? They don’t need to know about me, and they definitely don’t need to know about your little butterfly habit.”

The gnome’s eyes widened in terror. Oh yeah, Bill had him now. “That sound like a deal, buddy?”

Silently, the gnome nodded. 

“Good. Nice chatting with ya!” He tipped a nonexistent hat and left the officer staring into nothing. 

The trek back to the car was uneventful. Bill skirted past gnomes, unnoticed, until the noise faded behind him. Exhaustion weighed his meatsack down. (Already? He’d just committed a little arson!) Stumbling over roots, he made his way to the road, only to discover the car had taken a nosedive into the ditch. 

Bill groaned. Of course he’d forgotten the parking brake. Looks like he was walking back. 

Stanford woke to a litany of pain. His throat ached. His palms throbbed. His legs were sore, as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. Knowing Bill, it was entirely possible.

He fumbled for his glasses, which were smudged with soot. He inhaled deeply. Why did his clothes smell of smoke and gasoline? And where had his coat gone? He rolled out of bed, dreading what he might find downstairs.

The kitchen was in shambles. Shattered windows, charred cabinets, crisped curtains. At the epicenter of the destruction stood the toaster, which Ford had once accused of inefficient heating. It now appeared to be equipped with weapons-grade flamethrowers. A sloppy handwritten note was tacked to the side: “FIXED IT.”

Ford rubbed his hands over his eyes. So this explained the burns, the bruises, and the sore throat–but what had caused the sore legs? And why had Bill deemed it appropriate to “fix” a toaster with weapons of war? Ford sighed. Sometimes, Bill’s lack of insight was profusely irritating. This required coffee.

He went to make a cup, just to realize the coffee maker had been blown to smithereens. A trip to the local diner, then. This, too, was thwarted when a glance out the window showed an empty driveway.

Ford sighed again. He would have to find a way to explain this to Fiddleford. As soon as he figured out where his car had gone.

[star-anise]

I saw a post somewhere that mentioned you read a lot of books about the history of sailing. Do you have any recommendations? It sounds like an interesting topic but I don’t know where to start.

Loooool, this is like the fourth question I’ve gotten like this. EVERYONE wants to get into sea travel! Is it Terror? Is everyone trying to get onboard the Terror ship? (ho ho, I’m so clever) I personally do not understand the appeal, since my childhood social studies books were full of creepy illustrations emaciated sailors with enormous beards gnawing on their crewmates’ bones while the Inuit watching from the shore were like, “SURELY this is the most fucked-up thing we will ever see white people do. Right? RIGHT?!” (Spoiler: IT WAS NOT) but, yanno, it takes all kinds.

I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask for recs! Despite being 1000km from the nearest ocean, I grew up in a sailing family, going away in the summer to sailing camp and reading kids’ books about vikings and pirates and voyagers. As well as the Canadian public school education, which was very big on European maritime exploration. So I’ll try! I do tend to read historical fiction to get an individual perspective on events, and then spend lots of time diving into historical research like “Was nutmeg really that hard to get” and “what happened to Mauritius between 1806 and now”.

This is all TERRIBLY Eurocentric and honestly that’s a bit frustrating to me. Books about sea voyages written in English tend to be written by British men with beards they’re well proud of and carefully nurtured pipes who are very romantic about “the way of the sea” and very short on postcolonial analysis, so despite the fact that Europeans literally SHARE A SMALL SEA with Africa and Asia, there’s precious little use of Asian or African sources, and I’m just dying here, like, could you guys just check what contemporary Arabic accounts look like for this, pleeeeeaaaaase, and on that count I could use some recs.

So to ME, the first adult nonfiction book that felt genuinely interesting was Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time by Dava Sobel. Which is a SUPER NERDY BOOK. 

And the book that primed my interest for that kind of nerdery is a deeply problematic novel, Orson Scott Card’s Pastwatch: The Redemption of Christopher Columbus. It was written as its author’s career just teetering on the brink between “deeply religious but principled man who writes thought-provoking science fiction” and “raving xenophobic nutjob” and kind of feels like he started writing it in one camp and ended up writing it in the other (there’s a character storyline that just didn’t make sense to me until I was like, “Oh right, the author is an Islamophobe”). So ON THE ONE HAND, it’s the book that really vividly illustrated, to me, the moment when Europe’s maritime traditions all pivot away from trade in the Mediterranean and into the Atlantic, which is a pretty abrupt change in the late 1400s for very specific reasons, and the enormous technical difficulty involved in making the Atlantic crossing. ON THE OTHER HAND, it’s a Mormon man trying to make his religion (which tries to say Christianity is indigenous to the Americas and that powerful white men are good) okay through the magic of handwavium and time travel. So like. You’ll learn useful things about the history of sea travel! But at what cost.

The books you probably ACTUALLY want are Patrick O’Brian’s Master and Commander books, which are a hugelong series of books about a pair of BFFs in the Napoleonic wars (1800-1815): Jack Aubrey, a bluff, hale, hearty man in His Majesty’s Navy who is very shrewd about the firing of cannons and cutting of jibs and not much else in life, and Stephen Maturin, an Irish-Catalan doctor who, embittered after every revolution he’s been part of has been brutally suppressed and/or betrayed, has turned to spycraft, laudanum, unrequited love, and keeping Jack Aubrey alive. THERE IS LOTS OF GOOD SHIP STUFF IN THERE. You learn all about charts and navigation and the constant re-rigging of sails and the Antarctic!  And it’s all deeply subtextually queer, a subtext that has been well-plumbed by generations of slash writers. If you’re into that kind of stuff.

The notable bit of European history I HAVEN’T read excessively on is the actual “Golden Age of Piracy”, 1650-1720, which is when you had Blackbeard and Captain Kidd and Anne Bonny and Mary Read. I dunno, I just… never got interested in it. But my friends who all recced Master and Commander to me seem to all be in Black Sails fandom now (it’s a TV show with lots of POC and LGBTQ+ rep) so uh, that might be worth a look too.

[garden-of-succulents]

lomittz replied to your post “garden-of-succulents: zombizombi: abominableobriens: ...”

i wish ao3 had the 'primary ship tag' thing, bcs well how many of these fics are actualy about these parings ;-; we will never know

I investigated a little more, and apparently one good measure is to search without the juggernaut ship. For example, if you search the fandom but eliminate all fics tagged Zimbits, the Nurseydex fic count only drops a little (1282 to 1114) but the Holsom count almost halves (483 to 287).

[star-anise]

Wait wait this sounds familiar.

The idea that pigs are the result of the breeding of three species (dog, cat, and rat) is a feature of Nuwapianism, a religion created by Malachi York, “a self professed extraterrestrial called a "Rizqian", who brought a language from space called Nuwaupic, who gave them a "new bible" called the Holy Tablets, and a the pseudo-science called, Nuwaubu/Nuwaupu known today as, "Wu-Nuwaupu".”

Wow that’s bewildering. I mean it’s still batshit, but for once, it’s recognizable batshit. (Well, through a filter of... extra batshit.)

[grandcompany]

[ 🌺 ] what is your muse’s relationship with their parents? are there specific things they like/dislike about them? (For Wolf!)

The stone bounced and clattered down the hill, flicking off the rough bark of a tall maple before it bounded into the underbrush and disappeared. The one that followed it flew and smacked the archery butte hanging from the low branch, and then made its own crashing path through the forest.

"Your aim's better," the elderly elezen quipped as he emerged from the treeline behind Wolf and lowered himself onto the stone beside her. His familiar voice and gentle hand on her shoulder brought all the anger she'd been burning through to a sudden collapse, and Wolf fell upon him, burying her face in his rough shirt as she sobbed.

"I thought... I though she'd take me with her this time," Wolf hiccupped through her tears as she clung to her grandfather.

"Oh, pup," he sighed, rubbing her back. "Thirteen turns is too young for that sort of work."

"Courel is just a baby and they took him," Wolf shot back, pulling away from him as hot anger rushed into her. When she looked into her grandfather's face she saw the answer she knew he wouldn't speak written in the lines of his frown.

"It's because I'm not his, isn't it? Obelisk doesn't like me," She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she stared at her grandfather.

"Obelisk likes you fine, sweetheart. He just doesn't know you yet," The old elezen sighed and leaned on his knees, "But, that you're someone else's child is part of it, I'm sure." He looked out at the Archery butte, his face grim, "I told Leaf she couldn't keep showing up like this, but your mother is a stubborn woman. She loves you in her own way, or she wouldn't come back at all."

The cold comfort of her grandfather's words iced through Wolf's heart, cooling her anger and replacing it with a fragile bitterness. "I thought they were gonna leave Courel with us," she said finally, her head hanging into her lap as she broke into another round of sobs. "Like she left me. I thought we'd be t-together."

"Oh, pup," he said again, his old voice cracking like dry leaves, "I'm sorry."

Wolf was raised by her paternal great-grandfather, an elderly Elezen named Grumant Launaire. Her father died when she was only an infant, after which her mother, Ardent Leaf, dropped her off with his only surviving family in the Shroud. They were both extremely young at the time, but knowing that didn't make it easier for Wolf.

Leaf would return semi-regularly to visit her daughter, eventually bringing her new husband and their son with her on trips. As Wolf grew older she did join them on some hunting expeditions and traveled with them into the mountains of her step-father's homeland, but she was never really made part of the Hellsguard community they were from.

That's not something she's ever discussed with them, but she suspects even now that her 1/8th or whatever Elezen blood has something to do with it.

Wolf's main gripe with her family is that she's never felt like she was really part of them. Both the group in the Shroud, which were mainly Duskwight Elezen, and her Hellsguard mom and step-father. She and her half-brother, Felicitous Courel did eventually grow closer, and though he rarely passes through the shroud they both have a grand time catching up when he does. He's one of the few people that Wolf will not hesitate to confide in. Also a huge dopey nerd just like her.

Thank you for the ask @the-warrior-and-the-mage!

[sarah-sandwich]

"I need a hug" please and thank you!

Hi friend! Here it is! Remind me to never commit to a fic a day for an entire week again lmao

Happy last day of National Storyteller Week to everyone who creates or consumes stories! Jump over to my ao3 for 5 ridiculous parkner fics 👌✨💛

Peter, no

He probably should have clued in sooner, a lot sooner.

Him and Peter have been attached at the hip for three years, ever since Peter ran into the lab in the middle of a video call with Tony, shouted something about an arm-wrestling tournament with the Avengers, and begged, “You gotta come trash talk them for me! Please, Mr. Stark! No one roasts as good as you!” Then, after receiving Tony’s resigned agreement, exclaimed, “I’m gonna dislocate Captain America’s shoulder!” turned tail and sprinted back out, ignoring Tony’s, “Peter, no!”

It was over in under a minute but he was bewitched.

“Who was that? And why haven’t I met him?”

“I’ve been avoiding this day,” Tony said in a world-weary tone. “You’re either going to hate each other or get on like a house fire. Either way, I’ll never know peace again.”

In usual Tony Stark fashion, he was right.

He thought he’d seen every side of Peter there is. He’s seen him soft and sleepy under the blue glow of the television. He’s seen him wired and manic as he pursues a project on little to no sleep. He’s seen him broken and bleeding in more ways than he cares to count. He’s seen him laughing until he cries, crying so hard the only thing he can do is cry with him, too exhausted to feed himself, too angry to speak, and he’s been there when he’s on the cusp of dropping dead from embarrassment (usually pointing and laughing but hey, somebody’s gotta keep him humble).

He knows him like he knows his sister, like he knows his mom, like he knows himself.

His point is, it shouldn’t have taken this camping trip to put the pieces together. Realization shouldn’t have hit him like a log to the face when Peter rolled up the sleeves of his borrowed flannel and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for wanting to kiss him stupid.

Well, stupider.

A moment later, Peter picked up the bag of tent poles like they weighed nothing and somehow managed to dump them all over the side of the road like a can of pick-up-sticks.

It’s gonna be a long weekend.

~*~

“What’s this thing for again?” Peter asks, raising his arms high over his head to hold up the long swath of fabric two times his height.

“It’s a rain fly, Peter. It keeps out the rain.”

“It’s not supposed to rain. Trust me, Aunt May checked the weather like 50 times before she would let me leave.”

“We still need it.”

“But why? We could sleep under the stars.”

“It traps in heat.”

“Sounds like another tally in the cons column. It’s hot as fuck, dude.”

“Not tonight it won’t be. Temperature fluctuates a lot in the mountains, especially when the sun goes down.”

“Temperature fluctuates in the mountains,” Peter repeats mockingly.

Harley stops what he’s doing. “If you really wanna sleep under the stars I don’t have to share my tent. Enjoy the skeeters.”

“You love me too much to leave me to sleep with the wildlife,” Peter says, voice muffled from under the rain fly as he attempts to drape it over the erected tent.

His heart skips. Does he know? Has he been that obvious even while oblivious to his own feelings? Did Peter figure it out before he did? Has he been graciously not saying anything about his huge undeniable crush while—

Peter squawks and tumbles forward, the tent collapsing under him with a snap that echoes through the trees. The rain fly flutters over him like a burial shroud.

“Please tell me whatever just broke was a part of you.”

“Uhh, sorry.”

He sighs. He’s in love with an idiot.

~*~

The tent leans a little to the left when they’re done with it but he’s pretty sure it’ll hold up through the night. Just in case, they limit how often they go in and out of it (which, in his opinion, is the way it should be done regardless).

A breeze rustles the trees, scattering pine needles as birds chitter and small unseen wildlife scurries around the underbrush. He breathes in deep, savoring the scent of dirt, pine, and fresh air. He’s been in the city far too long.

Peter stands with his hands on his hips, dirt crusted on the knees of his jeans, his borrowed flannel pulling tight across his chest as he watches a puffy white cloud scoot by with a befuddled expression.

He turns to Harley. “So umm, now what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. You’re the one who’s never done this before?”

Peter stares at him blankly.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” He shakes his head and walks over to the car with a sigh. “This way, city boy. It’s time you learned to fish.”

“Sounds smelly.”

“Mmm.” He pops the trunk and pulls out two fishing rods—one old and dinged up, the other brand-spankin-new—and he passes them to Peter so he can grab the tackle box and a white plastic bucket with a lid on it.

“And slimy,” Peter continues, wrinkling his nose at the bold ‘WORMS’ printed on the side of the white bucket.

“That it is, but there aren’t any rats and no one has pissed on the place you need to sit so it’s automatically better than anything the city has to offer.”

“We’ll see about that,” Peter grumbles.

~*~

“Y’know,” Harley drawls lazily, eyes half-lidded as he watches Peter jump from rock to rock along the shoreline, “usually when people are lookin’ to catch a fish they cast their line into the water rather than leavin’ it on the ground.”

“Oh is that how it’s done? I had no idea,” Peter says, stooping down to peer into a small pool sequestered away from the rest of the body of water. “What do tadpoles look like?”

“Uh, little squirmy guys.”

“Very descriptive, thank you.”

“Mhmm. Anytime, darlin’.”

Peter looks up at him, eyes narrowed and he jolts under the sudden scrutiny.

“What?” he asks. He always calls him darling. It’s just a thing he says—a southern thing. So what if over the years he’s stopped using the name for anyone else? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not weird.

“Are you falling asleep?” Peter asks.

“Pfft, no,” he says. The sun is deliciously warm, seeping into his skin and turning his bones to butter as the katydids buzz and birds sing. A warm breeze ruffs his hair and he finds himself blinking slowly.

“Dude, you’re totally falling asleep.” Peter grins playfully and hopscotches across the rocks back to him as he teases, “You know, usually when someone wants to catch a fish, they do it while they’re awake.”

“I am awake, dummy.”

“Not for much longer.” He comes to a stop at his side and tweaks the brim of his hat. “Look at you. You’re like an old man falling asleep in his recliner in front of the big game.”

“Napping is a perfectly respectable part of fishing,” he argues.

Peter throws back his head and laughs. Backed by blue sky and thickly forested mountain, sunlit from above, he’s never looked better.

Should he tell him? Is now the time? He can’t imagine living like this—knowing how he feels but bottling it up and keeping it a secret from his best friend.

Then again—

His fishing rod dips and he sits up with a start, hands already moving for the reel.

“Woah, is that a fish?” Peter exclaims, peering into the lake.

“Sure hope so. Can’t imagine what else it’d—,”

“Can I pull it in?” Peter asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excitable puppy.

“No, you if wanna get a fish you have to put in the work.”

“What work? Laying around half-asleep?”

“Yeah, exactly. I’ll let you take it off the line, how ‘bout that?”

“Eh, that’s okay. I’m good.”

He wrestles the fish out of the lake, a bass about two hands long, and then holds the flopping fish, hooked through the lip, out to Peter.

“There you go. Just pop that puppy off the hook and toss ‘im back in.”

“Wait, you don’t even keep the fish?”

“What would I do with a fish?”

“…eat it?”

“That’s a whole song and dance I ain’t got the tools or the patience for. Just grab the fish, Pete. Preferably before it suffocates.”

Peter makes an unhappy sound in his throat but reaches for the fish. Just as his fingers brush the scales, the fish gives a mighty wiggle and Peter flinches back towards the lake.

“Eep!” Peter squeaks and goes into the water with a splash.

Harley hunches over, laughing his head off as Peter sits up, water streaming down his face and dripping from his hair.

“I hate you.” Slipping and sliding in the muck, he makes his way through the mid-thigh deep water, back to dry land, and then keeps walking past Harley and up the hill to the trail that will lead him back to camp.

All the while Harley laughs and laughs, taking a moment to free the fish back into the lake before he sits down and tips his face to the sun, chuckling and committing to memory the way Peter’s soaked jeans and flannel clung all over his body.

~*~

“I still don’t see why—,”

“Shush,” Peter snaps, frowning in concentration over the tiny flame he’s been babying to life for the past fifteen minutes.

He sighs. He tried to convince him to wait until supper for a campfire meal but Mr. Eager Beaver insisted on trying his hand at it now. Had they made sandwiches they’d be done by now and could be hiking. But no. Peter wants to play Boy Scout so they’re going to sit here and starve until he gets a fire built just to spend five minutes roasting hot dogs and then have to put it out again.

To make matters worse, Peter’s no longer wearing his shirt since it got soaked in the lake. He’d gotten attached to how he looks in his clothes. Now he’s wearing on one of his standard nerd-pun tees and a wrinkly pair of khaki cargo shorts and he’s going to have to convince him to at least put on long socks before they hike or he’s going to risk getting poison ivy or poison oak all over his calves and ankles.

“There it goes! There it goes!” Peter exclaims, sitting up tall and motioning at him to look at the little flame as it eats up the pile of twigs and tinder.

“Very good, dear,” he says dryly. “Now see if you can keep it going with some real wood.”

Peter cocks his head at him. “Was that a double-entendre?”

“Why on earth would I imply that we should put a part of my human anatomy in the fire, Peter?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, squatting beside the fire as he breaks up a stick. “Dick jokes are funny.”

“You’re a child.”

“And yet you— Shit!” He flinches back from the fire and falls on his backside.

He comes alert with a spike of adrenaline, rushing forward to— to— pat out flames with his bare hands? He doesn’t know. “What happened?” he demands, checking Peter over for damage and finding nothing, not a burn or singe in sight.

Still sprawled on the ground, Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes with an embarrassed grimace. “I don’t want to say.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he sits up cross-legged and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He stares down at him as he looks down in his lap. “You’re really not going to tell me what just happened? I already saw you fall in a lake because you were scared of a fish. It can’t be worse than that.”

Peter looks up, neck crimped and mouth screwed into an unhappy pucker. “I thought something was on me but it was just the grass.”

Harley stares. “So, you thought a bug was on you.”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this place.”

What has he gotten himself into?

~*~

Peter hasn’t stopped chattering about everything under the sun since they left camp. And considering where they are, there’s a lot to chatter about. From bugs to birds to types of trees and identifying clouds, he’s heard it all. It’s why he’s not paying attention to the path like he should, too busy watching the way Peter waves his hands animatedly as he rambles, the way the sun lights his eyes and makes his hair shine, the way his lips shape the words.

He hasn’t taken in a word he’s said for the past twenty minutes but he’s watched him with rapt attention while his mind churns through his options. He’s not one to ignore something once he knows about it. He doesn’t want to keep this a secret. There’s no reason to. It’s nothing shameful and if Peter doesn’t reciprocate then… well, nothing changes, right? He’s fine with that. Best friends is still good. Great, even.

But if Peter does reciprocate…

His breathing quickens at the thought. How did he not notice this ridiculous crush sooner? It’s like something has been awakened inside him and now it refuses to shut up and go back to sleep. He gravitates towards Peter like an orbiting moon. He’s a moth to Peter’s beam of light. Helpless under the thrall.

Peter suddenly looks right at him. “—you know what I mean?”

“Huh?” His foot lands wrong and rolls over a root. His ankle screams out and then he’s dropping as it gives out.

“Woah!” Peter catches him, one arm around his back and the other fisted into his shirt at his shoulder. His brain goes offline, only processing the way Peter is pressed against him, the way his face is angled over him like he’s on the verge of dipping him into a kiss, the way neither of them moves or speaks, staring instead with startled realization.

He thinks he imagines it when Peter’s eyes dilate but then they fix on his lips and there’s no way he’s imagining that.

Lights flash in his head and he forgets to breathe as they hang suspended in time.

Then Peter bites his lip and his cheeks flush dark pink as he yanks Harley upright.

He stumbles, unprepared, and his ankle gives out a second time.

Peter catches him by the elbows babbling, “Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—,”

“I’m fine. I…” The rest of the sentence vanishes from his tongue as he looks into Peter’s eyes. He loves his eyes—warm and affectionate, they always give him away. Whether they’re bright with curiosity, sparkling with delight, wide with embarrassment, or narrowed in anger, he’s an open book. That’s why the look in his eyes now gives him pause. He’s never seen it before—or maybe it’s been there all along but he hasn’t noticed until now.

They’re dark and focused like he’s seeing through him into his soul and likes what he sees so much he wants to eat him alive.

His heart thunders as he lifts a hand to Peter’s cheek. This is it. This is the moment he tells him and finds out where they’re going to go next.

Peter’s eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, but then his gaze shifts beyond him and he freezes except to carefully grab his forearm in a too-tight grip.

“Bear,” Peter breathes.

His awareness of their surrounding returns so suddenly it hurts. Birds sing, bugs buzz and chirp, somewhere nearby a creek burbles, and behind him on the path, something scuffs the ground and then snorts and sniffs harshly.

“No,” he says quietly. No, he refuses to allow this to be his reality. This cannot be happening. He won’t allow this to happen.

“Harley, bear,” Peter repeats, grip tightening.

Oh my God, this is happening.

“Don’t run,” he says in an undertone. “You’re not supposed to run.”

“We gotta run.”

“Peter, no.”

“Harley, there’s a fucking bear.”

“Listen to me—,”

“I’m gonna grab you—,”

“—we gotta stay still and—,”

“I’ll carry you and—,”

“—non-threatening so—,”

“I’m going to get you up a tree and then—,”

“—it won’t chase us.”

“—the bear will chase me.”

“Peter—,”

“It’ll be fine.”

“—no.”

~*~

He waits in the tree for over an hour, ankle throbbing, sick to his stomach with worry, wondering if he’ll ever see the idiot he stupidly fell in love with ever again. Even if he didn’t get eaten by the bear, he’s no good out here in the woods. He could be lost. He could be too hurt to move. He could be—

—covered in what smells like animal shit and standing balefully at the base of the tree.

“I need a hug,” Peter says, voice small.

“Did you—,”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“So that’s—,”

“Don’t say it. Do you need help getting down?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t touch me.”

“That’s fair. I’ll be in the lake. Will you bring me all of the soap and soap-like products we own?”

“Yeah. Gimme a minute.”

“Thanks, Harley.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

I love you. I’m glad you’re not dead. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. You’re everything I want.

“You’re an idiot,” he says.

Peter nods. “Yeah.”

~*~

“Black bears can run 35 miles per hour,” he says conversationally. They’re sprawled on a blanket while the fire crackles nearby (but not too close, they’ve had enough disasters for one day). His foot is propped on the tackle box, elevating his ankle and Peter is beside him, flat on his back staring up at the stars through the trees, close enough that their arms brush.

“Trust me, I know.”

“They can also climb trees,” he continues reading from his phone. “You should never climb a tree to avoid a bear.”

“Harley—,”

“If a bear notices you, stay calm. Most bears don’t want to attack you.”

“Dude, I get it.”

“Move away slowly and sideways. Do not run. Do not climb a tree.”

Peter snatches the phone out of his hands and sits up. “I panicked, okay? I can’t lose you! I had to get you out of there.”

He goes still, the crackling of the fire and the crickets the only sound in the night.

“Say again?”

“Don’t,” Peter says harshly, still holding his phone far out of reach. “Don’t make fun of me about this one. You don’t get it, okay?”

This isn’t how he expected this to happen. Hyper aware of his heart beating in his chest, he asks, “What don’t I get?”

“I was terrified.”

“And you think I wasn’t?”

“Not in the way I was. I was— It was like— It was like if anything happened to you, nothing would be okay ever again. I don’t—,” He pulls in a deep breath, chest heaving as his eyes shine uncommonly bright in the firelight. “I don’t know. You’re— Ever since we met things have just felt right and good in a way they hadn’t before and I’ve already lost so many people and then you were in danger and I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t.”

“Okay,” he says gently, sitting upright and scooting over on the blanket. “Okay.” He takes the phone and sets it aside then takes Peter’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Peter says miserably, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I think I have been for a long time.”

“Well, that’s lucky because I think I’m in love with you too.”

“You— What?”

“Mhmm. Since at least this morning.”

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch. “This morning? For real? Are you teasing me?”

“A hundred percent serious. It hit me right before you dumped my tent poles all over 36th street. Unrelated, you should wear my clothes more often.” He pauses and then says, “I think today was the universe asking me if I was sure I wanted to be tied down to your dumb ass for the rest of forever.”

“And?” Peter asks, eyes wide in the firelight.

“Yeah,” he says, smoothing a curl away from his forehead. “I’m sure.”

Peter leans in and kisses him, soft and quick. “Is that okay?”

Heart in his mouth, he says, “I think you can do better.”

Peter laughs and smooths his thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

[raybidtickles]

Trapped

I decided to start writing again and like how I’m redrawing the tickletober prompts, I’m gonna be writing out some of the prompts until I get back into the swing of writing more.

Summary: Collin gets into more trouble than he anticipates when he gets left behind by his friends, and meets new ones in the process!

Collin could not believe his friends ditched him.

Well, no. Collin could definitely believe his friends ditched him. Never on purpose, but they had the habit of getting out of hand and out of sight quickly. Galen and Jaritri were magnets for trouble. If trouble didn’t find them, then they went out looking for it. Collin, who was convinced he was the only voice of reason at this point, always struggled to keep up. Not that he necessarily wanted to help terrorize the local human population, but the satyr’s worry compelled him to follow anyways.

Now he was stuck in an unfamiliar part of the woods with no sense of direction where home was. There wasn’t any way this day could get worse-

Collin’s right leg was quickly ripped out from under him and he landed on the forest floor with solid thud. His right dangled high above his head from a rope.

"Oh, seriously?" An exasperated sigh escaped Collin as he tugged at the rope, only to secure the rope tighter around his ankle. Just his rotten luck. He needed to get out before whoever set the trap got back. The last thing Collim wanted was the attention of whoever set the trap. Collin stretched upward, the knot of the rope only inches from his finger tips. The satyr fell back onto the ground in a huff, regretting the decision to not carry around the knife Gelasia gave him. Collin backed himself up on the grassy ground and yanked. He pushed against the rope around his ankle with his free hoof. If he could just loosen the knot just enough.

"If we didn't get anything this time I'm gonna be pissed." Collin's ears twitched at the sound of voices approaching. The sound of snapping twigs followed and Collin's heart raced to his throat. He wanted to frantically tug and flail to get his leg out of the trap, but his entire body locked into place. His eyes the only part of him able to move, frantically darting across his field of vision.

"Ah, calm down. Don't blame nature because you suck at hu-" Three figures emerged from the brush directly in front of them. Two tall and identical looking fellows along with a shorter man with black, spiky hair. The left twin's voice died the moment the group's gaze turned to Collin.

"Well, you sure caught something." The right twin commented, a confused, but none the less amused smile etched across his features. The smallest of the group huffed in exasperation that reminded Collin far too much of Galen.

"Oh, well this is just perfect!" A heated blush rushed to his cheeks as he glanced between his hunting partners gesturing at Collin's predicament. "Yeah, yeah of course this is what happens. If it's not just a completely empty trap it's this." One of the twins quickly grabbed the back of his cloak's hood and pulled it over to eyes. The short loudmouth yeld and swat at his hands in a struggle to obscure his vision.

"Bix, buddy. I don't think our fair friend over here appreciates being referred to as this." The second twin shoved his head down further as he smiled down at Collin.

"Heeeeey, sorry bout all this uh…" The duo leaned on their smaller friend's head and shoulders, attempting to keep him quiet and down. "...we aren't normally like this we swear." The fear that gripped Collin's chest slowly dissipated. He knew humans could be eccentric, but didn't realize they'd also be giant nerds.

"It's uh...no trouble really?" Collin bit back a smile at the ongoing struggle. He gaze glanced up to his still trapped hoof and he tugged tentatively on more. "Do you think you could…?" Collin's question came out just above a whisper when he pointed up.

"Ah. Right. That." The twins let 'Bix' go, causing the man to nearly trip over himself in a struggle that suddenly stopped. One of the twins rummaged around their bag as they approached. He retrieved a small hunting knife from the bag and flashed Collin a confident smile and wink. "We'll get you out of there in a-"

"Hey, no! Caiden, dont you fucking dare!" Bix latched onto the arm Caiden held the knife with. Caiden immediately shook and yanked at his arm to throw him off. Collin had to give the angry little man props for the persistence.

"What?! What is your problem? We aren't keeping him that's messed up man!" An uncontrolled noise of offense escaped Bix's throat as he narrowed his eyes up at him.

"What-no! What's wrong with you? I can untie him, you don't have to cut the rope." Caiden raised a brow, his eyes lingering over his friend's scrunched up face to decipher if he was serious.

"It's just rope man. What's the big-"

"It's your last length of rope isn't it?" The other twin interrupted, fully enjoying the performance at that point. Bix's composure stiffened, his angry glare quickly turned down to the ground. 

Yep. Bix definitely reminded Collin of Galen.

"...shut up shut up I didn't think it would be this bad today." Bix's face burnt bright red while the twins snickered.

"Alright, alright. You wanna try? I'll give ya a few minutes." Caiden finally shook Bix off and plopped the knife back into his satchel. "Aiden and I'll just wait until you admit you can't do it."

"Sorry, you're probably gonna be here for a while." Aiden chipped in, sticking his tongue out at Bix as he grumbled. Bix's glare reached down to Collin, a small shiver ran up his back. His glare softened a bit as he gripped around Collin's ankle.

"Don't listen to them. You'll be out of here in a second. Just stay still…" His thoughts seemed to trail off as his focused turned to the knot. Despite Bix's rough nature Collin could feel how nimble his fingers were. Each gentle brush against his ankle as Bix tried to loosen the knot sent a small ticklish jolt up his leg. Collin bit his lip and tried his best to keep his leg still. Each little twitch made Bix huff a bit out of his nose.

"Can you just sit for a second?" Bix grabbed Collin by the hoof, his thumb pressed slightly against the bottom. Collin couldn't help the startled yelp and twitches that followed.

"W-wahait! Don't press there please!" Collin yanked back, his free hoof digging into the ground to try and scoot away. The three hunters shared a quizitive look before Bix ran his thumb down the length of Collin's hoof. More giggles poured from the saytr, quiet objections went unheard.

"Awww, guys he's ticklish! That's so cute." Aiden cooed.

"On his hooves? How's that even possible?" Bix used both of his thumbs to rub into each toe of Collin's cloven foot.

 "Ahahaha! Dohohohon't do that!" Collin's free leg flailed, just barely missing Bix's leg.

"Who cares?? It's adorable!" Collin was forced on his back when Aiden snatched up his other ankle. "Ohhhh I wanna see." Aiden tapped his finger nails across the edges of Collin's hoof. His laughter became punctuated by small shrieks as the constant drumming sent electric ticklish shocks up his leg.

"Plehehease ah-! Please stohop!" Collin set himself up on his elbows, one hand reached out in vain to stop the gentle yet relentless assault.

"How can you expect to stop? You're laugh is just adorable." Aiden teased further, a micheveous smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. He traced an index in circles around the soles of his hoof that made Collin shiver with goosebumps.

"Yeah, besides. Maybe this'll teach you to watch your step next time." Bix allowed himself to smile down at the saytr. Hr glanced down at his satchel, his smile turning to full grin as he reached inside. He pulled a small hand brush out, making a show of pulling it out slow.

"W-wait, what are you gonna-aH WAHAHAIT! NOHOHOH NOT THAHAHAT!" The most the brush connected with his hoof Collin's laugh raised several octaves. He flopped flat on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach as hysterical belly laughs were torn from him. Small tears pricked the edges of his eyes and a small, but distinct bleat cut between his laugh. Almost like a snort or hiccup. After a moment the tickling stopped and Collin was able to breath again. He twitched and shivered as the tingle could still be felt on his hooves. Collin wiped his eyes and glanced up at the hunters, both with faces three shades dark and hands covering their mouths.

"Ohhhh that was really cute." Aiden's voice was muffled by his hand, but Collin heard it plainly and felt heat raise to his own cheeks.

"Alright, that's enough you two." Cadien quickly brandished his knife and with a quick flick Collin's leg thumped to the ground. An annoyed outburst followed from Bix that went ignored. Caiden reached down and gently gripped Collin's upper arms and slowly pulled him upward. Collin's balance wavered slightly, but he managed to stand on his own.

"Sorry bout that. Still swear we aren't normally like this." Caiden chuckled and clapped Collin on the shoulder.

"O-oh, you're fine it was ah..." Collin glanced nervously around, his gaze landing to the grassy ground. "It was kinda fun actually."

"Oh reeeeeally?" Aiden slipped an arm around his brother's shoulder, a large grin plasterd on his face. "Maybe we should meet up again hm? I'm sure Bix would love to." Bix couldn't deny or agree simply for the fact he already slipped away into the underbrush. "...he'd love to I'm sure uhhh…"Aiden glanced him down expectantly."

"O-oh! Collin. If that's what you were asking." Collin crossed an arm over his chest and hesitantly held out his hand. Aiden slipped off Caiden and clapped his hand between both of his.

"Aiden! Though I'm sure you already heard that. You got an address Colli? Lemme send you a letter and maybe we can-ah!" Aiden was quickly tugged away by the back of the coller.

"Aid, I swear if you don't stop." He twirled his brother around and shoved him in the direction they came from. He glanced back at Collin with a small wave. "Sorry about...aaaaall of that. Do hope to see you again though cutie!" Caiden left Collin alone with butterflies floating around in his stomach.

...he needed to lost around here just a bit more often.

[thetravelerwrites]

Monster Match #21: Astomi

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @moonlightreetops: Appearance: Mortal Woman, Pfp is me(straight brown hair, almond hazel eyes), short, scared, with sevral tattoos. Personality: INFJ, Cancer, loud, protective, generous, and I have a snort laugh; definitely a hugger. Therapist friend and proud. I believe I was born cursed to always be polite and kind to everyone. I'm not naive to the trouble I can get into this way but I still cant help myself. Oh! And I cry with every movie and sad commercial. It's annoying.

Hobbies: Hosting D&D, Collecting macabre things, Responsible Social Distancing. Likes: Roadtrips, Pretending I'm more fond of the outdoors than I actually am, Forest Paintings, My Nerd Family, Opposoms. Dislikes: Heights, Bugs, Cooking, Cockroaches (listed separately from bugs because I will panic cry)

Ideal Partner: Someone whose more grounded than I am but at the same time is understanding of my struggles and won't berate me for them. And preferably a monster who wont leer in my windows. (Still have fears of that from my childhood monsters) NSFW & SFW welcomed. My orientation is Pan. So you are free to throw whatever you like at me.

You’ve been matched with an Astomi!

Originating in Greek and Roman mythology, Astomies, also known as the Gangines, are an ancient legendary race of people who had no need to eat or drink anything at all. They survived by smelling apples and flowers. Megasthenes, a historian and Asian Indian ethnographer, located them at the mouth of the river Ganges. They are described as being hairy and having no mouth. When traveling, they would carry roots, flowers and apples to smell. They could die by smelling a strong, unpleasant smell.

There was a forest reserve near your home that you frequented to draw and paint. There was a section of it that was strangely green all year round, and you weren’t sure why. None of the trees were evergreens, so the hidden grove should have lost leaves and turned grey like all the greenery around it in the winter, but it never did. You never went into it, and you never saw anyone near it. It was just an oddity no one knew anything about. Lots of people said it was haunted.

The more logical minded people claimed there was a hot spring somewhere in the grove that kept the trees green, but that it was toxic to people, which is why no one ever went there. Though, that didn’t make sense to you. If it was toxic, why were there flowers and birds? The wildlife seemed unaffected by whatever odd supposed toxin existed in the grove.

It had struck your interest more than once, but you never went in. You loved ghost stories, but you weren’t necessarily keen on being in one. And the threat of a toxin was enough to keep you from venturing in.

Though, one day, as you were wandering close, you heard a mournful whimpering, as if someone were in pain. Your worry about ghosts and toxins flew out of your mind as you ran into the grove, looking for whatever was making the sound.

“Hello?” You called. “Is someone there? Are you okay?”

“Please!” They called. “Can you help me?”

“Yes,” You said, pushing past the thick foliage. “Just hold on, I’m coming. Keep talking to me so I can find you! What’s your name? How old are you?”

“Geras!” They said, coughing. “I’m ninety-eight seasons!”

“Seasons?” What was ninety-eight divided by four? “So you’re twenty-four?”

“I suppose,” They said. “But we don’t measure time that way.”

“We?”

“The people of the grove,” They said. “My family and I.”

“Wait,” You said, untangling yourself from a tree. “People live in here? I thought there was a toxin in the air that killed people.”

“What?” They actually laughed, which turned into a hacking cough. “No, of course not.”

“What about the ghosts, then? Are they real?” You asked with a laugh, but you were met with silence. “Geras? Geras! Keep talking.”

“Hurry, please,” Geras said, their voice hoarse. “Please.”

“Almost there,” You said. You finally managed to fight your way through heavy branches and dense underbrush and into what looked like an apple orchard. There were all sorts of apple trees there, and in between a copse of heritage apples was a person laid between the rows, unmoving.

“Geras?” You called. You couldn’t see much of them beyond the long brown hair all over. You could only tell that they were tall and gangly.

Next to them was a bag that stank to high heaven. At first you thought it could be poisons, but you looked inside and found a litany of gross hunting sprays: skunk essence, liquid ass, insect repellents, deer musk, and the like. The odor was so strong that it made you gag.

“Is this the problem?” You asked, breathing through your shirt. They nodded weakly. You weren’t surprised. It made you feel woozy, too. “I’ll get rid of it and come back to check on you, okay?”

“Yes, please,” They gasped.

You fought your way back out of the grove into the dead winter forest, back to the hiking trail to find a trash receptacle. It took nearly thirty minutes to find one, and another twenty to return to the grove. By the time you got back, Geras was not there. Worried, you followed the row up to a house.

The house was… old. Very old. So old that you couldn’t even determine what style or era it was from. It was tall and square, made of rough brick and thatched roof. There seemed to be no windows, but the entire front wall was open and had a rolled up flap that closed that side from the elements.

From the open side, you could see people moving around, hurried, almost frenzied, and you called out to them.

“Hey!” You said. “I’m looking for Geras! He… or she.. or they passed out from some garbage that got thrown in here. Are they okay?”

They all stopped and turned to stare at you from the shadow, and it was then you realized that there was no lights or electricity. There wasn’t even a power pole or lines anywhere nearby.

“Are you the one who helped Geras?” One of them asked. They had a feminine sounding voice.

“Yes,” You said. “Are they okay?”

“She’s not well,” The speaker said. “I am her mother, Foteini.” The woman came down and out of the shadows, and you took a step backward.

She was covered from head to toe in fur, except for her face, which was hairless, but possessed no mouth. Her eyes and nose were very large, however, and her silvering hair was long behind her.

“What are you?” You asked, your voice a little shaky.

“The people of the grove,” She said, her voice not coming from any sort of mouth, but rather from all around her. It wasn’t like telepathy; you could actually hear a voice in your ears, but it seemed to emanate from all over her. “Do not be frightened. We are gentle people.”

There were three other people there in that stepped out of the darkened interior, a black haired creature like Foteini and two much smaller ones the same color as the mother, likely children. They clung to the legs of the taller, black furred creature, seemingly frightened of you.

“Will Geras be okay?” You asked haltingly.

“I don’t know,” The mother said. “She inhaled much of the fumes from those poisons.”

“Is there something I can do to help?” You asked.

“You’ve already done her a great service,” Foteini said. “We would not have been able to help her, if we had found her, and if she had laid there longer, she’d likely have died.”

“Why?” You asked. “That stuff stank, sure, but it wasn’t technically poisonous. Not inhaling it, anyway.”

“We live on the aromas of nature,” Foteini explained. “Flowers, trees, fruit. Those sustain us. Pungent, unpleasant smells, like that poison you disposed of, are toxic and potentially fatal to us.”

“Oh,” You said, daunted. “Is there something that could help speed her recovery?”

Foteini thought. “Roses. They are among the most fragrant things that exist in nature, but we haven’t been able to grow them here in many years. Could you find some?”

“Yeah. Yeah! I… I’ll be back!” You said, and dashed back out of the grove before they could stop you.

You got out of the forest, dropped off your painting stuff at home, and went to a plant nursery.

“Do you have any rose plants?” You asked the clerk.

“Well, yes,” The clerk said. “But it’s too late in the year to plant them. If you want to grow from seeds, though, you can plant those now. I can sell you some seeds and give you a guide.”

That’s too long, you thought to yourself. Geras needed the roses now. “You know, I’ll take it, but I’m in a hurry.”

“Uh… alright.”

The clerk packed up the seeds of several types of roses and a guide for each, and as soon as you had them, you sprinted to a flower shop. You purchased a large bouquet of the finest, freshest, most aromatic red roses, and while it took a chunk out of your bank account, you didn’t want to run the risk of buying some that were less than perfect in fear that they wouldn’t work.

It was nearing sundown when you returned to the grove, and Foteini seemed surprised to see you.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d return,” She said. “Humans tend to stay away from this place.”

“I brought the roses,” You said, gasping for breath. “And some seeds to plant.”

“This is… most generous of you,” Foteini said. “Please, come inside. Night is approaching and you don’t want to be in the forest after dark. There are far less benign creatures out there than us.”

You shivered and followed her inside.

Geras was lying on a pallet in a far room, her breathing labored and raspy. Foteini began to lay out the flowers around Geras’s head, arranging the flowers around Geras’s head in a circle.

“Breathe deep,” Foteini said soothingly, rubbing Geras’s chest like a mother would for a sick child.

Geras made an effort to take a deep breath, but it sounded pained. However, after two or three tries, her breathing eased and eventually, after about an hour of tense waiting, she was able to breath without struggle. Foteini relaxed, and so did you.

“You should sleep here tonight,” Foteini said. “And eat as many apples as you want. We owe you a great debt.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” You said.

You fell asleep almost immediately after eating, having been exhausted by all the running. When you awoke, there was a new bushel of apples sitting next to you, and next to that was Geras, watching you sleep.

“Oh,” You said, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m much better now,” She said, smiling with her large green eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course,” You said with a self-conscious laugh. “You gave me a scare.”

“I’m sorry,” She said. “I know humans aren’t used to us.”

“No, I mean almost dying like that,” You corrected her. “I mean, I was a little startled, I’ll admit, but you guys seem nice.”

“You’re nice, too,” She said, continuing to smile.

“Thanks,” You said, starting to blush under the weight of her stare. “I, uh… I should get back, I have to go to work later today.”

“Of course,” Geras said, standing in a fluid movement and holding out a hand to help you to your feet. “Though… I hope… you’ll come back to visit?” She held out one of the roses for you to take.

You smiled at her, your hands still clasped. “I would like that very much.”

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[star-anise]

Why are you named after a plant?

The real question is, why aren’t you?

[garden-of-succulents]

Okay but in a universe with soulmarks, you can’t tell me Kent Parson doesn’t get tattooed all the fuck over with all kinds of shit just so that if anyone DOES see a mark on him, there’s no way of knowing if it’s the REAL one.

[darlinrogue]

"You know,"—Kenny lifts his head, weary, from the window and glimpses Adam, exhausted as he drives through the vacant streets of whatever city he'd managed to drive to without Kenny noticing—"you mentioned a girlfriend before?" An incongruous question, perhaps, but Kenny, truthfully, has wondered often about Adam's sexuality. And at three o'clock in the morning, he and Adam have to stay awake somehow: introspection it is. "Do you, uh, only like women? You don't have to answer—"

Comfort for Sol after the Dec 2. Dynamite We NEED IT

Adam and Kenny

A light waltz rolled from the radio in three-four time. A Strauss, Künstlerleben op. 316, written in 1867, a jovial, ‘gay,’ piece. Interjected into a Vienne at the edge of disaster as Austria crumbled around the carnival city. The song infused with a melancholic melody and yearning string instruments. The decaying nobility dreams of a glory day long past and danced the inevitable fall of their dynasty away. So, explained the smooth voiced disc jockey that introduced the piece with all the confidence of a history nerd who probably got shoved in a locker in high-school. Adam wouldn’t pretend he was smart like that, this station wasn’t his first choice. After five hours in the car they had cycled through: Adam’s playlists, Kenny’s playlist, and every other radio station on air. Thirty minutes into a marathon of Norteña music, Adam cracked first and turned on the benign classical music, played on a public air wave. All just to eke out some variety from the bland monotonous strips of American highway and interstate. Besides, no words, and especially no Spanish that he only half-understood in his current state, meant it required less brain power to process. A resource that was in dwindling supply for Adam. 

Adam tapped his finger against the steering wheel in time with the waltz. Apparently, this was like old fashioned twerking. A dramatic, intimate dance where partners held each other close and danced vigorously. Despite the song being undeniably wonder bread white, Adam found a natural ebb and flow that sparked a desire to move in some way. Bob his head a little bit, tap his foot, all as he nudged the cruise control-up another notch. The car engine revved and the speedometer edged in at a solid eighty miles an hour. With no one else on the road Adam dominated the left lane. It was a pure head rush, breaking the speed limit with no restrictions and no witnesses. All while listening to a playful violin trill. Brights on, illuminating the tall cedar, oaks, and pines, twined with dense underbrush on the sides of the road. The, black, ominous trees walled the interstate, trapping them, forcing them the only way forward. The white and yellow marked pavement extended far into the twisted dark, with hints of gentle turns far off. A couple miles down the road, twin red taillights glowed like angry eyes. The mapping program on his phone noted their exit was next. He compressed the breaks, the cruise control flicked off and Adam coasted onto the ramp. 

Kenny shifted, and the movement drew Adam’s attention for a split second. Kenny sat in shotgun with the chair leaned back. His hands threaded through his hair and rubbed at his eyes. Best as Adam could tell he had spent the past three hours passed out and had not even been roused when Adam smack him for snoring. In a moment or two he was upright and alert, peering-out the window, his curly hair like the silhouette of a mop. Adam explained they were taking a diversion into Knoxville for the sole reason that Adam had to go pee. Kenny muttered his assent. 

Google Maps took them to a beat-up 24/7 gas station at the edge of the city. Moth riddled, flickering and humming, fluorescent lights illuminated the cracked pavement of the parking lot. Lined beneath the front windows was stacks of firewood, an ice machine, and a tire pressure gauge. Adam left Kenny to fill-up the tank while Adam lunged out of the car to make use of the facilities. Inside, an exhausted looking twenty-something attended the counter and her phone. Over the top of the rows of junk food riddled shelves, Adam saw the bathroom. After taking care of his physical needs, on his way-out he perused the aisle while Kenny took his turn in the Powder room. He bough a couple packages of cookies, crackers, and bags of chips. Then, a coffee from himself from a somewhat suspect machine and a bottle of 2% from the fridge, for Kenny. Adam paid at the register and sipped on his caffeine as he stepped-off the curb outside the station. Cars rolled by on the road, whispering with the heated Summer wind. Kenny, already back outside, stretched-out beside the car, his gold hair white-washed by the lights. Sliding into the front seat, Adam offered Kenny the milk on one stipulation: Adam could use it to thin his coffee. It turned-out that he had purchased mud water. Kenny agreed and they were back on the trail, navigating the downtown and suburbia, in search of the road North. The street lights faded, and into this darkness, as Adam waited for a red light to turn green, Kenny began his thought: 

You know. 

Green light, go, Adam hit the gas, and rolled through. For a second, once through the intersection, he glanced at Kenny. In the dark car, lit by the thin dashboard glow, Kenny peered at him, curious, bur not pressing. There was a glimmer in his blue eyes. Adam returned his gaze to the windshield and the passing silver screen of Knoxville scenery. A right took them back onto the highway and Adam merged with the sparse traffic as he processed what Kenny asked him. You mentioned a girlfriend before? Do you only like women? Back on the smooth sailing of the interstate, Adam sunk back in his seat and sought comfort from the shitty coffee. It tasted bitter and yet smoother with the milk. 

“You asked me two questions, there,” Adam observed, lifting a corresponding number of fingers. It’d be easy to only answer one, Kenny wouldn’t force it. He resolved, tongue darting over his chapped lips, to answer both. He reached-out and turned down the radio to but a couple notches. “And uh, well, I guess, the answer to both is it’s complicated.”

“I mean, yeah, these things usually are,” Kenny joked, he leaned back his seat a little bit and propped a foot on the dash. He glanced at the mapping program on Adam’s phone and the oppressive number of hours left, “We got time though, so take as much as you need. Like, I’m just curious is all, and if I keep sleeping in this chair I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow, Piz.”

“Well, to answer the first question,” Adam chuckled. “I did have a girlfriend, once, back in college.”

“Ah, a college sweetheart--” Kenny teased. “That’s classic.”

“Yeah,” Adam chuckled. A fond smile spread on his lips. Like those arrogant, dancing nobles in Vienne, he thought of a time long gone. “We’re still friends, you know, we talk every now and then, meet-up for lunch or something, she’s married now, pregnant, with her first kid.”

“Okay, but that’s all past tense, what happened? Give me the details, man,” Kenny said. He interlaced his hands behind his head, shifting in the car seat. “I mean, if it’s not too hard, or anything.”

Adam shrugged, one shoulder-up to his ear with casual dismissal. Maybe a few years ago it would’ve been 'hard’ but things had changed. He had changed-- or rather, something had changed around him. There was someone else now for him to be heartbroken over. The old stuff were all scars now, not wounds that leaked with the slightest prod. Not like they used to. 

“So, the deal is I went into college with like, two years of credit, yeah?” Adam said, he checked over at Kenny to make sure he was following. “You can imagine this kinda put me in a weird spot. I was a Freshman but also basically a Junior and I was taking the classes in my major right away. I didn’t make a lot of friends that way, though. So, yeah, she was a little older than me and her name was Amanda. Long black hair, dark eyes, kinda short, but pretty, she was an art student, so we met in like this advanced drawing class. And Kenny, holy shit, I have to show you pictures of some of the stuff she does, when we get to the hotel, it’s nuts. Like these hyper realistic watercolor and oil paint portraits, that look even better than the actual thing. She works as a like, a background artist in L.A., now, so she’s legit. Way better than anything I could do.”

Kenny hummed, low in his throat, and Adam took that as a cue to continue.

“So, we met in class, and, over the course of the next semester we got to know each other, really well,” he said. “Like, I was hanging-out in her apartment to do projects and she was hanging-out in my dorm. I moved in with her for my Senior year, after she graduated. She just needed a roommate, you know? And not long after that we just, kinda started dating. I don’t know, it’s-- it’s hard to describe, even now, how I felt about her. Like, just this intensity I never experienced before. I really thought I was sick, actually-- like my stomach hurt. I called my mom and she told me I was a dumbass, and that I had a crush. It’s just that I was never interested in dating in high school, like I talked to girls and stuff, went to prom with one of my friends, but nothing like, you know?” Adam made an almost helpless gesture with his hand.

He rested his palm against his thigh. His other hand guided the steering wheel. Then, real quick, Adam focused on setting-up the cruise control again. If he had to compress the gas for the whole trip, his right hip would be sore as hell by the time they reach their destination. A couple nudges and they were flying at a clean eighty again. Adam took that time to organize his thoughts. Kenny didn’t say a word, but Adam could tell he was waiting for the elaboration.

“I really thought,” Adam murmured, his voice softened, wistful. “That I was going to marry her. Like, I was going to jewlery stores, looking at engagement rings, trying to figure-out how to save-up.”

“What, really?” Kenny asked, he leaned forward in his chair, elbows digging into the arm rest. “Seriously, man?”

“Yeah, we dated for almost two years after I graduated,” Adam said. “I was working as a teacher and she was a freelance artist, it was really great. Of course, I was traveling a lot-- on account of the wrestling thing, and she came to some shows, I don’t think she really got it? Amanda was sensitive, wouldn’t hurt a fly and she didn’t really vibe with fighting. Which, is fine, I was fine with it. I mean she watched these soap operas that I didn’t get, so it was kinda even, you know? But I think all that time away from home didn’t do a lot of good for our relationship. You know I was young, Kenny, like twenty-two? And she-- she got a job in California, and we talked about it, and--”

“Just didn’t work-out, huh?” Kenny asked, voice low. 

Adam shook his head, lips pressing together into a thin line. He still recalled that conversation over the dinning room table. His hands interlaced in front of him, her on the other side, going through the logistics. She was so good at that, planning. That was something they shared in common, overthinking. This move was a dead necessity for her career. Texas just didn’t have the same opportunities that the City of Angels did. Except, Adam was training in Texas, fighting in Texas, teaching in Texas. It was the middle of the school year during his internship. He couldn’t pack-up and leave. The suggestion she came to was obvious but it didn’t make it easy. They break-up, go their separate ways, not try to force all of this to work to the determent of them both. For years Adam cursed himself for agreeing. He believed, as he laid in bed alone and cold, ruminating on his failures, he should’ve fought harder. Fought harder for them. Hung-up on what could’ve and should’ve been. It hurt more when she found a new guy in California. He still went to her wedding and was her best man. Because Adam still loved Amanda and he always would. 

And he was okay with being next to her, because their relationship, their bond, was more important than his wounded pride. 

“Yeah, it didn’t work-out,” Adam agreed. “I was, upset, for a while. A long while, actually, like, I really thought I’d never get another chance like her again, but--”

He paused, and ended the thought there. Amanda was so amazing, so brilliant, so awesome, and funny, and caring and kind, and she loved cats. She picked out local art for their apartment. Yet, Adam also remembered her occasional moods where she just couldn’t be talked to until the storm passed. The way she set her mind on things was sometimes endearing, sometimes frustrating. She wasn’t perfect, but she was great. It was apples-to-oranges, to compare her and Kenny. They were completely different people and Adam loved different things about them-- yet, it was still love. It couldn’t be measured or quantified. The only time he had ever felt this intensity before was with Amanda. He really didn’t think there was another person on this planet who could steal his heart like Amanda did. Then he met Kenny, and fell in love with Kenny.

And whoops, there was at least one other. 

“You know, you live, you grow, you move-on,” Adam said, he shrugged again and nodded to himself. “If we hadn’t split I probably never would’ve gone to Japan, or met you and the Bucks. Or, joined AEW, never been tag-team champion. It’s a real Robert Frost poem, I could be a teacher in L.A. right now, instead of-- well, driving eight hours to Chicago in the middle of the night, but my point stands! I-I imagine you get it, picking between your career and well, sometimes relationships.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get,” Kenny muttered. He looked out the window. His nails scrapped against his jeans. “You know how it was with me and Ibushi. How leaving Japan felt. Especially, after we reconciled after so many years-- but that’s how it is.” He trailed off, leaving the thought behind.

“So, like, were you two ever,” Adam interjected. He glanced over at the same time Kenny did. Adam darted his gaze back to the red, feeling his cheeks heat and rosette. A deep appreciation for the late hour filled him. “I mean, like, I don’t know how to ask this. Were, you and Ibushi, you know, together? Like, together, together. Obviously, it’s not my business, but I’m just, just curious, is all. Like, the Golden Lovers, man? There’s some crazy rumors out there.”

Kenny laughed, a full chuckle that churned Adam’s stomach and yet set his face on fire. That sound made Adam feel warm, he wanted to hear it again desperately. “Yeah, Kota and I dated. We were together for like six years, and yeah, like you, if same-sex marriage was legal in Japan, I would’ve married him.”

It was such an upfront statement. a matter of fact If he could, he would, but the lack of gold ring on Kenny’s left finger told Adam he didn’t. Kenny nodded to himself but the silence lingered, the sentence wasn’t finished. The clock turned over to 3:23 and they passed an exit with bleeding, gold lights, with hotels, restaurants, and street lamps. 

Kenny continued, but his voice was softer and more raw. “But then-- well, I screwed it up. I mean, I really messed-up. It wasn’t like you and your girl, where it was a pretty understanding with a clean break. I didn’t trust him, like I should. I thought he was going to leave me and so, I left first. Then like an idiot, I lashed-out, and ruined everything we built, and it ended. Just. Like. That--” Kenny snapped his fingers-- “We never got back together but, we’re friends again, we made-up, you know that, but the things I did, the things I did to Kota-- it's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life.”

The night hid Adam’s expression. The darkness was a comfort. It hid the monsters in the back seat. The purr of the engine whispered in the absence of Kenny’s scathing indictment of himself. Like, he was judge, jury, and executioner, of his own tarnished soul. Adam could imagine what Kenny saw. His face in profile, the tree line whipping by the car windows, an impassive, emotionless, and neutral party, listening without comment to Kenny’s story. He wouldn’t  see the slight grimace or twisting of Adam’s lips. Remembering all the shit Cody said about Ibushi. Adam, twisting Ibushi, Kenny’s arms back, while Cody reared with a chair. Holy fuck, was he such an embarrassing idiot, a complete moron, a destructive piece of shit. If Kenny saw the guilt in Adam’s eyes their conversation would screech to a sudden halt. Akin to if Adam slammed the breaks on the car right now. Instead, Adam allowed Kenny to mourn and didn’t derail to his own bullshit. It was the only way he would’ve heard the next bit, whispered into open air. 

“He really was the first man I loved.”

Kenny sighed and leaned back into his seat, defeated, limp. Now, Adam realized, was definitely time to shift gears. Car analogies aside, Kenny couldn’t be left to ruminate. If there was a person who understood how much it sucked to obsess over an old ex, it was Adam Page. 

“So, you’re like, gay?” Adam asked. He placed both of his hands on the wheel. Shifting, he rubbed his fingers over the rubber and plastic, feeling the coarse texture. Sweat pricked his palms and he heard his pulse skip, skip, and then it was off to the races. “That’s cool by the way, I’m totally cool with that, I mean--”

“Close, but actually, I’m bi,” Kenny said. He chuckled and then nudged Adam’s elbow with his hands. The brief, familiar contact enabled Adam to crack a grin. “Bisexual, guys, gals, non-binary pals, it’s all good to me. I know I don’t talk about it a lot. It’s not something I really like to have out there, circulating. It could cause problems in Japan, and it could be a whole thing, but I trust you. We’re partners, and, it’s kinda something I want you to know, actually.”

Adam grinned to himself and nodded along with Kenny points. He straightened in his seat, wiggling his butt back so his shoulders were flush with the chair. With a crick of his neck he popped a vertebrae with a satisfying ‘clunk.’ 

“Yeah, I was, actually going to say,” Adam began, he swallowed. “I uh-- I am too, bi, I mean, like I think I am. I haven’t tested it but, I’m, pretty sure. I haven’t... done anything, with a guy, before? I just have these feelings? Right, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Kenny said, drawing-out the syllable. Adam could hear the smile in his voice. “I know how it is. I know, I get it, it’s all in your chest, right?” Kenny moved his hand over his heart to indicate what he meant. “You see a guy and it all kinda clicks in your brain, same way it does for a girl. I get it.”

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever really told anyone that,” Adam said, a little breathless. 

Kenny shifted and his chair cranked upright. A fleeting, fluttering touch on his left elbow drew Adam’s gaze down. Kenny placed his hand on the center console between them, palm-up. He wiggled his fingers, an expectant invitation. Adam steadied his grip on the steering wheel and wiped his right hand down his jeans to clean the sweat off. He laid his hand in Kenny’s and Kenny interlaced their fingers, then squeezed. Adam wondered if Kenny could feel his stuttering pulse through the connected vital points of their wrists. Or, if he minded that Adam’s hands were damp. Yet, his nerves and troubled thoughts soothed, mostly to a stream of ecstatic proclamations about how he was holding hands with Kenny. 

“I appreciate you being honest, Piz,” Kenny said. “I know it’s hard. Especially, when maybe you don’t have all the answers, but I’m glad you’ve figured some of it out. I don’t think I knew until I was in my twenties-- how about you?”

“Not long,” Adam admitted. Feelings, ideas since he was in high school, but nowadays he was totally certain. he rubbed his thumb over Kenny’s knuckles. Kenny had long, thin fingers, but a strong grip. Adam could feel his coarse callouses. The warmth of his hand. “In a way I always knew, this has always been a part of me. It was Amanda who helped me figure out the name for it, though.”

So, you’re bi, Amanda had said and Adam had stared at her like he was an idiot. Anytime Adam was around Amanda he felt like an idiot, but only because she was so smart. She had laughed at him and sipped on her beer. They sat outside on the porch, in cool Spring air, a rare balmy day at the outskirts of Los Angeles. She told him she was pregnant. He told her about Kenny. It was a fair exchange-- until Amanda asked him to be her kids godfather, or something similar, or whatever. And Adam had actually started crying, like a total sap. Yeah, yeah of course, that kid’ll be the best fucking horse rider this side of the Mississippi. She patted him on the shoulder and told him she’ll be cheering for him and Kenny. Next time she watched AEW-- because she did that every now and then these days. 

She really liked Sonny Kiss-- Adam always knew she had good taste.

“She sounds great,” Kenny noted.

“She is,” Adam agreed, nodding. “If you ever get to meet her, I’d think you’d like her.”

Adam cocked a slight grin. Something was lighter in him, the air a little clear. It felt better, it felt right, to say it. Adam Page is bisexual, he likes guys and girls, and other stripes of human beings. It was the only way he could feel what he felt for Kenny. Exactly like it was for Amanda. Stomach full of butterflies, every emotion magnified to a soul-aching need, so Adam was raw and on edge. This terror, nausea, built like a screaming tea-kettle, into agony the demanded a release to relieve the pressure. This time, though, Adam found no outlet. Amanda was the one asked him out first, to the movies, to see The Avengers. He remembered sitting in the darkness of the theater, alone and sweaty, until she laid her head on his shoulder. Amanda who confessed first and who drew-out of Adam the depth of his feelings. Now that Adam thought about it, it was Amanda who texted first, Amanda who called first, Amanda who kissed first. Amanda who broke it off first. Adam Page was not known for taking the initiative in his relationships. Yet, he always figured it out, caught-up learned, and followed her lead. If he could just do the same for him and Kenny-- that was a pipe dream so obscure it almost made Adam scoff.

He couldn’t ruin another good friendship, he just couldn’t. 

Adam was running out of bridges to burn. 

“You know, it’s weird,” Adam said. “Because it’s like, I’ve never done anything, with a uh, you know-- a man before. The opportunity has never really come-up. I just kinda wonder, how am I supposed to know these feelings are real?”

“Well, I don’t know if I can answer that one for you, Page,” Kenny said. “But I definitely didn’t know until I met Ibushi. Then, it was real obvious. Yet, I always had a sense of it.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Adam murmured. He squeezed Kenny’s hand and Kenny squeezed back. 

He definitely got it. At first, in the infancy of these feelings he’d thought they’d die or go away, like a bad head cold. Because Kenny Fucking Omega, could never love Adam Page. They were not in the same league, the best wrestler in the world and the weak link of the Elite. Then they were tag-team partners, and absence is not what makes a heart grow fonder, presence is. Long car drives,  where they shot the breeze about anything and everything-- just like this. Hours spent chilling in the same hotel room, showing each other stupid memes, or watching TV together. Plane rides with their heads stacked on each other and complaining about the pressure change. Working-out in the weight rooms and spotting for each other. Training together, practicing the Last Call ‘till they got it right and didn’t fucking hit each other anymore. The longer Adam spent with Kenny Omega, the more certain he was that he loved him. 

Loved him in a way he’d only felt once before. Loved him in a way that was different than how Adam felt about his mother. It was love, 100% all the way, love. True love-- wove, twue wove, to quote a good movie. Love that had all sorts of implications not just for his relationship with Kenny but Adam’s relationship with himself. How he understood himself and who he was. At twenty-nine years he was uncovering more and more about the person of Adam Page, the Hangman. Most of it, Adam didn’t like. Some of it, he did like, and he did like loving Kenny. Even if all he got to do was hold hands and talk. 

“There’s a pool at the hotel,” Kenny said, suddenly, breaking Adam from his introspection.

“Yeah?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah, I checked it out earlier,” Kenny said. “Listen, after we pass-out for a few hours-- you wanna go swimming? Of course, there’s the weight room and all that, we can do a few sets, blah, blah, blah-- but I wanna go swimming too.”

“I didn’t pack swim shorts-- did you?” Adam laughed. He had to wiggle his hand free, unfortunately, from Kenny’s grip so he could make a lane change. 

“Bro,” Kenny stated, and Adam could feel Kenny’s eyes drilling into the side of his face. Intent, focused, and dead serious, “We have large, ample salaries as the Tag-Team Champions of AEW that can fix that problem.”

“Fair point,” Adam admitted. He shuffled his hands on the wheel a little bit and then cracked a big grin. “But yeah, I’m down to work-out, I need to work on my bi-ceps.”

Silence, total silence, Adam shot Kenny the most shit eating grin. For a moment Kenny stared at him, wordless, as if processing that nuclear bomb. Adam had to return his eyes to the road. Then, Kenny smacked Adam’s shoulder. Adam laughed and then laughed harder, when he heard Kenny break into chuckles. 

“Do you think Tony Khan will let us change our team name to the Bisons?” Adam asked.

“No,” Kenny wheezed, his voice strained. He covered his eyes with his hands, shoulders shaking. “No, I don’t think so.”

In the wake of the laughter, Adam settled. Kenny leaned back his seat and despite his fear of cramps, was dozing in a few minutes. Dawn broke before they hit Cincinnati, a brilliant glow of purple, pinks, and golds on a distant blue horizon. It was right to Adam, to park on the 3rd level of the deck and to haul all their shit out of the car. Check-in, bleary eyed at the front desk, and then shuffle into the elevator, with a bagel, stolen from the breakfast, wedged in his mouth. Brush his teeth in the bathroom, kick off his shoes and pants, and then flop into bed. He vaguely recalled Kenny telling him good morning before they fell asleep.