#or the ability to watch gravity falls for the first time again

[mirrren]

If I won the lottery there wouldn’t be many signs to indicate that I did. All I’m saying is my rooms gonna be stocked with a lot more…alex hirsch related things..

[goldfades]

ICE QUEEN & HER HOCKEY PLAYER──CROSBY⁸⁷

for this request!

─ summary | long awaited: crosby x figure skater where they both meet early in their careers and are not impressed by each other, so kinda enemies, they end up at the 2010 olympics and they still dont like each other but they both carry great pressure and basically just them falling in love over the years and of course the media would be highly involved in two generational talents

─ pairing | sidney crosby x fem!reader

─ word count | 19k

─ warnings | slooooow burn, angsty but gets very fluffy toward the end, lmk if yall want a part 2!!

─ ev's notes | thank you my babies cassie & amber for beta reading, yall are the best!!!!!! go give them some love<3 @v6quewrlds @sc0tters

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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You first saw him across the rink, his focus sharp as he moved effortlessly through drills, like he was born on ice. It wasn’t admiration that struck you, though—more like irritation. Sidney Crosby. The “next one,” they called him. All this talent, all this praise, and yet here he was, gliding around like he had something to prove.

Not that you cared.

You had your own path, your own climb. Figure skating was different, but the pressure was just as suffocating. Every jump, every spin felt like the world was watching, expecting perfection. So why did it bother you, seeing him here, looking so... untouchable?

Your coach nudged you, urging you to focus, but you couldn’t help the flicker of competition that lit in your chest. He was just another athlete. Another story. And you, well, you were writing your own.

But something in the way his eyes met yours—cool, unreadable—told you that this wasn’t the last time you’d cross paths with Sidney Crosby.

You try to brush it off, turn your focus back to the ice beneath your feet, but that small moment lingers. His presence sticks with you, even as you push through your routine, every movement precise, practiced. It’s all muscle memory at this point, but somehow, your mind keeps drifting back to him. The way he didn’t seem phased by anything, not even you.

You lace your skates with a quiet determination, the cold air of the rink biting at your skin even though you’ve grown used to it. Every day, same routine. You’ve always found a strange comfort in that—the familiar rhythm of blade on ice, the tension before takeoff, the brief moment when you’re airborne, weightless, before gravity pulls you back. It’s your world, your escape. Everything else fades away here.

Except today, something lingers. Or rather, someone.

Sidney Crosby.

The name alone carries an echo in every corner of the sports world, like he’s already a legend and not just some kid skating circles with his team. You’re not immune to the whispers that float around the rink whenever he’s nearby—the excited murmurs from your teammates, the starry-eyed awe in the younger skaters who dream of meeting him, as if proximity to greatness might somehow rub off on them.

But that’s not you.

You’ve worked too hard to be impressed by anyone anymore. You’ve scraped your way to this point, each pirouette and double axel carved out of relentless practice, not natural-born talent. Sure, you’ve got skill, but it was earned—honed through hours of falling and getting back up again. Nobody handed you anything.

And him?

You glance toward the far end of the rink where he’s going through drills with the same cool precision you’d expect from someone nicknamed “The Next One.” It’s not that you don’t respect his ability—no, that’s not it at all. The guy moves like he was built for this. But there’s something infuriating about the way he carries himself, as if being good—no, great—comes so effortlessly to him, like it’s just a given.

You bend down, adjusting the tightness on your skates. You're focusing on the details, making sure everything is just right, because that’s what you do. That’s who you are. Everything has to be perfect, controlled. Sidney Crosby, meanwhile, looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and for some reason, that grates at you.

Your coach claps his hands, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you move into your routine. Instinct takes over as you push off from the boards and glide onto the ice, the familiar sting of cold rushing against your cheeks. Your legs pump rhythmically, each motion deliberate and precise. You lose yourself in the movement—the stretch of your arms, the swing of your leg as you enter a jump. For a moment, it’s just you and the ice, the world falling away in the face of the one thing that still makes sense.

But not for long.

Because when you land, your gaze drifts again—over to where Crosby’s skating, his sharp turns cutting into the ice with a sound that digs under your skin. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying. It’s infuriating.

You’re coming down from a series of spins when you hear a voice—your teammate. “You’re really in the zone today,” she says, breathless and smiling as she skates up beside you.

“Yeah, trying to be,” you reply, breathing heavily, trying to focus on anything but him.

Your teammate leans in a little, lowering her voice like she’s about to share some big secret. “Did you hear the news? Crosby’s making waves already. Some scouts are saying he’s the real deal—like, generational talent.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “Aren’t they all?”

She grins, nudging you playfully. “Come on, don’t pretend like you’re not a little curious. Everyone’s talking about him.”

“That’s the problem,” you mutter under your breath.

Your teammate skates off, oblivious, leaving you standing there with the weight of that name hanging over your head. Sidney Crosby. It’s like the universe just wants to shove him in your face.

Fine, you think. Let him have his spotlight. Let him be the guy everyone’s fawning over. But you? You’re not here for that. You’ve got your own goals, your own pressures, and the last thing you need is to get wrapped up in some star athlete’s orbit.

You push off again, forcing yourself back into your routine, ignoring the nagging itch that comes with every glance toward his side of the ice. But it’s impossible to drown out completely. You can feel his presence like a shadow, always there, always in the corner of your eye.

When you finally step off the ice, muscles aching in that satisfying way that comes after a hard session, you tell yourself you’re done with him. Done with thinking about the golden boy who’s probably coasting on talent alone.

Yet, as you untie your skates, his image still clings to the edges of your mind—the sharpness in his movements, the quiet intensity in his face, the way he seemed so utterly... unbothered. Like nothing, not even you, could break his focus.

In the locker room, the conversation drifts back to him, as it always seems to. The chatter is almost relentless—"Did you see how fast Crosby is? The way he handles the puck?"—and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes again. You try to tune it out, focusing instead on the methodical task of packing your gear.

But as you sling your bag over your shoulder and head for the exit, the door swings open. And of course, there he is. Crosby, walking in with that same laser focus, gear in hand, barely acknowledging anyone around him.

He doesn’t look at you. Not even a flicker of recognition as he passes by. It’s almost laughable, how oblivious he is. You half expect him to at least give you a nod or a half-smile, something—anything—to show he knows you exist.

But no. Nothing.

You let out a huff, brushing past him as you walk out. There’s no reason for this to bother you, really. You don’t need his approval, and you definitely don’t need him to notice you.

Still, as the door swings shut behind you, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be the last time you cross paths with Sidney Crosby.

Not by a long shot.

───

“Again!” Your coach’s voice cuts through the air like a whip, sharp and biting, echoing across the empty rink. You’ve been at this for hours, it feels like—your muscles are screaming, every part of your body aching, but none of that matters. Not to him.

You swallow the frustration that bubbles in your throat, biting back the urge to snap. Instead, you skate back to the center of the ice, forcing your legs to cooperate, the burn in your calves a constant reminder of how long you’ve been doing this. It’s not good enough, though. Not for him. And, if you’re honest with yourself, not for you either.

You’re trying to perfect your triple Lutz, but every time you attempt the jump, something feels off—your rotation, your timing, maybe even your mindset. Your blade scrapes the ice as you reset, steadying your breath, forcing yourself to focus.

“Go again!” he shouts, his voice almost hoarse now, and you push off, gathering speed. The rink blurs around you as you build up momentum, arms tight, posture straight, the way you’ve been drilled to do since you were a kid. You hit the jump—lift off—but somewhere in the second rotation, it happens again. You come down wrong, your ankle buckling as you land too heavily on your right skate.

Your coach swears under his breath. “What was that? You’re rushing! Slow down, get your rotation tighter—again!”

You don’t say anything. You just grit your teeth and skate back into position. It’s not like you’re unfamiliar with this kind of pressure—no, this is your life. Perfection or nothing. You’ve heard the speeches, felt the disappointment every time you come up short. You know it’s about pushing yourself past your limits.

But right now, with every muscle in your body screaming at you to stop, you’re beginning to wonder if there’s anything left to push through.

“Let’s go, again!”

You roll your eyes but quickly hide it. He’s watching, waiting for you to slip, and he’ll never let you hear the end of it if you show any sign of weakness. So, you breathe in deeply, shake out your arms, and steel yourself. Just one more. One more and you’ll nail it.

You skate hard, the familiar whoosh of ice beneath your blades almost comforting, like the calm before the storm. As you go into the jump, everything seems to click—your body feels lighter, your rotation sharper, and you think, for a second, that you’ve got it.

Then the ice meets you like a slap to the face. Your blade catches, and you fall, hard, knees scraping the cold surface as the impact sends a sharp shock through your legs. You feel the familiar sting of embarrassment heating your cheeks before the pain even registers.

“Are you kidding me?” Your coach’s voice booms across the ice, frustration crackling in every word. “You’re better than this! Do it again, and this time, stop messing around!”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you haul yourself up, limbs heavy and protesting. You can feel the sharp eyes of your coach drilling into you, his disappointment palpable even from a distance. And as you push yourself upright, swallowing down the lump of frustration lodged in your throat, something shifts at the edge of your vision.

Sidney Crosby.

Of course.

He’s on the ice now, on the other side of the rink, going through his own drills with an almost inhuman precision. His strides are powerful, fluid, each movement perfectly controlled. He makes it look easy. Like he always does.

You hate that it bothers you, but it does. Watching him now, so effortlessly skating through his practice, it only sharpens the contrast between his ease and your exhaustion. It’s like the universe has decided to throw him in your face every chance it gets.

You force your gaze away, back to the task at hand. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than whatever golden-boy magic Crosby is working over there. Your coach is waiting for you to try again, arms crossed, his face a storm of impatience.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to land this?” he snaps.

You nod, swallowing down the irritation that’s rising in your chest. He’s right. You can’t let this beat you. You won’t.

You take a deep breath, center yourself, and push off, the sound of your blades cutting through the ice grounding you. This time, you focus harder, your mind narrowing in on each detail of the jump. Speed, lift, rotation, land. One step at a time. You block out everything—your coach, the ache in your legs, and definitely Sidney Crosby.

You launch yourself into the air, feeling the smooth power of the jump. For a moment, you’re weightless, and it feels right—until, once again, you come down a hair too early, your blade skidding out from under you. You stumble but don’t fall this time, catching yourself just in time.

“Better,” your coach mutters. “But not good enough.”

You barely hear him, though, because when you glance up, you catch Crosby watching you out of the corner of his eye. It’s subtle, just a flicker of attention, but it’s there. His face is unreadable, but you don’t need to see his expression to know what he’s thinking.

She’s struggling.

And for some reason, that thought sets your nerves on fire.

I’m not gonna let Crosby win.

The thought flares in your mind, sudden and irrational, but you grab onto it like a lifeline. It’s ridiculous—you know that. He’s not even competing with you. Hell, he probably doesn’t even care about you right now, but it’s too late. The idea’s already wormed its way in, digging deep into that part of your brain that refuses to back down from a challenge. Even if it’s one you made up.

You grit your teeth, fists tightening as you push off for another go. The anger fuels you, hot and biting, spreading through your limbs like wildfire. Suddenly, the exhaustion that’s been weighing you down all practice disappears, replaced by a sharp, laser-focused determination.

This time, when you skate, it’s different. Every movement is smoother, sharper. The ice feels like it’s bending to your will instead of working against you. As you approach the jump, you don’t hesitate. There’s no second-guessing, no nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you what could go wrong.

You launch yourself into the air, and everything falls into place. The height, the speed, the rotation—it’s all perfect. You land with a crisp, sharp sound, your blades slicing through the ice as if they were always meant to. No stumble, no misstep. Just perfection.

The rink is silent.

You glance over at your coach, and he’s standing there, mouth slightly open, completely stunned. His arms drop to his sides, the frustration and irritation from earlier replaced with disbelief. For a split second, even he can’t believe what just happened.

“That…” he starts, still catching up to what he’s seen. “That was perfect.”

You feel the rush of satisfaction, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips, but before you can fully relish the moment, your gaze slides across the ice—right back to Sidney Crosby.

And there it is.

A smirk.

Small, barely noticeable, but unmistakably there, tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watches you. It’s infuriating. The heat of your anger that had just started to cool flares up again, boiling over. You know it’s ridiculous. You know you shouldn’t care. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you—like he knew exactly what just happened, like he’s somehow responsible for flipping that switch in you.

It’s smug. Too smug.

You feel your fingers curl into fists at your sides, the triumph of your flawless landing fading as quickly as it came. It’s not enough. Not when he thinks he had something to do with it. The thought of him thinking that he was the reason you nailed that jump makes you grit your teeth all over again.

Your coach calls out, voice still tinged with amazement. “Take a break—you earned it. That was the best I’ve seen all season.”

You nod, skating off toward the edge of the rink, but your eyes never leave Crosby’s. He’s back to his drills now, that infuriating little smirk gone, replaced by that same focused intensity he always has. Like you don’t even exist. Like he’s already moved on.

But you haven’t.

I’m not gonna let Crosby win. You repeat the mantra to yourself, feeling that fire spark inside you once more.

This is only the beginning.

───

“I’m telling you, he’s got it out for me,” you say, waving your glass in the air as you slump back in your seat. “It's like, every time I look up, there he is, judging me with those stupid, intense eyes. Like he’s some kind of skating god who knows better than the rest of us.”

Your teammates snicker around the table, but you can tell they’re more amused by your dramatics than actually concerned. Abby, sitting across from you, rolls her eyes, sipping her drink with an amused smirk.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she says. “Because Sidney Crosby is totally obsessed with you, out of all people. That’s what he does with his free time.”

“I’m serious!” You huff, propping your elbows on the table. “Every time I mess up, he’s there. Just... lurking in the background. Like some smug, perfectly-groomed shadow, judging me. I swear he enjoys it.”

Tasha, who’s been quietly sipping her beer next to you, finally chimes in. “Are you sure he’s not just, you know, existing and you’re projecting all your frustrations onto him?”

You glare at her, but she only grins, nudging your arm. “I’m just saying, maybe he’s just trying to live his life and it’s not all about you.”

“I don’t project,” you grumble. “I’m very rational. This is just... observation.”

Abby nearly spits out her drink, laughing. “You’re so full of it. Admit it, you just don’t like that he’s good at literally everything. It messes with your perfectionist brain.”

“You’d hate him less if you stopped watching him all the time,” Tasha adds, teasing.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table with a thud. “I don’t watch him. He’s just always there. Like a bad omen with a hockey stick.”

“Yeah, well,” Abby shrugs, “I’d be there too if I were as good as him. Honestly, if you weren’t so busy hating him, you’d probably respect him a little. Maybe you two would even be—”

“Don’t.” You cut her off, lifting your head with a glare. “Don’t even suggest we could be friends. Or worse—something else. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

Tasha grins mischievously. “Well, considering how much you’re talking about him, it sounds like he might be the only thing you need right now.”

You swat at her playfully, but before you can respond, the loud crash of a door opening interrupts your rant. The energy in the bar shifts immediately as a group of loud, rowdy voices enters the room. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. You can feel it—the sudden frat-boy energy that seems to follow them wherever they go.

“Speak of the devil,” Abby mutters under her breath, clearly amused.

Sure enough, you glance toward the entrance, and there they are. Sidney Crosby and his teammates, rolling into the bar like they own the place. They’re loud, obnoxious, the exact opposite of what you wanted for this low-key evening. You watch as they laugh, shove each other, and call out to the bartender as if they’ve been best friends for years.

Sidney, of course, is in the center of it all—looking as effortlessly cool as ever in a black jacket and backward baseball cap. His laugh booms across the bar, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “Why are they always like this? Who gave them permission to act like frat boys in public?”

“Relax,” Abby says, still laughing at your expense. “It’s not like they’re doing anything wrong.”

“They’re just breathing, and it’s bothering you,” Tasha adds with a smirk.

“I can’t help it!” You say, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “They walk in here like they own the place. No one’s even looking at them, and somehow they just... demand attention.”

As if on cue, Sidney’s voice rises above the noise, calling out to one of his teammates with a laugh that carries through the entire bar. His presence is magnetic, drawing attention even when he’s not trying, and you hate how aware of him you are.

“I’m telling you,” you say, turning back to your friends. “This is a sign. The universe is trying to ruin my peace.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Abby teases. “The universe doesn’t revolve around you and Sidney Crosby. Just let it go.”

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” you declare, crossing your arms stubbornly. “He’s not worth my energy.”

But as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel a pair of eyes land on you. You glance up—and of course, it’s him. Sidney freaking Crosby. He’s looking right at you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, almost as if he knows exactly what you were just complaining about.

Your stomach flips, and suddenly, the heat rushes to your face. Great, just what you needed. You quickly look away, trying to pretend like you hadn’t been caught mid-rant about him for the umpteenth time.

Abby leans in, her voice low and teasing. “So... what’s that about not caring?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, grabbing your drink and downing the rest in one go.

Tasha bursts out laughing. “You’re so done for.”

“Am not,” you grumble, avoiding Sidney’s gaze. But you can still feel his eyes on you, that stupid smirk lingering in your mind, and you can’t shake the thought that, maybe, just maybe, he does enjoy messing with you.

Or worse—maybe you enjoy it too.

Later, you found yourself alone. You lean against the bar, the cool wood pressing into your forearms as you wait for the bartender to notice you. The noise of the bar hums around you—laughter, clinking glasses, some bad country song playing in the background. But for the first time since Sidney Crosby and his squad of obnoxious teammates showed up, you’ve managed to relax a little. Maybe it’s the alcohol kicking in or maybe it’s because you’ve successfully avoided looking in his direction for the past half hour. Either way, you feel lighter.

You tap your fingers against the counter impatiently, scanning the crowd for the bartender, trying not to let your mind wander back to Sidney. You promised yourself you weren’t going to let him ruin your night, and you’re doing a decent job of it so far. No reason to let him take up more space in your head than he already does.

"Hey, can I get another drink over here?" you call out to the bartender, who finally catches your eye and nods.

Just as you start to relax, though, you feel it—that presence. It’s like your body knows he’s there before you even see him, a tingle that runs up your spine, making your muscles tense involuntarily.

You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sidney’s voice is smooth, low, and far too casual, like he’s not already driving you insane.

You grit your teeth, rolling your eyes before you even face him. Great. Of course, he’d pick now to show up. When you’re alone. Just your luck.

Sidney leans against the bar beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, but not so close that it feels like he’s crowding you. He’s got this irritatingly effortless way of taking up space without trying. It’s like the universe bends around him, making sure everyone notices when he’s around.

“What do you want?” you ask, not bothering to hide the irritation in your voice as you finally turn to face him. You don’t have the patience for his smug attitude tonight.

He’s leaning casually with one elbow on the bar, looking at you with that infuriating half-smirk, like he finds the whole situation amusing. His backward cap is still in place, strands of hair peeking out messily, and his eyes glint with something that feels way too much like a challenge.

“What makes you think I want something?” he asks, his voice almost teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Because you don’t come over here for no reason.”

Sidney chuckles softly, and the sound grates on your nerves. “Maybe I just wanted to say hi. You know, be friendly.”

“Since when are we friendly?” you shoot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Pretty sure we’ve never been that.”

He shrugs, still smiling, as if your hostility only makes this more fun for him. “There’s a first time for everything.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge his angle. It’s impossible to tell if he’s genuinely trying to make conversation or if he’s just here to mess with you. Either way, you’re not having it.

“Look, Crosby,” you say, your voice sharp, “if you’re here to annoy me, you’re wasting your time. I’m not in the mood.”

His smirk widens, and for some reason, it makes your stomach flip in a way you don’t like. “Who said anything about annoying you?”

You let out a huff of frustration, leaning back against the bar and glaring at him. “You always do. Every time you show up, it’s like you can’t help but get under my skin.”

Sidney tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering your words, but the smirk never leaves his face. “Maybe that’s because you make it so easy.”

The nerve of this guy. You open your mouth to fire back, but the bartender finally appears with your drink, placing it in front of you. You grab it with a quick thanks, eager for a distraction. Anything to avoid looking at Sidney and that stupid grin of his.

“Why do you even care?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink. “You don’t know me. We’re in completely different worlds.”

Sidney doesn’t respond right away, just watches you with those annoyingly intense eyes, like he’s trying to figure something out about you. It’s unsettling, but you refuse to let him see that he’s getting to you. You’ve already let him mess with your head enough tonight.

“Maybe I don’t know you,” he says after a moment, his voice lower now, more thoughtful. “But you’re interesting. More interesting than half the people I’ve met in this sport.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “Interesting?”

He nods, that playful glint still in his eyes. “Yeah. You’re not like everyone else. Most people just... try to stay out of the way, keep their heads down, play nice. But you? You don’t take shit from anyone. I like that.”

You snort, unable to help yourself. “So what, you’re saying you like me because I don’t like you?”

Sidney laughs, and the sound is so warm, so genuine, that it throws you off for a second. It’s not the cocky laugh you’re used to hearing from him on the ice. This one feels... real.

“I’m saying I like a challenge,” he says, his eyes gleaming with something that makes your heart race even though you really don’t want it to. “And you’re definitely a challenge.”

A challenge. That word lingers in the air between you, heavy and charged, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the way he said it or because of how it makes you feel. Because on some level, you know he’s right. You are a challenge. You’ve always been a challenge. And maybe that’s part of why he gets under your skin so easily—because he’s not backing down.

But you’re not backing down either.

“Well, if you think you can just waltz in here and... what? Win me over?” you scoff, taking another sip of your drink. “Good luck with that, Crosby. I don’t go down that easy.”

Sidney leans in just a fraction, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I never said I wanted you to go down easy.”

The words hang between you, thick with tension, and you feel your pulse quicken, the heat rising in your chest despite your best efforts to stay calm. His eyes stay locked on yours, and for a split second, you forget where you are, forget everything except the way his gaze makes you feel like he’s seeing through every layer of defense you’ve built up.

It takes everything in you not to let him see how much he’s affecting you. You keep your expression neutral, lips pressed into a tight line as you lean back, forcing some distance between you.

“You really think you can get to me with a few smooth lines?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

Sidney shrugs again, but this time there’s a hint of something more serious behind his smile. “I don’t know. Guess I’ll find out.”

You glare at him, feeling that familiar frustration bubbling up again, but there’s something else there now too—something you don’t want to acknowledge. Something that feels dangerous and thrilling all at once.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you say, standing up from the bar and giving him one last, pointed look. “I’m not as easy to figure out as you think.”

Sidney just smiles, leaning back against the bar as he watches you walk away, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time.

“Good,” he calls after you. “I like a good mystery.”

You don’t look back, but damn it, his voice follows you all the way out of the bar, and it’s all you can think about for the rest of the night.

───

The rink is nearly deserted when you stayed that night, after practice. The cold air bites at your exposed skin, but it feels like a relief after the stuffiness of the bar. You needed this—the wide-open space, the sound of your skates carving into the ice, the familiar rhythm of movement that helps drown out all the noise in your head.

You plug in your phone to the speaker system, scrolling through your playlists until you settle on something fitting for the mood—dramatic, sweeping classical music, the kind that builds and builds until it feels like it’s going to break something wide open. It’s exactly what you need right now.

As the first notes fill the rink, you skate to the center, closing your eyes for just a moment, letting the music wash over you. The stress, the frustration, the lingering burn from your interaction with Sidney—it all simmers beneath the surface, but here, on the ice, you know how to channel it. You’ve always been able to let the pressure fuel you, turning frustration into focus.

Opening your eyes, you push off, gliding across the ice with an easy grace that comes from years of muscle memory. The music builds, and you pick up speed, letting the intensity of the sound guide your movements. Each jump, each spin, feels sharper than before, more deliberate. There’s no audience, no competition, just you and the ice and the echo of the music in the empty arena.

You land a triple axel cleanly, but it’s not enough. Not tonight. You need more.

I’m not going to let Crosby win. The thought flashes in your mind, unbidden, but once it’s there, you can’t shake it. It’s ridiculous—Sidney’s not even here, not even part of this—but somehow, he’s still under your skin, pushing you to go harder, to be better.

The frustration builds, a knot tightening in your chest, and with a surge of anger, you launch into another jump, pushing yourself to the limit. You flip in the air, body twisting with precision, and when your skates hit the ice again, the landing is so clean, so perfect, that even you’re stunned for a moment.

Your coach isn’t here to shout or correct you, but if he were, you know he’d be speechless. You nailed it.

You stop in the center of the rink, breathing heavily, staring down at the ice beneath your feet. How did you flip that switch so quickly? One second, you were spiraling, frustration threatening to spill over, and the next, you’re here—executing moves with a sharpness you didn’t think you had tonight.

It’s almost like—

“Nice landing.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you spin around, your skates squeaking on the ice as you search for the source of the voice.

Of course.

Sidney Crosby is standing in the entrance to the rink, leaning casually against the boards with his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that same infuriating half-smirk. His dark hoodie is pulled over his head, casting shadows over his face, but you’d recognize that voice anywhere. You’d thought you were alone, but apparently, Sidney had other plans.

“Jesus—what the hell are you doing here?” you snap, pulse still racing from both the exertion and the shock of seeing him.

Sidney shrugs, as if he hasn’t just interrupted your entire night. “Could ask you the same thing.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pushing down the urge to scream. “I’m here because I’m training. What’s your excuse?”

He lifts an eyebrow, pushing off the boards and stepping onto the ice with ease, his skates gliding smoothly over the surface. “Didn’t realize you had the rink reserved.”

You cross your arms, glaring as he skates a slow circle around you, as if he’s sizing you up. The way he moves is so infuriatingly confident, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

“Sidney, I swear, if you’re here just to mess with me—”

He stops right in front of you, cutting you off with a grin that makes your stomach twist. “I’m not here to mess with you.” His voice drops a little, that playful edge still there but softer now. “Not unless you want me to.”

You take a step back, suddenly feeling a little too close to him. The music still plays in the background, dramatic strings swelling through the speakers, matching the tension that’s building between you two.

“Why are you really here?” you ask, trying to sound more composed than you feel. You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from skating or the fact that Sidney’s presence always seems to set you off, but your pulse is racing, and not just from the workout.

Sidney tilts his head slightly, watching you with those annoyingly intense eyes. “I could ask you the same thing,” he says, echoing your earlier words. “You’ve been skating for hours. What’s got you so wound up?”

Your mouth opens to snap back, but you stop yourself, unsure how to answer. It’s not like you can tell him he’s part of the problem, that every time he shows up, he stirs something inside you that’s equal parts frustration and... something else you refuse to acknowledge.

“I’m fine,” you finally say, your voice tight. “Just working on a few things.”

Sidney steps closer again, his eyes not leaving yours, and you can feel your defenses rising instinctively. He has this way of making you feel exposed, like he sees through every layer you put up.

“You don’t look fine,” he says quietly, the teasing edge fading from his voice. “You look like you’re trying to prove something.”

“I don’t have anything to prove to you,” you snap, more harshly than you intended.

Sidney doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even react to your tone. Instead, he just watches you, like he’s waiting for you to let your guard down.

“You don’t have anything to prove to me,” he agrees, his voice low, almost gentle now. “But it seems like you’re trying to prove something to yourself.”

The words hit you harder than you want to admit, and for a second, you feel the weight of the pressure you’ve been carrying—the constant need to be perfect, to land every jump, to be better than you were yesterday. And maybe, just maybe, part of that pressure comes from knowing that Sidney Crosby, of all people, has seen you falter.

Your hands tighten into fists, frustration bubbling up again, but this time it’s not aimed at Sidney—it’s aimed at yourself.

“What do you know about it?” you mutter, looking away from him, focusing on the ice instead of the way his presence is making you feel.

Sidney doesn’t respond right away, and when he does, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. “More than you think.”

Something in his tone makes you glance up, and for the first time, you see something different in his eyes—not the usual cocky smirk, not the playful teasing. It’s something deeper, something you recognize.

Pressure. Expectation. The weight of the world on his shoulders, just like you carry on yours.

For a moment, the air between you shifts, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the music still playing softly in the background or because of the way Sidney is looking at you. There’s something unspoken hanging in the space between you, something fragile and real.

“I get it,” he says, his voice quiet. “The pressure. The feeling like you have to be perfect every time you step on the ice. I know what that’s like.”

You swallow hard, the walls you’ve built around yourself trembling slightly. You’re not used to Sidney Crosby being... this. Open. Vulnerable. It throws you off balance, makes you feel like you’re standing on shaky ground.

But before you can say anything, he steps back, giving you space, and the moment passes as quickly as it came.

“Anyway,” he says, his usual smirk slipping back into place, “just wanted to check in. See if you needed anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to regain your composure. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Sidney grins, his playful edge back in full force. “Good. I like seeing you fired up.”

And just like that, the tension is back, simmering under the surface, and you’re left standing there, wondering how Sidney Crosby has managed to flip your world upside down in a matter of minutes.

As he skates away, you’re left with the echo of his words in your mind—and the realization that maybe, just maybe, he’s not the only one who likes a challenge.

───

A few weeks later, the cold of early winter is biting harder, a constant reminder of what’s looming: the Olympics. The most important competition of your life. Every jump, every spin, every session on the ice has been building to this moment, and now, the pressure is so thick, it feels like it's settled in your bones.

You’re sitting in the locker room, your gear strewn across the bench beside you. The atmosphere is tense but electric. Today is the day they announce the official Olympic figure skating team, and though you know you've earned your spot, the nerves are impossible to shake. Even after years of preparation, the thought of representing your country on the world’s biggest stage makes your heart pound.

Your coach comes in first, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He claps you on the back, and you can feel the energy shift in the room.

“They’ve posted the roster,” he says, barely containing his pride. “You’re on the team.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and then the weight of them crashes down on you. You’re on the team. You’re going to the Olympics.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, your chest tight with a mix of relief and exhilaration. All the hours on the ice, the grueling practices, the mental battles—it’s all been worth it. You’re going to be part of something bigger than yourself, and for a moment, you let yourself revel in the feeling of accomplishment.

But then, like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon, another thought creeps in: Sidney Crosby.

You haven't seen him since that night at the rink, but his presence has lingered, a constant shadow in your mind. He’s been picked too—you know it without even needing to check the roster. Of course he has. He's Sidney Crosby. A generational talent, just like they call you, only... more somehow. More polished, more famous, more everything. And now, the media will eat this up, won’t they? Two stars, both at the top of their games, both chasing Olympic glory, both—

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. You’re not going to let Sidney Crosby get into your head. Not when you’ve worked so hard to get here.

Your teammates rush into the room, their excitement contagious as they celebrate together. You laugh with them, letting the energy lift you for a moment, but in the back of your mind, that quiet tension still lingers. You can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of something bigger—and that Sidney is somehow going to be a part of it, whether you like it or not.

───

The night before the team heads out for the final round of pre-Olympic training, you find yourself back at the rink, once again pushing through a late-night session. The music is quieter this time, more contemplative, as you work on fine-tuning your routine. It’s just you and the ice, and for a little while, that’s enough.

Until the door creaks open again.

You stop mid-spin, your breath catching in your throat. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is—somehow, you can always tell when Sidney’s around. It’s like your body is wired to notice him, even when you don’t want to.

“What are you doing here?” you call out, not bothering to mask the annoyance in your voice.

Sidney doesn’t answer right away, but you hear the sound of his skates as he steps onto the ice, gliding easily toward you.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, his voice calm, almost too calm, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “Training late again?”

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him get to you. “Yeah, well, some of us still have work to do.”

Sidney chuckles softly, skating closer until he’s just a few feet away. “You really think you’ve got that much left to prove?”

You glance at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t you?”

For a second, he doesn’t answer, his eyes searching yours. There’s something unreadable in his expression, something almost… curious. Then he shrugs, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice low. “But I’m not the one staying up all night to try and be perfect.”

His words hit a little too close to home, and you feel the flare of anger rise again. But before you can respond, Sidney’s already moving, skating around you with that effortless grace that somehow makes everything seem easy for him.

“You know,” he says, his tone light, “the media’s having a field day with this whole thing. Two Canadian stars, same Olympics, both at the top of their game. They love a good story.”

You roll your eyes, spinning around to face him. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Sidney’s grin widens, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s enjoying this more than he should. “You think they’ll keep us apart, or you think they’ll try to milk this for everything it’s worth?”

You cross your arms, refusing to play into whatever game he’s trying to start. “I don’t really care what the media does.”

Sidney stops in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours with that same intensity you’ve come to know all too well. “You sure about that?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a second, you’re not sure if he’s talking about the media… or something else entirely.

You stare at him for a moment, the weight of his gaze making the rink feel smaller, more intimate than it has any right to be. The soft hum of your music in the background seems distant now, a faraway echo compared to the silence between you. You want to say something cutting, to brush him off like you always do, but there's something different about this moment. It's not just annoyance. There's a challenge here—a tension, thick and electric, hovering just out of reach.

Sidney's eyebrow quirks up, and you feel your stomach twist in frustration. He's baiting you, but you don't know what game you're even playing anymore. And the worst part? He’s winning. Again.

"I'm sure," you finally manage to say, but your voice doesn’t carry the sharpness you intended. It's a little softer, almost uncertain, and you hate it. His smirk widens ever so slightly, like he's noticed it too.

"Good." Sidney pushes off the ice and skates a lazy circle around you, his movements fluid and deliberate, like he's taking his time to think about his next words. "Because it doesn't matter what they say. We're both here for the same reason—to win."

You scoff, rolling your eyes, but there's a part of you that knows he's right. You didn’t get this far by letting other people’s opinions get in your head. You worked for this. Hard. Late nights, endless drills, pushing yourself past your limits just to prove to everyone—and maybe to yourself—that you deserved to be here. That you belonged.

But somehow, Sidney Crosby always finds a way to make you feel like you're still fighting for that validation. Like there's always something left to prove.

"And here I thought you were just here for the cameras," you say, your words sharper now, biting back with the edge you'd been missing earlier. "They do love a good Sidney Crosby story, don't they?"

Sidney doesn't react the way you expect. He doesn’t bristle or fire back. Instead, he just smiles, a slow, knowing grin that almost—almost—looks genuine. "Maybe. But they’re not the ones I’m trying to impress."

Your heart skips, just for a second, caught off guard by his sudden sincerity. You blink, trying to keep your composure, to ignore the way your body betrays you under his gaze.

"Right." You scoff again, trying to laugh it off. "You don’t have to impress anyone, do you?"

Sidney stops, coming to a smooth halt just in front of you. He's close enough now that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his breath fogs in the cold air between you. He tilts his head, that smirk fading into something else. Something more serious.

"Everyone's got something to prove," he says quietly. His voice is low, almost a whisper, like it's a confession meant for you and only you. "Even me."

For a second, you don’t know what to say. His words catch you off guard, and you feel the weight of them sink in, wrapping around you like the cold air of the rink. You've always seen Sidney as untouchable, a star so far beyond reach that nothing could ever shake him. But now, standing here, staring at him, you realize he’s just as human as you. Maybe even just as scared.

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, the walls you’ve built around yourself start to crack. But before you can respond—before you can even process what’s happening—Sidney’s already pushing away, skating back toward the other end of the rink, like the moment never happened.

"Good luck with the routine," he calls over his shoulder, his voice light again, casual. "See you in Vancouver."

You stand there for a long time after he’s gone, the rink feeling empty without him. Your mind is racing, filled with thoughts you don’t want to acknowledge. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter—that he doesn’t matter. You’ll go to the Olympics, skate your heart out, and that’s all that matters.

But deep down, you know things have changed. And no matter how hard you try, Sidney Crosby is already under your skin.

The weeks leading up to the Olympics pass in a blur of training, media appearances, and endless speculation. The pressure builds with every day, every practice, every headline that pits you and Sidney against each other. It’s exhausting, and yet, part of you thrives on it. The stakes, the attention, the challenge. It's what you’ve always worked for.

But it’s also terrifying. Because every time you step on the ice, you know there are a million eyes watching, waiting for you to slip. And every time Sidney’s name comes up—whether it’s in an interview or in passing—it’s like a spark of irritation flares up inside you, reminding you that he’s still there, always lingering in the background of your mind.

The final week before the Olympics, you find yourself at a press conference, surrounded by reporters. You’ve done a thousand of these before, but this one feels different. The energy in the room is palpable, buzzing with anticipation as everyone prepares for the biggest event of the year.

And of course, the first question they ask isn’t about your routine or your preparation. It’s about Sidney.

“So, Y/N, you and Sidney Crosby have both been named as Canada’s biggest medal hopes this year. How do you feel about that?”

You force a smile, even though you want to roll your eyes. “I feel great about it. Sidney’s an incredible athlete, and it’s an honor to be mentioned alongside him.”

The reporter doesn’t stop there. “Do you think the rivalry between the two of you has helped push you both to new heights?”

You want to laugh. Rivalry? Is that what they’re calling it now?

“I think we’re both just focused on doing our best for our country,” you say diplomatically, but the answer feels hollow even to you. Because if you’re being honest with yourself, the rivalry is there. It’s always been there, even before the media latched onto it.

It’s not just about skating or hockey or who wins the most medals. It’s about something deeper—something neither of you has been willing to admit yet.

After the press conference, you slip out of the room as quickly as possible, your mind still buzzing with thoughts of Sidney. You’ve seen him a few times in passing since that night at the rink, but neither of you has said much. There’s been no need. The tension is there, lingering between you, always simmering just below the surface.

And now, with the Olympics just days away, it feels like everything is coming to a head.

You don’t know what’s going to happen in Vancouver, but one thing’s for sure: Sidney Crosby isn’t going to be easy to forget.

───

The sun barely peeks over the Vancouver skyline as you step into the bustling arena, the energy already electric despite the early hour. It’s the first day of the Winter Olympics, and the anticipation in the air is palpable. Athletes mill around, warming up and going through their routines, while coaches and officials rush to prepare the rink and finalize schedules.

The ice skating events are divided by discipline, with singles, pairs, and ice dance categories each occupying different time slots throughout the day. You’re scheduled for the women’s short program later this afternoon, but you arrive early to settle your nerves and observe the competition. It’s been a long time coming—years of training, countless sacrifices, and now, it’s finally here.

As you watch the men’s short program unfold, you catch glimpses of familiar faces—skaters you’ve competed against on the international circuit. The stands fill with excited spectators, flags waving, the hum of different languages mingling in the air. You take it all in, your gaze flitting from one skater to the next, mentally noting their performances.

And then, you see him.

Sidney is seated with a group of Team Canada athletes near the edge of the rink, his attention fixed on the ice. He’s wearing the official red and white tracksuit, his posture relaxed, and his expression serious. You know he’s here to support his teammates, but it doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering. You haven’t spoken since the night at the rink, and the tension still lingers, unspoken but ever-present.

You try to focus on the skaters on the ice, but your gaze keeps drifting back to Sidney. He’s surrounded by people, but his eyes seem distant, as if his mind is somewhere else. A part of you wants to approach him, to say something, anything, to break the silence that’s grown between you. But there’s no time for that now. Not when everything you’ve worked for is at stake.

A sudden cheer erupts from the crowd as one of the Canadian skaters finishes his routine with a flawless quad jump. Sidney stands, applauding along with the rest of the crowd, and for a moment, his eyes meet yours across the arena. It’s a fleeting connection—one that sends a jolt through you—before you quickly look away, your pulse quickening.

You remind yourself why you’re here. It’s not for Sidney. It’s for the chance to compete on the world’s biggest stage, to prove to yourself—and to everyone else—that you belong.

Hours later, as the women’s short program draws near, you’re in the locker room, lacing up your skates and taking deep breaths. You can hear the muffled sounds of the arena through the walls—cheers, announcements, and the faint strains of music from other performances. Your coach is by your side, offering words of encouragement and going over last-minute details of your routine.

When your name is called, you make your way to the ice, nerves and adrenaline surging in equal measure. The arena is packed now, the crowd buzzing with excitement. You take your position at the center of the rink, the bright lights shining down on you, and as the music begins, you shut out everything else—Sidney, the pressure, the noise—focusing solely on the routine you’ve practiced countless times.

As you step onto the ice, the chill bites at your exposed skin, the cold seeping into your muscles despite the hours of warming up backstage. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply, the familiar scent of the rink—a mix of ice, metal, and adrenaline—filling your lungs.

The bright lights of the arena are almost blinding, but you’ve grown used to the glare. It’s everything else that’s harder to ignore: the noise of the crowd, the anticipation hanging in the air, and the weight of every expectation you’ve ever placed on yourself.

Your name echoes through the arena, and you take your starting position at the center of the rink, feeling the world close in around you. It’s just you and the ice. You’ve done this routine a thousand times—maybe more—in practice. You know every step, every jump, every nuance of the music. But the stakes are different now, and doubt has a way of creeping in when you need confidence most.

The music begins, a soft piano melody that rises and falls like a tide. You push off, gliding into your opening spin, your body rotating effortlessly as your arms sweep out to the sides. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope—this part, at least, feels right. But as you transition into the next sequence, the familiar pattern you’ve rehearsed starts to fray at the edges.

Your first jump, the triple flip, is where the anxiety tightens its grip. You approach the takeoff, heart racing, and launch yourself into the air. For a split second, you feel weightless, suspended above the ice, but then something feels off. Your body twists at the wrong angle, your balance shifts too soon. You land, but the landing is sloppy—your skate scrapes the ice, and you wobble, arms flailing to steady yourself.

Panic surges through you, hot and electric. It’s only the beginning of the program, and already you’ve stumbled. You try to shake it off, but the rhythm is broken, and your mind spirals into self-criticism.

You practiced this a thousand times. Why didn’t you get it right?

The next element is a step sequence, a chance to regain your composure, but the nagging voice in your head won’t let up. You force a smile, hoping to mask the growing frustration and fear. As you weave through the steps, your feet move, but your mind is still stuck on the failed jump. You feel disconnected from the music, from the ice, from the performance that’s slipping through your fingers.

You approach the triple Lutz—one of the most challenging elements in your routine. You breathe deeply, telling yourself you can still save this, but the seed of doubt has taken root. You accelerate into the jump, feeling the power build in your legs, and then you launch into the air. This time, you feel the rotation, the speed, the familiar rush of adrenaline, but it’s too fast, too uncontrolled. When you come down, you feel your left skate catch, and before you know it, you’re pitching forward. You barely manage to stay upright, catching yourself with a hand on the ice.

The gasp from the crowd feels like a punch to the gut.

I can’t believe I just did that. This is a disaster.

You’re only halfway through the program, but every second feels like an eternity. Each movement feels heavier, each step more labored. Your body moves through the motions, but your mind is stuck on replaying your mistakes. The music swells, urging you to keep going, but all you can think about is how much you’ve already ruined.

The spins that follow are supposed to be your strength, your signature—a moment when you can let go and show your artistry. But you’re too distracted, your mind racing with self-doubt. You rush into the first spin, and it feels off—your center of gravity isn’t where it should be. You struggle to maintain speed, and by the time you come out of it, your legs feel shaky. You curse yourself under your breath, frustration bubbling up. You’ve never felt this out of control in a competition before.

You’ve blown it. Everyone’s watching you fall apart.

The final jump, a double Axel, should be simple compared to the others, but the fear of messing up again overwhelms you. You take off, and for a second, you think it might be fine—until you under-rotate. The landing feels heavy, and you stumble. This time, you can’t save it. You fall, hitting the ice with a thud, the sound echoing in the silent arena.

You want to stay down, to disappear, to let the ice swallow you whole. But the music pulls you back up, and you force yourself to your feet, biting back the tears threatening to spill. Your legs feel like lead as you move through the final moments of the routine, each movement mechanical and empty.

As the music fades and you hold your ending pose, all you can think about is the silence. It’s deafening. The applause comes a few seconds later, polite but subdued, and it feels like salt in the wound. You know what the crowd saw. You know what you felt. It wasn’t the performance you’d spent years dreaming of; it was the kind that haunts you.

You skate off the ice, head down, feeling the heat of embarrassment burn through you. Your coach approaches, a hand on your shoulder, whispering words of encouragement you can barely hear over the sound of your own self-recrimination.

You blew it. You had one chance, and you blew it.

In the kiss-and-cry area, the scores flash on the screen, but you don’t need to see them to know what they’ll be—low, lower than you’ve ever had in an international competition. You feel tears prick at your eyes, and you clench your fists, willing yourself not to cry in front of the cameras.

When you finally look up, you see Sidney standing near the boards, watching. His face is unreadable, but you know he saw everything. The thought makes your stomach twist. You wanted him to see you at your best, to show him the skater you’ve worked so hard to become. But instead, he saw you at your worst.

You tear your eyes eyes away, feeling your throat forming that familiar lump. “God fucking damn it,” you mumble as you shut your eyes. You rush off to the bathroom, shutting it behind you swiftly.

It feels like your world was upside down.

You can't control the sobs that come next as you slid down the door, as your legs give out beneath you. The sobs rip through you, harsh and unrelenting, and you press a hand over your mouth, desperate to stifle the sound. The last thing you need is for anyone else to hear you breaking down. But the tears keep coming, hot and uncontrollable, and your chest tightens with the weight of your own disappointment.

You curl up on the cold tile floor, knees pulled to your chest, feeling the ache spread through your entire body. Every mistake from the routine replays in your mind on an endless loop—the missed jumps, the stumble, the fall. Each one feels like a punch, and you can’t help but berate yourself for every single one.

Why couldn’t you get it right? Why did you choke?

You lean your head back against the door, the cool wood grounding you for a moment. But then the wave hits again. You’ve worked for years—years—for this moment, and you blew it in front of everyone. All those hours of practice, all those sacrifices, and for what? For a performance that feels like it’s ruined everything you’ve worked so hard for.

The tears blur your vision, and you rub at your eyes, only to feel the sting of makeup smearing across your cheeks. It’s a mess—everything feels like a mess. You dig your fingers into your hair, pulling slightly as if the pain might drown out the thoughts that won’t stop tormenting you.

You were supposed to be better than this. You were supposed to prove you belonged here.

The worst part is knowing that Sidney saw it all. You tried so hard to ignore the tension, to push past the uncertainty of what’s between you two. But in that moment on the ice, with the lights bright and the stakes high, all you could think about was wanting to impress him, to show him the best version of yourself. And now he’s seen you fail, seen you fall apart, and you can’t bear the thought of what he must think.

The thought twists in your gut, making the sobs come harder. You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking. You feel like a little kid again, like all the progress you’ve made, all the strength you’ve built up, has crumbled in an instant.

After a few minutes, the sobs finally start to subside, leaving you feeling drained and empty. You breathe in, ragged and shallow, trying to calm the storm inside your head. But the silence only makes the thoughts louder. You can still hear the crowd’s disappointed murmur, see the faces of the judges as they wrote down your scores.

You’re not sure how long you stay there, slumped against the door, before the sound of footsteps approaching makes you freeze. You quickly wipe at your face, scrubbing away the tears and trying to pull yourself together. The last thing you need is for anyone to find you like this, crumpled up and broken.

There’s a knock on the door, soft at first, and you hold your breath, hoping whoever it is will go away. But then the knock comes again, a little more insistent.

“Hey,” a voice says quietly, and your heart sinks. You’d recognize that voice anywhere—Sidney.

You bite your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it’s no use. You know you can’t face him like this, not when you feel so raw and exposed. “Go away, Sid,” you manage to choke out, but it comes out weaker than you intended.

“Please, just… let me in.” His voice is gentle, and that makes it worse. You don’t want his pity, don’t want to be reminded of how badly you’ve messed up in front of him.

You wipe at your face again, even though you know you look like a mess. “I don’t want to talk right now,” you say, your voice breaking on the last word. You feel pathetic, and all you want to do is disappear.

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he might leave. But then he speaks again, softer this time. “It’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to hide.”

The words are kind, and they cut through you. You hate that he knows, that he sees you like this. You hate that part of you wants to open the door, to let him in and just collapse into his arms. But you can’t. You can’t let him see how much you’re falling apart.

“I’m fine,” you lie, voice cracking again. “Just… go.”

But he doesn’t move. “Look, I know you’re upset. I saw what happened out there, but it doesn’t change anything. You’re still one of the best skaters I’ve ever seen.”

You press your lips together, shaking your head even though he can’t see. “I don’t need a pep talk, Sid.”

There’s another silence, and then, softer still, “I just want to be here for you.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes your chest tighten. You want to believe him, want to open the door and let yourself lean on someone for once. But the fear is too strong—the fear of being seen, of being judged, of letting someone close enough to hurt you.

“I can’t do this right now,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face again.

“Okay,” he says quietly, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. “But if you need me, I’m here.”

You don’t respond, biting down on your lip as the tears fall harder. You wait until his footsteps fade away, leaving you alone in the silence once more. Then, finally, you let out a sob, sinking back against the door, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you again.

───

The hotel room feels suffocating, the walls closing in as you sit cross-legged on the bed, staring blankly at the TV screen. The Olympics news channel is on, and you can’t help but watch, even though every fiber of your being screams to turn it off. They’re showing highlights of the day’s performances, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they replay yours.

The phone is pressed to your ear, and your coach’s voice crackles through the line, rough and familiar. He’s the one who’s seen you at your best and your worst, the one who’s pushed you to reach your full potential. But tonight, his words sting more than they usually do.

“You know, that wasn’t the skater I’ve been training for the past ten years,” he says, his voice firm, the edge of disappointment unmistakable. “What happened out there? You choked, plain and simple.”

You swallow hard, clutching the phone tighter. You know he’s trying to push you, trying to get a reaction—he always thinks tough love will get you back on track. But right now, every word feels like another weight pressing down on your already heavy chest. “I know, okay? I messed up,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but you hear the waver at the end.

He sighs, and you can picture him running a hand over his face. “Messing up is one thing, but letting it get to you out there? That’s not you. You looked like a deer in headlights after that first fall. Where’s your fight? Where’s the girl who pushes through, no matter what?”

The criticism feels like salt in an open wound, and you bite your lip, willing yourself not to cry again. You’ve already spent most of the evening crying in the bathroom, and you refuse to do it now, not when he’s on the other end of the line. “I tried, but—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“But nothing,” he snaps. “Trying isn’t good enough at this level. You either do it, or you don’t. And today, you didn’t.”

You pull the phone away from your ear for a second, taking a deep breath as you try to keep your emotions in check. You know he’s right—of course, he’s right. This isn’t the first time he’s laid it out like this, and usually, it works. Usually, it fires you up, makes you want to prove him wrong, to prove to yourself that you’re capable of more. But tonight, all it does is make you feel small.

“I get it,” you say quietly, struggling to keep your voice even. “I let everyone down.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then his tone softens, just a little. “It’s not about letting anyone down. It’s about you. You know what you’re capable of, and today, that wasn’t it. You’re better than this.”

You glance up at the TV, and your stomach drops. They’re showing footage of your routine, the slow-motion replay of your first stumble, the way you clutched your ankle like it was the end of the world. The announcers are discussing it with hushed tones, one of them saying, “A disappointing performance from someone who’s been touted as a medal contender. You can see the hesitation after that initial fall—she never fully recovered.”

It feels like someone’s twisting a knife in your gut, and you have to look away, turning your attention to the wall instead. “They’re showing it on the news,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper. “They’re saying I looked scared.”

“Well, they’re not wrong,” your coach says, and the bluntness hits you like a slap. “You did look scared. You were scared.”

You clench your jaw, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over again. “I know that,” you snap, more harshly than you intended. “I know I messed up, and I don’t need you or the whole world reminding me.”

There’s a long silence on the other end, and for a moment, you worry he’s going to hang up. But then he sighs, and you hear the weariness in his voice. “Look, I’m not saying this to make you feel worse. I’m saying it because you’ve got two options now: you let this break you, or you use it. You’ve got another routine, and if you want any shot at the podium, you’ve got to be perfect.”

The words hang in the air between you, and you stare down at your lap, the weight of everything crushing you. “I don’t know if I can,” you admit, the vulnerability slipping out before you can stop it. “I feel like… I don’t know, like I’ve lost it.”

“You haven’t lost anything,” he says, his voice sharp again, like he’s trying to pull you back from the edge. “One bad routine doesn’t erase everything you’ve worked for. You’ve been down before, and you’ve come back stronger every time. This is no different.”

The TV cuts to the end of your routine, the moment where you bowed your head and skated off the ice, and the announcers are speculating about whether the pressure of the Olympics got to you. You grit your teeth, feeling the shame creeping back in.

“I just— I don’t know how to fix it,” you say, your voice cracking. “I felt like everything was slipping away out there, like no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it right.”

“That’s your head talking,” he replies. “You need to get out of your own way. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about finding that zone where you stop thinking and just skate. You know how to do that. You’ve done it a thousand times.”

You want to believe him, but the doubt clings to you like a shadow. “What if I can’t? What if I mess up again?”

“Then you get up again,” he says simply. “That’s the only way forward.”

You lean back against the pillows, closing your eyes and trying to steady your breath. You know he’s right, deep down. But right now, it feels impossible to shake the disappointment and the fear. “Okay,” you say, even though it doesn’t feel okay. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” he says, and for a moment, his tone is almost gentle. “Get some rest tonight, clear your head. Tomorrow’s another day.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah. Thanks, coach.”

“Hang in there, kid,” he says before hanging up.

You set the phone down on the bed, feeling the quiet of the room settle around you. The screen still shows highlights of the other skaters, and you watch as they soar effortlessly through their routines, their movements flawless, their expressions confident. You envy them—the way they make it look so easy, so natural.

But you know it isn’t. You know the hours, the pain, the sacrifices that go into making it look that way. You’ve lived it, day in and day out. And as much as you want to curl up and shut the world out, there’s a part of you that refuses to give up. A part that knows you have another chance, another routine.

The channel shifts from figure skating highlights to coverage of the hockey events. You immediately recognize the familiar red and white jerseys of Team Canada as the highlights reel begins, showing clips of their opening game. There’s Sidney, in perfect form, weaving around defenders with effortless grace. The crowd roars as he shoots and scores, the puck finding the back of the net like it was meant to be there all along.

The announcers are gushing, their voices rising with excitement. “And there’s Crosby with yet another goal—what an incredible start for Team Canada. Their chemistry on the ice is flawless, and they’re looking unstoppable.”

The camera zooms in on Sidney’s face, beaming as he’s mobbed by his teammates. There’s that calm, confident look you’ve seen so many times before, the look of someone who’s exactly where they belong, doing exactly what they were meant to do. The arena explodes in cheers, and you can almost feel the energy from the screen, the way the city has rallied behind their hockey hero.

You grit your teeth, feeling your hands ball into fists on your lap. Of course, he’s perfect. Of course, everything falls into place for him. While you’re stuck in this hotel room, replaying every mistake you made, Sidney’s out there doing what he always does—winning. Being flawless. Making it look easy.

The replay shifts to another play, this one showing Sidney setting up a teammate for a goal with a precise, lightning-fast pass. The announcers’ voices swell again. “Crosby’s vision is unmatched—he makes it look effortless. The chemistry and connection he has with his teammates are just on another level.”

You feel the knot in your stomach twist tighter. It’s not that you begrudge him his success; he’s worked hard for it, and you know how much pressure he’s under. But right now, it’s like every moment of his triumph is rubbing salt in your wounds. It feels personal, like the universe is reminding you of how far you’ve fallen, how badly you’ve failed.

And the worst part is, you can’t get his face out of your head. The way he looked at you after your routine—his expression soft, the same reassuring look he’s always given you when things went wrong. At the time, it felt comforting, like he was there for you when you needed someone the most. But now, seeing him bask in the glory of his victory while you’re drowning in your own defeat, it only makes the ache worse.

The camera zooms in again, catching Sidney in a post-game interview. He’s all smiles, his helmet still perched on his head, hair damp with sweat but eyes bright and full of that competitive fire you’ve always admired. “It’s great to start the tournament off strong,” he says, his voice full of confidence. “The guys have been working hard, and it’s awesome to see it pay off on the ice. We’re just taking it one game at a time, but we’re feeling good.”

The reporters laugh, clearly enamored with him, and you can’t help but scowl. It’s so easy for him to stand there and say that, to talk about feeling good when everything is going right. When he hasn’t been the one to crash and burn on the world’s biggest stage.

Your fingers dig into the comforter as the segment continues, showing highlights from the locker room—Sidney laughing with his teammates, high-fiving, all smiles and celebration. They look relaxed, like they’re already sure of their place in the finals. And why wouldn’t they be? They’ve got Sidney Crosby, and when you have someone like him, everything else falls into place.

You mute the TV, unable to watch anymore. The image lingers, though, and you can feel the anger building in your chest, tightening like a vice. It’s not fair. You’ve worked just as hard as he has, put in the same hours, made the same sacrifices. And yet, here you are, hiding in a hotel room, while he gets to be the golden boy, the hero.

You know you’re being unfair. Sidney was nothing but kind to you earlier. But you can’t help it—the jealousy and frustration bubble up, making it impossible to think straight. You want to scream, to throw something, to lash out at the injustice of it all.

Instead, you bury your face in your hands, trying to take deep breaths, but all you feel is the heat of your tears building again. “Why can’t I just be better?” you whisper to the empty room, the words cracking in your throat. “Why can’t I be like him?”

You know there’s no answer, and that’s the hardest part. You know that no amount of hard work or preparation can guarantee perfection. You’ve been told your whole life that you have to fight for what you want, that success doesn’t come without failure. But in this moment, it all feels so hopeless, like you’re swimming against an unstoppable current and no matter how hard you kick, you’re just sinking deeper.

You hear your phone buzz on the nightstand, and you almost ignore it, but a part of you hopes it might be a message from home—maybe your mom or your sister, someone who’ll tell you that it’s okay, that one bad skate doesn’t define you.

But when you check, it’s a notification from one of those sports apps, and your heart sinks again as you read the headline: Sidney Crosby and Team Canada Dominate in Opening Game. It’s everywhere, inescapable. Another reminder of how easily the world seems to fall in love with him, and how quickly they move on from the skaters who stumble.

You drop the phone back on the bed, shoving it away as you curl up against the pillows. You shut your eyes, trying to block out the noise, the pressure, the image of Sidney’s perfect smile and the sound of the crowd chanting his name. But it doesn’t help.

No matter what you do, it feels like you’re stuck in a loop, replaying your mistakes and wondering why, for once, you couldn’t have been the one with the perfect routine, the one who had everything fall into place.

Then, that familiar mantra repeats in your mind. I’m not gonna let Crosby win.

“Damn right,” you whisper to yourself as you lay back in the hotel bed.

───

The alarm blares, pulling you out of a restless sleep. You groggily reach over and shut it off, squinting at the clock—4:00 a.m. The room is dark, and the cold air bites at your skin as you push yourself out of bed. You’ve always been an early riser, but today is different. It’s not just about getting ahead of the competition; it’s about making up for yesterday, about proving to yourself that you can still pull it together.

You slip into your warm-up clothes, tying your hair back tightly, and grab your skates and jacket. You move quietly through the hallways of the hotel, the only sound being the soft hum of the lights and the shuffle of your footsteps against the carpet. The entire place feels eerily quiet, as if the world hasn’t woken up yet. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that’s what you need—a chance to reset, to work without anyone watching or judging.

When you arrive at the rink, the lights are dim, and the ice is a blank canvas, untouched. You breathe in deeply, letting the chill fill your lungs, feeling the weight of your skates as you lace them up methodically. The rink is your sanctuary, your space to figure things out. Today, it feels even more important to reclaim it. You stand and step onto the ice, the familiar glide grounding you, and take a deep breath before you start.

You begin your warm-up routine—edges, spins, quick footwork. The movements feel stiff at first, but you push through, repeating them until your body remembers how it’s supposed to move. Every turn is sharper, every spin faster than the last. You skate hard, pushing your muscles to the limit, sweat starting to bead on your forehead despite the cold.

As you go through your jumps, you land a clean triple toe loop, and for a moment, it feels like progress. But then you try again, and your skate catches the ice wrong, sending you stumbling. You curse under your breath and reset, gritting your teeth as you go for it again. Over and over, you repeat the jump, and each time, it feels like it’s getting worse.

Your frustration builds, and before you know it, you’re skating full speed into your program. You launch into the combination sequence that tripped you up yesterday, determination burning in your veins. It’s messy—your timing’s off, your landings shaky—but you keep going, pretending that if you just push hard enough, you can force it to be perfect.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re pushing yourself until you skid to a stop, panting, your legs burning. The sound of your ragged breaths echoes in the empty rink, and you slam your hands on your thighs, hunching over. “What’s wrong with me?” you whisper to yourself, your voice echoing in the silence.

Just as you’re about to push off for another round, you hear a voice that makes you freeze. “Up early, huh?”

You whip around, and there he is—Sidney Crosby, leaning against the boards, still in his sweats. His hair is messy, and there’s a slight grin on his face like he knows he’s interrupting something private. You feel your stomach drop, the annoyance already bubbling up. Of all the people to show up at this hour.

“Yeah, well, some of us need the extra practice,” you snap, more harshly than you mean to. The last thing you want is to let him see how much this is getting to you, how much yesterday is still hanging over your head.

Sidney raises an eyebrow, his expression still annoyingly calm. “I figured as much,” he says, his voice annoyingly relaxed. “Saw the lights on and thought I’d come check it out.”

You glare at him, your grip tightening on the edge of the rink. “Well, you’ve checked it out. Congratulations. You can leave now.”

But he doesn’t move. Instead, he pushes off the boards and steps closer, resting his arms casually. “You know, beating yourself up like this isn’t going to help.”

“Oh, thanks for the tip, Coach.” You can’t help the sarcasm that drips from your words, your fists clenching at your sides. “I’m sure you’ve had so many moments where you just sucked and needed to figure out how to get it back together.”

He tilts his head, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes, but it only makes your annoyance grow. “Actually, yeah,” he says, his tone softer now. “I’ve had plenty of bad games. Plenty of times where I felt like I was completely off. It happens to everyone.”

You roll your eyes, looking away. “Not like this. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything you’ve worked for is slipping through your fingers.”

“Maybe not exactly like this,” he admits, and for a moment, you hear genuine understanding in his voice. “But I get it. The pressure, the expectations—everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up or be perfect. It’s not easy.”

You want to tell him to stop, that his sympathy isn’t what you need right now. But the more he talks, the more it feels like he’s seeing right through you, and that makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. “I don’t need a pep talk, Sidney. I just need to work.”

“Yeah? And how’s that going?” he challenges, gesturing to the rink. “You think pushing yourself like this is going to fix everything?”

“I don’t know,” you snap. “But what else am I supposed to do? Sit around and watch the highlights of you and your perfect team?”

His face darkens, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not here to rub anything in. I just—I saw you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m not,” you admit, the words coming out harsher than you intend. “I’m not okay, and I don’t need you pretending to care. I just—” You cut yourself off, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak.

He looks at you for a long moment, the frustration still in his eyes but mixed with something else—maybe concern, maybe understanding. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he says quietly. “You’re not the only one who struggles.”

But you don’t want to hear it. Not from him. Not right now. “Just leave me alone, Sidney. Please.”

For a moment, it looks like he might argue, but then he nods, the disappointment clear on his face. “Fine,” he says, stepping back. “But if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

He turns and walks away, and you watch as he disappears down the hallway, leaving you alone in the cold, empty rink. The silence feels heavier now, and the frustration sits like a weight in your chest. You push off again, skating into another spin, determined to work through it, but all you can think about is the look in Sidney’s eyes and the feeling that, for once, maybe you’ve pushed the wrong person away.

───

The next day, you walk into the rink with a heavy sense of dread. The weight of your previous performances and the mounting pressure of the competition is starting to feel like an unbearable burden. You arrive a bit later than usual, joining your teammates as they warm up. The mood feels different today—everyone is on edge, focused. No one says much; they just nod in acknowledgment as you step onto the ice.

You take a deep breath, the familiar chill of the rink grounding you as you skate a few laps to loosen up. The routine you’ve been working on still feels rough around the edges, and the more you practice it, the more you feel the lingering frustration. You can’t afford to fall apart again, not this close to competition.

As you glide toward the boards, planning to get some advice from your team’s coach, you notice a familiar figure standing there, arms crossed and a stern expression on his face. For a moment, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then he steps forward, and you recognize the familiar build and the gray streaks in his hair.

“Coach?” you blurt out, stopping in your tracks. The surprise in your voice is evident, and your teammates glance over, curious.

He nods, his eyes sharp as ever. “Heard you were having some trouble,” he says, not wasting a second. “Figured I’d come see it for myself.”

You feel a mix of relief and irritation. Relief because there’s no one who knows your skating as well as he does. Irritation because, of all times, why now? “I didn’t ask you to come,” you say, trying to sound tough, but it comes out weaker than you want.

“I know you didn’t.” He steps onto the ice, his skates making that satisfying scratch against the surface. “But you clearly need it.” He gestures for you to come over, and despite everything, you find yourself obeying, gliding toward him like you’re fifteen again and still trying to impress him.

“You’re skating like you’ve got bricks tied to your feet,” he says bluntly, and you bristle. “I watched the tape, and honestly, it’s like you’re holding back. Why?”

“I’m not holding back,” you argue, feeling the defensive flare rise in your chest. “I just—” You pause, swallowing hard. “It’s the pressure. Everything feels off.”

He gives you a knowing look, one that makes you feel seen and called out all at once. “Pressure isn’t new for you, kid. You’ve handled it before. The only difference now is you’re letting it get in your head.”

You want to argue, to tell him that it’s not that simple, that the stakes are higher now, that you feel like the world is watching your every move. But then, as he stands there waiting, you realize he already knows all of that. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am in my head,” you admit.

He nods, satisfied with your honesty. “Good. Now let’s get you out of it.” He claps his hands together. “Start from the top. Show me the routine.”

You go through the motions, running through your routine as he watches with that critical eye he’s always had. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you move through the steps, and you try to shut out the noise in your head, focusing on the feel of the ice beneath your blades, the muscle memory kicking in as you twist into the jumps and glide into the spins.

But when you finish, you can already tell it wasn’t your best. You land off balance, your arms not quite in the right position, and the frustration hits you like a wave. “I can’t—” you start, but Ramirez cuts you off.

“Stop,” he says, holding up a hand. “You’re hesitating. Every time you go for a jump, you’re thinking too hard about sticking the landing. You can’t think. You just have to trust your training.”

He skates up to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We’re going to break it down. One section at a time. And when you hit that jump, you commit to it like it’s the last thing you’re ever going to do.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. It’s been so long since you’ve had someone push you like this, and even though it’s tough love, there’s something comforting about it. You start again, working through the steps slowly. He stops you, corrects your positioning, and has you repeat until it feels right. Then you move to the next part, and the next, until you’re sweating and your legs are burning from the repetition.

“Now, the jump,” he instructs, standing back a few feet. “No hesitation.”

You push off, feeling the adrenaline rush through your veins as you pick up speed. This time, when you go for the triple toe loop, you don’t think about the landing—you just let your body move. And for the first time, it feels right. You nail the landing, your arms pulling into the perfect position as you finish the rotation.

“That’s it!” Coach shouts, and you feel a surge of triumph. “That’s the skater I know.”

You repeat the jump a few more times, and each time it feels smoother, more controlled. The confidence builds, and by the time you finish, you’re panting but smiling for the first time in days.

Coach skates over, nodding in approval. “There you go. You’ve still got it. Just had to get out of your own way.”

You nod, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. “Thanks, Coach,” you say, and you mean it.

He grins, clapping you on the shoulder. “Don’t mention it. Just go out there and show them what you’re made of. You know you’re better than what you showed the other day.”

As he leaves, you stand in the center of the ice, feeling the energy buzzing in your limbs. You go through your routine again, and this time, everything clicks. It feels natural, like you’re finally skating the way you know you can. The nerves are still there, but they’re manageable, and you feel like you’re reclaiming your rhythm.

Maybe you’re not back completely, but for the first time in days, you feel like you’re heading in the right direction. And that, more than anything, gives you hope.

───

The sun barely peeks through the thin curtains of your hotel room when your alarm breaks the quiet, a sharp reminder of the day that lies ahead. Today is the day, the one you've trained for endlessly. Months of repetition, muscle memory, and strategy all leading to this. You’ve imagined it countless times in your head, playing out the routine step-by-step in your mind, visualizing every move, every spin, every landing. Today, none of that changes—except the stakes.

You sit up in bed, the cool air of the room biting against your skin as you throw the blankets aside. The nerves should be overwhelming, but instead, a sense of clarity washes over you. Today, you’re ready. This is your stage, your time to shine, and no one can take that from you.

After getting dressed in your warm-up gear, you take a moment to glance at yourself in the mirror. There's something different about you today—your eyes are sharp, focused, determined. You’ve been through the pressures before, the tightrope walk between fear and success, but today, something just feels right. It has to be.

By the time you make it to the rink, the buzz of competition fills the air. The sound of skates slicing through the ice, the murmurs of coaches, and the faint cheers of early spectators start to build the intensity in your chest. But you push it aside. You’ve been in big competitions before; this is no different. It’s just another routine. You’ll hit it like you always do.

As you’re stretching in the corner, lacing up your skates, a familiar voice calls out from behind you.

“Looking sharp.”

You glance over your shoulder, finding Sidney standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He always knows when you need a bit of reassurance. His presence is steadying, calming. You offer a small smile in return.

“Of course,” you reply, your voice low and even. “I’m ready for this.”

Sidney steps closer, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze. “You’ve got this. Don’t let anyone get into your head today, okay?”

You nod, feeling the confidence surge in your veins. “I won’t.”

But as you finish tying your laces and stand up, something—someone—catches your attention.

A skater from Russia, one of the top competitors, is gliding effortlessly across the ice, her movements so fluid and smooth they almost mock gravity. You've seen her before, heard the whispers about how she's one of the favorites. You wouldn't mind, except she locks eyes with you as she spins to a stop, her lips curling into a smirk that drips with arrogance.

“Aw, look who’s here,” she says, her accent heavy as she steps off the ice, making her way toward you. “I thought you’d be smarter than to show up here. You must love embarrassing yourself on the world stage.”

Your heart skips a beat as you register her words, your jaw clenching. For a second, it’s like a hot flame flickers in your chest, spreading through your veins. You know better than to engage—this is a mental game, and she’s trying to get into your head, to throw you off. But your temper simmers beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over.

You take a step forward, your fists balling at your sides as the blood rushes to your face. You're ready to fire something back, something sharp enough to cut through her smugness. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and the ice beneath your feet feels like it's shifting, unsteady, as your emotions rise.

“Excuse me?” you snap, your voice low and dangerous, but before you can take another step, a firm hand grips your arm.

It’s Sidney. He pulls you back, his expression calm but stern, as if he’s reading every thought running through your mind. “Let it go,” he mutters quietly, his voice steady, almost like a tether anchoring you to the moment.

You hesitate, your body still tense, the adrenaline begging for release. But when you meet his eyes, the storm in your chest calms just enough to bring you back to your senses. Sidney’s grip on your arm doesn’t loosen until you take a slow breath.

“She’s not worth it,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze flicking over to the other skater who watches with amusement, a mock pout on her lips. He’s right. She’s baiting you. And as much as you want to prove a point, this isn’t the time. Not now.

You let out a sharp breath, forcing yourself to relax. “Fine,” you say, your voice cold as ice, but you turn away from the smirking skater, following Sidney’s lead.

As you walk toward the locker room, the adrenaline still courses through your veins, but Sidney's presence beside you keeps you grounded. His hand never leaves your arm until you’re far from the other skater’s gaze, and only then does he finally let go.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice softer now, his eyes searching yours for any sign of lingering anger.

You nod, but the fire in your chest hasn’t fully burned out. “I almost lost it back there.”

“I know.” Sidney sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She’s just trying to get in your head. Don’t give her that power.”

You nod again, taking in a deep breath and forcing your mind to focus. Sidney’s right, and you know it. You can’t let anyone throw you off your game today, especially not someone who’s already threatened by you. She’s scared—that’s why she said what she did. You can sense it now.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, finally feeling the confidence return. “Thanks for stopping me.”

Sidney smiles softly, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Anytime. Now go out there and show them why you belong here.”

You feel the weight lift slightly from your shoulders, and as you head back toward the rink, you feel that calm determination return. The fire’s still there, but this time, it’s focused. You’re ready to skate, and nothing is going to stop you.

Not her. Not anyone.

And finally, the time has come.

You stand in the tunnel just before stepping onto the ice, your heart pounding steadily in your chest. Everything about the rink feels different now—the lights seem brighter, the air colder, the buzz of the crowd more intense. You close your eyes, centering yourself, taking in the familiar sounds of blades cutting into the ice and the faint murmur of the audience above.

This is it. This is your moment.

Your name is called, and a roar from the crowd erupts in response. You take a deep breath, feeling the chill of the ice underneath your skates as you glide onto the rink, your body moving with precision. Every inch of you is alive with purpose. It’s as if the weight of months of preparation, of early mornings and late nights, presses down on your shoulders. But you’re not buckling under it. You’re thriving. You can feel the tension in your muscles, that sharp edge of nervous energy, but you channel it into determination.

Before you take your starting position, your gaze drifts—just for a second—across the rink, landing on her. The skater from Russia, poised against the barrier with a smug expression painted across her face, her arms crossed as she watches you. She’s one of the best—hell, you know that. But it’s the way she’s staring at you, like she’s already counted you out, that makes something snap inside you.

You meet her eyes, and for a heartbeat, neither of you look away. There’s a flicker of judgment there, a cruel glint in her eyes that says she doesn’t believe in you. But instead of breaking you, it ignites something fierce in your chest. The fire from earlier flares up, but this time, it’s controlled, burning with a steady, focused heat. If she thinks you're going to falter under her scrutiny, she’s dead wrong.

You shift your focus back to the ice, feeling your breathing steady. You let her condescending expression fuel you. Today, you’ll give her a performance so perfect, she’ll have no choice but to remember your name.

As the opening notes of your music fill the arena, you take off, your blades biting into the ice as you begin your routine. The crowd falls silent, all eyes on you. Every step, every turn, feels deliberate. It’s not just muscle memory—it’s instinct now. Your body knows this choreography so well it feels like second nature, and you trust it. You trust yourself.

The first jump comes quickly—a triple lutz, one of the hardest in your routine. You feel the familiar rush of adrenaline as you gather speed, launching yourself into the air. For a brief second, you feel weightless, suspended in time as your body rotates. Then, the satisfying click of your blades hitting the ice. Perfect. The crowd erupts in applause, but you barely hear it. You're already moving on, focusing on what comes next.

Your mind is sharp, clear, hyper-focused on the moment. You move through your footwork sequence with precision, your blades carving intricate patterns into the ice as you twist and turn, your arms fluid and graceful. Every muscle in your body works in perfect synchronization, and for once, the nerves don’t feel like a burden—they feel like power, like fuel that’s pushing you faster, sharper.

As you glide into your next combination jump, a triple toe loop-double axel, you catch a glimpse of her again—the Russian skater, still watching you, her expression unreadable now. You wonder if she’s realizing that you’re not the pushover she thought you were. The thought brings a smug satisfaction to your lips as you execute the combination flawlessly, the landings soft and controlled.

You're in the zone now, riding the high of perfecting every element, your body responding to every beat of the music, every shift in the ice beneath your skates. There’s nothing but you and the performance, the world beyond the rink fading away.

As the music swells to its climax, you launch into your final spin. You feel the wind rush past your face as you whip through the rotations, faster and faster, your arms outstretched in perfect balance. The crowd is on its feet, the roar of applause echoing in your ears, but you don’t stop until the very last note. You strike your final pose, your chest heaving, every nerve in your body alive with the energy of the moment.

For a beat, there’s silence. Then, the arena explodes into cheers, a standing ovation. You breathe hard, your chest rising and falling as you take it all in, a rush of pride swelling in your chest. You did it. You nailed it. Every move, every jump, every spin was flawless, and you know it.

As you glide off the ice, that familiar sense of calm washes over you, but there’s something else too—a spark of mischief. You pass by her—the Russian skater—standing near the boards, her gaze still locked on you. You can see the flicker of something behind her eyes now. Is it irritation? Jealousy? You don’t care. You savor the moment, letting it fuel your next move.

With a cheeky grin, you blow her a kiss as you skate past, your lips curling in satisfaction. It’s not subtle, and you make sure it’s clear who it’s for. The boldness of the gesture sends a jolt of thrill through you. It’s petty, it’s catty, but damn, it feels good. You don’t even have to look to know the smugness has drained from her face.

By the time you reach the kiss-and-cry area, Sidney is there, waiting, his grin wide and proud. “That was incredible,” he says, his voice low with admiration as you slip off your skates.

“I know,” you reply, your breath still catching up to the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t help but throw another glance toward the Russian skater, who’s still staring after you, no longer smirking.

Sidney chuckles when he catches your look. “Did you really blow her a kiss?”

“Of course,” you say with a laugh, unbothered. “I mean, someone had to put her in her place.”

You sit down next to Sidney in the kiss-and-cry area, letting the coolness of the seat and the reality of the moment settle over you. Your chest is still heaving from the effort, but a euphoric calm is taking its place. The roar of the crowd lingers in your ears, a distant hum compared to the electric rush that’s been running through your veins since the moment your blades touched the ice.

You sit down next to Sidney in the kiss-and-cry area, letting the coolness of the seat and the reality of the moment settle over you. Your chest is still heaving from the effort, but a euphoric calm is taking its place. The roar of the crowd lingers in your ears, a distant hum compared to the electric rush that’s been running through your veins since the moment your blades touched the ice.

Sidney leans closer, his arm resting casually on the back of your seat, his familiar presence comforting. “You were incredible out there,” he repeats, his eyes bright with pride. His grin, that cocky confidence that’s so quintessentially him, makes you feel a surge of warmth. There’s something grounding about having him here with you, someone who understands what it means to perform under pressure, to feel the weight of expectations, and to still rise above it.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice breathless but light, and you meet his gaze, feeling a smile tug at your lips. “I felt it. Everything just… clicked.”

Sidney nods, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “It showed. That last jump? Nailed it. And that spin? Pure magic.” His grin widens. “And the kiss at the end? Bold move. But hey, if anyone deserves to be a little petty, it’s you after that performance.”

You laugh, the tension from the performance finally starting to melt away. “You know, it wasn’t planned, but she just…” You glance back toward the other skater, who’s now talking to her coach with a tight expression on her face. The same smugness she wore earlier has evaporated. “…she pissed me off,” you finish, shaking your head. “I wasn’t gonna let her get in my head.”

Sidney gives you a knowing look, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s the spirit. You didn’t just show her up—you owned the ice. She’ll be thinking about that kiss for a long time.”

You lean back in your seat, still riding the high of the moment. The judges are deliberating now, your scores coming up on the board any minute, but you’re not stressed about it. Not like you usually are. You already know you gave the performance of a lifetime, and no number they flash on the screen will take that away from you.

Still, as the numbers begin to appear, you hold your breath, your fingers nervously drumming on the armrest. Sidney glances up at the screen, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Here we go,” he murmurs.

The scores start rolling in—technical, artistic, execution—and they’re good. Really good. The kind of scores that make your heart skip a beat, that tell you everything you need to know.

You’ve done it. You’ve not only secured a personal best, but you’ve set yourself up as a true contender for the top spot.

The arena erupts in applause once more as your final score flashes on the screen, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, a mix of relief and joy. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible, the weight of all your hard work crashing down on you. You feel Sidney’s hand slip into yours, a squeeze of congratulations, and you turn to him with a beaming smile.

“See?” he says, his voice thick with pride. “Told you.”

You shake your head in disbelief, glancing back at the ice, as if you need to see it again to believe it. “I knew I could do it, but… seeing it up there, hearing them cheer like that…” You trail off, emotions swirling in your chest.

Sidney doesn’t let you stay in that awe-struck moment for too long, though. He smirks and nudges your shoulder playfully. “So, what’s next? Gonna blow more kisses at the competition?”

You roll your eyes, but the grin stays plastered on your face. “Maybe I’ll save that for when I win gold.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ll have to up your game for that.”

“You think?” you tease, arching a brow.

He leans in, his voice low and teasing, “Maybe save a kiss for me when you do.”

His words send a warm flush up your neck, but you manage to keep your composure, glancing sideways at him. “Oh, you think you deserve one, huh?”

Sidney flashes you a grin, leaning back with that easy confidence. “If anyone’s getting a victory kiss, it should be me. I did keep you from tearing someone’s head off this morning.”

You laugh, unable to argue with him on that one. “You’ve got a point.”

Before you can say more, your coach approaches, eyes gleaming with pride, and you’re pulled into a round of congratulations. The victory, the adrenaline, the applause—it’s all so surreal. You’ve done it, and as you sit there, surrounded by your team, Sidney’s presence grounding you amidst the whirlwind of excitement, you realize just how far you’ve come.

But there’s something else. Something that lingers in your chest, stronger now than it’s ever been. This wasn’t just about proving yourself to the judges or the audience or that snide Russian skater who thought she could rattle you. No, this was about you. About finding the strength within yourself to push through, to rise above the doubts, the pressure, and the competition.

As the celebration continues around you, you find Sidney’s gaze once more. There’s a look in his eyes—something deeper, something that tells you he’s proud of more than just your performance. He’s proud of you.

And in that moment, with the weight of your accomplishment settling in, you know that this is only the beginning. There’s more to come—more competitions, more challenges—but right now, you’re ready for all of it.

You stand, pulling Sidney up with you, and before the moment can pass, you do something bold, something just for you. You lean in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to his cheek, the kind of kiss that says more than words ever could.

Sidney’s eyes widen in surprise, but his smile is immediate, warm. “Told you I’d get one,” he teases, though there’s a touch of tenderness in his tone.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t get used to it.”

But as the two of you walk away from the rink, the roar of the crowd still echoing in the background, you know deep down—this is only the beginning of something even bigger.

───

The energy in the locker room is a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. Your teammates are sprawled out on benches, some still cooling down from their routines, while others are glued to their phones, checking social media and results. You’re still riding the high from your performance, your mind replaying every step, every leap, and that perfect kiss at the end—both of them, in fact.

"Hey, turn that up!" someone yells from the other side of the room.

The television, mounted high on the wall, is blaring Olympic coverage, and everyone’s heads swivel toward it. You don’t pay much attention at first, too busy lacing up your shoes and chugging water, but the buzz of your name from the TV catches your attention.

"And in a stunning turn of events, it seems like all eyes are on Y/N L/N today!" the announcer’s voice booms, and your head snaps up.

“Wait, is that about—”

“Yup,” your teammate grins, elbowing you in the ribs. "They’re talking about you."

The screen shows a slow-motion replay of your final move on the ice, your body twisted into that perfect final pose, followed by the triumphant blow of the kiss aimed squarely at that other skater. The commentators’ voices narrate over the footage, practically salivating over the drama of it all.

“It wasn’t just her skill that had the crowd roaring,” one of them says with a chuckle. “That was a statement, folks. The kiss at the end was dripping with attitude. It’s all anyone’s talking about. People are calling it the ‘kiss seen ’round the world’ already!”

“Not to mention, did you see who she was aiming that at?” the other commentator adds with a laugh. “That wasn’t just a kiss for the audience—that was personal. Our sources are buzzing with rumors about the tension between her and the Russian favorite, and this just confirmed it.”

“Definitely adding some heat to the competition. This is shaping up to be a rivalry for the ages.”

The camera cuts to the Russian skater, her expression still cool and composed, though there’s an undeniable tightness to her posture, a simmering frustration just below the surface. It’s clear to anyone watching that your little display got to her.

“Whooo! She’s probably seething,” one of your teammates laughs, tossing her head back. “You really got under her skin with that one.”

The room fills with laughter and playful jabs, your teammates leaning into the cattiness of the moment. You’re not one to shy away from a little drama when it’s warranted, but you can’t help but roll your eyes, pretending to be above it all—even though a small part of you secretly loves it.

"Yeah, yeah, it was a moment,” you say, waving them off with a smirk. “It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, come on,” another teammate pipes up, sitting across from you. “You know that was the most iconic thing to happen all day. The commentators are practically obsessed with you now.”

You grin, unable to help yourself, but then you hear it—the kiss. The real kiss.

"And speaking of kisses…" the commentator’s voice lowers conspiratorially, as if he’s about to deliver some juicy gossip. “We’ve got some footage from after the routine that’s definitely got people talking."

Your heart skips a beat. They couldn’t be talking about that kiss. The one you shared with Sidney, could they?

The camera cuts to footage of you walking off the ice and into the kiss-and-cry area, and sure enough, there it is, caught on film—the quick, playful peck you gave Sidney on the cheek. The kiss that felt so impulsive but so right, in the moment.

Your teammates erupt into laughter, their eyes wide with delight. “Ohhh, no way!” someone shouts. “They caught that!”

The commentator’s voice returns, sly and teasing. “Looks like our gold-medal hopeful isn’t just a fierce competitor on the ice—there’s clearly something going on off it as well. A little victory kiss for someone special?”

“Is that Sidney Crosby?” the other commentator jumps in, clearly trying to contain his excitement. “It is! I’m calling it now: the hottest couple of the Olympics.”

Your face flushes red, and your teammates lose it. The locker room turns into a frenzy of laughter, teasing, and playful shouts.

“Oh my God, you’re in the tabloids now!” one of them cackles, clutching her sides. “They’re going to eat this up!”

"Seriously, we should be charging people for front-row seats to this drama," another teammate jokes, tossing a water bottle at you.

You cover your face with your hands, trying not to let the embarrassment take over, but you can’t help the smile creeping across your lips. You knew this was coming—Sidney is a massive deal, and your relationship was bound to catch the media’s eye at some point—but having it aired like this, right after one of the most important performances of your life? It feels like a lot.

“That was a cheek kiss, people,” you say, voice muffled as you shake your head. “It’s not a big deal.”

"Sure, not a big deal at all," your teammate mimics in a high-pitched voice. “Just a cheek kiss with Sidney Crosby, no biggie.” She winks. "But seriously, you two are adorable."

You groan, sitting back and letting the playful teasing wash over you. It's all in good fun, but your mind can’t help but wander back to Sidney. The way his cheek had felt warm against your lips, the way he’d smiled at you like you were the only person in the room. The commentators could speculate all they wanted—only you and Sidney knew what was really going on.

“Well,” one of your teammates says, pointing at the screen, “whether you like it or not, the world’s got its new favorite Olympic couple. You’re officially a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "Guess that means I’ll have to win gold now, doesn’t it?"

The room bursts into cheers and whoops, and even though you’re still a little embarrassed, you can't deny the spark of pride warming your chest. You may not have asked for the attention, but if people were talking about you, it was because of your performance. The kiss—both kisses—were just the icing on the cake.

As the chatter dies down and your teammates go back to their phones and conversations, you glance at the screen one more time. Your face is still up there, smiling, skating, kissing. The cameras are still following you, and now the world is watching your every move.

And somewhere in the crowd, watching all of this unfold, is Sidney. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, whether he’s amused by all the media buzz or quietly rooting for you to rise above the chaos, like he always does.

───

A couple of weeks have flown by, and life feels like a whirlwind. The days blur into each other, each one filled with intense training, interviews, and media attention, but you’re thriving in it. You’ve hit your stride—the moment where everything just clicks. The routines you’ve practiced for years feel effortless, like second nature, and every time you step on the ice, the crowd roars just a little louder.

You’ve gone from being an underdog to the one everyone’s talking about—the name on every commentator's lips. They’re calling you a "generational talent" now, comparing you to the legends of the sport. It’s surreal.

At every competition, you push yourself further. Your performances are more than just technical mastery—they’re performances, filled with personality, elegance, and a certain kind of fire that no one else has. The crowd can feel it. So can the judges. Your scores reflect that, each one higher than the last, inching closer to the perfect mark.

But the real magic is in how you’ve taken control of the narrative. It’s not just about your skating anymore; it’s about you. The girl who sent shockwaves through the arena with a playful kiss, the figure skater who got her get back. You're unstoppable right now.

The media follows your every move, dissecting each routine, each interview, each glimpse of you with Sidney. They’ve dubbed you "The Queen of Ice"—a title that feels daunting but fitting. You’re skating with a newfound confidence, and your momentum is undeniable. It’s almost like you’re skating for something bigger now, fueled by the pressure and expectation, but instead of letting it weigh you down, you thrive under it.

On top of that, the Canadian hockey team is doing just as well, if not better. Sidney and his teammates are on a tear through the tournament, steamrolling the competition with a precision and intensity that’s impossible to ignore. The headlines are full of glowing reports about how the team is clicking, playing like a well-oiled machine, and Sidney’s name is front and center. Every game, he’s putting on a clinic, and just like you, people are starting to use the word legendary.

It’s crazy to think about how things have shifted so quickly. Not long ago, you were just hoping to make an impact, and now you and Sidney are always in the headlines, dominating in your respective fields. The media plays it up, of course—every now and then you catch an article about "Olympic royalty" or some speculative piece about your friendship-relationship-rivalry (you're not sure what it is, anymore), but you’ve learned to tune it out.

Still, it’s hard not to feel proud when you see your name in another headline. It’s not just about the gossip or the hype—it’s about what you’re doing. You’re succeeding at the highest levels of your sport and you’ve worked your whole lives for this moment, and now, you’re in it. Living it.

You’re in the Olympic Village after practice, sitting with your teammates in the common area, watching the latest round of highlights on TV. The hockey team had just demolished their last opponent, and the commentators are practically swooning over the way Sidney’s been playing.

"Another incredible game from Crosby," one announcer says, his voice full of admiration. "The guy is playing out of his mind. He’s always been good, but this? This is something else."

“Yeah,” another commentator adds, shaking his head in disbelief. “If he keeps this up, there’s no doubt they’ll be in the finals. And honestly? I don’t see anyone beating them.”

One of your teammates nudges you, grinning. “You hear that? Your boy is killing it out there.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you felt a flush rise in your cheeks. “He's not my boy, shut up.”

Your teammate just laughs and shrugs, looking back up at the TV.

The screen cuts to a highlight reel of you from the most recent competition, and the room quiets as everyone watches. The slow-motion shots of you mid-jump, your spins and edges so crisp and precise, make it look almost effortless.

“Look at that,” the commentator gushes. “She’s redefining what’s possible on the ice. It’s not just about her technical skill—it’s the way she connects with the audience. She’s performing at a level we haven’t seen in years. You can see it in the way she moves—the confidence, the passion. She knows she’s the best right now, and she’s skating like it.”

Your teammates break out into cheers, some of them even clapping. You hide your face in your hands, half-embarrassed, half-proud.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” you say, laughing. “It’s just one performance.”

One of your teammates smirks. “Nah, sweetheart, you’ve had like ten of those just one performances. Own it.”

You lean back, still smiling, but your mind wanders for a second. All the attention, all the pressure—it’s a lot. But then you think about Sidney, how he handles everything with such grace and focus. You’ve watched him lead his team to victory after victory, never letting the noise get to him. It’s inspiring. And it makes you want to keep pushing yourself, to live up to that same standard.

As the hockey highlights come to an end, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You glance at it, and your heart skips a beat when you see Sidney’s name.

Sidney: Saw the kiss thing on TV again. Apparently we’re the new "it couple."

You can’t help but smile. You ignore the weird butterflies that begin forming in your stomach—it's just Sidney.

You: Oh, so now you’re famous because of me, huh?

Sidney: Obviously. Also, everyone’s calling you the GOAT now. When are you going to start teaching me how to skate?

You: I’m already teaching you how to win.

There’s a pause before his next text, and you can practically hear him laughing through the screen.

Sidney: Touché. But seriously—you’re killing it. Proud of you.

You stare at the screen, his words sinking in. It’s such a simple message, but coming from him, it means the world.

You: Right back at you.

You tuck your phone away, feeling a quiet surge of giddiness. You glance at your teammates, looking at you almost expectantly—you immediately regret it.

“Oh, shut up!”

[chuuyrr]

ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BOTH YOUNG WHEN I FIRST SAW YOU — NAKAHARA CHUUYA .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 CW(s): f! reader, 15! chuuya (initially) but both of you grow up in the end ofc, strangers to friends to lovers trope, fluff with slight angst, inspired by howl's moving castle, not proofread

ᡣ𐭩 SYNOPSIS: in which he loved you since fifteen

ᡣ𐭩 NOW PLAYING: fearless and love story by taylor swift

chuuya made his way through the packed streets, and it didn't take long for his sharp eyes to notice a commotion up ahead. a group of middle schoolers surrounded a lone, young girl, their taunts and jeers resonating through the air.

chuuya's brows furrowed, and his tongue clicked in annoyance at the sight. he always had a low tolerance for those who preyed on the weak, especially when they targeted someone as vulnerable as a middle schooler.

so, with a sigh, he approached the scene at hand, his presence demanding attention as those bullies fixed their sight on him.

"oi, who the hell are you?" one of them snarled, puffing out his chest in a futile attempt to appear threatening as he saw chuuya.

chuuya only smirked at the mere display of threat, his gray-blue eyes gleaming with a menacing glint, "someone who doesn't take kindly to cowards who pick on the innocent."

with that, chuuya began to glow red as he began to manipulate gravity, and the ground beneath the bullies' feet trembled, sending them falling backward in confusion and fear.

you looked up, surprised by the sight of the intriguing figure before you. you had heard stories about the sheep and their leader, but you never expected to meet him in person, let alone in the thick of your own personal turmoil at the time.

it didn't take long for those bullies to flee from the sheep king, terrified for their own lives. if you were in their shoes, you would have done exactly the same. ghe king of the sheep was someone who prowled the streets using his devastating gravity manipulation ability.

you blink quietly in astonishment as the teen's red aura stemming from his ability fades, his ginger locks falling back to frame his face as his gray-blue eyes rest on yours, softening.

"hey, you alright?" chuuya asked, his tone softer now as he turned his attention to you.

you immediately nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "y-yes, thank you."

as you stood in the dimly lighted alley, your heart was still beating from the previous encounter with the bullies, but you were pleased for his sudden appearance. you would have been done for if he hadn't been around, and your money would have been stolen again.

you couldn't help but look at him in admiration as a smile appeared on his lips, and his smile warmed your heart as he took a step closer, relieving your tension from the previous occurrences.

"err—i couldn't just stand by and watch," he admitted, his sincerity evident in his gaze as he stares at you, "are you sure you're okay?"

you nodded again, feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks with a shy smile tugging on your lips, "well, i am now. that's for sure.."

his heart skipped a beat at your words, and chuuya realized he couldn't let you slip away so easily, and so he couldn't help but ask.

"so. would, uh, you... would you like me to walk you home?" he cleared his throat.

his sweet gesture sent your heart fluttering. you would never have expected the fearsome sheep king to be thus nice, given how he was usually portrayed as deadly, a force to be reckoned with. perhaps it was a reminder that, at the end of the day, he was not a king.

he was just a teenager, a child—just like you.

warmth spreads through you as you nodded your head in agreement and took his outstretched hand with a growing smile, "sure!"

as chuuya walked you home, he couldn't help but notice your middle school uniform, which served as a sharp reminder of the childhood he never had. his eyes lingered on the familiar scene, a stab of jealousy tugging at his heart as he pondered what it would have been like to go to school like any other child.

despite his envy, he developed a curious attraction. he was drawn to you, intrigued by the innocence and youth that emanated from your being, and despite the difficulties he experienced as the sheep's leader, he just couldn't resist the pull of your youthful vigor, which stood in stark contrast to the darkness that pervaded his life. there was just something.

maybe you were the one who had the ability to manipulate gravity after all, huh?

chuuya couldn't resist the impulse to strike up a conversation with you as you led him through the streets, walking directly by your side on your left as he let you take the sidewalk.

"so, uh, what's it like being a middle schooler?" he inquired, real curiosity in his voice.

you looked up at him, taken aback by his question yet ready to share your experiences regardless.

"it's... alright, i guess?" you said, a faint smile on your lips, "school can be tough sometimes, but it's nice to have friends and teachers who are there for me."

chuuya nodded, his curiosity peaked by your reply, "friends and teachers, huh? sounds like you've got a good support system," he said with a tinge of wistfulness in his tone as he whispered the last part, "must be nice.."

you agreed, a sensation of thankfulness welling up within you, "mhm, but what about you? what's it like being the leader of the sheep?"

chuuya's demeanor softened in response to the question you asked, a mixture of pride and melancholy flickering through his eyes.

"it's challenging, to say the least," he said, his voice laced with emotion, "we may not have much in the sheep, but we look out for each other, no matter what.."

as you were going to continue the talk, you observed a look of surprise on chuuya's face.

"wait... how do you know me?" he inquired, his gray blue eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you with renewed interest.

you blushed, realizing you'd accidentally disclosed your knowledge of him, as you stuttered and tried to avoid any raise of suspicion from him, "i, um, i've heard about you from some friends.. they call you the king of the sheep, but that's all i promise! i don't know much!"

chuuya's expression relaxed, and a soft smile formed at the corners of his lips upon seeing your cute stammer. it was such a sight to be hold. you looked so cute when you were nervous. it made feel some things in his chest.

"i see," he said in an amused tone, "well, i guess it's not every day that the leader of the sheep gets recognized by a (cute) middle schooler."

his response made you less tense now, and you couldn't help but smile again.

"you know, i didn't think you were this.. nice.” you said to him, fiddling with your fingers.

chuuya smiled softly in response to your statement, a touch of amusement flickering in his keen gray blue eyes, "i suppose i'm not always what people expect," he conceded, a contemplative expression crossing his face as he shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

you nodded, a sense of admiration rising within you as you saw chuuya in a new light. despite his profound reputation and ability, there was a tenderness and warmth about him that you had not expected.

"well, i'm glad i got to see this side of you, sheep king. it's an honor," you replied, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

chuuya returned your smile, and a sense of camaraderie grew between you, "likewise," he remarked, his tone sincere, "and who knows? maybe there's more to me than meets the eye."

before you head inside your house after he accompanied you, you turn around to see chuuya, a gleam of curiosity in your eyes.

"by the way, i never really got your name," you admitted, a sheepish smile playing on your lips.

chuuya's lips quirk into a smirk at your question. "ah, right. i'm nakahara chuuya," he replied, his voice warm and inviting to the soul.

"nakahara chuuya..." you repeated, the name rolling off your tongue as you commit it to memory, "thank you for walking me home, and for saving me earlier, chuuya. it was nice meeting you."

chuuya nodded, a sense of contentment settling over him, "of course," he says, his smile widening, "take care of yourself, alright?"

as chuuya turns around to leave, you sense a strong need to follow him. with a racing heart, you catch up to him from your door, reaching out to grab his arm before he disappears off into the night.

"wait, chuuya!" you called out to him, your voice tinged with urgency.

chuuya, taken aback by your unexpected gesture, turns back to face you, his gray-blue eyes widening as you embrace him. his breath catches in his throat, and his cheeks flush with surprise at the unexpected display of devotion.

for a brief moment, the world around you fades away as you cling to chuuya, the sensation of his warmth enveloping you in a soothing embrace. as you eventually pull away, a flush growing across your cheeks, you meet his stare with a mix of shyness and sincerity.

"i know i thanked you already, but i just.. wanna thank you more personally like this," you muttered softly, which made his heart skip a beat.

chuuya's heart just couldn't help but flutter in response to your words, and he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair away from your face.

"anytime," he chuckled, his voice warm and affectionate.

as you return home, the image of his flushed countenance lingers in your mind, leaving you with a smile that lasts late into the night.

the days that followed were a haze for you, packed with the typical schedule of classes and homework from school.

despite the monotony, memories of chuuya persisted in the back of your mind, his surprising kindness leaving an indelible mark on you. you never expected the king of the sheep to be like that. you expected him to be scary just as they had depicted him to be.

"chuuya?" you called out, your voice tinged with curiosity as you approached him.

chuuya turned to face you, a sheepish smile on his lips, and greeted you with a hand on the nape of his neck, "hey, [name]. i, uh, hope you don't mind my waiting for you here.”

you shook your head, a mix of curiosity and excitement coursing through you. "oh, no! not at all. it's just unexpected to see you here. that's all," you said, tilting your head to the side, making his chest feel fuzzy at the sight.

chuuya chuckled softly, "i wanted to, uh, tell you something."

as the talk between you and chuuya progressed in the secluded area near the college gates, you developed a sensation of eagerness. finally, unable to resist your curiosity, you couldn't help but ask, "so, what did you want to talk to me about, chuuya?"

"i've been thinking.." he said, his voice trailing off briefly as he looked for the proper words.

"...i've been thinking that maybe we could spend more time together," chuuya finally continued to his words, his voice becoming more confident as he talked but he stammered, "i've loved our discussions thus far, and i’d like to get to know you better, if that's okay with you.. i-i understand if you don't want to identify yourself with me. i mean, i know i have a reputation for being the sheep kin—"

you couldn't help but feel a rush of delight flowing through you as you blurted out an excited, "of course i don't mind!" which cut him off.

chuuya's smile widened at your response, a warmth flowing through his chest and cheeks, and his freckled face turned pink as he realized you felt the same way.

"r-really?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief but excitement—genuine excitement, "how about we meet up after your classes tomorrow? we could grab a bite to eat or explore the city together. anything is cool with me."

the possibility of spending more time with chuuya piqued your interest, and you quickly nodded in accord.

and so, the next day, as the last bell rung to indicate the end of courses, you eagerly made your way to the specified meeting place where you would meet chuuya. your heart beat with excitement, wondering what experiences awaited you and chuuya as the heels of your shoes thumped against the ground.

as you neared the spot of the meeting place, you noticed chuuya waiting for you, a warm smile lighting up his face. he went forward without hesitation and embraced you tightly, surprising you but filling you with a sense of warmth and comfort.

"hey," chuuya never spoke this softly around anyone else, but you were an exception somehow as he hugged you.

returning the hug, you couldn't help but smile at him. "hey," you exhaled softly, filled with joy at the sight of him.

chuuya released you from his embrace and his touch sent a spark of electricity through as he suddenly took your hand in his, the skin to skin contact making your cheeks even warmer.

"come on, let's go," he murmured, his enthusiasm evident as he led you away from the campus gates.

before you could even question where you two were going, chuuya began sprinting, pulling you along with him as you laughed in surprise and excitement. the wind whipped past you as you sprinted side by side, your surroundings a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds.

as you raced through the streets together, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline surge through your veins, making you lose yourself in the moment as a smile etched on your lips.

chuuya abruptly came to a halt, his gray-blue eyes flashing with mischief as he turned to face you with a cheeky smirk, "quick, hold on tight."

"wha—?!"

before you could react, chuuya's hands began to glow with a faint, pulsating light, and with a flick of his wrist, he used his gravity manipulation ability as you held onto him, and in an instant, you felt lifted off the earth, weightless and free as you hovered in midair.

surprised but delighted by the sensation, you couldn't help but giggle in glee as chuuya twirled you around with ease, like you were in a ballroom made out of clouds and clear skies.

as you drifted together, floating in midair, you couldn't help but feel a sense of enchantment and wonder surround you.

and when you looked into chuuya's eyes, you felt a flood of emotions surge through you—love, excitement, and a sense of limitless possibility, and as he held you close, his touch, warm, delicate yet firm—that's when you realized you has discovered something genuinely rare too.

a love that defied gravity.

with a giggle bubbling up from within your throat, you couldn't help but wrap your arms around chuuya's neck, holding on to him as you soared over the air together.

chuuya's laughter resonated in the air around you, a sound that warmed your heart, a sound that sounded like bells to your ears, as he held you tight and guided you easily into the air.

buildings and houses went beneath you in a blur with each step, making the world below appear little and inconsequential in comparison to the limitless expanse of the sky above.

as the days went and you spent more time with chuuya, a new sense of joy and excitement entered your life. instead of going directly home from school, you found yourself drawn to his side instead, and chuuya always arrived with a bright smile and a humorous glimmer in his pretty gray blue eyes.

"ah, there she is, my queen of the sheep," he'd remark now, his voice full with warm affection as he greeted you every single time.

chuuya's adorable nickname for you warmed your cheeks, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of curiosity bubbling up inside you. as the two of you went hand in hand, you looked up at him with a curious gleam in your eyes.

"me? queen of the sheep?" you asked, your tone mixed with amusement and interest as you pointed at yourself.

chuuya shrugged softly, his gaze softening as he looked at you, trying to look and sound casual as he spoke, "you're more than just a friend, alright?"

"how so?" you furrowed your brows, a smile growing on your lips as you felt him squeeze your hand in his.

chuuya leaned closer to you, and said, "you're someone special.. someone who brings light and warmth into my life, just like a queen."

chuuya's remark made your cheeks flush with even more warmth, and a faint giggle escaped your lips as you attempted to conceal your amusement of it.

"wow, chuuya.. i never thought the sheep king could be this pretty cheesy," you muttered softly, unable to hide the cute smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

chuuya laughed along with you, shaking his head side to side as he nudged you playfully in return, his voice filled with a teasing tone "i can't help it if I'm a romantic at heart, ya' know?"

your laughter resonated across the quiet streets as you teased chuuya about his unexpected surge of romanticism.

"but do tell, what's gotten into you, being all romantic all of a sudden, hmm?" you asked, a teasing grin coming over your face.

chuuya shrugged, a sheepish smile on his lips, "i guess spending time with you just brings out the cheesy side of me."

you said, nudging him lightly in return, "well, then. it's nice having my own personal romantic."

chuuya laughed and slung his arm around your shoulders as you continued your leisurely stroll across the city.

but then, it happened.

as the days passed, you were increasingly agitated and concerned when chuuya failed to arrive at your customary after-school meeting place. days turned into weeks real quick.

you waited impatiently each afternoon, scouring the surroundings for any sign of his familiar form, but he wasn't there. you initially tried to dismiss your fears, thinking yourself that he was too busy or preoccupied with something more essential.

he belonged to the sheep, after all. not to you. a fact that you had to accept.

but when the days stretched into weeks with no trace of him, your concern grew into full-fledged anxiety.

and so with a heavy heart, you gradually accepted that chuuya would not be arriving any time soon. the once-vibrant streets way back home felt empty, and the world seemed quieter without him alongside you, and as you walked home alone every day, the weight of his absence sat heavy on your shoulders, as you silently waited for him.

the gods above seemed to have heard your prayers, because he eventually returned, and you found him waiting for you at the normal meeting point after your classes ended one day.

chuuya was dressed in a harsh black suit and formal pants, a white button-up shirt, and black gloves, and your heart sunk at his new look. something had inevitably occurred, and you could tell as the tension hung heavy in the air as you waited for him to speak.

"hey, what happened to you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

chuuya's gaze was distant, and his expression was instantly replaced by a serious expression as he looked into your eyes, "i had to take care of some business."

you could feel the weight of his words. something had changed, something important enough to dramatically alter chuuya's manner and appearance. he wasn't like this before.

a million questions raced through your head, but you held back, allowing chuuya to disclose what he was comfortable with. the stillness stretched between you, filled with unspoken words and worries, but after what seemed like a lifetime, chuuya spoke again, barely above a whisper.

"look, i’m sorry i haven't been around," he replied, his tone tinged with sadness.

chuuya's arms suddenly wrapped securely around you in a comforting embrace, and you felt a rush of emotions flow through you. uncertainty, anxiety, and, most importantly, genuine concern for him.

his words lingered in your head, each syllable laden with significance, and you couldn't help but feel a shiver of unease at the prospect of what they may imply. chuuya tightened his grip on you, as if seeking relief in your presence.

"i'm no longer a part of the sheep," he admitted all of a sudden after mustering enough courage, "things have changed, and i don't exactly know what's going to happen next."

you felt a knot form in your throat at his disclosure, the weight of his words soaking in as you attempted to grasp the enormity of what he was saying. the notion of chuuya leaving the sheep, leaving behind the only life he had ever known, made you feel uneasy and sad.

but his following comments, stated with earnestness that sent shivers down your spine, troubled you much more, "but listen to me, no matter what happens, promise me you'll wait for me," he pleaded, his voice full of desperation, "okay, [name]?"

you furrowed your brows in confusion, unable to make sense of his request, "wait for you? what do you mean, chuuya?"

"i can't explain it right now, but please, trust me," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper, "promise me you'll wait for me, no matter what. okay, [name]?"

you nodded slowly, a sensation of doom washing over you as you made the commitment, but you couldn't shake the notion that chuuya's words had a deeper significance.

as you stood there, struggling with the weight of chuuya's words and the uncertainty of the future, he unexpectedly moved in and placed his lips to yours in a loving kiss, stealing your first kiss.

for a brief minute, time appeared to stand still as your heart beat in your chest, your mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. his lips were warm against yours, a delicate shiver that sent thrills down your spine and triggered profound feelings within you.

chuuya drew back as fast as it had began, his gaze searching yours for any indication of understanding or reciprocation. the air crackled with tension as you met his eyes—the intensity of the moment hung heavy between you.

"chuuya?" you whispered.

and before you could say anything else, chuuya shook his head, a sorrowful smile forming on the edges of his lips.

"heh, i'm sorry for stealing your first kiss," he said softly, his voice thick with grief, "i just.. i just needed you to know how much you mean to me."

you reached out to him, your fingers quivering as they brushed against his cheek, a wordless gesture of comfort and understanding, and in that moment, words felt unnecessary as you stood together in unspoken affection.

chuuya held you tightly, his lips meeting yours in another delicate kiss, and you felt a rush of warmth travel through your body, lighting a fire deep within. his embrace was firm but delicate, as if he was attempting to express all of his love and longing in that one moment.

but as the kiss continued, you sensed a trace of regret beneath the desire, a tacit acknowledgement of the impending separation between the two of you, and chuuya's grip tightened around you, as if he was attempting to hang on for just a bit longer, unable to let go.

but he had to, and he pulled away hesitantly, his forehead resting against yours as he looked into your eyes with a mix of tenderness and sadness.

"i really wish i could stay," he said, just above a whisper, "but i have to leave."

you felt a twinge of sorrow at his words, the weight of his approaching departure clenching around on your poor heart.

"go where?" you asked quietly as chuuya paused for a minute, his expression anguished as he tried to find the perfect words.

"there are some things i need to take care of," he said, cryptically, "but please know that no matter what happens, i'll always carry you with me.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the depth of chuuya's love and devotion for you, and the fact that he was going weighed hard on your thoughts.

"chuuya, please don't go," you begged, your voice choked with anguish, "you can't just show me a world bigger than us, then just leave."

"i know.." he whispered softly, his gaze never leaving yours, "but i swear, i’ll come back for you. just wait for me. okay? i'll come running, and i'll find you in the future. no matter what."

chuuya unwillingly released you from his embrace with one more kiss, his touch lingering on your skin as if he were imprinting himself on you and refusing to let go, and as he turned to leave, you watched him go with a heavy heart, knowing that a piece of yourself would always be with him.

days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and finally, months into years.

despite your efforts to move on, chuuya's memories did in fact haunt you like a ghost, not just as a reminder, as you stroll through the hallway of your campus as a college student, no longer a middle schooler, you felt the emptiness that time cannot fill, and slowly you have come to realize the truth.

you've outgrown the young girl who waited for chuuya's return, and you wonder if the promise of love you previously held onto was merely a dream.

you remembered sharing your stories about your day at school with chuuya while he told you about the sheep in return, and even life was not always easy, and chuuya was there to console and be your shoulder to lean on during those difficult times.

chuuya would wipe away your tears, hug you, and encourage you as best he could. he would even take you away to an ice cream parlor to soothe your anxious mind, and those fleeting moments left an indelible mark on your heart. he always made sure you came home smiling.

and now, lost in thought, you're wandering through the city streets on your way home from campus. chuuya left seven years ago. he was just fifteen and you were fourteen when you first met, and you still wonder how much he has changed.

suddenly, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. you turn around to see no one which alerted you, but the moment you turn back, you felt like you saw a ghost. the ghost whose memories had always been haunting your mind for years.

he grew his hair long, but those red locks still frame his face the way you remember them, and his gray blue eyes meet yours with such intensity that your pulse skips a beat, sending a rush of nostalgia through your veins, reminding you of how young you were when you first saw each other.

sharper features and cheekbones, a more mature build now dressed in a formal suit, vest, and tie, as well as a coat and hat, and you in a college uniform, different hair and style, but even after time, even if you both were no longer kids, the heart and soul knows and recalls, and will always do.

"i’ve been looking everywhere for you," he says.

you blink, hardly believing it as you utter a soft spoken, "chuuya?"

he steps closer, eyes locked on yours. "you know, i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says quietly with a soft chuckle, "of course i had to find you. i needed to know you were okay."

tears well up in your eyes. you never thought you’d see him again, but here he is, right in front of you, like a fever dream.

"chuuya!" you find yourself crying out his name as you run straight into his arms, the same way you would back then whenever you'd see him waiting for you after school.

chuuya reaches out, catching you in his arms, a constant, and gently cups your cheek, "god, i’m sorry i took so long," he says, smiling at you, "but i’m here now, yeah?"

you let out tearful sniffles and hiccups as you held onto him, clinging to the fabric of his shirt, burying your face in his embrace; his ever-present scent mixed with a rich cologne will forever remind you of home; after all, he was your home, and you were finally home after all these years.

"shh, i'm here, i'm here now i'm so sorry, love," he whispers softly against your face, his warm breath bringing warmth and comfort as he hugs you close to his chest, scared you'll slip away from him again.

"i got tired of waiting, wondering if you'd come back, and wondering if you'd forgotten about me.. i thought you were really gone," you sob, unable to breathe through your tears as you pour your heart out to him, "i kept waiting, and waiting, but you never came.." you continue as he rubs your back.

chuuya's heart clenched, and your tears filled him with guilt. he knows how much everything has taken its toll on you, and he knows he has a lot to catch up on and make up for, so he cups your face in his hands, catching your tears with his thumbs as he rests his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in a tender, longing kiss.

a kiss that is no longer a bittersweet goodbye, but rather a lovely hello.

"we were both young when i first you, but time will never allow me to forget you. i love you, and i love you more than ever," he says with such love in his eyes and he finds himself falling in love all over again, falling in love harder even.

and chuuya kisses you for the second, third, and fourth time, keeping the promise of love he made to you back to when you were both young.

ᡣ𐭩 A.N.: for some odd reason, and i swear ya'll. this was all way better in my head but hey it's finally done !! ( ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ) ♡

ᡣ𐭩 TAGS: @cheriiyaya @atomi-mi @walking-simp @little-miss-chaoss @soleelia @rainbowsalt0412 @tinypuppyparadise @iheart-nana @velvetyvoyage @lilyzenick @hellkaiserinphoenix

[mintyys-blog]

Hello mintyys, hope you're doing well . No rush to do this just wanted to ask since you did danny phantom inspired reader for main mark if you could also do for the variants too . Please and thank you so much 💓 ☺️ 💗.

DANNY PHANTOM | mark variants x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS:

Sinister Mark

• Sinister Mark notices immediately that something about you is wrong—your heartbeat is off, your eyes glow when you’re angry, and you’re cold to the touch.

• He’s intrigued by the duality of your existence: part-human, part-spectral. “So… you died. But didn’t. I like that.”

• Tries to corner you to study your ghost form. Not out of cruelty—he just sees you as a living paradox.

• You phase through his grip once, smirking. He grins like a wolf. “That’s hot.”

• He offers to help you “cut ties” to your humanity—claiming it holds you back. You shut him down hard.

• Deep down, he respects how you still cling to your human side despite the power of your phantom half.

Mohawk Mark

• Thinks your transformation is sick. “You went full glow-mode? That’s hard.”

• He flirts with you in the middle of fights. “Hey, ghost girl, you always this cold or is that just the ‘undead’ look?”

• Loves sparring with you because he never knows what you’re about to do—especially when you disappear mid-attack and sucker punch him from behind.

• He tries to touch your core once (the glowing spot in your chest that pulses when you’re in ghost form) and you nearly knock his teeth out.

• Lowkey scared of you when you go full phantom in rage mode. Doesn’t admit it. But it’s hot.

Prisoner Mark

• Sees your half-dead state and recognizes the pain. “You’ve been stuck between two worlds too, huh?”

• You two have silent conversations—no words needed. Just glances full of shared history and grief.

• He respects how you hold onto your humanity. He’s lost his.

• If your ghost form ever loses control (maybe your emotions slip and you start phasing through reality), he’s the only one who can ground you. He just steps in close and whispers, “Come back. You’re still here.”

• He would never ask you to change. He just wants you to survive longer than he did.

Shiesty! Mark

• “Hold on, hold on—you turn invisible? You can FLY?? And you GLOW?! That’s some cheat-code behavior right there.”

• Loves showing you off. Tries to convince you to rob banks with him just for fun. “Who gon’ catch us? You phase through walls, baby.”

• He teases you by calling you “Casper’s hot cousin” or “Lil poltergeist.”

• But the moment someone tries to exploit your ghost core or hurt you while you’re in that weakened state, he goes full demon.

• “Nah. You don’t touch her like that. You don’t look at her like that. You wanna play with death? She’s got it on speed dial.”

Viltrumite Mark

• At first, he treats you like a curiosity. “You’re not a Viltrumite, yet you resist gravity. Your body isn’t normal. What are you?”

• When you phase through his attacks and reappear behind him, he’s pissed. He calls it cowardice.

• Over time, though, he starts to respect it. You fight like a ghost. And ghosts don’t die easy.

• You catch him off-guard one time, your voice dual-toned and haunting. “I’ve died before. I won’t let this world fall like mine did.”

• He never admits it, but you’re one of the only people he watches closely in battle. The way you fight—the unpredictability—it scares even him.

Full Masked Mark

• His sensors can’t track you in ghost mode. That unnerves him. He recalibrates. You phase again. He recalibrates again.

• “You’re… not natural,” he murmurs, voice modulated and calm. “But you are efficient.”

• You’re the one person who can sneak past him undetected. He doesn’t like being watched. But he doesn’t mind watching you.

• He once saw you hover over the battlefield, body glowing and whispering to the dead. It reminded him he still has something to lose.

• He’s intrigued but cautious. He starts to view your abilities as essential to the team. You’re the wild card, and he always plays to win.

Maskless Mark

• You feel it the moment he looks at you—he sees the pain. The death you carry inside.

• He tries to talk to you about it, once. “You ever wonder what’d happen if you didn’t come back next time?”

• He knows about guilt. And the way you fight—it’s like you’re trying to redeem yourself. That hits home.

• When you go full ghost and scream like banshees from beyond the grave, he doesn’t flinch. Just whispers, “Let it out.”

• He doesn’t fear your power. He relates to it.

Omni Mark

• He’s impressed. And that’s rare.

• You’re not Viltrumite. You’re not human. You’re something else.

• “You died and came back… and you still fight?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Most people give up.”

• You’re one of the few people who can keep up with him, especially in ghost mode.

• He doesn’t understand your compassion, but he respects your strength. Enough to see you as something more than prey.

• He offers to take you off-world. Study your kind. Preserve your abilities.

• You decline. “My home is here. My fight is here.”

• For a moment, he’s silent. Then—“You’re a ghost. But not a memory. You’re dangerous.”

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Can i request headcanons please? Of ford with a single mother reader with a Child that is friends with dipper and mabel(they probably meet bc of the kids), they are in the town bc reader's ex is an abusive prick that couldn't handle the divorce so they go to gravity falls to start again.

I just really like the thought of ford helping reader to deal with the burnouts and erasing her doubts of being a good mother, also i like to imagine that ford can get very protective over reader and her kid when her ex is around.

Im having a total brainrot😅

Of course!!

Ford x mother reader

When you first moved in its you probably needed something to occupy your kid while searching for a school that summer, so after a lot of hearing around, you decided to take them to the mystery shack for the day.

They instantly made friends with Mabel and Dipper, and as they started hanging out more and more, they started going to the shack almost everyday.

They spend a lot of time at the Mystery Shack, and Ford notices your presence and at first might even be a but suspicious, (still has some bad habits from bill)

At first, he’s distant, as he tends to be either working or with dipper and mabel, not quite paying you much mind, but as he sees the way Dipper and Mabel always hang out with your kid, his curiosity about you grows.

You start having small conversations when you come by, mostly about your kids. Ford appreciates how much you care about your child, even though you often look exhausted.

Ford is incredibly observant, so he quickly picks up on the fact that you’re dealing with more than just normal parenting stress. You’re trying to rebuild your life after a difficult divorce, and he notices how drained you seem at times.

One day, he finds you sitting on the porch of the Shack, rubbing your temples after a particularly rough day. Ford, ever the intellectual, starts off by offering practical advice—time management tips or relaxation techniques he’s read about.

But when he realizes that what you really need is emotional support, which is of course, not his strong suit, but he trusted his best.

He listens to you vent, reassures you that you’re doing an incredible job, and tells you how much your child admires and loves you.

Again, Ford is not always the best with feelings, but he goes out of his way to remind you that parenting is a difficult task, especially as a single mother, and even with all that, your still doing a good job.

He helps ease your self-doubt, telling you how much progress you’ve already made by giving your child a safer, happier life in Gravity Falls.

When your ex comes into town, either trying to contact you or causing trouble, Ford becomes intensely protective. He doesn’t tolerate threats, emotional or physical, especially when it comes to you or your child.

Ford’s protective instincts kick into overdrive. He stands taller, eyes narrowing as he keeps a close watch over you and your ex’s interactions, making sure your ex knows he isn’t welcome.

If your ex tries to approach the house or causes any distress, Ford won’t hesitate to step in. He’s not afraid to use threats, (do you remember when Ford was full on ready to shoot a man because he wouldn't let Mabel keep her pig??)

He’ll give heartfelt compliments, like telling you how your child has grown happier and more confident since coming to Gravity Falls, which he credits to your strength as a mother.

Ford has a knack for finding ways to reassure you with solid, rational observations, making it impossible for you to deny your own success.

He often reminds you that surviving an abusive relationship and creating a better life for your child already makes you a phenomenal mother.

Over time, Ford’s admiration for you grows. He’s impressed by your resilience and your ability to care for your child despite everything you’ve been through. He feels alot of respect and affection for you, which he’s not always sure how to express.

He’ll offer to help you with anything, from fixing things around the house to watching your child when you need a break. You became an important part of his life, so he’s always there for you.

Ford begins to take on a more involved role in your child’s life, becoming almost like a second father figure.

Your child feels safe with Ford, and they even confide in him when they feel worried about their father. Ford reassures them that they don’t have to fear anything anymore, he’ll always be around to protect them.

Mabel definitely sees all this and immediately goes to match make you, Stan alongside. Dates, alone time, whatever, do not mess with Mabel when she sees a potential couple

Hope you liked these ^^

[lvmimis]

cw: fluff? reader has described magic.

“It should have been Eva, you know.”

Nero is almost surprised by the sound of your voice, piping up suddenly after nearly a half hour of silence, where you followed him close as he trudged forward despite the fact that you are supposed to lead, as you are the one with the sought after ability.

Now that you’ve made it through the corridors that lead to the underground lab, the two of you have paused, separating even further as you wandered off to peruse the ruins and he found himself unsure of what to do next. Nero had possibly resigned himself not to speak until you did, perhaps still smarted by your irritation with him (only partially fabricated), and found himself perched against a wall, waiting for… he’s not sure what exactly. But right now, he’s not much more than a bodyguard, and you seemed to need a few more moments before deciding how to best approach the task at hand.

So when you spoke suddenly, he found his heart skipping a beat

He didn’t expect you to bring up his grandmother.

Hearing her name, in this new context, is often still so discombobulating to him. When he thinks of family, he thinks of Kyrie, of Credo, of his adoptive parents - lately of Dante.

Yet it’s hard for him to think of Eva in anything more than a somewhat religious feature, and even in that setting, she’s shrouded in mystery. 

But Eva is Dante’s mother, and his grandmother, and Eva’s blood runs through him, with just as much gravity as Sparda does. The bulk of his humanity springs forth first from her.

“What about her?” he asks, gruffly. He pretends no longer to be interested in anything you say, but the truth is, for some odd reason, he’s always liked the sound of your voice. Ever since you first addressed him years ago - there’s something in your eyes and the way your lips move and the way your voice rises and falls and rushes too quickly, sometimes too slow, as if the thoughts in your head and the twists of your tongue are never exactly in sync. He finds himself wondering what you’ll say next, if only it could be kind when it came to him.

When he tosses his head in your direction, you’re not returning his glance at all - rather, your fingers are lightly tracing a dusty textbook. He wouldn’t know it just by looking but you’re looking for a trace of demon or angel influence, the aura of those primordial beings far too powerful to fade or ignore. You’re not as gifted a sensor as your mentor, and will never be, but she’s taught you a few tricks that can help sometimes.

There’s nothing there. You continue to muse.

“We worshipped Sparda like a god, but it should have been Eva. Eva is who reached out her hand first.”

Nero watches you as you smile to yourself, then look around the room. You’ve lost interest in the book, and now are prodding at a few clumps of rubble with the tip of your boot. 

He’s not here to waste time.

Nero pushes off from his leaned position against the wall to stand, but you speak again and unwittingly he stops in his tracks.

“I wonder if when she first met him she was afraid.”

Nero feels like the appropriate thing to do is to roll his eyes and tell you to hurry up, but he’s curious too for a moment. He was raised to hate demons, he feared being found out as anything close to one for so long, but Eva must have immediately sought humanity in Sparda who was nothing but that. A demon.

“It probably doesn’t matter either way,” he points out. You look at him, but instead you’re smiling instead of scowling, a dreamy look in your eye. “It didn’t stop her from…” he pauses. “You know.” He gestures vaguely with a turn of his hand.

You laugh, and he’s actually surprised that you found him funny.

“That’s true. But the reason why I think it should have been her is because her love is what led to the very salvation we prayed for.”

Nero watches you. He’s surprised you can even talk about love fondly.

“Love that humanizes,” you murmur in continuation.

How has he ended up in a room with a woman who hates him, now proselytizing about love?

Nero runs his hand through his snowy hair, visibly frustrated. “Do you want to hurry up and find this portal or…?”

He looks at you and you’ve stopped smiling, a faraway look in your eye.

“I suppose ___ is Dante’s Eva,” you murmur. You’ve started to move, and you’re now looking again, on task.

Nero moves a little closer, deciding somehow if he helps you along, you’ll be able to leave quicker. “I can see that,” he admits. 

“And your Eva would be Kyrie,” you say and he pauses.

That’s not- he wants to say, but he doesn’t really know how to argue for or against. He loves Kyrie. She’s the most important woman in his life, without question. You look at him for a little bit too long, and he can feel an uneasiness in his chest, a pressure building he cannot so easily disperse.

“Maybe,” he decides. Cutting his losses with an unnecessarily uncertain answer.

Admitting that his childhood friend he loves dearly has that sort of immense pull over him feels suddenly uncomfortable to do in your presence. Sparda turned against his own kin for Eva. Nero would do anything for Kyrie, he’s sure of it. But as he looks back at you, he feels as though the confirmation cannot come out of his mouth, not at this very instant. 

You’re looking away from him again, and he hates that.

Why oh why does your lack of attention upset him so?

“I’ve dreamt of having my own Sparda,” you muse. Your hand passes against a sunken bookshelf, then lingers. The portal must be here.

“Does my grandfather have to be involved in your romantic fantasies?” Nero tries desperately to crack a joke, but it falls flat. His ears grow hot as you look at him suddenly, your face blank.

“You’re right, maybe I need a different way to describe it.” You say, simply, even though he expects you to get upset, to retaliate and receives nothing of the sort in return.

If this room suddenly became overrun with demons, Nero could hack and slash his way out easily. But it’s just you, and thus, he has to live with the warm sensation creeping up his neck. 

You sigh. “I’ll shut up.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.” Nero says but he trails off. 

You laugh to yourself. “I’m talking to you like you’re one of my girlfriends. I must be bored.”

You place your hand on the glowing center of the portal you’ve located. Your eyes close, and you feel warmth on the runes tattooed onto your wrists.

“I don’t have to be one of your girlfriends, but I can be a friend.”

Magic glows from your wrist to your palm as you concentrate. Your eyes furrow, squeezed shut tight as you concentrate.

The way you use magic, the way you pour yourself into it, is not unlike Kyrie’s singing, Nero thinks. For a moment, he wonders if you are able to sing, if you’ve ever tried to carry a tune. 

The portal closes, and your eyes shoot open. Nero quickly finds something else to look at.

“I think we’re done,” you murmur. There’s a softness to your lids that suggests fatigue, but you’re still steady on your feet. Slower to move, and Nero wonders how he could offer you a lean on his shoulder. Carrying you would not be hard, but he knows you would object to being so close to him.

You don’t talk anymore. Not about Eva and Sparda, or about Dante and your mentor, or about him or Kyrie, or your version of Sparda that you haven’t met yet -

Someone who you’d be allowed to love so much it would be a sanctifying force.

“Hey.” Nero takes a few quick steps to overtake your fast pace and step a little ahead of you, not unlike earlier.

“Walk slower, okay?” He shakes his head, as if annoyed. “And stay close, there could still be demons prowling.”

You’re too exhausted from using your magic to argue with him.

“Sure.”

He walks slower deliberately but as he anticipated, it doesn’t take long for you to suddenly find yourself lightheaded.

“I… I don’t think I can…” Your head spins. By the time he turns, you’ve already fallen into his arms and he’s just in time, ready to catch you.

—

Your weight is different in his arms than Kyrie’s is, the distribution less familiar. You smell different, like something it feels too sinful of him to parse out and describe, and even the soft way you snore, fast asleep almost instantly, is different. It occurs to Nero that he hasn’t held very many people in his life, not like this.

You’re easy to carry, physical strength aside, and in just moments, he has almost forgotten that he’s holding you when his mind wanders.

How did Sparda know Eva was the one? Had he ever loved anyone else? Had he loved before? 

If only you had spared him all the romance talk, it wouldn’t make this situation so very awkward. Kyrie would kill him if he saw the way he holds you right now, like a princess, carefully, tenderly. Perhaps he could shift you so that you’re no more special than a backpack.

But that feels wrong and untrue.

He doesn’t know when this desire for you to like him came to be, but he can’t shake it. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s something that you aren’t allowing him to know, that you are supposed to mean more to each other than this strained relationship. Otherwise, why do you feel at home cradled in his arms?

Eva probably never saw Sparda as a threat from the very first time she laid eyes on him. She loved him from the start. And Sparda always protected her and the home and the city she loved.

Their love was easy and natural, not a single obstacle in their way. No false starts or missteps or bickering back and forth.

Yet, despite all that, where are either of them now?

Nero doesn’t realize he’s close to the front of the castle until Dante is raising his eyebrow at him.

“So what were you two up to?”

The uptick in his voice is playful and Nero ignores it.

If he’s carried you today, he should remember to carry Kyrie twice as long. Your mentor rushes quickly to check on you, relieved that you’re still bleeding and believing Nero’s account that you’re just fatigued.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” she offers.

Nero shrugs.

“Does this happen often?”

“Not as much as you’d expect.”

—

The car ride back is shorter than Nero wants. You rest your head precariously on Nero’s shoulder, rising only once to look in his eyes without recognition. His heart pounds until you place it again and fall back asleep.

Did Sparda get butterflies?

When you murmur thank you ten minutes later, he is sure he did.

[biblicallyaccuratemoth]

Amphibia has middle child dyndrome next to Gravity Falls and The Owl House

Let this be a lesson to everyone. Send me an ask about some things, and I will reply with a wall of text.

I'm gonna get into some Amphibia spoilers here, so if you haven't seen it, go watch it. The first season is slow, that's not a bug it's a feature.

Amphibia I don't think suffers from middle-child syndrome. Amphibia suffers from expectation issues from the audience, and that comes firstly from when exactly it was airing. Amphibia hit the scene in 2019, 3 years after the end of Gravity Falls (a whole 7 years after Gravity Falls began), during Star vs the Forces of Evil's fall from grace, and less than a year before The Owl House started airing. It was a time when the TV-Animation scene was still much stronger than it is today. Steven Universe: Future was on the horizon later that year, Adventure Time was in its final moments, and there was a lot of expectation about who was gonna be taking up the mantle of the animated show to watch. With Matt Braly, a Gravity Falls alumni, at the helm, Amphibia had a good chance.

And then the first season aired, and people seemed offputt. It's deliberately a lot slower than The Owl House, Gravity Falls, and the other shows of that era. It's quieter. Lower stakes and with less of that dark core that defined TOH and GF. But that's a deception- in reality, Amphibia is just as dark and just as complex. It just hides it.

Season 1 of Amphibia is crucial, but it also misleads the audience. It feels younger than its competition. Episodes are based around seemingly 'simple' morals of honesty, hard work, fixing mistakes, and so on. But the thing that sets it apart is this. Ann learns from her mistakes and becomes recognizeably different by the end of the first season. She's the same person, but her view of herself, her relationship with the Plantar family, and her place in Wartwood have all changed fundamentally. And so by the time Sasha appears at the end of season 1, Ann is no longer the same person that Sasha once knew.

And the brilliance of Amphibia is that, as Ann is doing this, so are Sasha and Marcy. In a way they've each undergone their own hero's journeys, faced challenges and temptation, and emerged from the other side fundamentally changed. And that's where the thematic core of Amphibia becomes clear.

Amphibia is about what happens when people (and members of society) who care about each other have grown in ways that make their former relationships to each other impossible.

Ann doesn't only gain the ability to stand up for herself. She clearly defines her moral compass apart from Sasha and discovers that, even if it's difficult, there are things she needs to fight for and protect.

Sasha is a gifted leader and a brilliant tactician but she's also manipulative and cruel. Underneath that, though, she does care about her friends dearly. She's just perverted that affection into something wholly toxic. Grimes understands her explicitly and encourages both the good and the bad, in her. She becomes stronger, more determined, and more able to bend situations to her will but she does so at the cost of any remaining boundaries she had.

Marcy outright regresses, even if she doesn't realize it. She gives herself fully into the fantasy and embraces her role as the 'heroic' savior from another world, and doesn't realize that she's causing the people around her pain. And that before getting into how she fails to see the danger she's in.

By the time Ann, Sasha, and Marcy find each other again, these changes in who they are have made it so they can't go back to how things were. Ann isn't the pushover she was. Sasha's veneer of kindness (with a genuine undercurrent of warped compassion) dissolves. Marcy isn't engaging with the people around her anymore, at least not genuinely. She's in her own fantasy long before the Core puts her there, and she suffers for it.

Amphibia is a piece of art. Honest and truly. I may prefer the Owl House but that doesn't mean I don't love Amphibia with all my heart. I honestly think it plays its cards so well that it fools the audience at first, and that's a really impressive narrative trick.

[lkfarrout]

Main Tags: Family fluff, Grunkle Stan and Mabel bonding

Summary: Stan's memory is fully recovered, including his ability to drive, which comes with the return of an old bad habit. Mabel takes things into her own hands and reminds Stan how important he is to her. [1584 words]

Based on the first part of my most popular tumblr post of all time: Stan and Mabel Headcanons

Warnings: None! Just cute wholesome stuff <3

"There they are, Dipper, come on!" Mabel dragged her twin out onto the porch of the Mystery Shack, practically jumping up and down at the sight of her two grunkles pulling up in Stan's red Cadillac.

They'd been gone only thirty minutes.

"He did it!" Dipper exclaimed. "That's a really good sign."

A six-fingered hand waved at the kids from the passenger window, and they eagerly waved back. But as the car got closer, Mabel's hand fell slowly back to her side, and her eyebrows furrowed as she squinted into the windshield.

"How did it go?" Dipper asked, as the two older men joined the kids on the porch.

"Like ridin' a bike," Stan said with a grin.

"He stills drives as recklessly as when we were teenagers," Ford teased, "but I believe it's safe to say that Stanley's memory is fully recovered."

It was a long-anticipated moment among them all. Grunkle Stan was finally back to normal, able to take care of himself, give tours, tell jokes and stories like he used to, and now drive himself around too. Dipper embraced Stan in a hug, showing off how proud he was of all the progress Stan had made – and just in time, too, because there was only a few days of summer left.

As Dipper let go, Stan expected to be eagerly met with another hug from his niece, but instead he found her in the same spot, her gaze on the ground at their feet.

"Mabel, sweetie, you okay?" He crouched down a bit and put a hand on her shoulder.

Mabel looked up at him with sweet eyes, full of concern. "Grunkle Stan, you didn't wear your seatbelt."

"Oh," Stan shrugged, "yeah, I guess I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Well... to be honest I never really did when you kids weren't in the car." Stan tousled Mabel's hair with a chuckle. "Plus, back in my day seatbelts were more of a suggestion anyway."

With that, the family made their way inside, leaving Mabel to begrudgingly fix her hair as she followed behind them.

---

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mabel? What if he catches us?” Dipper whispered, anxiously peering around the corner as he and his sister watched Stan settle into his chair to watch TV for the evening.

“We have to, Dipper! This is important,” Mabel insisted. “You remember the plan?”

“Yeah,” her twin conceded. “Remind me what we need the syrup for again?”

Mabel sighed, slightly annoyed with her brother. “So he has a reason to drive somewhere in the morning, duh!”

Dipper didn’t really see the point in all this. After all, Grunkle Stan had survived without a seatbelt for like, a hundred years. But Mabel had gone along with plenty of his crazy plans, so it wasn’t like he could say no.

“Alright, but I’d rather get the stuff while you distract him. He’s more likely to listen to you," Dipper suggested.

With that, Mabel set off determinedly to the living room. “Oh, Grunkle Sta-an,” she said in a sing-songy voice, trying to look as sweet as possible. “Can you make Stancakes in the morning?”

At the same time, Dipper headed to the kitchen. He rummaged around in the cabinets as quietly as he could, and Mabel’s voice continued to permeate the house.

“Why don’t you put your feet up, Grunkle Stan, relax a little? Can I get you a blanket?”

With three bottles of syrup in his arms, Dipper headed to Stan’s bedroom. The sash was easy enough to find. After all, it was the only item that colorful in the entire room. Finding the car keys was a bit harder. When Stan was dressed, they were usually in his pockets, but now that he was settled down for the evening in his boxers and undershirt, Dipper assumed they had to be put away somewhere. He was right, and after a bit of digging, he found them in an empty cigar box on Stan’s nightstand among other items like spare change and a lighter. Dipper tucked the keys into his vest pocket, quietly shut Stan’s door, and made a beeline for the attic.

On the way, he ran into Ford.

“Oh, hello Dipper,” the older man’s eyes narrowed curiously as he noticed the bundle of yarn and maple syrup in the boy’s arms. “What’s all that for?”

“Oh, this?” Dipper tried his best to sound casual, “Mabel needs this for… an art project. You know how she loves to craft.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Indeed,” Ford agreed. He walked away, leaving Dipper to continue his mission, and wondered what art project could possibly require all the syrup in the house.

Once the syrup was successfully hidden away in the attic, Dipper met his sister on the back porch with the other stolen items.

“Got the stuff?” She asked.

He nodded as the two of them made their way to the Stanleymobile. “How long will this take?”

“I’ll be done before his episode is over!”

---

Stan searched all the cupboards, wishing that he’d checked for syrup before he started making the pancakes. It was odd -– he was positive that he had stocked up on it specifically for the apocalypse. He thought about sending Ford to the store, but no one else was awake yet. And if he had to be honest, part of him was itching to drive the car again. So, he turned off the stove, shoved the rest of the batter in the fridge, threw on his robe, and headed outside.

Upstairs, Mabel excitedly watched from the attic window while her brother slept soundly. She observed as Stan crossed the yard with an energetic gait, swinging his keys back and forth. A few feet away from the car, he slowed and approached more curiously, wondering what the odd splash of color peeking through the window was.

Stan ran his fingers over the soft yarn of the Our Hero sash, which had been expertly cut apart and knit back together around the driver's side seatbelt. He chuckled to himself -- it was a fashionable seatbelt cover if he'd ever seen one. As he climbed into his seat, he noticed the folded up note on the dash. He unfolded it, ready for whatever silly message Mabel had left him about "making the car prettier" or whatever.

It was written in purple gel pen: If you want to be our hero, you have to wear your seatbelt.

It included a sticker of a bumble bee saying "I bee-lieve in you."

"Oh, Pumpkin..." Stan began softly. He forced a small laugh at the cheesy sticker as a last-ditch attempt to stop the emotion rising in his throat.

Above him, Mabel was having a hard time containing her emotions as well. She squeezed Waddles to her chest and lightly shook him to stop herself from jumping up and down with excitement. "He's reading it, he's reading it," she whispered to Waddles. She watched her uncle set the note down and carefully click his seatbelt into place so that the words fell over his shoulder and chest just like when he used to wear it as a sash. "It worked!" she exclaimed.

Mabel leaned back, satisfied that her plan had been successful, and waited for Stan to pull out of the driveway. Several minutes passed, however, without the car moving. Stan just looked at his lap and gripped the wheel with both hands.

"Uh oh," Mabel's tone changed, "maybe he doesn't remember the sash..." When he defeatedly leaned forward and rested his forehead on the wheel, Mabel threw her slippers on and hurried down the stairs.

Stan was startled back into an upright position by the girl's soft knocking on the passenger window. Stan quickly wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his bathrobe and gave the child a soft smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, climbing into the seat next to him. "Grunkle Stan, are you crying?"

"No, no," he denied, "I just, got the sun in my eyes is all."

"Do you remember that?" She gestured to the sash-turned-seatbelt-cover.

"How could I forget?"

Mabel fiddled with the sleeves of her nightshirt. "Do you like what I did? Or..."

With one hand, Stan gently lifted her chin so their eyes met. "Of course I like it, sweetie. I love it."

Mabel smiled and he continued, "Thanks for lookin' out for me. I'll always do whatever I can to be your hero."

She felt his arms wrap around her, embracing her in a big hug. Mabel rested her head against Stan's shoulder and lightly ran her fingers along the soft knit fabric of the sash.

As the two separated, Stan asked, "You wanna go to the store with me? I gotta get some syrup for your pancakes."

"Oh, actually, all the syrup is upstairs... I needed a reason for you to get in the car this morning."

"Yeah?" Stan wrapped his arm around Mabel, this time pulling her in for a noogie, "C'mere, you clever punk. I thought you were bein' suspicious last night."

As he relaxed his arm, he said, "Well, might as well go anyway since we're out here. Anything else ya want on your pancakes?"

Mabel thought for a moment while she fixed her hair. "Marshmallows?" she suggested.

Stan just grinned in response and started up the old car.

"Can I ride in the front?" Mabel asked, smiling up at her uncle with the sweetest eyes.

"Hmm," he pretended to think, "only if you wear your seatbelt."

[thatsodapopgirl]

Some basic backstory of my Bill Created Alastor Au (I’m gonna be honest I might add or change stuff if I ever decide to write a fic)

Origins

Bill had become frustrated with humans for continuing to disappoint him. He thought to himself, If angels were the supposed ‘perfect’ beings, why did they create such fragile and at times dull creatures? I bet I could create a way better human! And he decided to go through with it and make the perfect obedient human tool; an anchor for access to different realities. Or so he thought.

He used the same ingredients such as the dust to create his human just with added modifications such giving them dark magical abilities.

For Alastor it started as worship because Bill was his creator and was considered Bill’s favorite. But after gaining knowledge and growing into his own person throughout the years, Alastor began to understand that he was merely a pawn in Bill’s game. It was until the 1920’s that Alastor began to question Bill and his own existence. Alastor had fallen for the radio and was able to convince Bill that with his radio show, he would be able to spread Bill’s influence. However, as he began to live life as an independent human, he began to do things for himself now. He didn’t randomly kill humans, he killed humans he deemed were deserving for their evil actions and he became focused on other topics to talk about besides Bill on his broadcasts. Bill saw this as the first act of defiance in Alastor and had to ‘fix’ him. But despite the torture and threats of death, Alastor continued doing what he thought was best for himself and his audience.

So Bill took another page from heaven, he sent his human to hell. This again backfired, hell in a way was similar to the Nightmare realm except there was no controlling triangle breathing down your neck, it was freedom. So when he had no choice but to leave because of Bill’s plan for Gravity Falls, Alastor had grown to resent his creator, his god, his father.

Bill’s View of the Angels

As we all know, Bill Cipher is a being of pure chaos and causing havoc wherever he goes. Basically he’s everything Heaven doesn’t stand for. Bill also sees the angels as stuffy snobs who think they’re better than everyone else. So he never really had much interest to ever engage with them, until he heard about the Eden incident and evil was released into earth. It was the most hilarious thing Bill ever heard and to know it was one of their own that had a part in it was even sweeter. It was also an opportunity to finally be able to go into the dimension where earth was and to conquer it.

While on earth, Bill began to notice that most of his schemes and atrocities he committed were all being blamed on this one particular angel, Lucifer. Honestly, it pissed the dream demon off that this guy was basically stealing all his street cred. So when he decided to check this hell for himself, he would say it was pretty impressive. It was fun to watch all these humans turned demons still continue to cause pain and misery even in death. And then he met the big cheese in charge; apparently he heard that Bill managed to sneak into hell and was disrupting order in the other rings. If he had just stayed in the pride ring, Bill probably wouldn’t have been found out early on because the pride ring was already chaotic.

Lucifer knew of the stories of Bill Cipher's terror and it was only a matter of time until he plunged all of hell into its own destruction. He may not like the sinners, but the hellborn didn’t deserve to lose their world and he had to protect his family. He was able to fight Bill off and create barriers to keep the triangle at bay and to never set foot in hell ever again.

When Bill found out Alastor was dating an angel he felt sick, but when he found it was Lucifer of all people, he lost another bit of his remaining sanity.

Bill and Alastor Relationship

Bill at the beginning only saw Alastor as a pet/puppet. He still even refers to Alastor as one, but deep deep deep deeeeep down he started to care about the human he created (he will deny this however). Out of everyone, Alastor was the only one Bill felt comfortable talking about Euclydia and his family. He was given the same story like everybody else that he liberated his universe, but there were times he was vulnerable enough to give Alastor bits and pieces of the actual truth. The best Alastor could conclude was that Bill must have started with good intentions in trying to reveal the third dimension to his people, but something went terribly wrong and that’s the most information he could get because Bill would black out and not remember.

As Alastor’s powers grew, Bill had made him his right hand man. Alastor would be Bill’s eyes and ears whenever Bill would send him somewhere and be a spy. However, he felt like he was losing Alastor’s loyalty bit by bit because of the influence of humans, so he decided to send him to hell. To Bill, sending Alastor to hell was like sending your kid to summer camp; however to Alastor it felt like abandonment. Still, Bill assumed once he took over earth, he’d do the same with hell and give it to Alastor as a gift.

Alastor and Pine’s Family

Alastor had met Ford first when he was ordered by Bill to hunt him down. This would be Alastor’s first act of defiance, yes he hunted and tormented Ford throughout the years (he loved the twisted cat and mouse game) but when he was actually close to capturing Ford, he’d let him escape at the last second. Bill was none the wiser because he still believed in Alastor’s loyalty despite the attitude he came back with. Ford eventually developed insomnia because of the nightmares of the Radio Demon and wherever he went, the demon would always find him. So learning his family was friends with the monster who haunted his dreams was a horrific discovery.

After spending three years tormenting Stanford Pines, Alastor spent the last four years living in Gravity Falls. His mission this time was to make sure all pieces on the chessboard would fall into place for Stanley Pines to open the portal again to get Ford back. But in true Alastor fashion, he took his time and decided to have a bit of fun while he was there. If he was going to spend however long in such a small town, might as well give the townsfolk the proper medium of entertainment.

As Alastor stationed a new radio studio in Gravity Falls, this would lead him to making a partnership with Stan Pines and talk about the Mystery Shack during his radio show.

The Pine twins were also to win over, Mabel was already a fan of his radio show, especially his romance segment and Dipper was someone who craved acknowledgement. So when Alastor told the boy about his newest segment of the supernatural and wanting to know about the child’s adventures, it was easy.

Despite using them, Alastor couldn’t help but grow a bit attached to the Pines for they were a colorful bunch. When Weirdmageddon happened and everything was revealed, it wasn’t pretty.

Hazbin Hotel and Alastor’s relationship with Lucifer

Pretty much the same happens in the show. Except with Alastor keeping his secret identity. He could have revealed himself and what he was when he was sent to hell, but he didn’t know how the outcome would have been. The sinners and other overlords weren’t much of a problem, but there was still the hierarchy of hell and despite him being powerful, so was Bill but he had been banished or at least prohibited from entering hell. So if all of hell knew he was the creation of the dream demon, he’d most likely be a target for everyone. And it didn’t help that the king of hell was already beginning to feel suspicious of him. So Alastor decided to turn up the charm and get into the king’s good graces. Since the beginning of Alastor’s existence, he was taught how to recognize and manipulate one’s feelings. He could tell Lucifer still yearned for affection and companionship.

It wasn’t easy, the two would constantly argue but after finding things in common and Alastor suddenly being sweet; Lucifer began to fall for Alastor. And Alastor caught the fallen angel into his web, what he didn’t expect was to fall for him too.

Unfortunately, his secret was discovered for the last seven years he was involved in Weirdmaggedon. Lucifer had known about Bill Cipher especially his time as Angel in heaven, and he wasted no time shielding hell. So learning that Alastor was created by him was devastating and angry. He felt so lied to and having Charlie be so close to danger was enough for him to kick Alastor out of the hotel. Both were heartbroken, Lucifer despite his anger still had feelings towards Alastor and Alastor had never felt such affection for anyone.

And since Lucifer wanted no trace of Bill in hell, it was best he left hell entirely. Besides, he’s been dealing with Bill telepathically wanting him to return back to earth.

Bill and Alastor now

Since Alastor is an anchor, Bill is able to return to earth but not physically for he’s still trapped in the Theraprism. They’re all they have left now since both lost everything. For Alastor, it seems strange because now he’s the one taking care of his creator because Bill is slowly losing his mind, but still wants to try again.

Unknown to them, Ford has discovered they are both back and decided to hunt them down. Not just Ford, but also Lucifer and the rest of the residents at the hotel. Lucifer decided he would be the one to bring Alastor back to hell, (he kicked him out of the hotel but not hell) and he wanted to apologize for his overreaction.

I wrote this while still brainstorming ideas and plots for my au. Cause I plan to do one shot comics or maybe mini comics. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to write a fanfiction of it though since I still need to finish some other stuff.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Yes! That would be amazing! I’m so happy that you liked this idea as I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not or if this was too weird (Killer Klowns from Outer Space is a laugh)

If you make this into a story that would be so cool, as Darling spirals into fear, worry and how she’s supposed to trust anyone while navigating her world with her new stand as normal civilians wind up injured, killed or in some strange death state because of the Aliens using their Stands (So she can’t bring herself to include her human friends or family as they’ll just end up getting hurt, killed or worse, turned into livestock)

Darling also now has to worry about all these creepy and strange men watching, stalking and following her while coming to terms with her friends being aliens (Though Bruno warns Darling that those with the Stand Mutation attract Stand Users once their kind comes to their targeted planets and its really just a matter of time)

The one she’s most afraid of however is the mysterious Boss of these Aliens as he must be the leader for a reason if he can tell these dangerous guys what to do

Darling does end up trusting Bruno and his Gang as she remembered how kind and caring they were to her and when they fought to keep her safe from one of the enemies that she realizes they’re her allies (Except Fugo, he was too afraid to go against the Boss so he never came to Earth)

I’m not sure what her stand can do but maybe it has something related to Outer Space like gravity or she can heal by giving a warming and gentle effect to her target’s bodies, which results in an obsession to feel that gentle warmth again? (Maybe she’ll call it Thirty Seconds to Mars or Chemical Romance?)

Compiling all these asks below to get everything down one one big coherent post

Will also be doing the LA squadra centric ones in a separate post.

Pt2

Pt3

Pt 4

Ok so for the stand I do think a gravity stand would work, a lot more noticeable to darling. Thirty seconds to Mars may work or I propose another name, Human after all (after the daft punk album). I think it would work by removing gravity from objects but can possibly affect a whole area if she's in distress. Stands would probably work a bit different, more like typical abilities rather than manifestations.

Of course she initially freak out when it activates and probably makes it worse. Of course la squadra is watching the entire time and is shocked when a familiar looking girl bursts into the room to help. No way, she can't possibly be related to the emperor.

Turns out the emperor visited earth awhile back to blow off steam before the initiative began, not knowing that humans were compatible (but turns out mutation significantly improves the odds, as otherwise it would almost 0%). Diavolo only realizes when the footage is sent to him, there's no doubt the girls is his but he doesn't remember that other woman. So he sends Doppio to bring them both back.

Trish catches darling going through her clothes in an attempt and asks her what's up? She got asked out by one of the observatory tourists and she's desperately looking for an outfit. Turns out you don't get to many guys asking you out when your hauled up in an observatory for most of your time. She's happy to take her out shopping for something, good to see darling out. But of course work comes first and darling ditches to date when she sees a meteorite fall into the nearby mountains. She hikes to find it only to discover Doppio out cold (he wasn't ready for the pressure difference on earth) and she takes him back.

Now Doppio is making arrangements, unfortunately he's been a little too busy. La sqaudra knows what's up and want to catch her quick.

Diavolo being as tall as he is has to have measures in place to shrink himself willingly as he can't just do it on a whim. He's the tallest recorded of his kind. He'll still be tall but not as bad as humans being roughly knee hight on him like usual.

La squadra as be drastically taller, around the tallest human records with Risotto and Prosciutto being stand outs.

Then bucci gang would be a few inches taller.

I can't really think of anymore to elaborate on as you've cover a lot of ground.

[elfryn]

Fanfiction. Title: Match-Point. Word count: 457. Ratings: General Audiences. Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor. Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: Kara wants to punch someone. Hard. Maybe even pull their hair and knock out some teeth. Kick them in the shin. She really, really wants to punch someone right now and that someone is none other than Lena Luthor. Links: ao3, tips!

Commissions info here!

Kara wants to punch someone. Hard. Maybe even pull their hair and knock out some teeth. Kick them in the shin. She really, really wants to punch someone right now and that someone is none other than Lena Luthor.

Taking a deep breath, she concentrates on the task before her. It's the women's intercollegiate volleyball final. Kara has the serve. Her team has the second match point of the time break. The opposing team is two points behind. Kara has to make a clean shot, she has to get that ball into the opponent's court. If it were any other team, any other school, she wouldn't doubt her ability to make an ace point. But she's playing Cadmus Academy, against the only team with Lena Luthor as their libero. And Lena Luthor is annoyingly good at her job.

The buzzer sounds, and Kara prepares for her serve. It's a fast, strong ball that goes exactly where she aimed. Lena is there in seconds, she dives, and her small hand with its long, slender fingers prevents the ball from hitting the floor. Her teammates prepare for the counter-attack, running from all directions in a synchronised attack. Kara watches as her team tenses up, spreads out and joins in, trying to cover as much of the court as possible. The blocker waits and jumps at the right moment, but the ball rebounds and goes up.

Nia dives and saves the ball, Alex lifts it and Kara smashes it. Lena handles it again. Kelly sets it up, and Andrea cuts it back. Kate saves. And on they go, for forty long, painful seconds, the ball doesn't hit the ground. For forty torturous seconds, the ball flies across the court defying the laws of gravity at an almost imperceptible speed. Until, finally, it falls. The last serve of the day is made by Kara who hits the ball centimetres from Lena's foot, cementing her team's victory in the intercollegiate. Marking Kara's first victory against Lena since they met for the first time two and a half years ago.

A primal scream from deep within Kara forces itself down her throat and echoes through the gym. Nia, Alex, Iris and Kate and all the others join her in screaming.

While one side of the court erupts in joy and victory and pride, the other mourns the defeat they accept with resignation.

"Luthor!" Kara shouts from the other side of the court.

"Danvers," Lena replies in a not-so-loud tone.

"I won." She speaks proudly, her smile as bright as the sun.

"I lost."

"Will you go out with me now?

Lena holds Kara's gaze for a long moment, then amid the tears of defeat, she allows herself a small smile.

"Yes, I will."

[thegeekproblem]

Doctor/Rose Mutant AU Plot Bunny

Dr. John Smith (i had the 10th doctor in my mind when i wrote this but you do you) is a mutant known as The Doctor throughout history. He's the founder of the Torchwood Institute, an organisation that gives a safe haven to mutants all over the world since 1941. It's run by Captain Jack Harkness, a mutant with Rapid Cellular Regeneration, meaning he heals real quick, so quick that it has slowed his aging so much he's practically immortal and has run the institute since its founding.

The Doctor's ability is Space/Time Manipulation. He's a prodigy, university level at 10 y/o. He discovers his mutant abilities young, but cannot control them yet. When he's a teenager he makes his first long accidental jump to the near future. 2030 or something like that. More than half of the population of the world is gone in a war, mutants are completely extinct. He spends a year in this future before he’s able to control his own abilities and jump again back to his own time. He returns from the accidental jump and decides he needs to change the course of history to change the future so he embarks in a journey through time to save humanity. He calls himself the Doctor so he isn’t found.

In present day a powerful mutant with Telepathic-Telekinetic abilities, code-named Bad Wolf, is trapped in a government facility dedicated to exterminate mutants. They say that in the wrong hands the power of Bad Wolf could be disastrous.

Donna Noble, vice principal of Torchwood and an empath, connects with Bad Wolf through the fear she's projecting. The Doctor must break Bad Wolf out the facility and protect her and maybe with that save the world.

And of course, because I'm a timepetals shipper the doctor and rose fall in love through the rescue and reacclimatising her to life outside the facility after being trapped in there for so long.

Torchwood Institute:

The Doctor - Space/Time Manipulation

Rose Tyler - Telepathy & Telekinesis 

Jack Harkness - Rapid Cellular Regeneration

Ianto Jones - Technopath

Gwen Cooper - Super Strength

Toshiko Sato - Suggestion

Mickey Smith - Non-Mutant

Martha Jones - Healing

Donna Noble - Empathy

Amy (Pond) Williams - Anti-Gravity

Rory Williams - Rapid Cellular Regeneration (but he’s unaware of it until an incident happens)

Melody (Pond) Williams - Anti-Gravity

Sarah Jane Smith - Lie Detection

Wilfred Mott - Non-Mutant

Bill Potts - Teletransportation

Amy and Melody use the name Williams because they were hiding the fact that they were mutants until they're found out and run away to Torchwood. Rory follows them there because he won't abandon his family.

Government (i didn't actually think about the name of the organisation but you know, fuck the government)

The Master - Power Negation/Pretends to be Non-Mutant

Clara Oswald - Memory Manipulation (she works for them until she gets to run away with the Doctor)

Adam Mitchel - Non-Mutant

Owen Harper - Non-Mutant

A/N: i decided to post some of the ideas i had for fics that for a while were only collecting dust in my drive. i'm trying to finish the series that i started back in 2020 that i completed the outline but life got in the way so i haven't written anything in a while. i also have a lot of incomplete ideas but i don't think i'll write most of them so i'll share what i have and if this inspires some of you please feel free to write this and share it with me so i can go and read it 🥰 also, this is as far as the idea got, i hadn't watched anything with the 13th doctor when i wrote this so i didn't get to how her companions would fit in this au but feel free to add them if you like. this was born as a doctor/rose fic so everything else was an after thought, though i always try to give space to every character i write that's why i had notes of so many of them

[nerdymariamania]

Before "The Book of Bill" is released, I wanted to finally put out my thoughts that have been plaguing me for years now.

Bill's repentance from the axolotl, is being sent to "another place, another time."

And his statue is in our world, just as he is in their world. But in the Graphic novel, there are two instances of ciphers that say "Cipher lives." Along with Stan acting very off during the duration of the Cipher Hunt.

Tons of people believe in Same Coin Theory...

But, I have an even crazier theory!

[Preface: We know our universe is "canon" (as Canon as it can get) to the Gravity Falls universe, because at the end of Journal 3, it's basically spelled out to you that once Ford dropped the books into the bottomless pit, they ended up here. Alex and Rob Renzetti both said that the journal is as Canon compliant to the show as it can be (the show being the end all be all of canon.)]

In our world, Stan and Soos don't exist. But we hear them constantly throughout the clues of Cipher Hunt. Stan is even singing "We'll meet again." Which Bill sang in the finale. And the axolotl specifically stated "another place, another time." For Cipher only. Not Stan and Soos as well. So, why do we keep hearing them? Bill is shown multiple times to be perfect at imitating voices. He imitates Soos in Dreamscaperers. It's implied that he imitates Dipper in Sock Opera. Etcetera, etcetera!

What is a bigger penance than introducing yourself to a gigantic platform, as the villain, and even showing that you lost. That you were destroyed. Not by magic, just by a man who cares about his family. And in this new world, that man shares a few things in common with you. Well, the main thing he shares, is the same voice. Stan Pines and Bill Cipher share the same voice. Or more importantly, the same voice actor. Who is also the creator of the hit TV show Gravity Falls.

So, my theory is that Bill Cipher got sent to our dimension. And to not shirk the blame, but to show our world what a monster he is, showed us his downfall as a villain. So yes, in the Cipher Hunt, we hear Stan acting not himself. But here's the thing, that wasn't Stan. It was Alex. Bill was using Alex to create the Cipher Hunt, the literal headstone of Gravity Falls, Bill's final resting place. Bill was imitating Stan and Soos' voices, but not because he was imitating them, he was using Alex's vocal abilities. Who set up the Cipher Hunt? Alex. Who created Gravity Falls? Alex. And what is my damning pieces of evidence? In the Cipher Hunt treasure box, a drawing of Stan, Soos, and McGucket on there, all with their signatures. And when you shined a blacklist on it, Bill was drawn there too, with his signature, saying 'Stay Paranoid.' And on a card, all of the characters, in blacklight, had Bill's eyes. You know the last signature on both drawings? Alex Hirsch. To announce his own Reddit ask me anything, Bill sent out several tweets on Alex's Twitter. And even said he made a deal with Alex at one point.

Throughout the Weirdmageddon trilogy, not only at the end of the credits, the backwards whispering is Bill saying "I'm watching you." It also says instead of created by Alex Hirsch, created by Bill Cipher.

And what is at the end of the TV show, Gravity Falls? A flickering video of Bill's statue, the first clue of the Cipher Hunt. And if you find him and shake his hand, like "Stan" told you to, he might not need penance. He might not need one man's body. He already has a legion of worshippers in this universe that "Alex" helped him obtain. Why not put them to good use?

[emeraldspiral]

if you've watched Gravity Falls, how do you think a crossover with Invader Zim would be? Would Dib try to summon Bill Cipher to catch Zim? How would that backfire? Zim maybe follows Dib to Gravity Falls. Also, I think maybe unlike Dib, Dipper and Mabel would like to befriend Zim even if he's an alien, tho' Zim would push them away or be scared of they knowing he's an alien, while Zim denies everything and Dib tries to expose him; also Mabel being friendly with everyone and maybe the voice of reason (because she's neither straight nor a man xD), Ford being the father wishes he had also maybe Dib venting to Dipper how Dipper and Mabel are better siblings than him and Gaz. Also that crashed UFO. I can see both Dib AND Zim wanting to explore that place. Dib because it’s a crashed alien ship and Zim because he knows how rare alien life is in this part of the galaxy and he wants to know what exactly came here. Ending with Dipper forced to leave, because I think he'd love to stay in a place so full of paranormal, but he can at least get a way to stay in contact with Dipper (as a treat) and he finally gets a human friend by his age. Sorry for yapping too much.

I think IZ and GF have different rules in play. In IZ, everyone is terminally stupid except Dib and no one's allowed to see through Zim except for him. But in GF, nobody's as stupid as the average Zim character, and plenty of people are allowed to recognize and admit that the paranormal exists. Dipper is basically the Dib of his universe, so it'd be really OOC for him to either not see that Zim is an alien or not believe Dib about him being a hostile alien.

I could see a scenario where Dib knows Zim is at GF, but hasn't found him yet, bumps into Dipper, they hit it off and he believes Dib about Zim. Meanwhile, Zim runs into Mabel. She recognizes that he's an alien immediately, but Zim pretends to be benevolent and she buys it and he becomes her new Crush of the Week. She doesn't believe Dipper and Dib when they finally meet up to warn her about Zim, because she's been with him all day and he's been "nothing but a perfect gentlemen". But then Zim inevitably shows his true colors and Mabel gets her heart broken once again, but then she switches to Dib as the target of her affections after seeing the way he handled that alien jerk who lied and messed with her feelings.

Dib, upon meeting Bill absolutely would fail to heed Dipper's warnings because he overestimates how much of a threat Zim is and his own ability to outsmart Bill.

Because GF's world is softer than IZ's and we're playing by their rules since the story's taking place on their turf, the ending wouldn't be super harsh on Dib. Dipper and Mabel would save him and he'd feel like an ass for not listening to Dipper after Dipper was the first person to ever listen to him. But Dipper would forgive him, recognizing that he was just desperate to stop Zim and thought he was doing the right thing. Overall, Dib would really enjoy his time in GF, but knows he can't stay there because duty calls him to return to his city to keep watch over Zim, but maybe he dreams of moving there after he graduates because it's basically his idea of paradise.

[ultimatelytired]

Contract pt. 2

word count: 39,011

Fandom: Gravity Falls Pairing: Stanley Pines x Alvah (OC) Pronouns: He/She/They (usually goes be she/her) Relationship: Problematic Occupation: Guardian Ability: Demonic Powers

Since the individual is a resident of the Nightmare Realm, while also being the embodiment of evil from across multiple dimensions, the power they have is almost unlimited. They are capable of traveling to different dimensions throughout the multiverse but when they do step foot in such dimensions their powers become limited unless they are able to form a contract, similar to Bill through his deals, that allows them to have full access to their powers. They are capable of shapeshifting their appearance to blend in with the locals or at least influence the minds of those who set their eyes on them, but if there were anyone to bear witness to their true form, their own minds would destroy itself and drive them into madness.

Keys:

n/a

Warnings:

blood, violence, and spoilers for those who haven't read the book of bill.

"Contract" pt. 1, pt.3

there are bound to be mistakes in here that I a. missed or b. could not be fucked fixing.

season 2, episode 12. a tale of two stans

Her eyes widened slightly when Ford pulled the gun strapped to his back and aimed it at her, causing her to halt in her tracks and stare at the end of the barrel. She raised her hands and opened her mouth to say something but he had already pulled the trigger and a beam shot out of the gun and shot right through her face, taking out the entirety of the left side of her face.

"Alvah!" Stan shouts, this causes Ford to flinch and slowly lower his gun and stare at the woman in front of him. Her remaining eye slowly moved to look at the giant-sized hole in her face, and instead of the red substance known as blood dripping down her face, there was a black-like tar oozing out and dripping down the side of her body. Her eye looked back towards Ford and the shocked expression slowly twisted into a sadistic grin as maniacal laughter erupted out of her, a black smoke with a red glow burst out of the gaping hole in her face that was full of eyes staring at him. She raised her hand and gestured to the shadow to return inside where it escaped from before hovering her hand over the wound on her face and healing it, the way it healed was odd. Instead of seeing skin weave itself back together, her skin was like a shattered porcelain doll slowly putting itself together piece by piece.

"Is that how you greet an old friend, Stanford?" she asked after the last crack was sealed up, and it was as if she was never broken in the first place.

"Alvah, I... I didn't recognize you." he spoke as he looked her up and down, she did the same thing and sighed.

"That's on me, I suppose. This isn't a form you're accustomed to seeing." they all watched as she approached Ford, placing a hand on his shoulder that slowly glided across to his other shoulder when she moved behind him, soon both of her hands were on his shoulders but when she peeked out they were surprised to see that she-- or rather, HE looked different "This one was more to your liking, was it not?" even his voice made them shudder. Dipper and Mabel take a closer look at Alvah, and their jaws drop when they recognize him, it is him. It was the mystery man from McGucket’s memory that none of them had any recollection of, the man who was the cause of McGucket’s decline in sanity.

"I see you've not grasped the concept of personal space in the years I have been gone." he let out a laugh as he wrapped his arms around Ford's neck, nuzzling his cheek against his more rugged one.

"Nope. But I've missed you, Fordsy~" he cooed out, he snickered and pulled away when Ford aimed the gun at his face again, raising his hands up in surrender "You know those human weapons aren't going to work on me, but it is a pain to fix these bodies. That was the first time it was damaged since I first made it." he let out a huff as he lowered his weapon.

"Then it's a good thing that they can even penetrate a body like yours." he looked towards his brother again, who was staring at the both of them in shock, and grumbled when he felt Alvah's hands caressing his body "What are you doing now?" he let out a grunt when the end of his coat was lifted up a little as his hands glided up and down his torso, squeezing it a little before moving up to his biceps.

"I see you've bulked up a little throughout your travels. You're not that puny little stick that would get blown over by a small gust of wind." Ford sweat dropped when he pulled his hands back, wiping away the imaginary tear running down his face while sniffling a little "I can't help but be a little... proud." he laughed when Ford pushed him away by the face.

"Enough of your needless chatter, devil." Alvah let out a laugh as he lifted himself off the ground, floating in front of Ford with a cheeky grin.

"A devil you summoned to care for your loved ones." Ford let out a sigh at Alvah's childish behavior, seems he hasn't changed a bit. He turned towards the audience staring at them in bewilderment as Alvah hovered close behind him, his head hovering over his shoulder with his long black hair draping itself over his shoulder "I did as our contract stated, Ford. I kept your loved ones, and their loves ones, alive." his eyes zoned in on the poor state they were in and glared at Alvah.

"You were supposed to protect them, Alvah! Protect and keep them out of danger!" now this caused him to scoff as he rolled off of Ford's shoulder, he continued to float in front of him as he snapped his fingers and they all watched as his hand burst into a black and red flame and a scroll formed in his hands that slowly unraveled. In a text they could not understand, except for Ford himself, Alvah pointed to a specific section.

"It says I am to keep your loved ones alive. Not keep them out of danger, nor protect them. As long as they do not die under my watch, I haven't broken our contract." he shrugged his shoulders as Ford took the contract, reading over it to see that it in fact, did say that "Perhaps you should have worded it like that." he lowered the contract and glared up at Alvah, who continued to grin.

"You..." he then sighed.

"But it's also my fault that I got stuck here for thirty years." this caused him to raise a brow, Alvah points to a different section this time "For the time you are not in Gravity Falls, I am to remain here until you return. That was technically to protect your research and whatnot, but I never would have thought to change it when you disappeared." this managed to crack a smirk on his face.

"So you could not return to the Nightmare Realm?" this caused him to scowl.

"No, no I could not."

"Hang on, hang on." they both look to where Stanley spoke up, approaching the two of them with a confused expression "You... you two know each other? And Alvah, you're... a man?" Ford shook his head with a sigh.

"Yes, we know each other. I am the one who assigned him to take care of things in my absence, but I see that he failed to stop you from reactivating the portal." he just shrugged.

"And for me being a man, well, no." they watch as he lowered himself to the ground "I am neither man nor woman, I am not a being that can be identified by something like sex or pronouns. I am an interdimensional being, an embodiment of all that is evil. An amalgamation of evil from across multiple dimensions and parallel worlds. I am... evil itself." he looked even more confused, Ford raised his hand in front of Alvah's face.

"He is quite literally the embodiment of all that is evil, created in the Nightmare Realm that managed to gain a consciousness." he nods.

"In simpler terms, yes. My name wasn't even Alvah, to begin with," he then gestures to the man beside him "Ford is the one who bestowed the name "Alvah" onto me because he didn't want to call me by my title." this caused him to huff, pushing his glasses up a little.

"The Harbinger of Chaos is hardly a name." he shrugged, he winced when he was flicked in the nose.

"You were trying to be sweet when you gave me the name as well, not knowing that the biblical meaning behind "Alvah" means evil." he then chuckled, leaning back and allowing his body to float again while resting his head in his hands "It's the reason I even kept the name." Ford sniffled.

"Wait!" turning their heads, they see Dipper looking up at Alvah in shock while flipping through the pages of the third journal "Harbinger of Chaos? That's you? That was you, Alvah?" Ford's eyes widened at the sight of his journal, along with the fact that there were children present, now that he fully registered it.

"Aw~ you read my chapter. He said some real nice things about me, didn't he?" Dipper gasped when Alvah snapped his fingers and the journal disappeared from his grasp, he read through a couple of lines and snickered softly while showing Ford "With the few details I gave you, I think you captured my likeliness rather nicely." he tried taking the journal from him but this only caused Alvah to laugh and pull it away from Ford's reach.

"Alvah, give it back to me!" he laughed.

"Nuh-uh, it's his now." with that he tossed it back over to Dipper, who just barely caught it "He managed to find it all on his own, I don't think that hiding spot was good enough. A different snot-nosed brat managed to find your second journal as well, so you're not good at hiding things."

"Right." he cleared his throat and dusted himself off, Alvah floated behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders "It seems you already know who Alvah is, but allow me to properly introduce him. This is the Harbinger of Chaos, a being I contacted to keep my research safe and those I care about alive." he glared at Alvah, who snickered beside him.

"And you only did it because things went south for you. You never would have formed a contract with me if he didn't--" Ford promptly slapped his hand across his mouth, silencing him.

"They do not need to know the full details." Alvah scoffed and pushed his hands away, his eyes then moved to where Stan stood along with the kids.

"Other than that, he is correct. From the time you all stepped foot in Gravity Falls, I have been watching every little thing you've done. Every. Little. Thing." when he said that he booped them each on the nose "However, I am not allowed to directly interfere with what you do with your daily lives. So with each adventure you've been on, I was just watching in the shadows and making sure you didn't die at the end of the day. Like so." with a snap of his fingers, a burst of smoke formed in front of them that was playing back to each adventure. If they were being honest, it always felt like they were being watched, but seeing it for themselves, made them shudder "At times I had to rush you for you to get to places in time, at others I would manipulate the background to help you."

season 1

for the gnomes, she knew mabel would be walking into a trap to become the gnome queen and hurried dipper along to go save her.

when the "sea monster" was trapped in the cave entrance, she snapped her fingers so when it was thrashing, a particularly large chunk of debris would fall and make it malfunction.

made the sun rise so that the wax figures would melt.

spoke to mabel to get her to hurry along and stop gideon from killing dipper.

couldn't do much but would have stepped in if the ghosts were going to kill dipper, mabel and the other teenagers.

kept an eye on dipper in case the manotaurs or the multi-bear were going to double cross him.

kept her eye on the doubles if they overpowered dipper and would set off the sprinklers if things went south.

their lives weren't particularly in danger but if they got too far from gravity falls she would have chased after them herself.

each time they went back in time she was there to make sure they didn't get stuck in that point of time.

made sure mabel and stan wouldn't fall to their death and would prevent dipper from getting too hurt against rumble.

kept a close eye on the twins when gideon shrunk them down as well as stan if they didn't figure out he was ticklish.

kept her eye on the summerween trickster so he didn't get too close to the kids, almost interfered if soos didn't eat it from the inside.

if they weren't able to apprehend the monster she would have interfered.

no real threat.

just kept a close eye on them.

kept a close eye on the children in case they weren't able to figure out the body swapping.

no real threat.

was there to help them save waddles, but if push turned to shove, she would have interfered.

was the one to keep bill in check and save the children, stan and soos from intentionally losing to bill. 

would have killed that little brat gideon if he did serious damage to the twins.

season 2

was there to protect the children and stan from becoming zombie food.

distracted the shapeshifter when they were in the caves and would have killed it if they didn't manage to capture it in the cryo-pod.

would have set the mini-golf park on fire if those little "golf people" really did hurt the children.

made sure bill didn't do anything "too" bad to dipper when he took his body.

kept her eye on giffany and would have short-circuited the place if things got out of hand.

no real threat.

was the one that got mcgucket moving so he could protect them from getting their mind erased by his memory gun.

kept her eye on the children when they went through globnar.

she and the love god kind of know each other, so she threatened that little cherub to not do anything funny while she was there.

kept her eye on them but couldn't do much with that ghost lingering.

"I now see what you meant by just "keeping them alive", Alvah." he just giggled with a shrug.

"I have seen every possibility, every timeline, every choice, every win, and every failure you have ever chosen. I know the outcome of every scenario, and even today, I knew would be the day Stanley succeeds in finishing the portal to bring Ford back to his original dimension." this revelation slowly caused Stan to look up at him.

"So... did that mean you knew that my brother would be trapped in the first place?" this caused them to look at him, a hint of betrayal in his eyes as he looked towards Alvah "If you were watching that whole time, did that mean you could have helped me save my brother? You could have helped me speed up the process instead of watching me wallow in misery for thirty years as I tried to fix my mistake?!" Alvah, whose face was blank as he stared down at Stan, blinked slowly before a soft but pained smile appeared across his lips.

"Yes, I could have." Stan's face slowly scrunched up in anger as he grabbed a hold of Alvah, pulling him close.

"You did nothing! You could have done something to help me, but you didn't! You said you were on my side... you said..." Alvah exhaled deeply through his nose as he gently took Stan by his wrists and pulled them off him, he lowered his face and gave him a sympathetic look.

"I would have if I could have." he spoke, Stan takes his hands back from Alvah as he refused to look at him "There are events in this timeline that I am not allowed to prevent or speed up. Thirty years ago, your brother was meant to go through that portal, he was meant to be trapped and it was on this day at this time that he was meant to return because of you and your efforts."

"Still, you could have helped me." this caused Alvah to sigh.

"Alright, let me break it down for you." they watch the smoke disappear when he slaps his hands together and then pulls them apart, they watch a blue thread surround the room as he pulls his hands away. He floats off the ground and starts looking through the thread before finding a specific one, he brings himself down and holds it out in front of them "Here is the timeline we are currently in. Here it contains every event that's occurred leading up to today. See how the thread is flowing smoothly? No hiccups or anything. My interferences are minor, and it doesn't cause any damage. Now let's go back thirty years, to the day where all this began." he pulls the thread back and it stops at a park that was glowing bright, he enhances on it, and they see in both awe and shock the exact moment Stan accidentally pushed Ford into the portal.

"Now let's say I did help you on the reconstruction of the portal, say instead, that it took us a couple weeks or months to get it fixed and we bring Ford back. Ta-dah, the day is saved." pulling his hand back a thread branches out from the original one and expands out "Because of this change, a new timeline is created out of the original; a new story is born. So, what happens to the original one?" his hand hovers under the original thread and they flinch when he closed his hand over it, crushing it beneath his palm and severing it completely "It's effectively destroyed and erased like it never existed, meaning everything that's happened so far never-- or rather, it never WILL happen. And even so, I'll get into serious trouble if I were to mess with serious events in the timeline."

"But, like," Alvah makes everything disappear when Mabel spoke, looking all nervous under his gaze "aren't you like a super powerful being? Can't you break the rules? Couldn't you have helped Grunkle Stan save his brother?" this caused him to chuckle, kneeling to Mabel's level so his drastic change in height didn't scare or overwhelm her.

"I find it flattering that you think I'm oh so powerful, I am, and I do tend to bend the rules a little bit, but if I were to break this..." they watch his already pale skin turn paler as fear struck his face, he's now curled up in a ball while clutching his head "I'll get in trouble with... them. It's been thirty years, and I've neglected my duties because I was stuck here, they're gonna yell at me." the sound that escapes him is like a whine like croak.

"Ah hem, uh, who exactly is them?" he points at Dipper, shaking his head.

"Someone you don't wanna know and don't wanna cross. They may seem all nice and mystical, and sure they're an extra-dimensional being that could wipe out my very existence but doesn't because if they do then they're erasing the very aspect of evil and they can't have that because it's just a pain... anyways, they're basically god." he lets out a sigh, pressing his hand against his forehead "So you see, Stanley, I couldn't help you even if I wanted to. The only thing I was allowed to do was... watch." his shoulders slump when Stan refused to look at him.

"So, when you say you're evil..." 

"I am every bad choice you make, every selfish action, every terrible mistake. You could say I'm like that devil on your shoulder telling you to ignore the angel."

"So, you tell us to do bad things?"

"Pft, no. I'm just giving you the option, I'm not telling you to do anything. You're the one who chose it in the end, so that technically makes you a bad person." he then shrugged his shoulders, they then point up at him.

"Then what about old man McGucket? We saw that memory of you two, or the woman you. You two were arguing about something." he then let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and messing with it.

"I went to see him to say sorry, and what did I get in return for my efforts? I got shot in the face!" he looked at Ford and saw him looking up at him in confusion "It was back when you two were first testing out the portal and he got sucked in by accident, remember how he lost his mind because he saw something that freaked him out?" he nodded his head.

"Yes? It was what convinced me to quit the project." he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Hehe, yeah, well he saw... me." they all stare at him in confusion, not understanding what seeing him mea-- they were taken aback when Ford grabbed him by the arms and started shaking him.

"You mean Fiddleford saw you? He saw the real you?!" Alvah manages to rip himself free from Ford's hold and push him back.

"Yes! But it was completely by accident. We figured you two were getting close to finishing the portal but we didn't realize just how quickly, so imagine my surprise when I was relaxing in the Nightmare Realm and some scrawny little human poked his head through a hole in our dimension." he can almost remember it like it was yesterday, just casually relaxing in the Nightmare Realm because there's basically nothing to do except laze around when a hole opened up. Curiously, they did approach it and concluded that Ford and his little assistant Fiddle-whatshisname had finally managed to successfully finish the portal, but what caught them by surprise was when a head poked through. They recognized the human as Ford's assistant, they tilted their head to the side as they stared at him while the human looked up at them and their face slowly morphed into one of pure terror.

"You... aren't supposed to be here." they spoke, voice disoriented through the chaos that was their body. They sighed softly when the human screamed in fear so they did the only sane thing they could think of, they raised their hand and pushed him right back where he came from, and the hole disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.

"What was that?" looking over they see Bill approach them, his singular eye tinged with curiosity.

"I believe your toy has finally finished his project." this made the triangular figure glow with glee, clapping his hands joyfully as he floated circles around their head "Congratulations, Bill. You're finally getting your doomsday." he let out a laugh as he hovered in front of their face.

"I know, right? I'm gonna go round up the others!" ah, good times, he then shrugs his shoulders.

"He saw my real body and I pushed him out before any more damage could be done, or if he saw anyone else." Ford starts rubbing his temples to ease the forming headache, Mabel raises her hand "Yes?"

"What does having seen your body have anything to do with McGucket going coo-coo?" he opens his mouth to speak but stops when Dipper opens the journal.

"Oh, I know the answer to that. It says here that since their body is made of all the evil throughout countless dimensions, parallel worlds, and alternate universes their body is so corrupted that if anyone were to gaze upon their true form then their minds would slowly descend into madness from all the chaos stored into one being." Alvah snaps his fingers.

"Ding, ding, ding. You are correct." he then sighs again "Because of that and our contract, I went to say sorry but even in a different form Fidds still recognized me and lost his mind. I tried to calm him down but in the end, he made me lose my temper and then I got shot with the memory gun." Ford heard him use the nickname he usually used for Fiddleford, sputtering a little when he used it.

"Fidds?" Alvah laughed.

"Oh, yeah! Ever since you kids helped him jog his memory, he came to me and asked, or more like demanded, I tell him everything he's forgotten. So once a week I'd visit him to help him remember what he's forgotten, we've gotten quite close since then." he winks at Ford, shrugging his shoulders as he floated off the ground again and wrapped his arms around his neck to nuzzle into his cheek once more "Aren't you happy we're getting along? You always scolded me when I made fun of him." he snickers when he started pushing him off again, struggling against Alvah's iron grip.

"Sure, but I'm not happy that he spiraled so deep because of my mistake." Alvah hummed softly.

"Then what are you going to do now?" this caused him to look up at the demonic being, he pulled himself away and smirked at him "Now that you're back, I have completed my end of our contract. But how about we extend it a little longer?" Ford narrowed his eyes on him.

"What do you mean?" Alvah placed a finger on his chin as he looked up in thought.

"Well, since Stanley opened the portal a second time, the connection between this dimension and the Nightmare Realm has gotten stronger. Who knows how long until Bill forces his way through, and the end of the world happens." a look of concern immediately crossed his face, he looks away to think but gasped softly when Alvah was directly right in front of him "Extend our contract, Stanford, and I'll continue to keep you and your family alive. I'll make sure Bill doesn't come into contact with them this time. I'll make sure he won't be able to make deals with them like he did with Dipper. You can leave their well-being to me while you focus on keeping him at bay." his gaze hardened on the man floating in front of him, showing off those pearly whites that could tear him to shreds.

"... the last time I didn't listen to you, I was met with betrayal and nearly lost my mind." Alvah was silenced when Ford glared at him, knowing what he was going to mutter "If we change up the conditions of the contract... then so be it." Alvah's grin returned, this time stretching from ear to ear as he clapped his hands.

"You made a fine choice, Stanford!" snapping his fingers, the contract reappeared before them once more. A red spark of lightning shot out of his finger, and he changed that he was able to come and go from this dimension to the Nightmare Realm whether Ford was in Gravity Falls or not, Ford himself changed up the part where Alvah was to protect his family instead of just keep them alive. They made a few more changes here and there before concluding that they were satisfied with the new contract, Alvah grins as he reads through it "Now, until the defeat of Bill Cipher, I am to protect your family from any potential dangers while making sure you don't make any past mistakes. In return, I have more access to my powers while I am in this dimension, and I can do whatever I want as long as no human gets hurt in the process." Ford reads through it one more time before nodding his head.

"Yes... I am satisfied with the changes to the contract."

"Wonderful!" they watch as both Ford and Alvah lift their thumbs to their mouths before biting into their flesh hard enough to get it to bleed, they hover their open wound over the contract and let a few droplets get on the golden parchment until Alvah snaps his fingers again and the palm of his hand burst into flames. This time a quill appeared, and he used the blood as ink to sign his name then he gave the quill to Ford to do the same, after he finished signing it Alvah felt a surge of power course through his body "Oh, yeah. Now that's what I'm talking about!"

"Just remember to keep up your end of the contract." he only grinned as the contract rolled up and flew into his hand, it disappears when he closed his hand into a fist.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." his hands were then enveloped with a bright yet dark red flame, he stared at the smoldering flame before waving it off and booping Ford on the nose "With that I'll finally take my leave and return to the Nightmare Realm." this caused the others to stare in shock.

"You're leaving?" he laughed softly.

"Yeah, but not forever. I've been away from my real body for thirty years and I need to go and check up on it to see if I'm alright. I might be a little stiff for being away from it for so long." he then crossed his arms with a smile "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd miss me." the twins look at each other, still a little intimidated under the gaze of his red eyes, but they did nod a little.

"We'd like to think that you didn't lie to us this entire summer, Alvah. That the woman we've been hanging around didn't just look after us because of a contract, that you genuinely did it out of the kindness of your heart." this comment caused the smile on his face to drop a little, his face twitching as guilt ate at his nonexistent heart.

"I..." he couldn't finish his sentence and instead turned towards Ford, they let out a sigh but then gasped softly when something was thrown at them, Mabel was able to catch it and when they saw what it was their eyes widened "Take a look at that when you're not busy. You might find something worthwhile." it was his memory tube they were searching for that they couldn't find, he winked at them before finally turning away. Ford took a step forward and they watched as Alvah's body went limp, his body falling into Ford's arms before it could fall to the ground. There they watched as his shadow leaked out of him and loomed over them despite being attached to the wall "See you later." it spoke before a burst of laughter rang out through the room and the shadow disappeared.

Elsewhere... 

In the chaotic hell that was the Nightmare Realm, a somewhat surreal unstable void filled with swirling shades of dark purple, red, and yellow almost like a lava lamp. However, the being we're focusing on resides in a different section of the Nightmare Realm. Though the sky was still red they were surrounded by stars as they lay motionless in a body of clouds, that was when their body twitched as they stirred awake. After being in a coma for about thirty years, the Harbinger of Chaos arose rather slowly and weakly from where they had been lying for the past three decades. With a body made of a chaotic tangle of writhing, red tendrils and jagged lines adorned with numerous glowing red eyes that peer out from the dark depths of its flesh, they opened their mouth, and a horrific scream roared out that would deafen the ears of mortal beings... turns out they were just yawning. 

"Mm, it's been a long time." with a voice made up of the screams of all that they have slain, they spoke for the first time, and it almost felt foreign "I need to remember not to make the same mistake twice the next time I form a contract with a different being. I do not want to be stuck in such a predicament ever again." they note to themself, grabbing onto nothing to pull themself up until they were no longer laying in the luscious clouds that was their bed. Since their consciousness had been in that vessel alone, their main body had remained dormant the entire time and gave off the atmosphere like it was dead, but now their power was surging through their body and anyone residing in their section of the Nightmare Realm could feel that they had returned.  

The Harbinger of Chaos, the embodiment of evil throughout entire realities woke up one day and decided that they weren’t just going to be just a meaning, they were going to be alive. Where there is good, there will always be their counterpart that is evil, influencing individuals to do what they believe is the better option. As the devil on their shoulder, as the temptation that led Adam and Eve into biting into god’s sacred fruit, they are tasked with bringing the darkness out of people’s hearts. They do not crave world destruction, they do not want to destroy or take over dimensions, they think that’s just hard labor and a waste of time and effort, they’d rather just let their influence seep into the minds of others so they can destroy their own worlds. 

“My old friend, it has been a long time.” this being of evil perked up at the voice, tilting their head to the side at the sight of such a majestic being “I am a little hurt at the words you spoke.” they let out a chuckle themself. 

“I was only teasing. Besides, I knew you were watching ever since Stanley completed his mission to save his brother. And was I lying? The only reason you haven’t wiped me from existence is because if you do, the very concept of evil would disappear? But wouldn’t that be a good thing? Worlds without evil would be… perfect.” they let out a sigh. 

“But a world without evil would be out of balance. Good and even coexist together for a reason.” a hum is the only response they get. 

“Anyways, what are you doing in the Nightmare Realm? Did you venture across worlds just to visit little ol’ me? I’m flattered, really? It does things to my already inflated ego~” a chuckle leaves them as they float off, the Axolotl following close behind them “Are you worried Bill might pick up a fuss now that I’ve returned from dimension 46'\? He always avoids areas that you’re in.” the ethereal being let out a sigh. 

“I suppose. He was always one to bottle up all his feelings then let it all out at once rather than sharing his thoughts.” this caused them to let out a laugh while snapping their fingers to open windows to other worlds, peering into one they were met with talking frogs “I think it would be better for him to show a different side, don’t you think?” this caused them to roll all their eyes. 

“The last time he showed a vulnerable side he got his “heart” broken, remember? It’s the whole reason I was in dimension 46'\ in the first place.” they swipe their hand and peer into another window, now seeing a bunch of magic fly across their vision “If you want him to share his thoughts, you’ve got to force it out of him. The only way I see him talking about his feelings is in Theraprism.” 

“You’re right.” this earned them another laugh, they watched as a dark energy seeped out of the tip of their hand and infested the open windows that surrounded them, corrupting a few individuals before quickly closing the windows “I hope you don’t make too many changes with the Pines family, friend.” 

“You don’t need to worry about that, Axolotl. I’m a tough nut to crack.” this earned them a raised brow, and they shrunk a little under their gaze. 

“Perhaps, but what about that vessel of yours?” 

“What about it?” Axolotl gave them a knowing look, floating around them as they laughed softly. 

“You and I both know what I’m talking about.” they laugh a little more when they see all their eyes look in different directions, avoiding their bright gaze “Oh, I am only teasing. But you’ve been in that vessel for over thirty years. Sure, time works differently on beings with such a long lifespan, but your mind was in that of a human body for so long. You and I both know that things changed, whether for the better or for the worst.” they were met with silence, they peak over their shoulder and saw their gaze was back on the Pines family once again, namely on the Stan twins. 

“It… really complicates things.” 

“What will you do now?” their hand hovered over their view of dimension 46'\, their finger tapping against the image before swiping it away. 

“Fulfill my contract and come right back, I suppose.” 

“I see. Then, I’ll take my leave. I hope to see you well, my friend.” and with that, Axolotl left as silently as they appeared. They floated aimlessly in the chaos that was known as their home and sighed to themselves, this is why they preferred to laze around instead of doing fieldwork, it was always stressful and required too much thinking. They spent most of their time taking care of businesses that had been left unattended due to their absence and watched their influence fill the heads of people who couldn’t make a choice, it was always fun watching people be conflicted in their choices. Time certainly worked differently in the Nightmare Realm and different dimensions because when they looked back to dimension 46’\ the two brothers had left the basement and were staring at each other’s reflection, Ford even had a different change of clothes. 

“Perhaps I should inform them that I might be gone for a while to catch up on my work.” they thought it over before nodding their head and expanding their view on dimension 46’\, their finger circled around the image before allowing some of their consciousness to seep into the dimension before continuing their work. Alvah manifested within the second dimension (as a flat figure within the shadows) and looked around to find himself in the hallway, he travels through the shadows (similar to how giffany traveled through digital screens) until he found himself in the room where Stan and Ford were arguing with each other “I don’t suppose I’m interrupting anything, am I?” they both jump at the sound of his voice, turning in the direction it came from, they found the male version of Alvah in the reflection of the mirror in between them. They both turned their heads to look but found the space empty, so they looked back toward the mirror and saw him pressing his fingers against the glass, showing off the sharp, pearly whites as he looked at them. 

“You’re back, Alvah.” he chuckled softly, pushing himself off the surface of the mirror to cross his arms. 

“Yes, but not for long. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, so don’t expect to see me lingering around for a while. It won’t take me long to finish up, but I won’t physically be around to keep an eye on your family. But if you really need me, just say my name and I’ll be there to save the day.” he snickered softly when Ford scoffed, readjusting his glasses. 

“I highly doubt we’ll need you to “save the day”, Alvah. You’ve made it clear that you’re not allowed to directly interfere with events, as you’ve put it.” he chuckled and looked Ford up and down, Stan was a little startled when he saw the end of his brother’s coat lift up to mirror what Alvah was doing in their reflection. He was looking him up and down once more, throwing his coat open to see he swapped out that black sweater for a red one while also messing with his hair “Would you quit it, Alvah?” he demanded and attempted to smack his hands off him through their reflection, it almost looked like he was fighting air, but Alvah just laughed and pulled his hands back. 

“Oh, you know I’m just teasing.” he giggles softly when Ford tugged on his coat and tidied up his hair. 

“If you want to make yourself useful, could you deal with the U.S. government? Stanley here tells me that they know about the portal, I’m just surprised they haven’t kicked down the doors to the shack yet.” this caused Alvah to start laughing, throwing his head back before wiping away a tear and leaning against the mirror with his elbow. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about those government officials. They won’t be bothering us again.” they both shudder when they saw him lick his lips “I made sure of that.” Ford glared at him. 

“Alvah! I specifically told you not to harm humans.” he rolled his eyes with a groan. 

“Hey! That was after we signed the updated version of our contract! I did it before then, okay? I also made it look like an accident, so you shouldn’t have to worry about backup coming to check up on things. Oh, and I gathered up all the evidence they managed to secure while they were stalking us.” he snapped his fingers, and a stack of discs and folders appeared behind them on a desk “You’re welcome.” Ford hummed softly as he looked over the documents. 

“Well, this is perfect. Well done, Alvah. I knew I could count on you to handle matters like these.” Alvah bows his head rather dramatically with a smirk “I’ll deal with these; I’ll call you when I need you.” he twiddles his fingers to bid Ford goodbye, this leaves Stan and Alvah alone, to which the demonic being pressed his hands against the glass of the mirror once more to look at Stan, who refused to look at him. 

“Are you mad at me, Stanley?” he asked, tilting his head to the side to try and get a look at his face but with the angle the mirror was facing he couldn’t properly see him “Is it because I didn’t help you with the portal, or because I knew the truth the whole time? Or was it because I knew what exactly you were suffering and did nothing about it?” he continued to watch him through the mirror for any sort of reaction but even then, Stan didn’t give any sort of reaction. Lowering his gaze to his hands, he saw that they were balled up into fists and shaking a little, was it anger or sadness? His fingers tap against the glass a little in thought, thinking of any way to get him to turn around “… do you hate me, Stanley?” Stan flinched at the sound of the voice and that was enough to turn him around, and there he saw the version of Alvah that stood by his side through thick and thin, his Alvah. Looking at him were those sharp green eyes that held a warmth like an early morning day, that kind and beautiful smile that lit up a room, and hair that was as soft as a freshly washed blanket. 

“You…” she tilts her head to the side and watches Stan approach the mirror, finger raised to point at her face “You don’t get to ask those questions, Alvah. From the beginning, you knew who I was, but I didn’t stop to question you. I should have known that someone like you wouldn’t have stuck around for as long as you did out of goodwill. You probably programmed that body of yours to meet my preferred standards, huh?” she tilts her head again, her eyes looking around the room in thought before landing on his again. 

“That is how I construct my vessels, yes. They take up the physical traits that would best suit those who gaze upon it, just like the male version of this vessel. I adorn that appearance because when I was first summoned, I knew how much the female population made Ford uncomfortable. I copied the personality of somebody he once cherished, but I didn’t drop it because it’s quite funny.” she took a step back and opened her arms to gesture to herself “For you, this was the ideal type of woman you have been craving; both in appearance and personality. This body was modeled just for you.” she watched the way his face screwed up but this time he looked like he was in pain, he swallowed thickly while gritting his teeth. 

“Then, did anything… did anything matter to you?” he wasn’t looking at her, so he didn’t notice the way her eyes twitched a little “Did any of what we had… matter to you, at all?” he looked up at her and saw the way she just continued to stare at him, his shoulders slumped, and he turned away to leave. 

“… from the day we first met to today, I have never lied to you.” this caused him to look back at her but noticed that she was no longer in the mirror “Take that as you will, Stanley.” 

season 2, bonus episode. harbinger of chaos 

“So, dudes, Alvah gave you that memory tube that contained the memory old man McGucket erased from way back then?” Soos, who was unconscious the entire time Alvah revealed she wasn’t who she seemed, questioned as he and Wendy followed the twins to where they could watch the memory tube. They hadn’t seen Alvah in a couple of days, Grunkle Ford told them that he, she, they? Whatever, she was so busy in her dimension that she wasn’t going to be around much, and the times she was she was down in the basement helping Ford out with his stuff. It was quite odd in the beginning, mostly because Alvah usually stuck by Stan’s side, but from what they were told, when he first met her, she always stuck by his side and watched him through mirrors or shadows. Anyways, they snuck back into the former base of the Society of the Blind Eye to steal the contraption that allowed them to watch the stolen memories of Gravity Falls and hauled it back to the Mystery Shack “What do you think we’re gonna see?” he asked curiously as they hooked it up in the attic. 

“Do you think we’re gonna see the world's secrets?” Mabel suggests rather excitingly. 

“We don’t know what exactly McGucket put into the memory gun, but I highly doubt it went that far. It would probably be something recent during that time.” Dipper answers, Wendy hums softly. 

“Whatever it is, I’m glad I brought snacks. We can munch on these while we watch.” Dipper laughed softly at Wendy, lightening the mood. Now that they know that Alvah is actually a being of pure evil, he was a little nervous to peek into that mind of hers to see what was going on thirty years ago where it all began. Soos and Mabel rearranged the room a little so they would be more comfortable to watch, so after finally setting it up he inserted the memory tube and took a seat beside Mabel. The screen spurred to life and the dark room was filled with static until it turned black, it stayed like that for a couple minutes and it confused them, was something wrong with it? 

“Hey, dude, did you set it up right?” Dipper scratched his head as he stood up, approaching the screen to see if he had done something wrong. 

“I thought I did, maybe I missed—” he let out a startled shout as he fell backward when a loud crash came from the TV, looking back up at it, they were all startled to see the shadowed figure of Stanford in a mirror, and he looked enraged as his fists banged against the mirror glass. 

“FORD!” he shouted as he continued to bang on the glass, he pushed his face against the glass to get a look at Stanford and he found the young man hunched over his desk. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, which was true, now that he had angered Bill Cipher, that triangular bastard had been tormenting the poor human to the point he couldn’t even sleep anymore in fear that his body would be taken advantage of “You’re going to allow yourself to wallow away in this shack? You’re not going to do anything to retaliate against him, and why? Because you’re afraid? You allowed him to take advantage of you despite all my warnings, and now that you lost poor little Fiddlesticks you’ve come to realize that you’ve got no one left. Tell me, what exactly are you going to do now? Have you finally given up, Stanford?” 

“As… as long as I don’t give in, he won’t win.” he glares back at the mirror where Alvah lets out a malicious cackle, his fists continuing to bang against the glass. 

“You think that’s enough to keep him at bay? Do you think that’s enough to keep him from getting what he wants? Unless you dismantle that portal of yours or destroy those journals, he’s going to continue torturing you until he succeeds. You sealed your fate the moment you took his hand, Stanford.” he scoffs, red eyes void of emotion but you can tell that he is giving him an unimpressed expression “You were such a gullible and naïve little thing that just a tiny bit of praise had you dancing in the palm of his hand; had you constructing the very thing that could destroy your universe.” he let out a laugh when Stanford stood to his feet and approached the mirror, slamming his hands against the frame and glaring at his shadow. 

“Mock me all you want, Alvah, but I made the discovery of a lifetime. I was able to create something that could have changed the world; that should have changed the world.” 

“Yeah, in a bad way. And sure, you were able to create it from scratch, but that idea wasn’t yours. You weren’t able to create something without his blueprints, this portal was his idea in the first place, and you were foolish enough to make it for him. To him, you were the perfect little puppet that didn’t even realize his strings were being pulled.” he laughed when Stanford punched the mirror, shattering it to pieces as the shards scattered across the floor beneath his feet, but he still saw his shattered reflection through the shards “If you had just listened to me from the very beginning, none of this would have happened. But why listen to me? As a being made up of an amalgamation of evil, of course, you shouldn’t trust me. Your muse would never lie to you~” he watched Stanford continue to glare down at his reflection before walking off, Alvah chuckled and followed him through the shadows that lingered through the barely lit house “He is never going to quit. He is never going to leave you alone. You will never be safe. You will never get to live a normal life again. You will never be sane. He sees everything no matter where you are. He is always watching.” Stanford stops in front of another mirror and faces Alvah once more, glaring at the shadowed version of himself instead of his own reflection. 

“Then what do you suppose I do? The only other option would be to…” his eyes glance over at a closet that kept his weapons, he hears another chuckle and raises his head to see Alvah leaning against the mirror. 

“You really think a bullet would end this madness? Hardly. You can’t get away from him, not even through death. Unless you can figure out a way to sever the connection between your mind and his control, you’ll never be able to get away.” he thoroughly enjoyed the way Stanford’s face crumbled up in pain “Well, what if I can help weaken it?” this caused him to perk up. 

“What… what do you mean?” he jerked backward when a bright light burst out of the mirror, his face hardened when he saw the same scroll of paper Alvah first introduced to him a few months back when things weren’t so bad “You know I’m not going to agree to that after what happened.” Alvah’s hands rolled along the side of the scroll as he peeked his head out from the side, lowering it a little as his fingers tapped against it. 

“You should know, Fordsy, that my contracts are different from his deals. He always manages to find loopholes through his deals and is generally the one at an advantage, while my contracts are stricter on myself and those who sign them.” he then gestures to the blank canvas “Whatever your demands are, I will match them to either an equal value or lesser. Through my contracts, I don’t need that portal to cross over to this dimension.” 

“If that’s the case, why would I—” Alvah raised his finger to stop him. 

“That’s where the contract comes into play. While I can access this dimension, my powers are much more limited than if it were the real me.” he holds the contract out to him once more “State whatever you want, Stanford. Whether it be keeping you safe from the dangers that linger outside this shack, or something minor like keeping an eye on your family while you stay here, I’ll be forced to do whatever it is. I don’t seek destruction, that’s not my thing.” Stanford stared at him in confusion. 

“But you’re also a being that influences the minds to do atrocious things. Why would you do something so unlike you for me?” he flinched when he was met with a vicious grin. 

“Because taking his toys is so much more enjoyable. When you two broke off, whatever your relationship was, he caused quite a ruckus in the Nightmare Realm that I found unbearable. I’m gonna enjoy the face he’s going to make when he realizes I took the one thing he thought was going to be his until the end of time.” Stanford clenched his hand into a fist as he stared at the blank contract waiting to be filled with his demands, what other options did he have? With the help of this demonic being, he can get Bill out of his mind so he can focus on more important matters, and even if he manages to get into his mind, Alvah is more than powerful enough to get him out “So, what do you say? Wanna sign a contract with me?” 

“… I can state whatever I want, and you’ll have to abide by it, no matter what?” the grin on his face grew wider. 

“Whatever you want, and I’ll do it for you.” Ford’s hand slowly lifted from his side and pressed against the mirror, in an instance, the demands he wanted were being written across the once blank page. A few other spots were filled in and he knew they were for Alvah, while they were allowed to travel between the Nightmare Realm and his dimension, they were to remain in Gravity Falls if he wasn’t there to keep it from being destroyed by the anomalies within this hick town, while in turn they were allowed access to their powers in order for that to happen. The contract turned towards Alvah, and their grin didn’t disappear, instead, he watched as they tore into their thumb to drip what he believed was blood and signed the end of it. Stanford took a step back when the contract came out of the mirror and a quill appeared beside it, Alvah pressed against the mirror and looked at him with anticipation “All you’ve got to do is sign it, and I’ll be at your discretion.” he swallowed thickly as he stared down at the part where he was supposed to sign it. Looking back at the quill he saw it swing side to side for him to take it, so with a deep breath he raised his thumb to his lips and tore into the flesh. He winced in pain but shook it off, hovering his thumb over the page and allowing a few drops of his blood to drip onto the page before taking the quill and signing his name. 

“Now… now what?” he was met with silence when the contract disappeared, leaving him and the shadow of his reflection within the darkness of the room. He stood nervously as those beading red eyes stared right back at him, slowly, he watched his reflection raise his hands and start banging against the mirror. He took a step back when each strike against the glass started getting more and more violent to the point the glass began to crack, when the glass did shatter a black liquid spilled out and poured onto the floor. He watched as the liquid bubbled and sizzled until a hand burst out and slammed against the floorboards, slowly, through the gurgling and groaning noises that emitted from this blob of goo, a figure pushed themself out of the puddle of tar. 

“What a pain…” he flinched at the sound of the voice as the figure stood to its full height, one that was looming over him, and threw their head back, which caused some of the black tar to splatter across the room and some even got on Ford. Their hands ran up their face then threaded through their hair and after wiping away the black tar from their face, he was met with a pale face a bright ruby red eyes with thin slitted irises. The figure before him appeared as a tall, long-limbed, broad-shouldered adult man of indeterminate but reasonably young age, with jet-black hair with his bangs falling slightly over his eyes and strands on the sides of his bangs framing his face though the length seemed to vary because his hair seemed to be part of his shadow while bearing this form. The outfit he wore comprised mainly in a classic Victorian fashion. It includes a white long-sleeved shirt with an intricately knotted red cravat under a black double-breasted suit with red buttons, matching black trousers, and a pair of dark brown leather riding boots, covered by a red, split, and full-length, long coat with ruffles exclusive to the shoulders “I must say, you have quite a sense of fashion, Fordsy~” the man cooed softly, twirling a strand of his black hair around his finger. 

“W-What?” he spread his arms open then gestured to his being. 

“This vessel was created to adorn the appearance my contractor so desires. As I said, I have no face, no sex, no appearance of my own. Whenever someone signs one of my contracts, I take up the appearance that my contractor feels most comfortable.” he then leaned down until his face was inches away from Stanford’s “This appearance was modeled just for you, Fordsy~” he was promptly shoved away, causing him to break out into a fit of laughter. 

“And the personality?” he shrugged. 

“Taken from someone you once cherished.” this caused him to look away, he dusted himself off and bowed his head once more “I am Alvah, the Harbinger of Chaos, and I am at your every beck and call until our contract is fulfilled. How may I be of assistance today?” Stanford stares down at the demonic being he summoned, his eyes full of so many thoughts, before taking the hand that was offered to him. 

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

… 

… 

“So…” the children, Wendy and Soos, stared at the screen with mouths agape after the screen turned back to static, indicating that the memory had finished “McGucket erased the memory of when Alvah and Ford made their contract.” 

“That he did.” they all let out screams of surprise at the sudden voice, looking up, they were met with the female version of Alvah, who was chuckling softly that she managed to scare them “I believe he was going to shoot Fordsy with it, but since I came to his house that fateful day, he used it on me instead.” they all stare up at her in shock before calming themselves down, she then casually leans against the TV as Dipper approaches her. 

“But… if he erased that memory, wouldn’t that mean you should have forgotten what you were meant to do?” she shook her head. 

“Oh, no. You can’t erase a mind so vast. To me, it felt like the moment you walk into a room and forget what you were supposed to do but remember it an instance later when you’ve left that room. If he wanted to completely erase my deal with Ford, he would have had to shoot me with that gun a good hundred times.” she takes the memory tube and tosses it up and down a couple times “That day was one of Ford’s lowest moments, where he didn’t know what to do and had nobody to turn to. Yet, I had not abandoned him. I believe that since he was in such a dire situation, that was the reason he agreed to sign a contract with me. If he were any saner, I don’t believe he would have.” 

“So… how did you and Stanford meet anyways?” Wendy asked “From what we saw, you were confined to mirrors and shadows. What was your relationship with him?” this caused her to laugh. 

“For the second part, I was more like a caretaker or maybe a babysitter?” she shrugged her shoulders while giggling “That man could not look after himself, and after Fidds left him, it was up to me to keep him from doing something that would end up with him not waking up the next morning. It was almost sad.” 

“And the first part?” she raised a brow, Dipper twiddled his thumbs nervously “H-How did you two meet?” she looked up in thought, exhaling deeply through her nose. 

“Well, that’s a long story.” she glanced back over at them, chuckling a little when she saw them looking up at her with anticipation “Well, it all started about… thirty years ago, I believe.” 

Flashback… 

“What do we have here?” the Harbinger of Chaos approached Bill within the Nightmare Realm after his return from a dimension, to which he was peering into said dimension through their windows “You seem to be in a jolly mood, Cipher? May I inquire why?” they hummed softly when Bill let out a boisterous laugh, looking away from what he was looking at to look up at them. 

“Hahaha, I just found the most gullible human ever!” he gestured for them to peer into the window, and there their eyes laid upon a young-looking human man “Get this, I recognized his brilliant but cocky and insecure nature, and I used his near-friendlessness as ideal conditions for manipulation, so I introduced myself to him as a muse who chose one brilliant mind every century to inspire.” they let out a hum as they watched the human man write stuff down in a worn-out journal. 

“So, he’s the next pet to build your portal?” he nods his head. 

“Uh-huh. I showed him the blueprints for the portal, and he said he’d get started on it immediately. Psh, this has got to be one of the easiest suckers I’ve ever got to construct the portal in like, what, centuries?” 

“Possibly longer, but I must agree, this guy seems to be very naïve.” 

“I know, right? At least the other humans I tried to get to build my portal were more skeptical, but this guy is just dancing in the palm of my hand. It won’t be long before I can finally get out of this janky hellhole.” he heard a chuckle and let out an oh, looking back up at them “A very nice hellhole, since you can’t exactly leave.” they just gave a shrug in response. 

“Oh, it’s bearable. And besides, I can technically leave whenever I want, I just have to abandon this body in the process.” he lets out a hum “I’m somewhat curious about him, you wouldn’t mind if pop in and bother him from time to time, do you? He looks fun to make fun of.” Bill laughs. 

“Sure, go ahead. As long as you don’t distract him from completely the portal, I don’t care what you do.” 

And that’s where they found themselves watching Stanford Pines, hidden within the shadows that surrounded the man. They had to admit, he definitely had a brilliant mind from the mass amounts of research he managed to accumulate throughout the six years he resided in the hick town that was Gravity Falls, but he was just so damn stupid. Apparently, he found murals about Bill Cipher hidden within a cave and thought “oh yes, this doesn’t scream demonic entity at all” and managed to summon him, or rather, just caught his attention. As they continued to watch him, before his little assistant arrived, he was rather neglectful of his own well-being and would go days of staying hunched over his desk figuring out equations. 

“You’re quite dumb for a man who proclaims to be a genius.” they laughed to themself when they saw Stanford, who was currently brushing his teeth, spit out what was in his mouth and whip his head around in search of the voice “I’m right here, dumb, dumb. Look up.” he slowly raised his head to look at the mirror, squinting his eyes the longer he stared at his reflection before jerking backward when a grin spread across his lips. His reflection slowly started to laugh until a sort of darkness wrapped around his body and he was staring at a shadowed version of himself, a bead of sweat bled down his face when beading red eyes appeared all over his body and stared at him. 

“W-What…?” his reflection chuckled. 

“For a human who uses such big words to make himself much smarter than he actually is, I feel quite proud that I’ve rendered you speechless.” it felt unsettling to hear his voice even though he did not speak, his relfection’s finger draws circles in the glass “I’ve been watching you for some time, Stanford Pines.” he quickly grabbed his glasses that were sitting on the sink and put them on, staring at the figure in shock and awe. 

“You know my name?” they roll their multiple eyes. 

“Yes, I just said I’ve been watching you. I was bound to pick up your name.” they hum softly when his face flushed up in embarrassment “Anyways, I can’t help but say that I’m impressed that you managed to gain Bill’s favor.” the mention of Bill caused him to perk up, a little smile gracing his lips. 

“Really?” they huffed. 

“Sure. He’s gathered many brilliant minds over the years throughout the multiverse, but I’ve never seen him favor one specific human before. He’s given a lot of his time to you, and as I said, I’m impressed. Humans, in particular, are his least favorite. Still, he seems to put his distaste towards them to the side for you.” their gaze hardened a little when he saw the way his face flushed up, but this time, for a different “… anyways, I was just spying on you to see what all the hype was about. I don’t really see much.” they snickered when they saw how his face fell and looked back at them, his face scrunching up in confusion. 

“What do you mean by that?” they hummed softly, crossing their arms and turning away. 

“I thought you were smart, perhaps you can figure out why I don’t find you as interesting as your little muse does~” they laughed to themself when his face flared up, so they pointed at him as they continued to laugh “Haha, your face looks so funny when you do that! Do it again.” Stanford scoffed and turned around to leave, thinking that whoever this being was could only communicate through mirrors. 

“Hmph, I don’t know what you are, but I’m smarter than you think I am.” 

“Oh, really?” he gasped and saw the way the red eyes appeared on his shadow on the wall “I bet you were thinking I was confined to mirrors and your reflection, but no. I can appear within your shadow as well. Nowhere is safe for you!” throughout the day Stanford had to put up with them making fun of him and teasing him, even when he tried to cancel out the noise with music, they found a way to interfere with the soundwaves so he could hear their voice. They were now back in the Nightmare Realm laughing their head off with Bill Cipher, who was now dealing with the aftermath of what they did to Stanford “He is so fun to mess with!” Bill snorted. 

“I’ve got to thank you, though he’s just complaining, he seems to be leaning on me more. Telling me how this “shadow has been bullying him”, just a little bit of reassurance has him trusting me more and more. Keep it up, would you.” 

“Hah! Like I’d give up making fun of this human! I haven’t been this entertained in years.” 

Over a couple of months when the progress of the portal had just begun, both Bill and them would play their little game with Stanford Pines. Where they would poke fun at him and point out his little mistakes while Bill would reassure him and help him figure out the problem, this led to Stanford trusting Bill more and more and cementing them as the bad guy. Though their power didn’t revolve around the mindscape like Bill’s did, they were still very much able to enter it, and they made the poor mistake of entering Stanford’s mind and witnessing how deep his obsession with Bill ran. Hmm, though they also made fun of that Fiddlestick guy, they were now beginning to prefer him with how… weird, Stanford was. 

“So… Bill tells me you’re known as the, Harbinger of Chaos?” he asked questionably. 

“Ooo, finally curious about me?” they asked within Stanford’s shadow, he had the light cast behind him so they could be “sitting” across from him “I thought you’d never ask any questions about me. Bill tells me you’re not quite fond of me.” he huffed. 

“Of course, because unlike him, you make fun of me.” he saw the way they rolled his eyes, if only this poor sucker knew “But I can’t stop my curiosity. I asked Bill about you, but he told me if I wanted to know more about you it’d be best if I were to ask the source itself.” they leaned back in the seat they were in and shrugged their shoulders. 

“Well, shoot, dumb, dumb. Ask away.” they laughed again when he pouted, calling him dumb dumb always got that reaction out of him so they resorted to calling him that from time to time. 

“Mm, so what Bill has told me, you’re not exactly a… person, per say?” 

“Well, it is hard to put it into words, but let’s just simplify it and say I wasn’t exactly born like you, your friend, or Bill Cipher. I was not created either. I have been around since the beginning of all that was created. I am simply the manifestation of evil throughout countless dimensions; an amalgamation of all that is evil. I AM evil itself, that managed to conjure a consciousness and become the very being that I am today.” they raised their hand and Stanford managed to see their hand glow red “I am every bad choice you make, every selfish action, every terrible mistake. I am the influence that drives you to do bad things.” 

“So, you tell people to do bad things?” they shook their head. 

“No. I don’t tell people to do anything, it’s their fault that they ended up doing something bad, not mine.” he nods his head as he writes down what they said in his journal. 

“Does that mean you’re the very definition of evil?” 

“That it does, but that doesn’t particularly mean that I am evil.” he watches as the glow floats around their hand “My being doesn’t exactly have the concept of “feelings”, you know? I don’t feel like being the bad guy or being the good guy either. I don’t feel joy, anger, sadness, fear; I can replicate those feelings, but I myself can’t exactly feel anything.” 

“Do you feel pain?” 

“Hmm, well, there hasn’t been anything in existence that’s able to harm me. Bill is quite literally the only being that is of equal power to me, but there is a being more powerful than us. You could say that is when I do feel the fear.” Stanford perks up at that, raising his pen a little. 

“Oh! Bill has mentioned such a being before.” they nod. 

“So, he has. He doesn’t like to mention it, but they make him nervous as well. Don’t tell him I told you that, he’ll get fussy. Anyway, there hasn’t been a time where somebody has managed to hurt me, much less leave a mark. I’m more of a neutral being, I don’t care for world domination, and I don’t care enough to save worlds. It’s none of my business; not my circus, not my monkeys.” 

“I see. Bill tells me that his and your powers are somewhat similar.” it takes them a second to understand what he meant before perking up, snapping their fingers in remembrance. 

“Ah, yes! Bill has his “deals” to inhabit his host's minds and “cross over” to your world. Unlike him though, I can appear here whenever I want. I don’t need a gateway like he does. Anyways, while he has his deals, I have my contracts. The terms of the contract are set by both me and my contractor, only when we agree and sign the contract may I physically enter their world. They’re stricter as well, we must abide by the terms and conditions, or else the contract with be null and void. We must follow it to a T, or else the contract with destroy itself, and my physical body will cease to exist and I return back to the Nightmare Realm.” 

“And what about your real body?” 

“It becomes stationed. While I am still able to infect other universes with my chaotic influences, it’s not nearly as effective if I were to do it myself. If I want to control the physical body I created in this dimension, I would have to give up the consciousness in my main body to control that other one. My powers are also limited, so while I can easily erase a planet from existence, my powers would simply be reduced to where I can only decimate a city.” 

“That’s… still very threatening.” they shrug their shoulders. “You mentioned your real body? Each time I’ve seen you, you’ve only taken up my appearance. Are you faceless?” they hum. 

“I am. I am neither man nor woman, I am not a being that can be identified by something like sex or pronouns. I have no face and no physical appearance to call my own. However, if a being lesser than I were to witness my true form, their minds would slowly descend into madness from all the chaos stored into one being.” 

“Can you describe what you look like? 

“Hah, are you going to attempt to sketch me?” he nods. 

“Your chapter won’t be complete without it.” they stared at him for a couple seconds then laughed when he raised his head, waiting for them to say something, they just gently shook their head. 

“Alright, okay. I have a body made up of a chaotic tangle of writhing, red tendrils, and jagged lines adorned with numerous glowing red eyes that peer out from the dark depths of my flesh. That’s all you’re going to get.” this caused Stanford to look up at them, mildly frustrated at the brief description, but he took up the challenge and started sketching with what he was given. They both sat in silence and all that was heard was the repeated strokes of Stanford’s pen sketching across the page, they were quite impressed that he was drawing with a pen instead of a pencil. After what they believed was an hour of Stanford consistently stopping to think and continue to draw, he let out a sigh and dropped his pen to pick up his journal. 

“How does this look?” they lean forward and Stanford watches as their collective eyes shoot open and look at the page, he was startled when his journal was plucked out of his hands by an invisible force but when he looked down, he saw that the journal’s shadow was grabbed by them. Looking back up at them, he saw how they held the journal close so their eyes could take in his sketch “Is it… good?” a soft chuckle left them. 

“Hah… alright, I’m starting to see it.” they lowered the book, and he saw something genuine in their eyes “With the limited information, this is surprisingly the most accurate depiction of me. Well done, Fordsy, you’ve won my praise.” they hummed when he became flustered, of course, he would, he’s never been praised by them before, so it made him feel special. 

“Oh, well, it’s nothing much. I did struggle a bit.” 

“Don’t humble yourself, Fordsy.” they turned the book around so he could see his sketch “Not once, in the trillions of years I’ve been alive, has anyone made a sketch as accurate as you have. Nobody can look at the real me without their minds declining into madness, and lesser beings aren’t skilled enough to draw a sketch this good with the lack of details. This is most likely the first and last sketch of me. Be proud, Stanford.” they huffed softly at the soft hue of pink appearing on his cheeks as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. 

“Thanks.” he gasped softly when his journal was tossed back into his hands. 

“Don’t expect to hear more praise from me for a while, that’s Bill’s job.” Stanford chuckled, feeling more at ease with the being that was harbored within his shadow. 

“Sure…” their eyes stared curiously at him when his face scrunched up in thought “I hate to be rude, but is there anything else I can address you by? The Harbinger of Chaos is a bit of a mouthful, and I don’t exactly want to call you chaos or evil, so…” this got a laugh out of them. 

“I don’t have a name. Not even Bill calls me anything. I just… exist.” Ford blinked at them, his face softening a little. 

“Can I… give you a name?” 

“What am I? A pet?” they laughed when he raised his hands and shook them. 

“No, no! It just… it just makes it easier to address you? Yeah, that’s it!” they sat there staring at him as he tried to defend himself, but they just scoffed, leaning into their seat as they crossed their arms. 

“Alright, Einstein, give me a name.” this ceased his needless chattering, and they sat in silence once more as he tried thinking of a good name that would best suit them, he mumbled a couple under his breath but he noticed the way their eyes would crease in displeasure at a couple so he kept thinking “If I don’t like it, I’ll skin you alive.” this caused him to start thinking harder. 

“Um, how about—no, no, that doesn’t sound good. Uh, erm… oh!” he snaps his fingers, face as bright as a child on Christmas day “Alvah! How does that sound?” he started to shrink in on himself when they said nothing but stare at him “W-Well, Alvah is a gender-neutral name with Hebrew roots. Translating to “his highness” or “rising,”.” 

“… you do know the biblical meaning to the name “Alvah”, also means evil, right?” this caused him to pause, looking up in thought before crumbling due to the fact he forgot that small detail, he jumped a little when they started to laugh “I like it.” 

“W-Wha— really?” they nod their head. 

“Yes, Alvah. It has a nice ring to it; I like the name, and I like the fact that it correlates to my being. You’ve won my praise again, well done.” Alvah rolled their eyes when Stanford became flustered once more “Don’t let it go to your head, alright.” 

“Heh, I’ll try.” they both share a laugh. 

Alvah didn’t want to admit it, but Stanford was beginning to grow on them, not enough to stop him from completing the portal, but enough that they started to… care, bleh. They never once cared for him when he would wound up falling asleep at his desk how his sleep schedule became worse and worse, or how he would never eat or restock on food, or even have a shower once in a while. Never once they did care about how he neglected his well-being but ever since the day he gave them that name, their perspective on him changed. 

It was one of those days were Stanford decided to continue working on the portal and he fell asleep at his desk, his shadow loomed over him and Alvah’s form slowly took over and looked over his sleeping form. Humans don’t particularly feel great in the morning after sleeping in such an uncomfortable position, and because they can’t exactly touch his physical being, Alvah used different shadows to pick Stanford up using his shadow and carry him to his bed where he could get some hours of comfortable rest. Stanford would always wake up confused when he found himself in his bed, sometimes asking Fiddleford if it was him that moved him to his bed, but his assistant would deny any involvement in such a thing. He thought it was his muse that possessed his body to move him to his bed, so after asking him, he was met with laughter. 

“Oh, that? Alvah, or whatever you named them, is the one that moves you.” this stunned him, Alvah? “I’m surprised too. Sometimes I would catch them in the act, but they just say they’re doing it, so you won’t cause any hiccups when building the portal. Gotta say they’re always one to think ahead. So, stop falling asleep at your desk, alright?” Bill’s eye narrowed on Stanford when he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“R-Right, I’ll try and stop that.” back in the Nightmare Realm, Bill found Alvah peering into a universe with a human and talking dog. 

“I didn’t think you’d begin to care about our little pet human, Alvah.” this caused their hands to jerk back as they turned to look at Bill. 

“Whatever do you mean?” he hummed. 

“You don’t like humans. You find them one of the most repulsive living flesh bags there is, so I don’t understand why you’re beginning to care about this one.” this caused them to huff, snapping their fingers and the window of the universe they were just looking at disappeared and the one of dimension 46’\ appeared so they could watch Stanford and Fiddleford continue their work on the portal. 

“I thought I was doing a good thing for you, Bill. His progress has slowed a little because of him neglecting his body, would you rather his health to decline while he’s in the process of completing his project?” Bill narrowed his eye on them for that, he had noticed the way Stanford’s work had become a little sloppy because of his wanting to please his muse “I’ll stop if that’s what you want.” 

“Hmm, I guess you can continue your babysitting. I wouldn’t want him to mess up when he’s so close.” they laughed as they gently tipped his hat, causing him to reach for it when it fell off “Hey!” 

“If I didn’t know, you sound jealous.” their eyes creased when they saw his yellow body hue a slight red, whether it be of anger or embarrassment, they weren’t going to question him on it. 

“Jealous? Of what? You taking care of him? I can take him to bed as well!” 

“Mm, without hurting him?” Alvah laughed when he glared at him, the last time he possessed his body, he accidentally fell down a flight of stairs, but they were lucky he was only on the middle part of the staircase instead of the very top “Alright, alright. Now go, he looks like he misses you~” they cooed while pointing at Stanford, who was writing a new paragraph in his journal about his muse. 

“Well, duty calls.” they waved him goodbye and went back to doing their job as Bill returned to Stanford, however, even they began to question why they were looking out for the human. They jotted it down to just looking out for the human for Bill, he needed him alive and healthy for his portal to be complete so he could leave this awful place. If he leaves and takes over dimension 46’\, it’ll leave them in the Nightmare Realm all by themself, which they honestly would prefer. They would have their peace and quiet once more and not have to hear Bill’s consistent chatter about world domination, perhaps he’d let Stanford live, he did have a soft spot for that human. Whatever, it’s none of their concern. 

Until it was. 

“Hey, Alvah.” they let out a hum as Stanford sat across from them as they played a game of chess, letting him know that they were listening, they stared at the pieces on the board as they thought of where they should move their rook “You know a lot about, Bill, right?” he noticed the way their hand pause for a second before slowly moving their rook across the board. 

“I do. Why? Are you curious about something, Fordsy?” their eyes look at him curiously. 

“I believe he is… hiding something from me.” they hum again, watching Stanford move his pawn forward “I can trust you, right?” they shrug. 

“Whether you trust me or not, I don’t care.” 

“Let me rephrase it then; have you lied to me at all?” they rolled their fingers on the armrest of the chair before letting it rest there but their finger started drawing circles in the air. 

“I do not lie. I may keep secrets, but I am not prone to lying. I don’t see a point in lying to someone.” 

“Even if it were to hurt their feelings?” 

“I don’t care about people’s feelings. I’ll tell you a bit of the truth, but I won’t tell you the full truth. It isn’t considered lying if I don’t tell you the full story.” he narrowed his eyes at Alvah’s logic, to which they shrugged again as they moved their bishop to take the knight that was previously being protected by the pawn “Now, why do you believe Bill is hiding something from you? Don’t you trust him?” they raised a brow when they saw him hesitate, now this is new. 

“It’s just, well,” he let out a sigh as he moved his other knight to take their bishop “Fiddleford and I are so close to finishing the portal and he’s been acting… different.” they tilt their head to the side. 

“Different? How so?” he laces his fingers together, pursing his lips as he tries to think of the words. 

“Well, he started to question where the origin of the portal had come from. When I told him it was from a close source of mine, he didn’t fully believe me but didn’t stop to question it.” he looked up at Alvah and saw that they were still listening, going so far as to roll their wrist to get him to continue “When I brought it up with Bill, he told me that Fiddleford was merely jealous that I managed to create such a complex machine.” 

“And? Do you believe Bill?” his eyes hardened a little. 

“I want to believe him, but Fiddleford would never think like that. He’s been my intellectual equal since our days in Backupsmore. I don’t believe he’d ever be jealous of me, but I don’t understand why Bill would say such a thing.” 

“How can you be so sure? Things could change over time.” they watch as he moves his rook but in retaliation they move their other bishop across the board, forcing him to use another one of his pieces to shield his king from being claimed “You should always be careful who you place your trust in, Stanford. One might take advantage of your friendliness, and you would never know which one is doing it. They’ll say nice things to weaken your resolve, and the moment you open your arms out to them, they’re stabbing you in the back to get what they want. But what do they have to gain out of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, on one hand, Fiddleford dropped everything just to come and help you with this project. He left his wife and child and didn’t even stop to question what he was getting himself involved in, quite the dedication he has for his best friend. On the other hand, we have Bill Cipher. An interdimensional, dream demon who acknowledged your brilliance and chose you out of billions of other humans to be the one to complete his lifelong project. Taking time out of his routine to come visit you, whether it be in reality or within the sanctum of your mind. Both these individuals seem to hold a place in your heart, they are something special to you, and you are struggling to decide which one you should place your trust in.” they moved their rook forward and took out another one of his pieces, which forced him to move his king “So, who do you trust more? The one who was there when you were nothing, or the one who was there when you became something?” they moved their queen across the board and smirked to themself “Checkmate.” his eyes widened as he looked at the board and saw that their pieces cornered his king, he let out a sigh as he collapsed into the back of his seat. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

“Well, sort your feelings out. Your mind is clouding your judgement, and one day, someone is going to get hurt because of your foolishness. Decide who to trust. But let me tell you one thing.” he swallowed thickly when their tone got dark “Be careful around Bill. He’s not all that he makes himself out to be. He is one too hold a grudge to those who have double crossed him, and though you might be his favorite, don’t expect him to go easy on you.” they started laughing before raising their hands to form a triangle over their left eye “Beware of the beast with just one eye.” Stanford shielded his face when darkness enveloped the room as their laughter rung out before it all disappeared, he swallowed thickly as he looked around in a daze. 

“Beware of the beast with just one eye?” Alvah watches Stanford in the shadows as he mulled over their words, they themself grinned rather mischievously. 

“The seed of doubt has been planted.” they snickered quietly before returning to the Nightmare Realm and waited for the chaos to ensue. 

And so, we’re getting closer to wrapping up this flashback, but also not quite there yet. Alvah already knew that Stanford and Fiddleford have almost completed the construction of the portal, but they hadn’t realized just how close, because whilst they were minding their own business in the Nightmare Realm, relaxing after fulfilling their daily chaotic routine, they were startled when a hole opened up and out of nowhere. Curiously, they did approach it and concluded that they had finally managed to successfully finish the portal, but what caught them by surprise was when a head poked through. Upon closer inspection, they recognized the human as Fiddleford, they tilted their head to the side as they stared at him while he looked up at them and their face slowly morphed into one of pure terror. 

"You... aren't supposed to be here." they spoke, voice disoriented through the chaos that was their body. They sighed softly when he screamed in fear so they did the only sane thing they could think of, they raised their hand and pushed him right back where he came from, and the hole disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. 

"What was that?" looking over they see Bill approach them, his singular eye tinged with curiosity. 

"I believe your toy has finally finished his project." this made the triangular figure glow with glee, clapping his hands joyfully as he floated circles around their head "Congratulations, Bill. You're finally getting your doomsday." he let out a laugh as he hovered in front of their face. 

"I know, right? I'm gonna go round up the others!" they wave him goodbye and can only imagine the look of devastation on Stanford’s face the moment he realizes that everything he had built was all for nothing, that Bill was taking advantage of him the whole time while they themself knew about it all and said nothing about it. It was probably a couple hours later where Alvah was laying in a body of clouds relaxing, they didn’t really feel fatigue or exhaustion like living beings, but it was very relaxing to just longue around and do nothing. Well, that was until they heard something in the distance. One by one their eyes would slowly open and dart around to try and locate the source of the sound but couldn’t find anything, so with a low groan, they pulled themself up to try and find it but jumped when something flew into their face. 

“What the—" suddenly their face started getting wet and when they moved their eyes to look at what it was, they saw that it was Bill “Bill? What happened? What are you—” they let out a grunt as they managed to rip him off their face like a sticker, they held him in front of them and there they saw that he was… crying? 

“Y-You’ll never believe it…” their eyes look at him in confusion. 

“What? What happened? Why are you crying?” he sniffled and moved so that he was sitting within the palm of their hand. 

“Sixer figured out what I was planning after that little mishap with specs, he swore “eternal vengeance” and shut down the portal.” this revelation caused a few of their eyes to widen a little, they didn’t expect that outcome “But it’s not like I was going to let him get hurt, when we were going to ravage his dimension, I was going to let him join our band of freaks. With that sixth finger of his, he would have fit right in!” they nodded their head and laid back down on the clouds. 

“So, what are you going to do now, Bill? That portal is practically finished, all you’ve got to do is switch it back on and you’ll have your apocalypse.” Bill knew he wasn’t able to do anything in the physical realm unless he possessed Stanford’s body, so he looked up at them with a hopeful look in his ey— “I’m not doing it for you.” he let out a huff at their words. 

“Why not?! You’re able to manipulate their dimension however you please! You’ve been watching him so you know how to turn the thing on, so you could just do it for me!” they just shrug. 

“Don’t wanna.” Alvah laughs when he got angry “It’s none of my business whether he abandons you or not. I never said I was on your side, nor was I on his side. I’ll do whatever is most entertaining to me.” they hear his growl under his breath before he floats off their hand. 

“Fine! Don’t help me. But I’m not letting Sixer get away with this.” they shrug and relax into the clouds. 

“Do what you want.” they laugh quietly to themself and watch Bill float away, probably heading to O’Sadley’s, a multidimensional pub in the Rock Bottom Asteroid Belt of the Vicious Spiral Nebula. They wait until they could no longer feel his presence within the Nightmare Realm before appearing within Stanford’s dimension, they’re in his house but they couldn’t find him, so they search outside and found him standing in front of a bonfire with all three of his journals in his hands “Whatcha doin’?” they laughed when he jumped, panicking when he nearly dropped his research into the fire but quickly caught them and held them close to his chest. 

“A-Alvah…?” he looked down and found them inside his shadow, they waved up at him but noticed how his face hardened “Did you know the purpose of the portal?” they titled their head to the side. 

“Yes.” he let out a groan, throwing his head back in frustration “I warned you from the very beginning, Fordsy? You’re quite dumb for a man who proclaims to be a genius. He was playing you from the beginning and I was giving you subtle hints about it, but you weren’t able to pick up on it. This is exactly why I called you dumb, dumb, dumb.” he never did like it when they called him that, but that’s exactly what he was, a complete and utter fool. He can recall the times where they hinted at the fact that Bill was lying to him, it was mostly during the times when he praised Bill, and they would call him a fool for saying such a thing and mock his intelligence.  

“Are you here to stop me?” 

“Stop you from doing what?” 

“From shutting down the portal! Isn’t that why you’re here?” they laughed again. 

“Hah! No. Bill did want me to switch it back on, but I don’t wanna do that. I could care less about what he wants. I wasn’t on his side to begin with, I was just here for the entertainment.” they blow a raspberry as they shrug “But remember what I told you, Stanford. He is not going to go easy on you, you better find a way to keep him out.” he swallowed thickly at their words. 

“Yes, you are right.” 

“I was right from the start. I told you; I don’t lie.” 

“No, no you do not.” 

Alvah watched from within his shadow as he tried figuring out a way to keep Bill out of his lab but allow him in, since he made that deal with Bill that allowed him into his mind, he was worried that when he fell asleep Bill would possess his body and attempt to reactivate the portal. Alvah clearly doesn’t care about the outcome, they stated they’re not on Bill’s side, but they didn’t say they were on his side either. He didn’t know if he could trust their word on it, Alvah wasn’t confined to his mind and could freely travel through shadows and any reflection, so he couldn’t think of a way to keep them at bay like he could with Bill. 

Alvah thought it was quite impressive that Stanford managed to input a retinal scan on the door to his lab, knowing that when Bill was in the possession of any sort of body, the pupils of their host tend to become thinner while their sclera turned a shade of yellow. So, when he did eventually fall asleep and Bill did come into possession of his body, they watched within the shadows how Bill punched the steel door until his knuckles started to tear and bleed, he then resorted to scratching at the door like a caged animal until he split his nails. Bill, when possessing a body, was restricted to the physical capabilities of his host, so they were a little surprised at the strength Stanford had to be able to leave marks on the door. When Bill eventually gave up and returned to the Nightmare Realm, they appeared on the wall where Stanford lay unconscious and stared at the state of the door. Covered in scratch marks and smeared with his blood, if they hadn’t witnessed what happened, they would never have guessed a human man caused that much damage, rather a blood thirsty beast clawing desperately to get inside.  

Stanford woke up in the morning and his hands were in agonizing pain, he thought he would have found himself in front of his lab door but instead he was in his bed once more. Lifting his hands out from under the covers he was surprised to see they were wrapped securely in bandages and on his desk was a bowl that had a hand towel drenched in a mixture of his blood and water, alongside it was a glass of water and what looked like his aspirin. He would have thought that it was Fiddleford that treated his hands, that he had returned after what he had put him through, but beside the glass of water was a tiny note. 

‘you’ve got a bit of cleaning up to do ~ a’ 

“Alvah…” he whispered softly, he looks back down at his hands and noticed that his nails were a little shorter than the last time he checked. He took a breath as he gently rubbed over the bandages; they were on his side. Back in the Nightmare Realm, Alvah ignored the distant crying and screaming and watched Stanford closely, their finger drawing circles through the window to his dimension. 

“Ah, I’ve got too much work cut out for me.” 

Alvah watched as Bill grew desperate while Stanford’s mind slowly descended into insanity, they didn’t know if his desperation was what kept their involvement with Stanford to a minimum, but he had yet to notice how it was them patching up Stanford with everything that geometrical freak was throwing at him. They themself didn’t understand why they got involved with Stanford, they didn’t understand why they were helping him, they kept telling themself that it was just to spite Bill. They didn’t like Bill all too much, that’s why they were on the human’s side. Well, it was quite funny seeing him throw tantrum after tantrum each time Stanford denied him access to his mind. The zombie incident was a mess, it was a little hilarious watching Stanford and Bill converse through sticky notes like the humans do in their educational prisons, the oddest one by far was Bill taping a snake into his journal and how he retaliated? Playing Bill’s favorite song “the world is small ever after for always” by Inkwell, unfortunately it was now replaying within the Nightmare Realm. 

They appear within Stanford’s room but noticed that he was nowhere to be found, they reappear inside his lab and don’t find him in there either. He couldn’t possibly be outside, the season changed to the colder one so there was no way he was outside unless he wanted to be frozen like a popsicle. Roaming the hallways of his barely lit shack, Alvah was struggling to find him, but when they searched upstairs, they noticed that one of his windows leading to the roof was open. It was the early morning, and the sun was up, but it was barely peaking through the thick clouds that blanketed the earth with layers of snow, but outside on the rooftop was Stanford. He was woken from his slumber when he felt a blast of freezing cold air blow through him, his eyes shot open, and it took him a couple seconds to realize that he was outside. His eyes slowly trailed downwards, and he realized that he was on the roof of his shack, his foot hanging off the edge as if he was about to step off. If his body wasn’t already shaking due to the cold, then his body started to tremble at the thought of Bill… he slowly pulled his foot back and inched away from the edge, hugging his body that was turning blue due to hyperthermia. How long had he been out here? He could barely feel his fingers and the snow was seeping into his clothes and melting, nothing feels worse than wet socks. Maybe it was due to him being lost in his thoughts or the sudden gust of wind, but his eyes widened when he lost his footing and started to fall. He clawed desperately at anything to catch himself but due to the layer of snow on his roof he found nothing to grab, a gasp left him he had practically fallen off the roof but was caught in midair by his wrist.  

“How’s it hanging?” looking up, he didn’t see anyone but when he looked forward, he had realized he had fallen in front of the open window where his shadow cast inside and there he saw Alvah had caught him by his shadow “Now what are you doing outside? It’s cold out, isn’t it?” they laugh as they pull him inside, placing him gently on the ground. Their head tilts to the side when they saw him shivering so they closed the window and drag him to where the fireplace was well lit and the song “Sweet Dreams” by Eurythmics was softly playing in the background, they disappear but reappear to drape a blanket over him to help. 

“T-Thank you…” they let out a hum, he looks down at his hands and saw they were wrapped in bandages and his body felt oddly sore, had the shock made him unaware of the pain he was experiencing? 

“Bill knows.” his eyes flicker towards Alvah. 

“He knows? H-He knows what?” 

“… he knows that I’ve been the one helping you.” he jumped to his feet but fell back down when a wave of exhaustion washed over his body, what did Bill do to him? “In the beginning I kind of let him do what he wanted with your body, but he almost took it too far and I had to intervene. Questioned what I was doing so I told him how I was just doing it because it was funny seeing him all angry at the loss of his favorite toy.” 

“What did he do?” they snapped their fingers, and he was suddenly in front of his TV and in their hands was a VHS tape. 

“You’re really not going to like this.” they put the VHS in the player and watched as the TV spurred to life, they watched Stanford’s face closely, and he was completely stunned. He almost didn’t recognize the wild-eyed hermit staring back on the TV; it was him. Or rather, Bill in his body, from the previous night.  

“Welcome back to the puppet hour with Bill! Say hi, kids! Today’s puppet is my old pal Sixer. Sixer’s had a rough day. But his night was rougher, wanna see?” as the TV displayed what exactly happened the night prior, they watched how his face contorted with a range of different emotions; disbelief, shock, anxiousness. On the floor, Bill had graciously littered the floor with polaroids of his adventures with little headings on them. He picked them up slowly but paused when Bill started speaking again, but this time, he heard another voice “What do you think you’re doing?” what he was watching was the moment when Bill was hammering nails into his hand, or, he was planning on hammering nails into his hand. He placed the first nail into the center of his hand but before he could swing the hammer down, his wrist was caught by Alvah grabbing him by Stanford’s shadow. 

“What does it look like I’m doing, Cipher? Interfering~” within the restrictions of Stanford’s physical capabilities, he struggled under Alvah’s hold “It was quite funny watching you mess with his body in the beginning, but come on now, doesn’t he need his hands? How are you going to get him to turn the portal on if you mess up his hands?” they’re laughing at the way Bill struggled to free himself from their grip. 

“So, you’re the reason sixer hasn’t given up yet!” 

“Am I though? Just watching the back-and-forth banter between you two is just so funny! If I didn’t know it, it seems like you need him more than he needs you! I didn’t think you’d be such a clingy, little ex.” Bill manages to throw their hand back, his twisted grin turned into a glare “Oh, but that’s right. You aren’t the one that’s meant to be thrown away, it’s supposed to be the other way around. I just didn’t expect the great and mighty Bill Cipher to be so… desperate.” 

“Clingy…? Desperate?!” they continue to laugh. 

“Am I wrong?” the video of their interaction ends there but he could tell that any time when Bill attempted to harm his body, Alvah interfered and made sure that not a lot of damage was inflicted on his body. Picking up a polaroid, he found one where a dart from a dart board was lodged into his temple, so he raised his hand and felt more bandages “I don’t think you want to watch this part.” this caused him to look back towards the TV, he watched in confusion as Bill limped towards a payphone and… he punched in Stanley’s phone number, h-he wouldn’t. 

“Hey, brother, it’s Sixer. I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, so if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that it’s because I never loved you. Buh-byeeeee!” Stanford felt as if his heart was in his throat, but his eyes closed in relief when he heard the dial tone, the pay phone was out of order. The message hadn’t gotten through, he opened his eyes and saw how Bill turned back to address him “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look what you made me make you do! Tomorrow’s tape is gonna be much worse. Want the show to end? Go downstairs and work on the portal. Or I’m gonna have to show you what I’m really made of.” Alvah eyes Stanford as the TV screen turned static, his face seemed to be a mixture of emotions again. This time, however, he looked completely livid. He stood to his feet and ripped the VHS tape out and threw it into the fire, watching it turn to cinders before screaming. 

“You have no power here! You’re just in my mind! I can outlast anything you can—” Alvah watches as he halts in all his movements, they let out a sigh when they know that Bill’s power over Stanford must before taking over his mind. They grabbed him by his shadow when he started to sway and placed him back down on his coach, laying him down as his body twitched and trembled due to the chaos going on inside his mind. They loomed over and watched him, his face contorting in pain, his breath becoming heavier as sweat dripped down his face.  

I don’t care. 

This human means nothing to me. 

Their misery is entertainment, that’s all. 

But… 

They lean closer to his face before letting out a sigh, raising their hand over his face and pressing their index finger the center of his forehead, whispering a few words under their breath and his face visibly relaxes. 

"That should be enough... hopefully."  

Stanford felt as if his body was paralyzed.  

Where am I? 

It felt as if his bones were being pulled slowly, slowly out from their sockets. 

It was excruciating. 

I tried to scream, but nothing came out— 

“Think, Sixer. You let me. In. Your. Head. Do you realize what I can do in here if I want? I can flip a switch that makes every neuron burn with pain beyond imagination. I can rewire your optic nerve so that the sky is below you, play a tone that gets louder and louder until you bash your own skull just to make it stop. I can delete memories randomly, just for fun. Maybe I already have. What do you want to remember? Your mother’s face? Your own name? Who are you anyway?” 

“That’s ridiculous! I’m… I’m…” his tried to think of his name but his mind what completely blank, a snap echoed through his head, and it came to him “I’m Stanf—” and he lost his train of thought again when the snap echoed once more. He pressed his hands to his head when he felt his sockets start to strain. Any and all his tendons would pop, his bones would slinter. He fell to his knees, on the verge of emptying what was in his stomach. 

“You’re my property. Don’t forget it. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won’t want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you? And let’s not forget about your Alvah. You think they actually care about you? You think just because they’re still around they’re doing it because they like you? Don’t make me laugh. They don’t care about anything, much less a human with little to no value to them. They are one of the most neutral beings throughout the universe who never picks a side, who would watch a universe burn to cinders than lend a hand, who wouldn’t shed a tear or bat an eye at the sound of screaming and anguished cries! They won’t help you; they won’t save you, and they won’t interfere so long as I—Ah!” Stanford let out a gasp when Bill was suddenly blasted away from him, he felt something embracing him and pulled him back as Bill collected himself and came back “Wha—you! What are you doing here?!” he tried to look up at the figure, but a shadowy hand covered his eyes, their arms wrapped protectively around him as a voice spoke. 

“I’ve come to steal your precious little toy, Bill~” they let out a laugh, Stanford shuddered out a breath at the sound of a voice that was made up of what seemed like thousands of screams and cries, possibly even more “You sound like you’re projecting, poor, sweet, little Billy. Are you still mad about what happened all those years ago? Talk about holding a grudge, huh? I was right about that one about you, Bill.” he managed to peek through their hands and saw the way Bill turned a bright shade of red as he got angry, his eye glaring at what he knew was to be Alvah. 

“You… why are you choosing to help him?! You don’t even have a contract with him, and yet you’re going to help him?! You’ve never done that for anyone! You’ve always just sat by and watched things happen! You’ve never interfered! You’ve never done anything!” 

“Who knows, but I do know that watching you like this is just the best thing I’ve seen in over trillions of years!” Stanford was pushed back, and he was met with the overwhelming sight of a dark black and red storm cloud where you could hear disoriented and agonizing screams “If taking Stanford Pines is what’s going to keep this game going on a little longer, than I’m willing to interfere just to see you become less of what you believe you are, Bill Cipher!” 

“I will never forget this!”  

Stanford awoke with a fright, shooting upwards and panting out in exhaustion. Looking down, he found himself sitting on his couch but after looking around he found his living room cleaned up with the polaroids pilled together and placed in a shoebox on his coffee table. He stands up and finds a little note sitting on top of the pile, picking it up, he felt his lip tremble as he read it. 

‘fine, I may care a little ~ a’ 

He didn’t care if Alvah was on his side because they found it amusing when Bill threw a tantrum, or because they found it entertaining to watch him lose his mind, but this goes to show that they were willing to keep Bill at bay for him. He holds the note close to him before turning on his heel, he knows what he has to do now.  

Meanwhile, the residents of the Nightmare Realm hid in the deepest corners of their dimension in order to keep away from the onslaught that was going on. Bill was screaming out in frustration while Alvah laughed their head off, the two of them in an ongoing battle where the Harbinger of Chaos wasn’t taking anything serious while Bill was trying everything in his power to erase them from existence. Two of the Nightmare Realm’s most powerful beings were fighting because one of going through a messy break up while the other was just bored, the Axolotl would be severely disappointed in them.  

… 

… 

“And that’s my past with Stanford.” she ended with a fond smile, thinking back to that day thirty years ago. While she was telling this story, she refrained from dropping Bill’s name or any involvement of him and merely referred to him as “his muse”, Ford would be angry if she told them about his deal with Bill instead of him, so she was going to wait “In the beginning I was just an insufferable guest, he came to like me over the course of the portal’s construction and when Fidds left him and went insane, I became a sort of caretaker to him. With how stubborn he is, I’m probably not going to get a thank you out of him.” she stood there and waited for a response, she looked at them and saw the way they were staring up at her with teary eyes. 

“You… you really cared for Grunkle Ford.” her face twisted into an incredulous one. 

“Care? That’s funny. I cared enough to keep him alive, but I didn’t care enough to keep him out of harms way.” she deadpanned when Mabel wrapped her arms around her legs. 

“You’re not denying that you care.” Alvah scoffed as she scooped up Mabel and placed her back down beside Dipper “Then what about Grunkle Stan? Do you care about him? What’s your past with him? When did you two first meet?” she chuckled softly. 

“Hmm, that’s something you’ve got to ask him about. Ever since my contract with Stanford, I had kept an eye on anyone relating to him. Albeit friends or family, but I kept my eye on Stanley for a long time.” she places a finger to her chin, looking up in thought “My first genuine meeting with Stanley is something I can’t particularly remember, I was always lingering around in the shadows helping every now and then. But I don’t think he’ll want to discuss such a memory, he’s been distant from me since the reveal, which is understandable.” she raised a brow when she saw the determination on Mabel’s face. 

“I will get that backstory, no matter what it takes!” with that the girl rushed off to find Stan, she just shrugged her shoulders with a shake of her head. 

“Did you, though?” she hummed at Soos’ question, he shrunk a little as he twiddled his thumbs “Did you actually care about Mr. Pines? O-Or even us? Was everything you did just an obligation?” they didn’t notice the way her face twitched a little, she let out a breath as she looked towards nothing in particular. 

“Who knows? But whether I care or not does not change the fact that I am here to protect you. You are under my protection, and I will make it so that Bill does not bring you any more harm.” Dipper flinched at the mention of Bill and rubbed his arms, he looked up and jumped slightly where he sat when he saw Alvah kneel down in front of him “And I am so sorry that I stood by and let you make a deal with him, Dipper. I saw you when he took your body, but I wasn’t allowed to do anything.” she could remember that day as if it were yesterday, when she, Wendy and Soos approached Bipper and when Dipper tried to stop them, he flew through her body. She remembered turning around and seeing the distraught look on his face, but she was forced to look away and pretend she didn’t see him, it really did make her feel remorseful. 

“W-Why couldn’t you?” 

“You should know about time anomalies, Dipper. That stupid time baby or whatever would be furious if I were to mess with this timeline even more so than I already have, if I were to have prevented such a thing I would get into even more trouble. My contracts can bend a lot of rules, but messing with the flow of time is a definite no.” she took his hat and ruffled his head “Why do you think I was lot more attentive back then?” he thought back to that day and did remember the pained expression on her face when she and Stan brought him to the hospital. 

“So, you couldn’t directly interfere with what happened over the summer, but you could intervene as long as you didn’t stop us directly?” she nods “Then, could you tell us what’s going to happen next?” she pressed a finger to her lips as she placed his hat back down on his head. 

“I can’t share any spoilers, now, can I?”  

“Alvah!” she let out an oh at the sound of her name being called, they all looked up and saw Ford at the door “I need you down in the lab, could you come and assist me?” she saluted him with a smile. 

“Coming~” he waits for her behind as she looks back down at Dipper, she winks at him and boops his nose “Duty calls. See you later, sweetpea.” they watch as she turned on her heel and walked out with Ford, her appearance changing back into her male version, the one that Ford prefers. He follows closely behind Ford, chatting with him as he speaks about a rift, and as they pass the living room his eyes catch Mabel and Stanley. He lifted his head up and noticed his brother and Alvah walk into the gift shop, the latter laughing softly as Ford spoke, he flinched when Alvah turned and met his gaze. He twiddled his fingers to greet Stan before turning away and going down into the lab with Ford behind him, he let out a sigh as he fell back into his chair. 

“Do you miss her, Grunkle Stan?” he looked down at Mabel before letting out a scoff, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“Miss her? After everything? Pah, I say good riddance! Am I a little upset that she’s hanging around my brother now? Maybe. Am I sad that I no longer talk to her anymore? Kind of… but that doesn’t mean anything! Clearly what we had meant nothing to her!” Mabel looked up at him, a brow quirked upwards as he rambled about everything that happened between them would be forgotten sooner or later. 

“I didn’t want to bring this up with you, Grunkle Stan, but I saw the night you two dance together.” she had to hold back a squeal when he flinched, his face turning bright red at the thought of that night “I saw the way you looked at her, but I also saw the way she looked at you. She told us how she isn’t able to properly feel emotions, but what I saw that night, I can guarantee you that wasn’t fake. She said it herself; she isn’t a liar.” he let out a groan. 

“But she hasn’t be truthful either!” Mabel’s gaze hardened on him. 

“Neither have you.” his shoulders slump, she let out a huff “I understand that you’re upset, but from what I can tell, everything she’s done leading up to this point has been on her own accord. Her helping us and everything, and with whatever you two had going on, I’m sure she did it all for a reason.” he rubbed the back of his neck “But she said she couldn’t quite remember when you two first met? She said she was always lingering around and watching, but her first interaction with you, she can’t really recall it.” he let out a breath as he leaned against the table, looking up in thought. 

“First interaction, first interaction…” her fingers were crossed, repeatedly thinking in her head “please remember, please remember”, he then shoots up and snaps his fingers “Oh, yeah! I totally remember!” she’s quick to take a seat beside him, looking up at him excitedly. 

“Really? What happened?”  

“Well, it was when the Mystery Shack was finally getting some traction.” it was just like any other day at the Mystery Shack, people come in, he lies through his teeth about the attractions in his house while sprinkling jokes in every now and then before scamming those poor suckers out of their money. It was at the end of the day when the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon approached him at the counter, he was at a loss for words as she looked at him. She had blonde hair that was the softest tone of blonde that he’d compared to sand on a beautiful sunny day, eyes as green as freshly cut grass that shun like an emerald if the sun hit them just right. Compared to these hicks, she was wearing elegant and formal clothing, so she stood out compared to the rest of the crowd.  

She was like a gem amongst a pile of rocks. 

“Good evening, Mr. Mystery.” she giggled softly as he gawked at her, his eyes blinking rapidly as she spoke to him in a soft voice, she laughed when he pointed at himself with a confused look “Well, yes. Is there anyone else that goes by the title of Mr. Mystery?” he cleared his throat and quickly collected himself, pulling on his collar but unable to cover the flush that spread across his cheeks. 

“I guess not. I am the one and only, Mr. Mystery.” he holds his hand out to her “The name’s Stan Pines, pleasure to meet you.” she takes his hand and shakes it. 

“I am Alvah, it’s lovely to meet you too.” she took her hand back and continued to smile up at Stan, he let out a nervous laugh. 

“Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you.” 

“I’ve been around here and there, but normally keep to myself. I heard the attraction going around these parts and decided to pay a visit to the “Mystery Shack” everybody was raving about.” she hummed softly as she gently flicked a jar of eyeballs “And I have to say, I see what all the hype is about. You have a very fascinating collection on your hands. Did you hunt them down yourself?” she slowly raised her brow when he pulled on his tie. 

“Ah haha, well. You could say I did, I mean, they’re here now, aren’t they?” 

“I suppose so.” they both noticed how the tourist was beginning to leave so Alvah took that as her cue to leave as well, she twiddled her fingers at him to bid him goodbye and proceeded to walk away but stopped when he called out to her. 

“Hey!” she stopped in her tracks and turned back to him, curious at what he had to say “Will you come again?” she tilts her head to the side. 

“Are you personally asking me to come again? I’m honored.” she giggled when he scoffed, messing with his tie again “I’ll come back every now and then. I’ll go broke if I come back every day with how much you charge.” 

“Y-You can come back any time! Hehe, free of charge…” she hummed softly, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. 

“Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow, Stan.” she winks at him before walking out the door, unbeknownst to her, he had the derpiest grin on his face as he waved her goodbye. 

“Hehe, you’ve still got it, Stanley.” now he couldn’t help but scowl at the memory “I believe she only did that out of pity. Oh wait, she can’t feel pity, now, can she? She must have saw how pathetic I looked and decided then and there would be when she asserted herself with that appearance, knowing it would ruin me.” Mabel placed a hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze “I knew… I knew that smile was just too good to be true. She outconned me.” 

“Well… what if she meant it? Didn’t she say that everything she’s done leading up to now, she’s never lied to you.” his resolve softened a little before shaking his head upon realizing what she said. 

“How do you know that? We were alone when she said that.” Mabel let out a nervous laugh. 

“Ah hahaha, were you? I totally wasn’t listening in on your conversation. Nope, not at all.” Stan shook his head and gently ruffled her head. 

“Our first meeting wasn’t anything special. She was just a tourist who claimed to be fascinated by what the Mystery Shack had to offer, but she’s probably seen even grander things than this junk house.” with that his face saddened once more, seemingly missing the bond both he and Alvah had before the cat got out of the bag, he had almost wished she wasn’t who she claimed to be. 

“Do you hate her?” there it was again, this time spoken by his niece.  

“… I don’t know.” Mabel just couldn’t stand for this. She may just be twelve years old, but that’s old enough for her to see what Stan and Alvah had. She saw the way they looked at each other, the way they spoke to each other and how could she forget that tender and intimate moment they shared on that night. This mishap couldn’t be the undoing of their relationship, and she’ll make sure of it “H-Hey, kiddo, where are you going?” he asked when she jumped off the stool and started running towards the vending machine. 

“Just to ask Alvah a couple questions!” he stood to his feet, reaching his hand out to stop her but was too late when she punched in the code to the vending machine and walked down the hallway to Ford’s lab. Back with Alvah, he was currently leaning over Ford’s shoulder as they were discussing their plan to seal a leakage caused by Stanley reactivating the portal once more. 

“So… are you really not going to thank Stanley?” he let out a scoff. 

“Thank him? For what?” 

“Well, for returning you back to your dimension. Surely you must feel some sort of gratitude.” he leans back when Ford turned around, giving Alvah an irritated expression. 

“He was the reason I fell in in the first place. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have had to be in there.” he hums softly. 

“That is true, then how about impressed?” this got a short chuckle out of him. 

“Impressed by what?” 

“Well, how about him teaching himself about quantum physics? Reconstructing the portal with only having a third of the portal’s instructions, completely unaware there were more instructions due to the invisible ink? Building it all by himself while also maintaining a business that was so successful and also looking after his great niece and nephew? He had no help either. Not from McGucket, Bill or even me.” he raised his finger, wagging it side to side in front of Ford’s face “If anything, your brother is goddamn genius. He has my praise.” he laughed when Ford smacked his hand away. 

“You’re giving him too much credit if you’re calling him a genius.” he shrugged and allowed his body to float, leaning backwards and resting his head in his hands. 

“What can I say? For a high school dropout who had no further education for himself, I am very impressed that he managed to reconstruct the portal the way he did. He had almost completed it by the time he got his hands on journal two and three, and it didn’t take him too long to complete it.” he smirked down at Ford, giving him a toothy grin “If that doesn’t make him a genius, then pardon me.” 

“You seem to like Stanley a lot. When we first met, you did nothing but ridicule me.”  

“Hah! Of course, I told you it was because you were stupid enough to fall for Bill’s flattery. The self-proclaimed genius who didn’t even realize he was being played. Unlike you, Stanley is emotionally intellectual. Though he didn’t admit it, he knew there was something wrong with me, always questioned why someone like me would hang around him. Sure, it was the same between you and Bill, but he had you in the palm of his hand in a couple hours. Stanley was a harder nut to crack. He liked the fact that he was getting attention from a beautiful woman, but he was so guarded it took a couple years for him to fully allow me in. Hmm, but I believe we’re back in square one now.” he shrugged his shoulders “He also makes me laugh.” this earned an eyeroll.  

“Yes, yes, because all you care about is whether or not you are entertained.” he snapped his fingers, now leaning forward. 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Alvah!” both men jump at the loud call, turning around, they see Mabel abruptly enter the room with a determined look on her face. Ford briefly looks up at Alvah and saw him change back into their female appearance, he noticed that they tend to do that around the children and Stan’s employees. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” she answered, continuing to float in the air but this time positioning herself as if she was in a chair with her legs crossed “How may I assist you now?” she let out a yelp when Mabel grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her down. She now sat on her knees as Mabel held her by her collar, staring her in the eyes with a serious look, a bead of sweat bled down the side of her face. 

“How do you feel about Grunkle Stan?” she let out a sigh as she slumped in her hold. 

“This again? Are you ever going to let this go, Mabel?” she allowed the young girl to thrash her around and hang by her grip. 

“How can I?! His feelings are all over the place ever since learning that you were lying who you were all this time.” she muttered under her breath that she didn’t exactly lie if she didn’t tell the full truth, she was kicked by Ford, who promptly looked away when she looked back up at him “It’s up to me to clear up this entire misunderstanding. To help you fully understand your feelings for Grunkle Stan.” she only deadpanned. 

“Good luck with that, kid. This body isn’t exactly designed to comprehend emotions, I don’t even have a personality to call my own.”  

“That’s really sad.” Mabel let her go and she allowed herself to fall to the ground, the young brunette stepped over her and rushed towards Ford, who awkwardly stared down at her in mild curiosity “Grunkle Ford, do you have anything that can project people’s thoughts?” this caused Alvah to look up at Ford, who he himself looked up in thought while rubbing his chin. 

“Do I have something that can project people’s thoughts? Why, that’s very specific. If only I—hah! Of course I do.” he continued to rub his chin as he debated whether it would be a good idea “As much as I’d like to decline the usage of this machinery, I am also more curious as to what you have been up to with my brother the past three decades.” Alvah let out a huff as she pushed herself off the ground and began to float again. 

“And why should I allow you to use this on me? It’s quite dangerous to peer into the mind of the embodiment of chaos. Aren’t you afraid you’ll end up like McGucket?” Mabel let out a laugh. 

“Psh, like you’d let that happen. You like me too much, and besides, I’m adorable! Would you deny this cute face?” Mabel doesn’t wait to answer as she turned back to look up at Ford to ask, or rather plead, to use the device he mentioned. This left him to look up at Alvah and see the way she pouted with a tinge of pink flushing her cheeks, she was trying so hard to deny Mabel’s claims but was ultimately failing. That’s where she found herself sitting on the chair in front of five monitors, sitting particularly in front of a large screen while two smaller ones were to her right and left. If she remembered correctly, Ford dubbed this device as Project Mentem as a defense against Bill, which main functionality was that it could scan one’s mind and bioelectrically encrypt one’s thoughts “So we just put this thingamajig on her head and we can see her thoughts?” Mabel asked as she held the helmet in her hands, Ford nodded as he took it from her and approached Alvah. 

“It’s much more complicated than that, but yes, that’s basically what it does.” she looked up at him and saw he had a cheeky grin on his face, she sneered at him while shaking her head. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he chuckles softly. 

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. To see the thoughts of an actual deity is something I wouldn’t have imagined. I thank you greatly for this, Mabel. You children have quite the rein on Alvah.” she just shook her head; he placed the helmet on her head then pushed a couple buttons on the control console to which it on. All five screens spurred to life and the room illuminated with a green light, the two wait patiently for something to appear on the screen but were left confused when it remained blank.  

“Is it working?” Mabel asked, his face furrowed in confusion as he pushed a couple buttons. 

“It should be.” she snickered softly. 

“You’re going to have to try and little harder than that. If you want me to think about something specifically, you have to ask~ I can blank out my mind all willy nilly. Either that or I overload your machine. My mind has a vast amount of information.” Ford huffed at her, it was never going to be that easy “Of course not.” she stuck her tongue out at him when he glared at her, she turned her attention to Mabel when she approached her, grabbing her by the legs and looking up at her with a serious expression. 

“Think about your first real encounter with Grunkle Stan.” this sparked something within her mind and the screens behind her displayed her first real encounter with Stanley. Mabel was expecting the same thing Stan told her but was greatly surprised to see something entirely different, both herself and Ford took a step towards the monitors to try and figure out what they were looking at but couldn’t quite place it. 

“The first time I met Stanley was when you wanted me to give him that postcard, Ford.” his eyes widened when he saw Alvah’s male appearance appear on the monitor walking across an empty street to approach a rundown motel, he glared at a pedestrian that bumped into him but ignored them in favor to accomplish the task at hand. He looked at the postcard once more and shook his head at the lack of information on it, in handwriting unbecoming of Stanford that read “PLEASE COME”. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked through the parking lot and towards the various rooms, Mabel let out a soft gasp when she saw Alvah walk past the Stanmobile, so this really was her first meeting with Stan. His hand glides across the many doors until stopping at one in particular, he looks at the mailing address once more before raising his fist and knocking on the door “I have a postcard for Stanley Pines~” he called out as he repeatedly knocked on the door, Alvah had all the time in the world, so he continuously knocked on the door until it swung open. Stanford already knew that this was thirty years into the past but seeing the disgruntled version of his brother was something that caught him off guard, it almost felt like it was yesterday he saw this worn-out version of Stanley. 

“Alright, alright! Don’t you see the mail slot?” Alvah just chuckled as he held the postcard between his two fingers. 

“Sorry, but the sender wanted me to make sure you got your hands on this. Didn’t want this getting lost in the mail.” he holds it out for him to take and as Stanley reaches to take it, he cheekily pulled it back “Make sure not to lose this.” he laughed when it was snatched out of his hands while the shorter man glared at him, he just backed away slightly while raising his hands up. 

“Whatever man.” the door is then slammed shut, Alvah rolled his eyes as he dusted his hands off. 

“Welp, did what I was supposed to do.” with his task done he snapped his fingers and returned to Gravity Falls, the memory ends and they look towards Alvah “My very first impression of Stanley Pines was that of a pathetic human who had hit rock bottom. I was honestly surprised that this was the brother that caused you so much discontent, Ford. This was the so-called man who “ruined your life”, talk about living up to what little his name had other than disappointment.” Alvah was smacked in the leg by Mabel, who glared up at her after hearing what she had to share about Stanley. 

“That isn’t very nice, Alvah.” she shrugged her shoulders. 

“Well, that was me in the beginning, when I was still just Fordsy’s little shadow. After you disappeared into the portal and I was stuck in this hick town, I remained within Stanley’s shadow.” the monitors flicker on once more and they watched as she watched over him, while he worked days and nights to repair the portal and would fall asleep at his desk trying to solve Stanford’s notes. She would appear behind him and instead of returning him upstairs, she would retrieve a pillow and blanket and drape it over him so he would be more comfortable. When the Mystery Shack was slowly building up fame, she would be out influencing people to go pay a visit to the man displaying a world of mystery, and it was on that very day Alvah finally became the woman she was to the Pines Family “My opinion of Stanley changed over time. You could say his devotion to bring you back and to fix his mistake, dedicating his life to save you swayed my feelings about him. There was nothing more to it.”  

“Can you think of the instance you felt something for Grunkle Stan? Something that wasn’t displeasure or just an obligation to look after him? Something that had caught you off guard.” they watched as she furrowed her brows as multiple instances went by, but nothing stood out until she slowly perked up. 

“It was… the year before you two were supposed to have arrived. It was your birthday.” this startled Ford a little “Stanley never celebrated your guy’s birthday, I knew the reason, but he told me it was because he didn’t really have anybody to celebrate it with. I wasn’t around in the beginning because I was doing other stuff, but apparently, he planned a whole party. He spent hours writing up comedy roasts about his employees, but in the end… nobody came.” they look back towards the monitors and are met with Alvah walking down a street where she accidentally bumped into Soos. 

“Miss Alvah!” she smiled at him, waving her hand to greet him. 

“How are you, Soos? Today’s a lovely day for a stroll, is it not?” she raised a brow at the glum look on his face “What’s the matter, big guy?” he let out a sigh as he took his hat off and rubbed the back of his head. 

“Mr. Pines is celebrating his birthday this afternoon, but I won’t be able to make it. My Abuelita needs my help all afternoon and I won’t be able to make it.” that and the fact that he himself didn’t exactly like celebrating his birthday caused her to nod her head “I was hoping you would tell him I said happy birthday. There’s no way you would miss it!” she didn’t even realize it was their birthday that day, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. 

“Of course I will. I’m sure he’ll be saddened without you in attendance, Soos. Give your Abuelita my regards, sweetheart.” she let out an oof when he pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tightly while lifting her off the ground. 

“Thank you so much, Alvah!” he puts her down and rushes off, waving his hand goodbye as he ran off “I’ll make sure to make it up to you!” she kept up her happy face and the moment he disappeared her face relaxed as she looked away. 

“I spent the rest of that afternoon looking for a gift for Stanley. He is quite easy to please, so I found a vintage and expensive wine, but the hard part was finding a cake.” she laughed softly at the memory, the monitors display her at multiple bakeries and pastry stores in search of a cake but for some reason they were all sold out “In the end I had to make the cake myself. It didn’t end… quite well.” the monitors flickered to her attempting to make a cake but instead setting a kitchen on fire with a panicked look on her face, by the time the sun was beginning to fall she had finally made a decent looking and tasting cake after many trials and errors. She found herself in front of his front door and proceeded to knock on it continuously until it was thrown open, she pulled her hand back when he looked ready to shout at whoever was knocking before pausing when he realized who exactly was in front of him. 

“… Alvah?” she let out a soft laugh as she leaned forward to take in his appearance. 

“Haha, what happened to your eyebrow? Did you burn it off?” she questioned as she reached forward and brushed a few of his locks out of his face to get a look at the singed hair, she giggled when he smacked her hand away and turned away to hide it. 

“No! Anyways, what are you doing here?” he sputtered backwards when she lifted something up with a bright smile on her face. 

“It’s your birthday! I came to celebrate with you.” he stares at the rather pretty looking cake as she pulled something out and saw it was a bottle of wine “I would have come earlier but would you believe it? The whole town was out of cake, so I had to make one out of scratch. Let’s just say I’m not particularly good at baking.” she titled her head to the side when she noticed he was just staring at the cake. 

“You made this… for me?” 

“Who else would I make this for?” she pushes him inside and closes the door behind her, he follows her like a lost puppy as she walks into the kitchen and places the cake on the table. He takes a seat as she grabs two glasses out of the cabinet and places one in front of Stan and another where she was going to sit, she uncorks the bottle and pours them both a glass before pulling out a candle and placing it in the center of the cake “Soos wanted to be here as well, but you know how he is around birthdays. And besides, having a simpler birthday is much better than going all out. Saves you a lot of money, doesn’t it?” she finally took a seat at the table and stared at him with a fond look in her eye, leaning against the table with the side of her head resting on her knuckles. 

“You…” she hummed softly. 

“Happy birthday, Stan.” Alvah’s face turned confused when Stan abruptly stood up and walked over to her, she was startled when he pulled her out of the chair and wrapped his broad arms around her, embracing her in a rather bone crushing hug. Her eyes widened as he buried his face within her shoulder, her arms were pinned to her side while her head was over his shoulder, she managed to twist it a little to try and look at him but noticed the way he nuzzled into her shoulder to hide the fact that he was tearing up “S-Stan? Are you—” 

“Thank you, Alvah. I really, really needed this.” Mabel and Ford noticed the way her eyes twitch when Stan tightened his grip on her, she managed to slowly lift her arms up the best she could and gently pat his back. 

“O-Oh, it’s no problem. You know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, Stan.” she purposefully didn’t address him as Ford because that would have saddened him and taken his special moment away from him. They stayed like that for a couple seconds until Stan finally let her go but continued to hold her by the arms, she tilted her head to the side to get a look at his face but saw him turn away to hide his tear-stricken eyes “Hah, are you crying?” he frees one of his hands to cover his eyes, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“No! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he flinches when she pulled him forward by the hand that was holding her so she could cup his cheek, he blinks at her and felt her wipe away a few of his tears while smiling softly at him. 

“Come on, tough guy. You don’t have to hide your vulnerability from me, I’m not going to make fun of you.” he huffed at her as she takes her hand back, he sniffles a little and wipes away the remaining tears and gives her a toothy grin. 

“I appreciate this a lot, toots! I’m gonna go find a lighter so I can light this candle! I’ll be back in a sec!” she waves him off and stands in the kitchen alone, Mabel and Ford soon notice the way her smile dropped from her face as she looked down at the wooden floor with a conflicted expression. On the smaller monitors they saw a flurry of words come across the screen, words that had her questioning herself. 

WHAT IS THIS? 

WHY DID I DO THAT? 

WHY DID I DO THIS? 

I DON’T CARE FOR HIM. 

I’M DOING THIS FOR STANFORD. 

THIS MEANS NOTHING TO ME. 

I DON’T ACTUALLY FEEL... 

“In the beginning, I didn’t feel anything.” Alvah spoke as she stared at the monitor when Stan walked back into the kitchen with a lighter in hand and in a chipper mood, she smiled at him and the two sat at the table where he lit the candle and blew it out with a face that reminded her of a child on their birthday “I knew he was going to drink himself into a stupor had I not arrived, but I didn’t expect to feel...” Mabel looked up at her, a curious look in her eyes. 

“What?” her eyes flicker towards the monitor and saw only one word. 

“Pity.” coming from her, it could be condescending, but by the remorseful look on her face as she stared at Stan’s face, they knew that she meant it in a genuine way “He just looked so sad, like a kicked puppy out in the rain. I had watched him at even worser times than that, but for some reason, actually being there made it different.” soon the summer played out for them and Mabel watched every interaction she had with Stan, and she watched intently as the way Alvah’s eyes started to look genuine. 

“Alvah, you...” 

“It was nothing. The personality I adapted was merely to match his own, but...” since the children were always off doing their own thing, they never knew the type of relationship she and Stan actually had. Ford witnessed firsthand the closeness she had with his brother and Mabel concealed her excitement of the hidden lore her great uncle had with this interdimensional being “My mind had been inside a human body for so long that it started acting like it, started feeling like it.” Mabel looked away to look up at Alvah after watching the memory where Alvah and Stan danced at the party where she first met Candy and Grenda. 

“Feeling?” her face scrunched up and instead of just Stan, it showed the children, Soos, Wendy and a few others as she thought of each emotion. 

“Anger. Sadness. Joy. Remorse. Guilt.” the memory of when the children were forced to be sent back home when Gideon had won and they couldn’t do anything about it, how when they did win, she felt an immeasurable amount of guilt inside her because she knew this was going to happen but it was at the cost of the possibly of the children losing that had her mind racing. The next scene had Ford’s eyes widened to the point his eyes were bulging out of his eye sockets while Mabel let out a squeal, that was because it was when Stan had kissed her “L-Love...” 

“You kissed my brother?!” he was shocked to see her face a bright shade of pink, she suddenly sprung to her feet as she placed a hand on her chest. 

“No! He kissed me! And it’s not like I continued to think about that moment! It was just a spur of the moment and Stan probably would have done it to anyone that was next to him! It didn’t mean anything at that moment!” 

"... I didn't, NOT, like it." she looked like a dear caught in headlights when her thoughts were exposing herself "You just... caught me off guard, is all. I wasn't expecting it." 

"Oh? So, are you saying if I were to kiss you again, you wouldn't protest?"  

"Don't push your luck, Stan. Just because I said I liked it; doesn't mean you'll get a taste anytime you want." Alvah refused to look up at Ford from where she was sitting because she knew that man was going to strangle her, however, Mabel was in front of her and started shaking her arm. 

“So you two were in love! That’s so cute!” she let out a scoff, face still flushed with embarrassment from being caught while throwing her hair over her shoulder. 

“Psh, in love? That was the only time--”  

"Stan... Stan, s-stop it!" Mabel was busy staring at Alvah so she didn’t see what memory was playing but Ford was, and to think he’d wish for the day he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Before Mabel could see what was playing Alvah hurriedly lifted the helmet off her head and the monitors switched off, they both look up at her and saw the look of shame on her face. She pushes the helmet into Ford’s hands before slowly kneeling on the floor and curling up into a ball, her hands clutching her head “I wasn’t supposed to get attached... I wasn’t supposed to gain human feelings.” Mabel knelt down and placed her hand on her back, gently rubbing circles into her back to comfort her. 

“But you did, and it looks like it’ll really upset you if Stan started to hate you.” her face scrunches up in confusion. 

“I am hated by millions of people just for simply existing. I am the devil on people’s shoulders who they blame for why their lives have fallen apart. I am so used to being the source of their hatred that I never once cared for the opinions of beings lesser than I am. But... I—I can’t stand the thought of Stan not liking me anymore.” she looked up at Mabel with a sort of desperation in her eyes “I wasn’t supposed to care, but I hate that I do now.” 

“And I’m happy that you care.” Alvah huffed “Now just repeat what you just said now and go say it to Grunkle Stan.” this snapped her out of whatever melt down she was having; she stood to her feet and shook her head. 

“No way! He doesn’t need this now!” Mabel shook her head and took Alvah by her hands. 

“But he does! He looks so lost without you. You two were always together throughout the summer, and not having you by his side is making him upset.” this caused her to start overthinking everything, should I actually tell him how I feel? Should I say sorry? Should I-- 

“Wait a minute, why I am taking the advice of a twelve-year-old?” she suddenly glares at her “I don’t got to listen to you! I am going to deny the fact that I have feelings for this old man and suffer in silence. Yes, that sounds much better.” Mabel face fell. 

“What? No! Are you seriously not going to tell Stan that it was him that caused you to develop human feelings? That it was him that got you to care?” 

“The last thing I need to hear is him gloating that he got an agent of chaos to fall in love with him. And besides, I highly doubt he wants me dating his brother.” at the mention of that, they both look at Ford and saw the way he was shaking his head at the thought “So, we are going to leave what we have just discovered in this very room. I don’t want to hear any of this outside this room. I don’t want to have to talk about the fact that I’ve grown soft. This conversation stays and dies here. Got it?” 

“But--” Alvah gives her a sharp look, Mabel let out a sigh and kicked at the floor “Got it.” she nods. Mabel leaves dejected that Alvah wasn’t going to do anything about this but she was determined to help her confess her feelings to Stan, yes, with a newfound determination, she was going to play cupid once more. Alvah stood in the room with Ford staring at her with an incredulous expression, she turns her attention to him with narrowed eyes. 

“You don’t get to speak. You had a relationship with a triangle.” she holds her hand up to keep him away when his face turned red from embarrassment “Oh, my muse~ I would do anything for you, even if it means the collapse of my mind, body and soul! Ooo, woe is me!” 

“Stop talking!” 

“So poetic, Fordsy!” 

season 2, episode 13. dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons 

after the fiasco that was the reveal of alvah’s true feelings, she had now taken it to the point of avoiding everyone and keeping herself in the basement unless she’s needed.  

that being said, mabel would come bursting into the lab and attempt to drag her upstairs so she could interact with them all, especially with stan. 

she swore never to talk about what happened, but she never said she wouldn’t do anything about it.  

dipper was really confused as to why mabel was more love crazy than usual. 

he felt sorry for the poor sucker his sister had her sights on this time. 

ford found it amusing seeing her act like a deer caught in headlights whenever she spotted stan before he saw her. 

it went so far as to her jumping out a window. 

she fixed it immediately. 

anyways- 

“Alvah... Alvah...!” Dipper shook the empty body that was Alvah until it stirred to life, her eyes blinked to life and looked around before settling on him in confusion. Ford explained to them that her body in this dimension was merely a vessel for her to take control of so whenever she was “sleeping”, it was actually her signing off and returning to her main body. Dipper calling for Alvah warranted her attention and caused her to come back to see what the young boy wanted, she didn’t expect to see him staring at her with a pleading but enthusiastic expression as he held a book in front of her “Alvah? Yes! Um, hey! Do you want to play Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons with me and great uncle Ford? He’s already agreed to play with me and two players is enough but three players would be even better! But you don’t have to play with us, I’m sure you’ve got even more important matters to attend to that I probably pulled you out of. You can totally say no! It’s fine. It’s totally fine. Ah haha, heee...” she stared at him with a rather scrutinizing gaze as she looked between him, the book and Ford standing behind him. 

... 

... 

She now found herself laying on her side with a thirty-eight-sided die in her hand, shaking it within the palm of her hand before tossing it onto the play mat where the other two nerds leaned down close to see what she rolled, she chuckled softly when Dipper cheered that she rolled a high roll while Ford sighed bitterly. Whether it be the fact that within this flesh bag she had grown soft or it was just the children having a way with her, she couldn’t deny Dipper’s plea to play his favorite role-playing game with him and Ford. She was well aware of the concept of Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons after watching Ford and Fiddleford play it during their time building the portal and how it was similar to a different game, but she allowed him to explain it to her in great detail while giving her an already made character for her to play with. 

“Are you sure you’re not cheating, Alvah?” she scoffed, twisting her body so that she was laying on her back with her legs crossed, bouncing her knee every now and then. 

“Maybe you just suck at this game, Ford.” she smirked when she got a snicker out of Dipper, Ford hmphed at her while she stuck her tongue out at him. Dipper was having even more fun because instead of having figurines representing their characters, Alvah was using her powers to bring them to life while also creating a real layout of the story Ford created for their characters to move around. Both Alvah and Ford were magic casters, though Alvah was a sorcerer and he was wizard, while Dipper was a little ranger. Quite the odd party, but Alvah refused to be anything else “What are we up to now?” he hummed softly as he rolled a die between his fingers. 

“Alright, you enter the chamber. Princess Unattainabelle beckons you. But wait, it’s a trap!” she rolled her eyes as Dipper gasps “An illusion cast by Probabilitor the Annoying.” Dipper hands Alvah a couple die for her to roll as he and Ford shake their fists to scramble their own die within their closed fists. 

“You know his weakness, right?” Ford grins at Dipper. 

“Prime statistical anomalies over thirty-seven but not exceeding fifty-one.” the two throw their rolls down first, Dipper taps her shoulder and she throws down her die and allows them to tally up the amount “Yes! Ungh! In your face, cardboard wizard!” the older man hummed softly as he picked up the little cardboard screen meant for the DM to look at the main antagonist. 

“Hmm, the old boy looks a bit different than he did back in my day.” Dipper nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, they change the art every few years. Thankfully, you missed the period when the creators of the game tried to make it cooler.” this got a chuckle out of Alvah, he shuddered at the memory “Must’ve been dark times, those 90’s.” he spoke as he picked up a red card, even Ford grimaced. 

“Yeesh. Sounds like a good time to be stuck between dimensions.” 

“Great uncle Ford, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where were you before you came out of that machine, and what have you and Alvah been doing down here? Are you two working on something behind that curtain?” this question caused the two of them to look at each other, she shrugged her shoulders and gestured for him to speak. 

“Dipper, it’s best if you and the family stay away from that subject. Honestly, I’m not sure any of you could handle the real answer.” 

“But-- But I can handle it.” Ford raised his finger to cut him off. 

“Ah-ah. But I can show you a little something I brought back with me.” they watch as he pulled out a little red bag from his pocket and empty the contents out beside him, a few more die spilled out from it but a peculiar black box caught their attention, her eyes widened when he opened it. 

“Is that... an infinity sided die?” she asked, Dipper looked at it in awe as Ford nodded his head as the young boy watched the symbols continuously change. 

“That’s so cool... and impossible.” Ford opened his mouth to explain but let out a soft gasp when the die flew out of the case and into the hands of Alvah, who held it close to her eye while turning it over. 

“I haven’t seen one of these suckers since the last galaxy was formed. I’m pretty sure these things are outlawed in over nine thousand dimensions.” Dipper gasped at that. 

“Why?” 

“Well, take a look at the symbols. Infinite sides mean infinite outcomes. If you rolled it, anything could happen. Your faces could melt into jelly. The world could turn into an egg... or you could just roll an eight. Who knows?” she huffed when Ford snatched it out of her hand and placed it back into the case, closing it before she could take it again. 

“And that's why I have to keep it in this protective cheap plastic case.” she scoffed with a laugh. 

“How safe.” he ignored her. 

“Now, back to the game!” Dipper had a splendid time playing DDMD with Ford and Alvah, she may not have been engaged like they were but at least she put in the effort to play with them and with her powers making it all come to life just felt magical to him. 

“I had so much fun! Thank you so much great uncle Ford, Alvah!” she twiddled her fingers from behind Ford. 

“Perhaps you could make the next one, sweetheart. I just know you’re full of ideas, Dipper.” he lights up. 

“Does that mean you’ll play again?” she gave shrug but nodded her head. 

“Yeah, sure.” she huffed softly when he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her close, she leaned down to hug him back while patting his back “Perhaps you should go back upstairs. You’ve been down here all day, and surely it takes a lot of time to create a new adventure.” he pulls away from her, snapping his fingers at her. 

“You’re right! I’ve got a lot of thinking to do! Thanks again!” they both wave him goodbye as he ran to the elevator to head back to the shack, the both of them drop their friendly facades and turn back to where the curtain Dipper previously mentioned was. 

“So, you’re really going to keep this between us?” he spoke, his body naturally turning back into his male form “He’s going to figure it out, whether he stumbles down here accidentally again or you tell him yourself.” Ford let out a sigh as he looked over the console, tapping his fingers across the metal surface. 

“Stanley told me to stay away from the children, but so far, it’s been proven difficult because they keep approaching me. Or rather, they keep approaching me since you’re around.” he shrugged.  

“I’ve been looking after those kids the entire summer. I’m surprised they still even want to hang around me.” he said as he laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles above his head ”Anyways, where were we before Dipper interrupted us?” he approached the side of him with a sort of glass case in his hands. 

“Cleaning up my brother’s mess.” 

“Ah, right.” he entered the portal room and it took Ford a second to register what he said. 

“Hey, wait! What do you mean we? You were in the Nightmare Realm, dammit!”  

that entire week mabel and stan were preparing for the duck-tective finale and the day had finally arrived. 

mabel invited grenda to come over and watch it with them, she was more than happy to attend. 

stan, mabel and grenda enter the living room and were shocked to see ford and dipper had taken over the room, it being littered with papers of various equations from their ddmd campaign. 

they were even surprised to see alvah laying behind ford covered in papers herself. 

she was "asleep" after failing a saving throw and her character was killed off so she returned to the nightmare realm to take care of some business as she waited for them to finish but continued to use her powers to bring their game to life.  

they pleaded with them to move their game to a different room so they could watch their show but they were very adamant that they couldn't, saying they were going for a world record. 

stan takes it upon himself to remove a few of the graph papers but ford caught him by the wrist, halting him in his tracks. 

"Move that and pay the price." Ford threatened, his grip on his brother tight to prevent him from reaching any further. 

"Oh, what, fifty magical dwarf dollars?" 

"Don't mock our fantastical monetary system!" 

"I'll mock all I want. It's my TV room." 

"It's my house! You..." Ford takes a breath, sighing to himself as he squeezes the bridge of his nose "Listen, Stanley, did it ever occur to you that if you joined us, you might actually have fun? I mean, Alvah didn't need to but joined for Dipper's sake. I'm sure they'd love it if you played with us as well." Stan's gaze hardened at the mention of her. 

"What? Now you listen to me. As long as I live, I will never--" he snatches the bag of Ford's dice out of his hands, ignoring Dipper shouting at him to wait "Ever. Play your smarty-pants nerd game!" he declares before throwing it to the ground, spilling all the dice out onto the floor including the case that secured the infinity-sided die. Ford and Dipper watch in a panic as the case opens and the die bounces out and lands on a wizard symbol, the dice sparked onto the cover of the DDMD box and they all watch as the characters from the game come to life. 

"Mortals of Dimension 46'\, kneel before me and..." he rolls a couple die and throws them onto the board, leaning down to get a look at what he rolled before grinning menacingly at them "snivel! I am Probabilitor, the greatest wizard in all mathology, give or take an error of 0.4." 

"Uh, is this normal?" Stan questions as they all back away, Mabel and Grenda grabbing Alvah to pull her unconscious body away. 

"Have you come to send us on the quest of a lifetime, because we're the smartest players you've ever met?" 

"You are the smartest players I've ever met. That's why I'm going to eat your brains to gain your intelligence. Especially that one lying there. It's what I do." 

"It's his thing." 

"What?!" Dipper turns and grabs Alvah by her collar, shaking her body back and forth "Alvah! Come back! Come back right now! The game came to life and they're going to eat our brains!" Ford throws his coat back to reveal the gun strapped to his waist, he pulls it out and spins it around his finger before aiming it towards Probabilator. 

"Your math is no match for my gun, you idiot!" 

“Math ray!” Ford grits his teeth when he feels a blast of wind blows past him after shielding his eyes from the bright light that came from the man before him, he thought he was going to be thrown out of the room but was surprised to see a sort of red force field shield them all from the attack. A groan came from behind him so he looked back and saw it was Alvah slowly pulling herself up from the floor while her hand was shining a soft hue of red, Dipper let out a sigh of relief that he managed to get through to her and her body instinctively put up a shield to keep them out of harm's way. 

“I wasn’t even gone for that long, and you guys managed to get yourselves into trouble?” she’s on her feet now ripping off the graph papers they so rudely stuck on her when her body was unoccupied, it was when she took off the one stuck to her face was when she paused and stared at Probabilator when she turned around and started to leave “Good luck, you guys.” they stare at her in shock. As she passes Stan, he caught her by the arm to stop her in her tracks, and though the situation is dire, Mabel doesn’t miss the way Alvah flinches when he turns her around. 

“What do you mean good luck? Didn’t you say you’d keep us out of danger?!” she gave a shrug, face turning a soft pink under his gaze. 

“I did, but didn’t I also tell you I can’t directly interfere with events in time? This so happens to be one of them.” she then points behind her with her thumb “I’ll just be in the background. I’ll make sure you guys don’t die under my watch; I promise.” 

“What?!” 

“You guys are going to have so much fun! Family bonding, yaddy yaddy yah! The whole shebang. I can’t just obliterate him out of existence, that’d be cheating.” she takes her arm back and goes to walk off again but this time Probabilator causes her to freeze. 

“Obliterate? Hah! With that mediocre display of magic? I have a hard time believing that!” Stan watched how her face twitched and how she fought down what he believes was anger and irritation. 

“Mediocre...? Me? My magic is mediocre? Me!” she startled them when she suddenly grabbed Stan and shook him while glaring at him, and while it wasn’t directed at him it still scared him to see the angry side of Alvah “If you think you can get away with calling me mediocre, you’ve got another thing com—no, no.” she let Stan go and approached Probabilator with the intentions of strangling him but managed to rein herself in before she could lay hands on him “No, no, no. You can’t do anything, Alvah. Calm yourself. Be the bigger person and let it go. Yes, that is what you’re supposed to do.” she nods her head and starts walking away. 

“Is she oka--” Dipper cut himself off when she came rushing back in. 

“No, I’m not.” they were taken aback when she punched him square in the face that she probably broke his nose, he fell to the ground with a cry but he also threw his staff in the air, and she caught it and stared at the die at the end of it before turning her gaze down at Probabilator “Here’s a lesson on magic. Though it varies depending on which dimension you’re in, they all circulate around the same thing. Magic is recognized as the use of mana to create phenomena, outside the limits of normal science. The usage of magic has varying degrees, with only the skill, personal power-level, imagination/knowledge, and/or morality to define the borders of the magician's limits.” as she explained, they watched as she started drawing a magic circle in the air that glowed an ominous red “Magic is all about bringing something that didn’t exist into reality, and that is the beauty of magic.” after completing the magic circle she tapped on it and they watched as it glowed so bright before blasting a pillar of fire at their foes, burning them to a cinder. 

“Well...” Dipper spoke, she then started to laugh as she kicked at the box art of Probabilator. 

“Hah! How was that for mediocre, huh? Try using your mathology in the afterlife!” she leans to the side when she notices that she accidentally overdid it with the magic and destroyed the kitchen and left burn marks everywhere “... I’ll fix that.” now they’re outside the shack while Alvah was floating around and fixing it up after what happened during the portal's reactivation, she didn’t have time to fix it earlier but after the mess, she made she finally made time to do it. 

“Mabel, is Miss Alvah a witch?” Grenda asked as she watched Alvah float off the ground after taking a tree that had lodged itself into the roof and replanted it back into the ground, they all kind of forgot that Alvah being a supernatural, interdimensional demonic being was a secret. 

“Well, Grenda, actually--” 

“That’s so awesome! Do you think if I asked, she would teach me how to use magic as well? I wanna be a witch!” they hear a laugh and see that it is Alvah slowly descending from above but continuing to float as she holds the staff over her shoulder. 

“That would be quite difficult, little Grenda. In this dimension, you humans don’t particularly have mana or any other sort of energy that allows you to wield magic. But you do have science, which happens to be the more limited but modernized version of magic.” she chuckled softly when Grenda huffed, kicking at the grass while crossing her arms. 

“That’s not fair!” she pats her head. 

“Life’s not fair, kiddo. Perhaps you should go punch someone, it always brings a smile to my face.” 

“You’re right!” with that Grenda runs off to go punch the nearest person, she chuckled at the young girl before throwing her arms towards the newly fixed Mystery Shack. 

“And there you have it! Good as new!” they all hear a creek so they look up and see the iconic S from the Shack slowly slip off and fall to the ground, she let out a breath as she dropped her arms “I’m not even going to bother.” she looks down when she saw Dipper approach so she lowered herself to the ground and sat herself down on her knees. 

“Thanks for helping us, Alvah.” she smiled softly and gently patted his head “You’re not going to get in trouble, are you? You said that was an event that you weren’t supposed to interfere with.” this caused her to let out a huff. 

“I really wasn’t supposed to do what I just did. I was technically supposed to allow him to kidnap you and Ford, and take you guys into the forest while Mabel and Stan came to your rescue. It was to help your guy’s development and relationship; you guys are trapped within the game and they were going to play it to save you.” this caught them by surprise “Since I’ve already interfered, I don’t think I’ll get in trouble for telling you what was supposed to happen. It was my first offense; I’ll probably be let go with just a warning. So, if you guys see the time police, tell them you never saw me. I don’t want to deal with that stupid Time Baby.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you mean to tell me that we actually played that nerd game? For real?” she nods. 

“Yes, you played that “nerd game” to save your brothers, and you actually had fun doing so, and won against his smarts with your dumb luck. If you remove the mathematical and hard-thinking concepts out of DDMD, you will greatly enjoy the game. You put aside your distaste for the game to save both Ford and Dipper, which helped with your guy's relationship, and you guys realize that your bit— I mean, bickering isn’t going to do you any good, blah, blah, blah.” she thanked Dipper when he helped her up while she tossed the staff behind her “So, I’m sorry that I let my ego get the best of me and ruined your adventure. This is why I don’t really get in the way of these things, because it takes the fun and development you guys were supposed to have, out of it.” she hummed softly when Mabel approached her, taking her hand and tugging her forward. 

“And we greatly appreciate your help, Alvah. Is what why you’ve been staying out of things as of lately?” she nodded her head. 

“Uh-huh. You should spend as much time with each other as you possibly can because you don’t know when it’s going to be your last.” Mabel pouted at that, Alvah didn’t realize where the little girl was leading her until it was too late, because the next thing she knew was Mabel grabbing Stan and pulling the two of them together and they fell into each other. 

“Then will you watch the season finale of Duck-tective with us? It wouldn’t be the same without you, and since you played with Dipper and Grunkle Ford, then you’ve just gotta watch it with us!” she swallowed thickly as she slowly looked up at Stan, her face slowly losing its composure with how close they were as she started sputtering out any sort of excuse to decline “Come on, pretty please~ won’t you do it for me?” looking back down at her she saw her infamous puppy dog eyes with her trembling lips, she let out a sigh. 

“Alright, fine.” both she and Stan take a knee when they were yanked down so Mabel could hug them both, they plant a hand onto the ground to stabilize themselves while wrapping another arm around the young girl. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she hugged them a little longer before letting them go and jogging over to Dipper to urge him to join them, Ford was planning on declining the invitation but looked over towards his brother and demon and saw the way the two of them acted like awkward teenagers. It was honestly quite amusing, two people who are known for being outspoken and confident were reduced to nothing but silence, and from what he learned through her memories the two of them were known for flirting with each other and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She wrapped an arm around herself while her free hand rubbed her face, Stan himself hand one of his hands caressing the back of his neck while the other planted itself on his hip. 

“So...” they startle each other when they spoke at the same time while turning to look at each other, they immediately turn away when their faces were inches apart, she starts playing with her hair as she took a breath while Stan took his hat off “How have you been?” she perked up when he spoke to her, looking up at him, he was dusting his hat off before placing it back on top of his head. 

“Well. Could I assume the same for yourself?” he gave a shrug. 

“Eh, I’ve been better.” she nodded softly, and her mind went back to the conversation she, Ford, and Mabel had in the lab and that feeling of guilt started pooling up in her stomach again, she’s grabbed a fistful of the skirt of her dress and was playing with the bundle rather nervously. 

“Stanley, I... I’m--” he looks down at her, curious as to what she had to say, she looks up at him and he saw this look in her eyes when they locked eyes, she looked like she was going to say something before her body slumped and she instead reached up to fix his fez that was slipping from his head “I’m happy you are faring well.” her hand slips down to his face where it briefly rests upon his cheek before she pulls it away, she holds her hand close to her chest as she walks towards the shack to follow Ford inside where she misses Stan reaching up to place his own hand on the cheek she last touched. 

“Alvah.” upon joining them in watching Duck-tective, she sat on the ground beside Grenda while Stan, Dipper, and Mabel all squeezed onto the small sofa. She found the plot to be a little amusing, that the season finale revealed how the duck protagonist had a secret twin brother, which almost reminded her of someone. She felt a little nudge so she looked up and saw Mabel wiggling her eyebrows at her, she rolled her own eyes and shook her head before looking back at the TV. 

season 2, episode 14. the stanchurian candidate 

alvah is, of course, with stanford when dipper comes down to complain about stan stubbornly refusing to listen to him and mabel about running for mayor. 

while he ranted on and on about the fact, ford looks at alvah to see whether or not his brother actually wins the election. 

she gave a shrug while making a “sort of” gesture. 

she watched in amusement when ford pulled out a necktie that had the capabilities to control the wearer. 

“use it responsibly” he said, like hell they would. 

when it was the day of the election, ford couldn’t seem to find alvah until he looked upstairs and found her watching the election. 

he saw the way she was giggling softly to herself as she watched stan, a soft hue dusted across her cheeks. 

not in love, she says. 

ford ridicules her but he was swiftly punched in the face. 

season 2, episode 15. the last mabelcorn 

Alvah wasn't allowed to join Mabel on her quest for the unicorns because Ford said that "a being as rotten as her would scare them off", or whatever that means. She thinks he's just a sucker that believed that whole pure of heart sham all those years ago, she already knew that was a farce from long ago but thought it was too funny to reveal. She could easily get past those stupid unicorns and either a. take their hair by force or b. compliment their hair and ask for tips, that usually works. Ford told her that he wanted to spend some time alone with Dipper, having already revealed what they were doing in his lab all those nights ago, and Dipper practically pleaded with her to allow him to spend time with his idol. 

So here she was, sitting outside the shack with nothing to do. She watched aimlessly as the little critters that roamed the forest would peek out and approach her curiously before wandering back into the forest where she would reward their curiosity with little peanuts left out by Soos, she had a walnut in her hand so she swiftly crushed it within her palm before outstretching her hand to a squirrel that padded up to her. She watched as it sniffed her hand curiously before eating right out of her palm, it would be so easy to close her hand around its neck and tighten her hold around it. She could do it slowly and watch it struggle within her grasp, clawing at her hand to escape despite knowing its attempts would be futile. Or perhaps she could just crush it like she did with that walnut, how she would feel its neck snap in an instant; quick and painless. She let out an oh when it suddenly scampered away, she flicked the reminisce of the walnut onto the grass and relaxed back on the steps. 

"... I know you're there, Stanley." she hummed softly when she heard a crash from behind her, she waited a couple seconds before the door opened, and out came Stan dusting himself off while clearing his throat "Come to have a chat with me, Stan?" she pats the free space beside her and waits to see whether or not he'd take her up on the offer, he grumbles to himself but plops himself beside her. 

"Why aren't you with brainiac one and two or Mabel? You're usually hanging off his shoulder or keeping Mabel out of trouble." she merely shrugged her shoulders as she plucked another peanut from the bowl and tossed it toward another squirrel. 

"Fordsy wanted to spend some time with Dipper alone to devise a plan against Bill, and Mabel will be just fine. And you didn't hear this from me, but she's gonna punch a unicorn in the nose. It's rather glorious." she giggles softly to herself at what the future has for Mabel, sure her love for unicorns vanishes because they're nothing but a sham, but it sure was a spectacle to witness. 

"What? She punches a unicorn?" this got a laugh out of Stan "Almost tempted to follow them just to watch."  

"She might need comfort when she returns. Because of their little "purest of heart" scheme, they make her a little insecure about how good of a person she is. She might need some reassurance when she gets back, but those other girls keep her from falling too deep." they sit in silence and Stan watches her closely, he stares at her face specifically. Ever since it was revealed that she wasn't all that she seemed to be, whether she was a man or not, she wore a rather cocky grin on her face and carried a haughty attitude, she was just unrecognizable to him. But right now, under the grace of the sun and a calming summer breeze, he was blessed with the Alvah he had grown rather attached to... like he'd ever admit that part out loud, god he hoped she couldn't read minds (she can, in fact, read minds). 

"You're staring." he jumped at her voice, fidgeting from where he sat when her eyes trailed away from the wilderness that surrounded them and onto him, he swallowed thickly and stared deep into those soft, rich green eyes of hers. He was the most socially aware between himself and Stanford and took pride in himself with how well he could read people, he thought he read Alvah well, but there was just something lacking within her eyes "What's on your mind?" 

"Pointdexter refers to you as a devil, so are you like Bill?" 

"By that, are you asking if he and I are the same species?" he gave a kind of gesture. 

"Do you have a shape form like he does?" this question causes her to burst out into a fit of laughter. 

"I'm not a Euclydian, Stan. Their species have been long wiped out like their dimension, no thanks to Bill." she paused when she saw the confused look on his face "They are, er, were a two dimensional species that were only shapes like squares and circles." 

"And triangles?" she nods. 

"Uh-huh. They were incapable of seeing the third dimension, but Bill, he was different. But due to that, he accidentally destroyed Euclydia. He'd say otherwise, but we beings know what happened that day." 

"So you're saying that you were there?" she shrugs. 

"More or less. You're technically not supposed to know this, not even Ford knows this, but I could care less. Bill tells an entirely different story, saying he did it for power, but he only says that because he doesn't want to confront the fact that he erased his species off the face of this universe. He refuses to see that it was his fault." 

"Whoa." she nods, he looks at the ground as he thinks of another question to ask "But you do have many forms, right? This and the one you use for Ford aren't the only ones, are they?" she shakes her head. 

"No, they aren't." Stan then watches as she changes shape into a variety of different people, or rather, species "I have contracts with many people for trillions of years and taken the form of different species. I don't really have a proper identity to call me own." she spoke in different voices and even languages as she changed from a monster with tentacles for a face and even a tall newt with a purple skin tone before finally changing back to Alvah. 

"That sounds sad." 

"It really isn't. The contracts were easy to fulfill and I didn't have to stay in a body for too long. This one, however, is the longest it has existed." she said as she raised her arms to look at her hands "Without me even realizing, it started developing..." he raised a brow as he looked at her hands then back up at her. 

"A consciousness?" she chuckled softly. 

"Feelings." he blinked at her words "Every body I made moved like a machine with simple instruction. Listen to the contractor, fulfill the contractor's wishes, and complete the contract. Simple." 

"But?" she finally looked away from her hands and stared at him, long and hard. 

"I would leave these bodies and return to my own so I wouldn't get... attached. But, I was stuck in this one for so long it-- or I, started to feel. That is impossible, I'm not supposed to feel anything." the longer he stared into her eyes the more he started to see something that once wasn't there "And yet here I am beginning to enjoy the company of a small human family to the point I would do anything to secure their safety; to the point that I don't want you... to hate me." his eyes widened at her words. 

"Alvah." she turns away and wraps her arms tightly around her torso 

"Stanley, I am... sorry, for how I've treated you these past couple of weeks. I'm sorry I've been distant, I'm sorry I've avoided you. It’s just... so hard for me to come to terms with these feelings that are so foreign to me. These feelings are something I can’t control, and no matter how hard I’ve been denying them... they just keep coming back.” he sees how her arms tightened as she spoke “I don’t know if it’s this body or my feelings. I’m supposed to know everything, I’ve seen countless possibilities, millions upon trillions of endings but not one... not one where I--” he blinks when she abruptly cuts herself off. 

“Where you what?” the suspense was killing him, he tilts his head to try and get a look at her face but instead he saw a faint hue on the tips of her ears when she spoke so softly it would’ve been lost to the wind. 

“Where I...” he couldn't quite catch what she said but he saw the way her body suddenly froze, as if the sudden realization of her feelings finally caught up with her. He was startled when she quickly shot up to her feet and turned around, speedwalking to get inside the shack and possibly hide from him “I-I—I need to go! It was swell talking with you again, Stanley! Talk to you later!” she tries to get away but Stan was fast enough to stand to his feet and catch her wrist before she could get too far. 

“No, no! You can’t just stop there! You can’t just leave me hanging there, Alvah!” each time he felt her try to get away he would tug her back, he knew that she was much stronger than him, he knew that she could throw him off but this was a rare moment of Alvah being vulnerable with him so he wasn’t going to lose her when he was so close “You don’t get to spill that all on me and expect me to just sit there! I still... I still care about you! I still think about what we had, about what we did and said to each other and I hoped it wasn’t something you did out of obligation. That what we had meant something to you, the real you! That you actually... care for me. That finally someone chose me, and that since you knew it was me from the very beginning, you actually wanted me.” she stopped fighting him but she didn’t turn to look at him, his grip on her tightened as his face hardened “Won’t you say something, Alvah?!” he tugs at her and forced her to turn around and there... there he saw a sight that will forever be engraved in the back of his mind. The color red had practically covered her entire face as she tried her best to shield it with her forearm but failed, she was looking everywhere but at him and she looked so flustered; so, embarrassed that she looked so adorable in his eyes that it made him forget that the person in front of him was the embodiment of chaos and evil.  

“I... I do care about you, Stanley. I care when I-I shouldn’t be able too.” she moves her arm so her hand could cover the lower half of her face as she looked away “I’ve seen those kids die—I've seen you die so many times. To the monsters that roamed the forest... or by your own hands, and it scares me so much. Is this how you humans feel when you care about something so much that you feel like you’re dying? I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I were to lose you...” his hand slowly reaches for her other wrist and pulls it down so he could look at her clearly, the one that caught her slid up her arm and rested on her cheek where she finally looked at him and he saw so many different emotions swirling in those beautiful eyes of hers. 

Fear, anguish, regret, confusion. 

“Humans are more... complex than machines. We feel things that can spiral out of control if left alone.” his thumb started stroking her cheek in a form of comfort and she melted at the affection, her eyes fluttering close as she leaned into his touch “If what you say is true, then running from it will make you hurt more.” her eyes opened again and he couldn’t tell if the glisten in her eyes were tears or something else. 

“You make my nonexistent heart beat. I... I...” he saw the way that word was stuck in her throat, how she struggled to say it as she hid her face in the palm of his hand. Instead, she blinked when she felt his other hand cup her cheek and slowly turn her towards him once more, the two of them stare at each other until he started leaning in. A weak gasp left her when he pressed his lips against her, unlike the other kisses they’ve shared, this one was so short and faint she’d compare it to a peck. He pulled away and she saw his cheeks were tinted the faintest shade of pink but her face turned even more red, however, it didn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a much needed kiss. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist to pull her close and reciprocate the kiss, they’d pull away briefly to allow him to breath but they’d pull each other right back in for more. Her hands removed themselves from his neck to cradle his face within her hands while his own roamed her body, he manages to catch them when they fall back into the door behind her with his hand slamming against the door frame, when they break away, they rest their foreheads against each other with his hands caressing his face affectionately “Stanford’s gonna kill me.” Stan snorted softly at what she said. 

“Why do you say that?” they move from the door to take a seat on the yellow sofa, all the tension from earlier gone as she cuddled up to Stan’s side, his arm wrapped around her side to keep her close. 

“He has come to realize my infatuation with you and threatens me about getting close. Says he doesn’t want a repeat in history, but I’m insulted that he compares me to Bill and you to him. If I’m being honest, you are much smarter than your brother.” 

“Hah! You’re just saying that because you like me.” she shakes her head, lacing her fingers with his and giving his hand a squeeze. 

“No, I am being very honest. You are much smarter than people give you credit for, Stan. I have watched you ever since you stepped for in Gravity Falls and your actions leading up to your brother’s return have been remarkable. If anything, your brother has much to learn from you. Be proud of your actions.” she quirked a brow when she felt his grip on her hand tighten a little as his body trembled, looking up, she giggled quietly to herself when she saw him covering his eyes with his hand “Stan, are you crying?” he looked away from her. 

“No! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she hummed and reached to grab at his wrist and pull it away from his face, she gave him a soft expression as she cupped his cheek and wiped away his tears. 

“I told you this before, Stan, you don’t have to hide your vulnerability from me, I’m not going to make fun of you.” with that she kissed his tears away and nuzzled her cheek against his, he laughed softly and returned the gesture to know that it was appreciated “I still don’t fully understand what these feelings are or how I should confront them, but I do know you are something dear to me, as well as those children, and Wendy, and Soos and even Stanford. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, but there are just some things I just can’t prevent from happening in order to do so.” he hummed softly at that. 

“So, there is more to come?” 

“More than you could think.” he let out a grunt when she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face within the crook of his neck, hugging him tightly “So when that day comes, please know that I am so sorry that I had to let it happen.” he opens his mouth to reassure her that he’d forgive her, that it couldn’t possibly be as bad as she’s making it out to be, but seeing how she tightened her grip on him made him think otherwise. 

“Whatever you say, toots.” they decide to go back into the shack in fear that Mabel and her friends would reappear and catch them doing something they definitely didn’t want them to see. Alvah hadn’t realized just how much she missed spending her time with Stan, whether it doing something productive or just simply lazing around doing absolutely nothing but basking in each other’s company. She found herself craving more of Stan then she ever realized, she wanted him to smile at her more, she wanted to be the reason of his laughter, she wanted to be the center of his universe, but she knew deep down that she could never replace the love he had for his family. So, even if she had to be fed breadcrumbs in order to stay in his mind, she wouldn’t mind. 

“Did somebody say unicorn hair?!” both herself and Stan jump at the sound of Mabel’s voice, has it been that long already? She hadn’t even realized how long she and Stan spent together to the point that Mabel had returned from retrieving the unicorn hair, she guessed Dipper now knows that the muse she was talking about long ago was now in fact Bill Cipher and that she and that triangular freak have got ongoing beef. They both leave the room they occupied and make their way to where everyone was huddled in, however, the moment Stan’s eyes caught the glistening shine of gold he was quick to leave her side. 

“MONEY!!” she sweat dropped when he grabbed an armful before breaking down the backdoor as he fled, she sighed but clapped her hands when she entered the room. 

“Well done, Mabel, I knew you could do it.” taking in their disheveled attire, she snickered softly when she saw the unicorn tears and blood that covered the girls followed by scratches and bruises “You did a good job, kiddo. I’m real proud of you.” she praised as she knelt down and gently ruffled her head, she pulled her hand away and saw the way her eyes glistened with tears. 

“Thanks, Alvah, I really needed that.” she winked. 

“Don’t worry about it. Those unicorns don’t know a thing about you, but I know for sure that you’re the greatest little girl there could ever be.” she soft gasp left her when Mabel threw herself into Alvah’s arms, her eyes widened a little at the action as she slowly lifted her arms to wrap around Mabel and embrace her. Her mind went back to what she said to Stan and she immediately felt the guilt pool in her stomach, but she ignored it to nuzzle her cheek against the side of Mabel’s head. 

when stan came back, he and alvah spent a few more quiet hours to catch up on lost time. 

she made sure that mabel was busy with her friends so the young girl wouldn’t catch them doing anything. 

it was when things were getting more intimate when she was suddenly ripped from his grasp and a crash followed close behind.

opening his eyes, he was met with a hole in the wall as well as a loud thud. 

that was due to the fact when dipper and ford put up the protective barrier to bill-proof the shack, ford made a few miscalculations and demon-proofed the house. 

so when the barrier went up she was repealed out of the shack, to which she was on the top floor and fell from a great height.  

dipper was immediately apologetic and ford chuckled when she glared at him to fix it, well, that was until stan popped his head out from where she was thrown out. 

the next hour is spent with her running away from blasts from his gun while stan, dipper and mabel try and stop him. 

season 2, episode 16. roadside attraction  

“You really don’t want me anywhere near your brother, huh?” Alvah, who was in his male form, cooed from where he was floating over Ford, who was currently trying to figure out a way to fix the rift after it was damaged by Dipper when he learned the truth about Ford and Bill and shot him with the memory gun, only for the blast to ricochet off his head. After learning that Alvah and Stan settled the awkward tension they had and were acting flirtatious again, seeing them acting all lovey dovey and not getting enough of each other. He would try to ignore it but knowing what they were doing in just a room across from him had him storming in, no matter what they could be doing, and ripping her away from Stan to confine her in the lab “So overprotective, Fordsy~” he giggles to himself and twirls and strand of his long black hair around his index finger. 

“I do not want to know what kind of tomfoolery you and my brother get up to.” he huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Like you and Bill?” he snickered when he saw Ford stiffen, dropping the pen he had in his hand as he slowly turned red. Whether it be from embarrassment or anger, or perhaps both, he’ll never know. He scoffed when Ford whipped his head over to where he was floating and glared at him with such vigor, if looks could kill, he’d be dead where he stood—er, well, floated “Hit a nerve, did I?” he hummed softly when Ford grabbed him by the ankle to yank him down, making sure they were face to face as when he spoke. 

“How dare you bring that up, Alvah. You know exactly what Bill did to me.”  

“Then you should know better than to compare me to Bill, Stanford.” he opens his mouth to protest but was shushed when Alvah shook him off “I can hear your thoughts without needing to read them, and to say I’m insulted would be an understatement. My adoration for Stanley is completely different from the obsession Bill had for you.” 

“I-It wasn’t an obsession!” 

“I stalked you two for over a year, and he would not shut up about it either. I will go through those journals just to find those receipts; I will do it. I will give you the time and date for each instance, don’t tempt me.” they stare at each other for an intense few minutes until Ford breaks away with a disgruntled sigh, he watches as he returned to where he was before in silence before speaking “... I’m not going to hurt him, if that’s what you’re thinking. I already know what he’s been through. From his upbringing, the ten years he spent alone on the road to the thirty years of bringing you back. I don’t plan on damaging him even further, intentionally, that is.” 

“Intentionally?” Ford waited for an answer but was met with silence, he turned back to look at Alvah to question him but paused when he saw the distraught look on his face “Al--” 

“Let's just say, there’s just something I can’t prevent from happening.” Ford wants to question him on what that means but knows that if it has something to do with the timeline then Alvah will not tell him, despite being an all knowing and powerful being, there seems to be some rules that even he cannot and will not break. He goes to return to work but saw the way Alvah perked up like an internal alarm went off in his head, he raised a brow curiously. 

“Now what?” Alvah lifted his hand up and the shadows beneath him rose out of the ground. 

“Your brother seems to be in need of assistance.” Ford furrowed his brows in concern and got off his seat, standing beside Alvah as the shadows acted as a way to see what was happening. Ford always wondered what Alvah saw whenever she was, as he called it, the Shadow Realm, when they conversed. The image was distorted and hazy but clear enough for them to see what was going on on the other side, and there they saw Stan encased in webbing in some sort of cave. 

“Wasn’t he going on a road trip with the kids?” he nods. 

“He is, but it seems he ran into an arachnimorph. Quite nasty, if I say. If he’s lucky, he didn’t run into a female one.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“They’re more aggressive than the male arachnimorphs. You know, like normal spiders.” the image then shows a tan skinned woman with tan marks over her eyes in the shape of her sunglasses and on her shoulders where straps were present. She had sandy-blonde hair and a brown birth mark on her left shoulder, and though her torso was that of a normal human woman, her lower half was that of a spider “Him and his dumb luck.” 

“Are you going to help him?” he shakes his head. 

“As much as I want to, it’s one of those moments where I can’t.” he nods his head. 

“I see.” he goes to make the image disappear until that woman started getting closer to Stan. 

“You tricked me!” he shouted at her “I’m eighty-percent certain you don’t really love me at all!” this comment caused Alvah to furrow his brows, though he already knew the plot of this adventure, he still was a little jealous that Stan and this spider-woman went out on a date. 

“Ha! Men will fall for anything. You’re so funny. Great story. I love a man with shoulder hair.” 

“You... you didn’t mean it about my shoulder hair?” Ford and Alvah to roll their eyes. 

“Tell me, Stan, before I transformed, who’d you think was in charge? You, with your cheesy lines and fake confidence? I’m the master pick-up artist here. Sorry, toots. This time, you’re getting used for your body, which, to my species, is food. Allow me to slip into something more horrifying.” with that, the arachnimorph pulled its mouth open like that of a body suit and revealed its true form “I wonder what beverage pairs well with a vintage seventy-something-year-old man."  he grits his teeth as he glared at her from where he was hanging. 

“Why I oughta, when my partner gets here, you’ll be sorry!” this caused the arachnimorph to let out a laugh as she got close to him once more. 

“If you already had a partner, why’d you flirt with little ol’ me? Wouldn’t that break their heart if they learned of your infidelity?” he just let out a laugh. 

“Not really. I used my better lines on her and I’ve practically got her wrapped around me finger.” Ford looked up at Alvah and saw the irritated look on his face followed by the soft blush tinting his cheeks, he rolled his eyes knowing that what Stan had said wasn’t too far off from the truth “Besides, unlike her, I didn’t really like you all that much. Just trying to show off to my nephew how professionals work.” she let out a laugh at what he said. 

“Hah! Thanks to you, that boy will probably do more harm than good with your advice. It’d probably be better if he didn’t listen to you, because in the end, look where you ended up.” 

“Sure, but my partner surely won’t leave me hanging and come to my rescue!” the way he emphasized on the surely was meant for him to appear right that moment to save him, Darlene looked around for the appearance of such a partner but no one came “Come on, Alvah! I know you’re watching!” Darlene laughs once more as she got close to his face, he winced and leaned as far away as he possibly could while being confined to the webbing. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, but it looks like you’re all alo—ah!” Stan was startled when a fist appeared from beside his head and punched Darlene in the face, knocking her a few feet away from him, though he gradually calmed down when said fist uncurled and a hand glided across his jaw and caressed his cheek. 

“Hello, beloved. Can’t go a day without causing trouble, huh?” Stan smiled at the sight of Alvah appearing from out of his shadow, her arm around wrapped around his shoulder as she pulled herself close to him so she could rub her cheek against his “I, for one, like your shoulder hair.” he giggled bashfully to himself as he nuzzled his cheek into hers. 

“Aw~ I knew you would.” before she could say anything else she let out a grunt when she was shoved away from him by another figure, Stan was surprised to see Ford appear as well by grabbing Alvah by her face and pushing her away while pointing his gun towards the arachnimorph. 

“That’s enough of that.” she glared at him but scoffed as they both step out of the shadow “This isn’t a good idea, Alvah.” she shrugged as she stood in front of the twins to ensure she was the first target that Darlene woman would go for. 

“As long as I’m not the one to take her down, we should be fine. Now hurry up and free your brother, I’ll keep her back until the kids get here.” 

“Mister Pines!” she chuckled at the sound of Grenda’s voice echoing through the cave. 

“Speak of the devil.” the children came rushing in to save Stan but were greatly surprised at the sight of Alvah and Ford already in the process of saving him “Children, take your uncles and get out of here. I’ll hold her back while you get away.” 

“Miss Alvah! How are you here?” 

“Magic~” she quickly turned her attention back towards Darlene when she came charging at her, she caught the six-legged creature by her hands and dug the soles of her feet into the ground to keep her from pushing her back. She grimaced when the pincers on her face chittered as she leaned close, Alvah winced when she heard the sound of subtle cracking so she glanced over at her arms and saw tiny cracks forming around her elbows “Yeesh, have you ever thought of eating a couple breath mints? You smell as bad as that guy back there.” she said while motioning to Ford with her head. 

“Hey!” Stan snickered. 

“She’s got a point, Sixer.” she leans away again when Darlene let out a chuckle. 

“So, you must be the partner, huh? Did you know that your Stan over there whispered sweet nothings into my ear? He thinks he’s such a smooth talker with his cheap flattery and cheesy one liners.” Alvah rolled her eyes. 

“Well, they worked on me.” she looked away when Darlene gave her an incredulous look. 

“Wait, seriously?” she shrugged her shoulders. 

“What? I’m a sucker for flattery.” she let out a yelp of sorts when she was lifted off the ground then slammed back down into the ground, it didn’t hurt, but she grimaced when she heard more parts of her body start to crack “Hey, hey, now. Let’s be gentle, I’m a fragile little thing.” 

“You also look like a sweet little thing, I wonder what you taste like.” 

“Well, you’ve got to ask Stan if you want to answer to that question.” she winked but let out another grunt when she felt this overweight arachnid push her deeper into the dirty cave floor, she was getting dirt and cobwebs in her clothes and hair, what a pain “I beg, please get your ugly face away from mine. I don’t appreciate it.” Darlene laughs again as leans in close, her pincers wiggling inches away from Alvah’s face. 

“I won’t let any of you get away. You’ll make a perfect addition to my collection.” Alvah scoffed. 

“And I won’t let that happen.” the moment she heard them finally free Stan she hiked her legs up and kicked the overgrown spider off of her, she springs back up to her feet then held up her hand when she noticed them start to approach to help her “No, get out of here! I can’t handle her.” 

“But--” 

“I said go!” though reluctant, the group turn tail and ran out of the cave, leaving Alvah and Darlene alone together “If this were any other situation, I would finish you in an instance, but this ain’t. I’m just gonna give you a hard time.” she winks at the arachnimorph and uses two fingers to gesture for her to come. 

“I'll make you regret not running with the rest of them.” with the others, they were all high tailing it down the moment and towards the skyline, Candy looked back towards the cave entrance that got smaller and smaller as they ran further down the moment. 

“Was it right for us to leave Miss Alvah the way we did? I can’t help but worry for her.” Ford shook his head as he ushered the children to run ahead of him and his brother, occasionally looking back towards the cave in case the arachnimorph did manage to get past Alvah. 

“Oh, no. I believe she would be very cross with us if we didn’t leave. She can handle her own, I promise you that.” 

“Yeah, but you should have seen here when we had to fight against zombies. She looked hot as hell.” Dipper covers his ears at the words that were used, and though Mabel couldn’t help but agree, she did awe a little. 

“Ew.” 

“I don’t need to know that, Stanley.” 

“Zombies?” Candy and Grenda question, though neither got an answer when the sound of shouting came from behind them followed by loud crashes, they didn’t have time to turn around when flying over them was Darlene and Alvah tumbling down the mountain. Alvah was shouting as she punched Darlene in the face each time they were in the air and Darlene would retaliate when she was on top of her, Alvah would sometimes be able to catch her fist and punch her right back across the face but other times she would have to take the hit. Alvah couldn’t really feel pain each time a strike connected but she could feel her body crack more and more against the super strength the arachnimorph species possessed. They both crashed into a tree with Alvah landing on top of her, she continues to land blows on her but Darlene used her legs to kick her off her. She manages to catch herself and rushes towards Darlene and when her fist connects to her face, this time, her left hand all the way up to her forearm completely shatters. 

“Well.” 

“Alvah!” she looks back at the group and saw them stop when they notice her missing limb, she looks back down at her shattered hand then quickly looks back at them and waves them off. 

“I’m fine! Just hurry onto the sky tram! I’ll catch up!” Ford was quick to heed her demand and ushers them all into the tram, having to force Stan on before he could rush off to help her.  

“Hah! So, you’re not a human! Should have figured that one out, Stan seems to have a type.” Alvah shrugged then twirled a strand of her blonde hair. 

“Yeah, seems to me he’s into blondes. At least I was right on that mark, hmm?” Darlene laughs. 

“Well, since you’re down a limb, you won’t be that much of a threat!” with that she was quick to run off and chase after the fleeing group, Alvah scoffed and looks back down at the hole her shattered arm left. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Ford looks back and saw Darlene was leaping from tram to tram and gaining on them fast, no thanks to the stupid tram going at the speed of 0.1 miles per hour, however he perked up at the sight of Alvah not too far behind and instead of fixing her arm like she did when he blasted a hole in her face, the same black tar oozed out from the hole the damage did and became her new arm that grew larger with claws instead of hands. He also noticed that she ripped off her other arm so she could have two, so he saw her running along the cable while also using her new arms to swing herself towards them. When Darlene finally caught up to them and started encasing them in her webbing, Alvah swung herself up and kicked Darlene off and onto a different tram that was ahead of them “Is that all you got, freak?!” 

“Are you alright, Alvah?” she leaned back to see Ford peaking his head out of a window “You took quite the damage fighting that arachnimorph.” 

“That’s because this body isn’t meant for fighting, it’s only meant to look good. Besides, this vessel doesn’t seem to be able to contain the updated version of our contract.” she should have known when Ford allowed her more access to her power her body would become more brittle with how old it is “But I'm fine, nonetheless.” a soft gasp left her when a couple pieces of her face chipped off and fell, more black ooze leaking out of her face.  

“What was that, Alvah?”  

“I-It’s nothing!” Darlene lunges for Alvah once more but she swung herself around the cable holding up their tram and kicked Darlene back once more before lowering herself down to get a look at the group through the glass window “Candy!” the little girl jumped at the sound of Alvah’s voice, looking at the older woman, she gasped at the sight of her disheveled state. 

“M-Miss Alvah? Are you alright?” she waves her free hand, her claws digging into the roof of the tram to keep her from falling. 

“Don't worry about me, sweetheart. You’ve got this though, right?” Candy blinked at Alvah’s words, taken aback that she knew that Candy had a plan to deal with Darlene if she hadn’t showed up, so she smiles and nods her head while giving her a thumbs up. 

“Affirmative.” Alvah returns the gesture before hoisting herself back up, one of her arms wraps around the attachment that connects the carriage to the cables above them while the other is pressed against the roof just as Darlene jumps back. 

“Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.” this earned her a chuckle “What’s so funny?” 

“Well, you don’t seem to realize you’ve walked into my web.” this caused Darlene to look down and noticed how the hand that was pressed against the roof allowed the black ooze to cover the surface and the moment her legs touched it they covered her legs completely to restrict her from moving “Hope you ain’t afraid of water!” she lets out a maniacal laugh when Candy pulled the emergency lever and the latch that connected the carriage to the cable above them released and they fell, they fell directly into the geyser “old reliable” that went off and shot them right back up into the air. They were sent flying down the mountain with Darlene taking the brunt force of crashing into everything while Alvah was running on top of the carriage as it continued to move, she made sure to release Darlene when they made it down and broke through the kiosk at the bottom of the mountain, right underneath the boot of the old statue that came down and crushed her. 

“My only weakness, a giant boot!” she cried out as she struggled to get out from underneath said boot “A giant newspaper or a giant cup would also have been pretty bad.” Stan and Ford managed to break down the carriage door where all occupants came tumbling out after rolling down the mountain. 

“Kid, that was ingenious! How’d you know it would work?” Stan raised as he pulled Candy into a side hug. 

“Useless travel pamphlets.” 

“Stanley.” they all flinch and look back towards Darlene, who transformed back into her human form “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. You’ll let me out, right?” she spoke while twirling a strand of her hair, batting her eyes to lure him in. 

“What? After all that? Seriously, do I look like an amnesiac?” he shouts as he approached her weakened form. 

“Haha, you’re so funny. Have you ever considered becoming a comedian?” before Stan could answer her, he was pulled back by Ford just as Alvah stood over her with the carriage held above her head. 

“Stan’s already got a supernatural being in his life and that isn’t you, sweetheart.” Alvah ignored her cries and dropped it on top of her, she makes sure her legs stopped twitching and goes to turn around until she caught her reflection in the glass “Well, that was irritating, she broke my face.” she murmured as she brought her hand up to caress her cheek that was missing a couple pieces. 

“Are you alright, Alvah?” she moved her eyes and saw Ford approaching her, she huffed and turned around. 

“I already said I was fine. And again, this body was not meant for fighting, only to look good.” she let out a grunt when he grabbed her by the face, pulling her close so he could examine the damage “And you say I’ve got issues with invading personal space.” she squeaked when he tightened his grip on her face, squeezing her cheeks and yanking her closer to glare into her eyes. 

“At least I don’t do it in every waking moment.” she just shrugged her shoulders, he threw her head back before grabbing at what was left of her arms to look at the ooze that replaced what was missing “Is this your blood?”  

“Close, it’s my “flesh”, more or less.” 

“Not that smoke?” 

“The smokey version of me you see is the power I simply use to invade your head, you know, like that sand man? This goop would be the more accurate term to what my body is made up of, dead flesh.” she pulled a face when he pulled out a vial and scooped some of it up, he dangles it in front of his face and shakes the glass bottle “Really?”  

“The more I learn about you, the better.” she rolled her eyes then paused when she heard someone clear their throat, peering past Ford, she saw that it was Stan sheepishly kicking his feet while rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Oh Stanley, are you okay?” she cooed softly while reaching for him only to recoil back when she remembered the state she was in, but she was taken aback when he reached forward and grabbed her clawed hand “I thought you wouldn’t want to touch these rather grotesque hands of mine.” he laughed. 

“I got acid spit in my face, your arms are the least of my worries.” she giggled softly and used her other hand to covered her face. 

“You sap.” Stan opens his mouth to add something else but felt something rest on his shoulder, he turned his head to see what exactly it was only to let out a startled shout at the sight of a severed hand laying on his shoulder. The others watch in shock when Stan let out a scream and threw the arm in the air but stopped when Alvah burst out into a fit of laughter, she raised her hand and caught the arm then waved it cheekily at them “Thanks for the “hand”. Haha, get it?” she continued to laugh as she let the ooze slither back into the hole it came out of then connected the severed arm in its place, she rolled her arm a couple times then grinned when the cracks fused together smoothly. 

“Fascinating, but wasn’t that the arm that shattered?” 

“It was, but as long as I can find the pieces, I can put myself back together. Like so.” Dipper shrieked when he saw another arm drag itself over to where Alvah was, she picks the arm up abd repeated the same process she did with the first arm “Ta dah, good as new.” she let out an oh when Mabel tugged on the end of her skirt, she kneels down and tilts her head in mild curiosity then blinked when Mabel placed a rainbow band aid over crack and hole on her face. 

“There, now you’re as good as new.” she caressed her cheek and smiled softly. 

“Thank you, Mabel.” she let out a yelp when she was pulled back by Ford, she huffed at the action. 

“Let us return, Alvah.” she rolled her eyes and stood to her feet, snapping her fingers to rid of all the cobwebs and grime that got on her after that distasteful squabble. He raised a brow as he watched her approach him and reach for his hand, she laces her fingers with his as best as she could and pulls him close until they were practically cheek to cheek “What are you--” she ignored him to look back at the group. 

“See you back at the Mystery Shack.” with that she fell backwards and pulled Ford with her, he wasn’t prepared for the sensation that was them falling into their shadows and it felt like they were submerged briefly in a body of water before falling upright back in his lab. She chuckled softly when she felt his grip on her hand tighten significantly but when he came to realize they had returned he immediately let go, he looks back at her and saw Alvah changed back into his male appearance and rubbed his cheek that was bandaged. 

“How long will it take you to repair your face?”  

“It shouldn’t take too long since it’s small.” he hummed softly when he realized Ford was staring at him rather intently “What? Something else on my face?”  

“... you really have changed, Alvah.” his face twitched at Ford’s statement “You never stepped in whenever someone was in trouble, you always watched as if it were the most boring thing you ever had to do. You’ve stated you are a neutral being that’s job was only to spectate and observe, nothing more than that.” his fingers picks at the small band aid on his check while averting his gaze from Ford’s. 

“Why? You prefer if I abandon your family’s safety instead?” 

“No, I’m more curious as to why you would risk yourself getting into trouble to step in when you know you could face dire consequences.” Alvah continues to pick at the band aid as he thought back to his time spending every waking moment with the Pines Family and he couldn’t help but smile rather bitterly. 

“I, too, am very curious.” he then chuckles “I’ve got your brother to blame for half of it, though.” Ford scoffed. 

“I’ll say.” he rolled his eyes. 

[irritablepoe]

Too much at once (Ranpoe Hurt/Comfort; Overstimulation)

Ranpo knew the exact moment Poe froze. His face - normally at least smiling a little bit when around people - went completely blank. He seemed to curl into himself, hands reaching up, seemingly to cover his ears, but then falling into his lap again. Ranpo knew him well enough to know what was going on.

They were celebrating their victory over the Decay of Angels. Fukuzawa wasn’t there, which had concerned Ranpo at first but he had explained to him that he needed time alone. Ranpo understood that, though he was sad that he couldn’t be there.

Kunikida was in deep conversation with Chuuya and Yosano. All of them seemed drunk already, talking in slured tone and a bit too loud.

Atsushi was clinging to Akutagawa, who had surprisingly shown up. Other than Atsushi, Akutagawa was sober, which as very visible on his conflicted face.

Ranpo was sure that Atsushi had dragged him here and in a moment of weakness Akutagawa hadn't been able to deny him. He was also sure that Dazai had annoyed Chuuya so long that he had eventually shown up. Dazai didn’t engage much in the conversation and instead just stared at Chuuya shamelessly, which the latter acknowlegded by ignoring him completely.

Kenji and Kyouka tried to build a house out of cards. Jun’ichiro was doing the same thing though was interrupted by Naomi.

Poe had been silently watching Ranpo and had occasionally said something if it was of importance. Ranpo knew he wasn't a fan of big groups of people and to be fair, he wasn't either. Though Poe had always been more sensitive in that area. Adding to this he was unfamiliar with most of the Agency members and had not once spoken to Chuuya or Akutagawa before. He had asked Ranpo before the party if Chuuya knew it was his ability that had trapped him in that book for so long. Ranpo had shrugged. He was sure Chuuya was aware, though he would rather crush Ranpo with his gravity ability. Because he hadn't done so already, Ranpo guessed that Dazai had spoken to Chuuya beforehand. And besides - everyone was way too glad that the big fight was over to start another one already. Although the atmosphere was mostly relaxed, the agency members weren't known for being very quiet. Poe, who's been fine so far, started to flinch with every sharp laughter and the clicking of glasses. He was visibly uncomfortable. Ranpo had to help him.

Ranpo stretched his arms like he was tired and let out a hearty yawn. “Oh, it’s so late already, isn’t it? I think I’m gonna head home.”

The agency members just like the mafioses looked at him and nodded understandingly. They said their goodbyes and wished him a good night.

“Poe.”, he said with a grin as he was on his way out. “Would you bring me home? I wouldn’t find the way in the dark otherwise.”

Poe looked around confused but when he saw the serious expression on Ranpo's face, he nodded slowly. His eyes relaxed in relief and when they went out of the office Poe basically stormed down the stairs.

“Oi, wait for me!”, Ranpo complained. When he caught up to Poe, he was slumped over with his hands on his knees.

“T-thank you.”

“Don’t talk. It’s alright. Let’s just go home.”

They didn’t say anything for the rest of the walk. Ranpo made sure the keys to his room didn’t click together as much and he didn’t turn on the light when he went into his apartment. Poe followed him, his chin almost connecting to his chest.

“Here.”, Ranpo opened his drawer and took out some noise-cancelling headphones. “Trust me, they help.”

“You use them, too?”, Poe asked. The words were sluggish and stagnant as he spoke. Ranpo knew the feeling of his own voice being too much way too well.

“Yes. The street is near.” Poe took them from him and put them over his ears. Ranpo gestured to the bed but Poe shook his head and pointed at him instead. Ranpo shook his head as well. “I’m not tired.”

Poe removed one side of the headphones. “What?”

Ranpo couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not tired. You go to sleep, Ed. Please. For me.”

Conflict showed on Poe’s face but eventually he removed his coat and his shoes. He was about to climb into the bed when Ranpo stopped him. He softly removed Poe’s headphones again, careful not to startle him. “You can remove all your clothes if they bother you.”

Poe let his head fall to Ranpo’s shoulder. “Shhh…”, he said when he went through Poe’s knotted hair. He stopped when Poe flinched. He had pulled a bit too strongly at the knots.

“I’m sorry.”

“’s alright.”

“Should I help?”

Poe nodded.

“Lay down.”

Poe obeyed and let Ranpo undress him. Ranpo was careful not to touch his skin and he removed the clothes as quickly and efficiently as possible. When only Poe’s underwear was left he stopped Ranpo. He had a pinkish blush on his cheeks.

Ranpo put the headphones back onto his ears, gave him the softest blanket and wrapped Poe in it. “Sleep now.”

Poe’s eyes fluttered close, a thankful gaze disappearing behind lids, and though Ranpo was sure he didn’t sleep immediately, he didn’t move another inch, not wanting to break out of Ranpo’s nicely wrapped blanket.

Ranpo slept on a blanket next to him on the ground and listened to Poe’s slowly steadying breath.