#they'd get him outta there immediately.

[spotlightstudios]

Finally doodling my hyperfixations again! This time, it's DogDay! He's super goofy and silly and deserved a lot better, and I'm joining the crew of people who want to carry him away on their back (ft. Light, my Persona!)

[there-will-be-a-way]

My ex roommate threatens to call the cops on me.

Last Thursday I told him to leave my apartment and take all his belongings with him. He ended up leaving - but left most of his stuff at my place, including important documents 😒 Then told me he needs to get them. Didn't reply to his message because I have his number blocked. Now he texted me he's gonna call the cops on me if I don't hand out his stuff. I'm still in the psych ward though 🤷🏻‍♂️

Some of the other patients who are Experienced When It Comes To Police Stuff™️ let me know there's nothing the cops can do, especially since I'm still here. I'm not doing anything illegal. So imma keep ignoring him until I get discharged so that he gets real angry in the meantime and lives in misery

[chiyuuchu]

II. The plot twist of admiration <3 (2nd August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! The class decides to make a bet with everyone writing down who they think y/n’s admirer is.

first part here!

Every story has two sides to it.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to waste time on frivolous matters like romance. He had better things to do, like becoming the number one hero. But there was something about Y/N that made him act differently. Without really understanding why, he found himself wanting to make her smile, to see her happy. So, he started leaving gifts on her desk: flowers, sweets, her favorite drinks.

He watched from a distance, making sure no one noticed him. He didn't need the extra attention or the questions from his classmates. Plus, it was kind of fun seeing them guess who the secret admirer was.

“Maybe it’s Midoriya,” Mina said one day during lunch. Bakugou rolled his eyes. Of course, they'd think it was Deku. “He’s so attentive and always pays attention to what his friends like.”

Bakugou scoffed internally. Deku might be observant, but he wasn’t the one leaving the gifts. Besides, Bakugou knew exactly what Y/N liked because he paid attention, too. He wasn’t just some explosive hothead, no matter what people thought.

“I don’t know,” Tsuyu said thoughtfully. “It could be Kirishima. He seems like a romantic guy.”

Bakugou almost laughed out loud at that. Sure, Kirishima was his best friend, but he wasn’t the one sneaking around. And IcyHot? The guy was about as emotionally expressive as a block of ice. He was also certainly sure the bird brain was too kept to self to like someone.

As days went by, Bakugou continued to leave gifts. He saw Y/N's smile every time she found something new on her desk, and it made his heart swell in a way he didn’t quite understand. One evening, he went to the convenience store to get her favorite drink. When he returned to the dorms, he saw Y/N in the kitchen, looking frustrated.

“What’s got you all worked up?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Someone must have taken my favorite drink. I was really looking forward to it.,” she sighed.

He scoffed, pulling the drink out of his plastic bag. “Here. I just bought a few. Don’t make such a fuss.” he said, tossing it to her. Before she could say anything. Bakugou just takes his leave with a huff. “Whatever. I’m outta here.”

When he reached his bedroom, he immediately covered his face. The heat which had rushed to his face earlier swallowed him whole. His heart was pounding.

The next day, he left another gift on her desk. This time, it was a box of her favorite pastries. He'd gone out of his way to get them from a bakery across town. Bakugou watched from a distance, smirking to himself as Y/N smiled.

During lunch, the girls were really pushing their theories about who it could be.

“It’s gotta be someone who’s been paying close attention,” Mina says, thinking maybe too hard. “Maybe it’s still Midoriya?”

“Or Kirishima,” Momo claimed. “What if the other day he said it wasn’t him was an act.”

“Or Todoroki,” Kirishima chuckled heartily. “He’s always so polite and thoughtful.”

“Or maybe Sero,” said Hagakure. “He could be into you, who knows.”

Bakugou couldn't help but roll his eyes again. It was almost laughable how off their guesses were. As Y/N's smile grew wider with each gift, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He wanted to be the one who made her happy, even if he had to do it from the shadows.

While Y/n slowly looks over and locks eyes with Bakugou, he couldn’t help but give her his genuine smile. A smile that was only for her.

Bakugou continued his secret gifting for another week, each time feeling a mix of pride and frustration. One evening, after another exhausting day of training, he was about to head back to his dorm room when he noticed Y/N sitting alone on the couch in the common area, looking contemplative. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach her.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Y/N looked up, her face lighting up with a smile. "Hey, Bakugou."

He sat down next to her, unsure of what to say next. They sat in silence for a few moments before Y/N spoke again.

"You know," she began, her voice soft, "I've been getting these really sweet gifts lately. Flowers, sweets, drinks... It's been really nice."

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah? You figure out who it is yet?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Not yet. But I think I have an idea."

Bakugou felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to tell her, to admit that it was him, but the words seemed to stick. Before he could muster up the courage, Y/N turned to him, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"What about you, Bakugou? Have you ever done something like this for someone?"

He snorted, trying to deflect. "What, leave gifts and play secret admirer? Not my style."

Y/N laughed softly. "I didn't think so. But you never know. People can surprise you."

She definitely knows. He gulped internally.

Bakugou swallowed hard, feeling a surge of determination. "Yeah, well... maybe I have a few surprises up my sleeve."

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with an amused expression. "Is that so?"

Her phone began ringing. “Oh, I gotta take this call. Thanks for the chat, Bakugou.” She smiled and walked away.

Before Bakugou could respond, a loud crash came from the kitchen area, followed by Kirishima's voice shouting about a spilled pot.

As she walked away, Bakugou watched her go, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He knew he needed to find the right moment, but it was hard to say when that would be. He stood up, ready to head to his room, when Kirishima came rushing over, a huge grin on his face.

"Dude, guess what!" Kirishima exclaimed. "Everyone's trying to figure out who Y/N's secret admirer is. You gotta see this."

Bakugou rolled his eyes but followed Kirishima back to the Kitchen area, where a group of their classmates were gathered, excitedly discussing their theories.

"I'm telling you, it's got to be Todoroki," Hagakure was saying. "He's always so calm and collected. It fits."

"No way," Kaminari argued. "It's definitely Tokoyami. He's mysterious enough to pull this off."

“What the hell is everyone making a fuss about?” Bakugou grumbled.

“Oh! Hey man, we were just placing bets on who Y/n’s secret admirer could be.” Kaminari casually said. “My bets on Tokoyami.” He proudly claimed. And why exactly was he proud of his assumption?

“Well I think it’s Midoriya!” Mina folded her arms with an angry closed eyed pout.

Momo also chimed in. “I still think that it’s Kirishima and that he’s secretly deceiving us that it isn’t him.” Kirishima who was beside her folded his arms. “Hey! It isn’t me, you’ll lose your money for betting on it!” He, once again defended himself.

“What if it was a girl and we were deceived the entire time.” Jirou randomly put a a finger to her chin, looking up in thought. “Hmm.” She hummed in thought. Right after that, everyone did the same with putting their finger on their chins and humming in thought.

“I know! We should settle this bet by asking everyone to write down on this paper who they think it is. Winner takes all.” Kaminari smugly said, pulling a piece of paper out.

“Oh, you’re on pikachu!” Mina retorted.

Bakugou mentally wanted to facepalm. But then he thought about it. If he were to guess himself then wouldn’t he technically be the winner of the bet?

“Whatever, you losers do what you fucking want.” Bakugou said and walked back to his room. “Hey! Where you going? You need to bet too!” Kaminari exclaimed. “Yeah yeah, just give it to me tomorrow. I need to catch some fucking sleep.” Was the last thing Bakugou said before heading back to his room.

The next morning, the classroom was full with chatter during a break between lessons. Kaminari, ever the instigator, was bouncing around with a piece of paper and a pen.

"Alright, guys, everyone write down who you think Y/N's secret admirer is! Everyone is betting! Winner takes all!" he announced, waving the paper in the air.

Y/n just gave a confused expression before going back to her book.

One by one, the students scribbled down their guesses and passed the paper around. When it finally reached Bakugou, he glanced at the eager faces around him and scowled.

"I'll do it later," he muttered, snatching the paper and shoving it into his bag.

"Aw, come on, Bakugou!" Kaminari protested. "Just write it down real quick!"

Bakugou ignored him, standing up and heading out of the classroom as the bell rang, signaling the end of their break. Kaminari pouted but didn't push further, knowing better than to press Bakugou when he was in a mood.

Later that evening, Bakugou sat in his dorm room, the crumpled piece of paper lying on his desk. He sighed, unfolding it and smoothing it out to see the various guesses scrawled in different handwriting.

He couldn't help but scoff at some of the guesses.

Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."

Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."

Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."

Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."

Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."

Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."

Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."

Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."

Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"

Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."

Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."

Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"

Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."

Shoji: "It might be Iida."

Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."

Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."

Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"

Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."

Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"

Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki."

Even the teacher???

Bakugou paused at Aizawa’s guess, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and satisfaction.

"Idiots," he muttered to himself. "They have no idea."

Aggressively scribbling on the piece of paper, he carelessly folds it.

But as he lay in bed that night, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. He imagined the smile on her face when she received his gifts and how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about them. It gave him a strange sense of accomplishment that none of his training victories ever did.

The next day in class, Kaminari eagerly retrieved the paper from Bakugou and prepared to read the guesses. However, just as he was about to open it, everyone began to question how they would find out who the admirer really was.

"How are we actually gonna figure out who it is?" Midoriya asked, looking around the room.

Suddenly, Mina stood up and yelled, "Whoever the admirer is, you have to come clean now because we've all placed bets already, and I'm sure Y/N is interested."

Silence. Everyone was looking at each other, trying to see if the admirer would step up.

Bakugou gulped, feeling a surge of panic.

Then Hagakure made a suggestion. "Why don't we make it more fun? Y/N should write down on another piece of paper who she wants her admirer to be."

For some reason, Y/N agreed willingly. She took a piece of paper and began to write a name. Bakugou watched her, rethinking his life decisions. If he admitted his feelings now and wasn't the one she wanted, he would never live it down.

Y/N finished writing, folded the paper, and kept it to herself.

“Wait I have an idea!” Tsu said and whispered something into Mina’s ear.

"Alright then," Mina said with determination. "Everyone who is NOT the admirer, sit down."

Slowly, one by one, the students sat down until only Bakugou remained standing with his eyes shut tight.

The room filled with gasps and murmurs of confusion.

"Bakugou?!" Kaminari exclaimed, wide-eyed.

“KACCHAN??” Izuku exclaimed.

"No way," Kirishima muttered, shaking his head. "Bakugou, seriously?"

"I lost my bet!" Sero groaned, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Wait, Bakugou's the secret admirer?" Uraraka asked, her eyes darting between him and Y/N.

Jirou smirked. "Well, this just got interesting."

“I certainly did not expect this..” Momo’s voice sounded.

Some students complained about losing their bets, while others were simply shocked. Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. After a moment of silence, he heard the sound of a paper unfolding.

More gasps filled the room.

"You can open your eyes, Bakugou," Y/N said softly.

Bakugou's heart sank. What if his name wasn't on the paper?

He opened his eyes and saw Y/N holding the paper.

Bakugou Katsuki

His heart soared when he saw his name written on it. A wave of relief and happiness washed over him as the class erupted in a mix of congratulations and disbelief. He had never been this terrified in his life, but it was all worth it.

“Very unexpected, I must say.” Iida said.

"Well, who would've thought?" Mina laughed, nudging Kirishima.

"Guess we all underestimated Bakugou," Tokoyami said with a rare smile.

"Congrats, man," Kirishima said, patting Bakugou on the back. "Took some real guts."

Bakugou, his face slightly flushed, just nodded, trying to maintain his usual tough demeanor. But inside, he was over the moon.

“Wait! It’s not over! Who won the bet?” Sero yelled, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

Kaminari hurriedly opens the paper.

Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."

Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."

Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."

Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."

Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."

Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."

Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."

Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."

Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"

Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."

Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."

Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"

Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."

Shoji: "It might be Iida."

Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."

Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."

Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"

Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."

Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"

Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki.”

Bakugou: "Bakugou Katsuki."

“Bakugou won? Isn’t that technically cheating..” Momo said with a concerned look.

“Technically that means I won. Now pay up.” Aizawa said from his sleeping bag.

“Ughhhhhhhhh.”

After the class settled down from the surprising outcome, Bakugou found a moment to approach Y/N. He was still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions from the earlier scene.

"Hey," he started, his voice gruff but softer than usual. "Can we talk?"

Y/N looked up and smiled. "Sure, Bakugou. What's up?"

He led her outside of the classroom, away from the curious gazes of their classmates. The tension between them was palpable, but Bakugou tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his chest.

"So, you actually picked me," he said, struggling to keep his usual confident tone. "Why?"

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. "Well, I've always noticed you’re not as rough as you seem. There’s a lot more to you that people don't see. I appreciate that you always seemed to care, even if you don’t show it."

Bakugou’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d ever actually like me. Not with how everyone talks about me."

Y/N shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "You’re more than what people say, Bakugou. And I’m glad I got to know that."

Bakugou hesitated for a moment before stepping a bit closer. "So, what now? Now that everyone knows?"

Y/N's smile grew, and she looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "I think we should see where this goes. I’m happy with how things are turning out."

Bakugou’s usual scowl softened into a genuine smile, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, me too."

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the classroom fading into the background as they enjoyed the rare, peaceful connection between them. It was the start of something new, and for once, Bakugou felt that he might just be ready to embrace it.

[ghostssweetgirl]

hii again <3

this request is a litttlleee bit darker than usual but here we go

how would 141 react when someone slips something in readers drink at a bar?? like would ghost immediately stand up and beat the mf up?? 🥹

hi! omg they would all stand up and immediately beat some ass frfr & i LOVE dark stuff, dw :) <3 i'm not that good at writing action scenes but i hope this is goooood bc i do love the idea that they would fight for u

TF141 and How They'd React to Someone Slipping Something Into Your Drink

cw: alcohol intake, mentions of drugs, violence & blood

Captain John Price

He took the team out for drinks, sitting around the bar top. Everyone was having their own conversation, and it made his heart happy to see his people laughing with smiling faces.

While he was in a corner seat, he was making sure to keep an eye out on his team, as a good captain should.

You turned around for a minute, distracted. Soon as you weren't looking, some creep had sprinkled a powdered form of a drug into your drink, causing it to fizzle.

Of course, you didn't notice as you were watching a group of people playfully argue over their pool game.

You jumped back around when all of a sudden your captain's hands were at this guy's throat.

"You really thought you'd get away with that?" Price growled.

"Mind your fuckin' business, will you?" the creep retorted.

You made eye contact with Price, confused as to what was happening. "What the fuck," you whispered.

"Take it outside," the bartender said.

"Gladly, sir," Price chuckled darkly, dragging the guy by his shirt.

A few moments later, Price returned, kindly smiling at you. You could see the adrenaline pumping through his veins at his reddened face.

"Let's order you a new drink, yeah? Fucker ruined this one."

John 'Soap' MacTavish

You took a few sips out of your first drink, setting it down.

You smiled around at your comrades, happy to be there. A random chick walked up to you, asking you what you recommended her to order as she was new here and she just turned of age to start drinking.

You were busy chatting away, getting to know her, not noticing the random arm swooping around you, drugging your beverage.

Soap sitting next to you, picked up your drink and swiftly got up without a word.

"You okay, Soap?" you turned to him. You recognized the look in his eyes - anger. "M-my drink! What are you doing with it?"

He cornered the guy, not saying a word. His chest rose and fell heavily as he tilted his head, throwing the drink in the man's face before punching the shit out of him. He tried to fight back, missing his swing as Soap got him on the ground.

The bartender held his hands up, trying to politely ask them to take it outside but Soap was too quick in his actions.

Blood quickly splattered across the concrete floor, as well as across Soap's face and uniform.

"Get the fuck outta here," Soap demanded him, towering above him as he cowardly rose off the ground, basically tucking his tail as he ran out of the bar door. Soap looked at the bartender and back at the blood. "I'll clean it up."

He returned to his seat shortly after, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Let's get you a fresh drink, lass."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

You were laughing at one of Price's jokes with your drink in hand. As you laughed, your hand went outwards, giving perfect access for some weirdo to walk up and put a drug in it.

Gaz watched the interaction silently, taking your drink away from you while you wouldn't notice it.

In your drunkenness, you ordered a new drink, and it was quickly given to you but as you turned around, Gaz was gone. You looked around the building, and to your surprise he was face to face with someone, having a silent, heated conversation with someone.

The guy held his hands up in defense, seeming to try to explain himself.

Gaz looked at you, seeing your worried face. The creep met your gaze and he winked at you, his lips were moving but you couldn't tell what he said.

When suddenly, Gaz smiled. You couldn't tell if it was a genuine smile or the type of smile you give someone when you're really about to give it to them.

It was the latter. Gaz hiked his knee up, bringing the man's face down to connect with it sharply. Blood painted a small patch into Gaz's pants and blood leaked down the man's face. Clearly disoriented, he tried to fight back but Gaz landed one last blow before the man held his head down, regaining his balance, shortly leaving afterwards.

The bartender sighed, walking over with cleaning supplies and Gaz helped him out.

"What... was that about, Garrick?" you whispered.

"Don't worry 'bout it. Enjoy your 'good' drink," he rolled his eyes, and from that you could tell what had happened, happy to have been around your teammates when this happened.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

You had finished quite a handful of drinks, making sure this was your last one.

You took a few first sips before setting it down, joining the conversation with your teammates.

Ghost, as usual, was quiet. Nodding along and joining the conversation when needed. He had been keeping his eyes peeled for something to happen.

Price complimented you and Ghost's teamwork, which you happily thanked him and smiled at Ghost who nodded at you, but his eyes weren't on you. They were focused at the left side of you.

You felt a presence, and before you could turn around it was gone. Looking back around, Ghost was gone, too. Damn, that was quick.

Trying to shrug it off, you go to grab your drink but couldn't find it. Now, what the fuck?

You look around confused, seeing your teammates eyeing the corner, so you follow their gaze.

Seeing Ghost, towering over someone, hand on his knife. Your eyes widened, hoping he didn't have to use it. He held your missing cup up to the man's face as if he was interrogating him. He was.

The man was near crying, lips stammering as he tried to explain himself, but Ghost wasn't having it. Ghost must have said something to set the guy off because he thought it would be a good idea to try and push past Ghost. The glass shattered from Ghost's grip. His body tensed up before one large hand clasped around the creep's throat, lifting him up the wall. He gasped for air until his face scrunched in pain as Ghost's fist met it with a violent punch. Then another. And another.

The bartender seemed annoyed, but Ghost couldn't give a shit. He let go of the now-unconscious man, letting his body fall to the ground.

Ghost sighed as he sat back down, nodding at you. You awkwardly smiled, putting two and two together on what happened.

"Thanks, Ghost..." you said.

"Want a fresh drink, luv? Sorry 'bout your last one," he asked.

"After that, yeah..."

[fanartist666]

TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

[fastcardotmp3]

welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words

Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.

That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.

Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.

That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?

Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.

And so he spirals.

He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.

Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?

(God, please let it be temporary.)

He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.

Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.

Steve's not built for it!

They'd had a shitty fucking dress.

"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."

The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.

"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."

"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.

There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.

Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.

There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.

There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.

"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."

Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.

"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.

"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"

Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.

"Bad dress, good show though, right?"

Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.

"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."

It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.

"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"

"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.

"She didn't retire."

"Oh. She...?"

"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."

Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.

"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.

"The what?" Steve balks.

"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.

"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.

"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.

"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."

Steve sucks in a breath.

It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.

It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.

“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”

Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.

“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”

Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.

And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.

[heytherecentaurs]

The Bad Parents would see Kristen in crisis, sort of in free fall, and all endeavour to help her. She's a kid who had to leave home because her parents are bigots. Then she moved in with her girlfriend's family (which thankfully is also her best friend's family). But do you ever think she was scared, even briefly, that she'd have nowhere to go when she and Tracker broke up? Like maybe in the back of her mind she wondered if the grace they'd shown her was because she was Tracker's girlfriend.

I think the bad parents would have rallied around her. Jawbone who knows how hard she's been grinding at school. Sandra Lynn who fully understands what it's like to be a young woman in crisis. (And who is used to dealing with Fig's special brand of bullshit; Kristen's problems might seem easier to tackle.) Wilma and Digby who are so kind and understanding but don't put up with bullshit and won't be pushovers. Even Sklonda who didn't want Riz's friends exploiting him, but you can't tell me she wouldn't hear from Riz that Kristen is Acing her cleric classes and crushing it on the campaign, and now you're telling Sklonda this girl who's really applying herself in shitty circumstances is being punished for it and on top of that it's going to effect her own kid's academics and future. Get the fuck outta here.

Kristen just needs one adult to march into that school with her and say "You're out of order." Like the school may be able to push around some kid and force her through hoops, but Sklonda or Sandra Lynn? No way. "You can't expel her. Kristen has perfect grades and is an active student in extracurriculars. What do you mean, 'She fails because her deity is dead'? Does Kristen still believe in her? Yes. Does Kristen still have her magic? Yes. How then can her goddess be dead? Last I checked Cassandra is a goddess of mystery. Just because you don't understand the mystery doesn't mean you have the right to punish Kristen for it. In fact combined with the cleric teacher's behaviour, this constitutes discrimination on religious grounds." Like... "Who's in charge here? You don't have someone qualified at the head of your administrative faculty? I'm going to have a class action suit brought against the school on behalf of the student body and you don't have Arthur Aguefort here to protect you."

Kristen needs an adult to reasonably address these issues on her behalf and failing that, an adult who will be mean.

Put me in a room with whoever you want from that school and I'll eat them alive. I'll make them cry. I don't care if Jace Stardiamond is evil or not. And I certainly don't care what big tent megachurch bullshit Bobby Fucking Dawn slithered out from. Fuck him and his Kentucky-fried drawl. I'll crush him.

(Side note: Kristen should have immediately begun whatever emancipation process Solace has because Mac and Donna should not be making legal and medical decisions on her behalf.)

[beautifuldisaster88]

Even after being together for three years, JJ still couldn't believe that he landed the hottest girl on the island, not to mention the kook princess. It blew his mind that a literal goddess worshipped the ground that he walked on, always saying that the Pogue could do no wrong in her eyes. She didn't care that JJ was a Pogue, living on the cut and barely scraping to get by, none of the materialistic bullshit meant a thing to her. As long as she had the blonde next to her and knew that he was hers, that's all she needed. It was no secret that she also worshipped the ground that he walked on.

Of course being the kook princess meant that she was in no way hurting for money. She always made sure that JJ and the rest of the Pogues had food, electricity and running water, even if they tried to tell her that she didn't need to spend money on her. This was her way of thanking them for welcoming her with open arms and not treating her like just another kook. She made sure that all the bills for the chateau were paid on time every month, ignoring John B when he told her that wasn't necessary. They were her family now, and she'd always make sure they were well taken care of.

--------------------------------------------------------------

She walked into the kitchen of the chateau, wearing one of JJ's shirts that hung on her small frame. You couldn't tell by looking, but she had her favorite bikini under it, and where others might not know that, the Pogues did. Rummaging through the nearly empty refrigerator and cabinets she pouted. She adored the Pogues but damn they were stubborn. She'd told them multiple times that if they needed food or anything at all, they were to tell her and she'd get it. It wasn't unusual for her boyfriend not to notice things like there being no food in the house, but she at least expected John B to let her know when the chateau got low on food.

"Jayj! JB!" She called out from the kitchen before making her way into the living room where her boyfriend and best friend were playing Xbox. Oh sure, they had no problem playing the video games she'd bought for the chateau, but God forbid they mention the lack of food in the house.

"Whatcha need, mamas?" The blonde asked his girlfriend, his eyes glued to the screen as he continued to play whatever game him and John B were playing.

"You boys are in trouble." She said sternly, placing her hands on her hips.

Both boys immediately looked at each with wide eyes, as though trying to figure out what it was they'd done this time to get into trouble with the kook princess.

"Whatever it is, it was all your boyfriend. I had no part in it." The Routledge boy quickly spoke up, setting the controller down to put his hands up in surrender.

"Dude! Way to throw me under the bus!" JJ exclaimed, a bit too dramatically. At least it tore his attention from the screen. His girlfriend just looked at him, watching him scratch his head as the gears turned. "It wasn't me this time. I swear, mamas. I've stayed outta trouble, don' wanna get grounded from that pussy again. Nuh uh, I ain't doing shit to be tortured like that."

"You're both idiots." She laughed, shaking her head as she walked over to sit on JJ's lap, caressing her manicured fingers through his blonde mop, knowing it made him putty in her hand. "Did you boys forget to mention something very important?"

Both of the boys racked their brains trying to figure out what she was talking about, the worry evident in their eyes. She let them torture themselves for a few minutes before finally speaking up.

"Food, dumbasses. You failed to mention that you ate all the food. How many times have I told you guys to let me know when you're running low on food? I can't let my boys go without food."

JJ's arms immediately wrapped possessively around her torso, not liking the fact that she called his best friend one of her boys, even though she always called all three of the Pogues her boys. Hell, everyone on the island knew that the three boys were her boys, two of them platonically and JJ romantically.

"He's not your boy, 'm your only boy." He mumbled, to which she ignored and just smirked at how adorable her boyfriend was.

"Sorry, kiddo. I just feel like shit that you're always spending money on us. I was hoping to make enough to put some food in here, but tips have been shitty lately. Half the kooks that I deliver groceries to refuse to tip a 'dirty pogue'." John B said, looking down at the controller.

"I want names. I'm about to go off on the kooks who refuse to tip you. Also, I've told you guys that I enjoy taking care of you. My money is also the Pogues money, whatever you need just tell me. Food being the top priority. We're going shopping for groceries, no argument."

JJ began peppering kisses down her neck, biting and sucking on her smooth skin, smirking at his masterpiece of little purple bruises on her neck. It was rare to not see her with love bites and hickey's, the Maybank boys way of marking what belonged to him.

"I happen to be starving, mamas, but not for no food you find at any store." JJ mumbled against her neck, his hand trailing down to her thigh where he squeezed, chuckling when she squeezed her thighs together.

"You can have your dessert, baby." She whispered in a seductive and teasing voice. "After we go shopping for actual food."

The blonde let out a dramatic sigh, giving her a look like a puppy who'd just been kicked. Picking her up as he stood from his spot on the couch, he snapped his head to look at his best friend, holding out one of his hands.

"I need the keys to the Twinkie, bro. Mamas here won't let me eat my favorite snack if we don't let her put food in here. Do you really want to deal with a pussy starved JJ? I don't think you do." The blonde exclaimed.

John B's eyes widened and he laughed, fishing in his pocket for his keys, before tossing them to the blonde.

"Definitely don't want that. I almost drowned you last time just to shut you up. No fucking in the Twinkie this time. Last time it took me over a week to get the smell of sex out."

"We'll behave, JB." She giggled in JJ's arms.

The blonde just smirked, winking at his best friend as he walked out the front door with his girlfriend in his arms, making John B shake his head.

"They're definitely going to fuck in my van again." He laughed to himself, picking up the controller and unpausing the game.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Fuck... R-right there... Don't... Stop.." Her cries and pleas filled the inside of the Twinkie. JJ had her face down and ass up, drilling into her sopping cunt as he fucked her merciless in the back of his best friends van, unable to wait until they were back at the chateau.

"Doin' so good for me, mamas. That sweet pussy is tryin' to milk my cock dry." He groaned, slipping out of her, only to slam back inside her tight pussy.

The way she clenched around his cock told JJ that she was close. Reaching his hand down, he began rubbing her clit and applying pressure. She was a moaning mess under him, tear stained cheeks from sucking him off before he fucked her senseless. Fuck, she looked so beautiful being drunk off his cock.

"Look at my fucking beautiful kook princess, taking this Pogue dick like the good slut you are. 'm gonna fill that pretty little pussy with my cum. Ya want daddy's cum, Baby Girl? Hmm? Of course you do, fucking cum slut."

"m' gonna cum, daddy. Want your cum." She whined, starting to tremble under him.

JJ gripped her hair around his fist, yanking her head back to look at him. He loved watching her come undone and the faces she made when she came. His thrusts were sloppy, hinting that he was also close, but her release was more important to JJ. The blonde attacked her neck with his mouth, leaving more marks as he destroyed her sweet pussy. "Cum 'fme, mamas. Cum on Daddy's cock."

He wrapped a strong arm around her torso, supporting her body as she reached her high, throwing her head back and screaming out his name as she came all over his cock. Unable to hold back any longer, JJ released his load, coating her gummy walls in thick white ropes of his cum. He didn't stop thrusting in and out, wanting to make sure he fucked his cum deep inside her cunt.

After finally pulling out, he grabbed her by the waist and brought her against his toned chest as the blonde collapsed on the floor of the Twinkle. Both of them panting and sweaty.

JJ brushed the hair back that had been sticking to her face, admiring her beautiful fucked out face. It still amazed him how it was his cock bringing her pleasure, how it was his mouth marking her. He placed multiple small kisses all over her face and shoulders.

"You did so good, mamas. I love you." He whispered breathlessly.

"I love you, Jayj. Thank you , Daddy." She whispered back just as breathlessly.

"Ain't no way we're gettin' 'way with this one. The Twinkie reeks of sex. Least we got the food." JJ's chest rumbled as he laughed, making her bury her face into his chest with embarrassment, but at least she giggled.

"I'll make it up to JB by making my famous brownies and cookies."

"Special brownies?" The blonde boy asked excitedly.

"Mmm, yes. I'll make you a batch of special brownies, baby." She smiled up at him.

JJ looked at her with love and admiration, caressing the side of her face before leaning down to capture her lips. "Fuck, how did I get so lucky to have you?"

She giggled and shook her head.

"'m the lucky one, J. I'm the first girl who got you to commit."

"Damn right you did. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you and swore to do anything to make you mine. I was shocked as shit the first time I asked you out on a date and you agreed. I'm gonna marry you, mamas and we're gonna have little Maybanks runnin' round, causing havoc. 'm gonna save up enough money, get us our own place. It'll have to be here on the cut though, can't afford figure eight, sorry princess."

That made her scrunch up her nose. She didn't care about living on Figure Eight, as long as she was with JJ. Hell, she'd live in a cardboard box if it meant having their own place together.

"Don't care about living on Figure Eight, Jayj. Just wanna live with you. Think it's time I went from kook princess to Pogue princess... Long as Kie doesn't mind me taking that title."

JJ laughed, holding her close.

"You're the Pogue princess, mamas. Ain't no one else claiming that shit but you. I'll fight Kie for it if she even tries bitchin'. You earned that shit, Mrs. Maybank."

She melted every time he called her Mrs. Maybank.

"We better get dressed and get these groceries back to the chateau, Mr. Maybank. Cancel your plans for the rest of the night, cause mama plans on making Daddy feel good all night."

That's all JJ needed to hear. He quickly rummaged around the Twinkie, grabbing their clothes, laughing when he held up her torn thong that he'd ripped off. Thankfully she was used to him tearing her undergarments by now, even some of her clothes. Her bedroom was inpatient when it came to getting her naked, often resulting in him just ripping the fabric off of her.

After the two got dressed, JJ drove like a maniac to the chateau.

"Here's the food. You're job to put it away. Mamas is desperate for Daddy's cock."

Is all JJ had to say to John B when they walked in carrying bags of groceries. He sat them down on the counter, before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to their shared bedroom at the chateau.

"Best clear your schedule for the next two to three days, mamas. You won't be walking right after I'm done with you. Bought to give you the Maybank dick special."

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hi hello! I’m not the person who originally submitted the ask for the Genshin/Honkai girls with a G Gundam-style chuuni S/O, but I’ll be fully honest that one hit my brainrot something good and fierce. So what about Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, and Stelle with the G Gundam Chuuni S/O?

(Genshin Impact/Honkai: Star Rail)

Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, Stelle, and Natasha with a very dramatic S/O

Part 1 here!

@jjovin3221, here is your part two, courtesy of others!

Also, March 7th's part has my absolute favorite image I've ever made for this blog.

Xinyan absolutely loves S/O's over the top attitude!

Not to mention they had some killer pyrotechnics! Both their visions may be Pyro, but her lover's put any flame to shame.

The explosion they'd create alongside the absolute raw energy they exuded from their shouts was enough to motivate her and her fans.

Plus they had an amazing stage name already: The King/Queen of Hearts!

But that being said, she finds them a little too intense at times. All they cared about was fighting, but she did appreciate they made time for her concerts despite that fact.

...Wait, their whole warrior schtick isn't just a stage Persona, was it?

==

Xinyan watched as S/O effortlessly blew through a horde of bandits with blinding kicks and punches.

She could only watch in silent awe while they rapidly leapt from one enemy to another, everyone powerless to stop their rampage.

With one final kick, S/O sent the last bandit tumbling down a hill, while they crossed their arms dramatically, headband blowing in the wind.

One of the ones knocked to the floor by their punch tried to crawl away, catching S/O's and Xinyan's attention.

(Bandit) "W-What are you?!"

(S/O) "You look upon a student of the Undefeated of the East!"

Grabbing their collar, they looked them in the eyes as they reached for something in their pocket.

(Xinyan) "...Uh, is that a picture?-"

(S/O) "Have you seen this man?"

(Bandit) "Wha...D-DID YOU ATTACK US JUST TO ASK THAT QUESTION?!-"

(S/O) "Answer me!"

(Bandit) "ACK! N-NO! NEVER SEEN HIM!"

S/O tossed the bandit behind him like they were made of paper, walking back to Xinyan.

(Xinyan) "...S/O, did you actually want to ask 'em a darn question this entire time?!"

(S/O) "I did. Does that bother you?"

Xinyan was stunned, blinking twice to make sure she was processing S/O's actions correctly.

(Xinyan) "...A-A little, yeah! Why the heck did we beat the tar outta 'em just for a single thing?!"

(S/O) "Hm. They started it. Let's get back to Liyue, your concert will start soon."

(Xinyan) "R-Right..." Man, they sure do got a screw loose...

Dehya had met many mercenaries that had something wrong with them throughout her career.

But her S/O took the crown for the biggest psycho she's ever met.

When she first met them, she knew they had a dangerous air about them.

What she didn't expect is for them to be able to blow every single thing they came across into smithereens with just their bare hands.

Sure, a Vision allows you to pull some crazy stunts, but how does it ignite your entire fist into a golden flaming sun, which allows you to blow up things as if they were pyro slimes?!

She fell for them because of the kindness they could display, and how reliable they were, but that was when they weren't going off the deep end.

And these days, that was getting increasingly rarer.

==

Dehya marched into the ruins with S/O, both of them approaching a group of eremites who were holding a girl hostage.

(Dehya) "There's a lot of them in there. What's our plan?"

(S/O) "Flank around the sides. I'll go in the front and save the girl."

Before she could formulate another plan, S/O walked ahead of her.

(Dehya) "Be careful..."

She then watched as the Eremites immediately shot at S/O with arrows from their flanks.

S/O suddenly crouched down with arrows inside of them, which made Dehya's heart stop.

The Eremite's laughter quickly halted when S/O stood back up, arrows somehow caught between every single one of their fingers, completely unscathed.

(Dehya) "...What?"

S/O suddenly threw every single arrow back at them, each of them seemingly lethal as they instantly dropped dead, despite the fact they went through non-fatal areas of their bodies.

(S/O) "COWARD! IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT ME, SHOW YOUR FACE AND I'LL CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

(Dehya) sigh "I'm not even going to ask..."

Navia thought S/O was part of a theatre group from Inazuma, given how over the top they were.

She was horribly wrong, and she didn't know if that was a good thing.

But it certainly made life much more interesting!...In a fiery explosion and screaming kind of way.

But Navia didn't really think S/O any less for it. She loved every bit of them!

...Even the more psychotic bits that would make everyone flee in terror.

==

Navia's bodyguards watched nervously as Navia loaded her umbrella gun.

(Bodyguard) "U-Uh, I know S/O's reflexes are good but-"

(Bodyguard 2) "Even with non-lethal ammunition, this is REALLY dangerous!"

S/O scoffed as their arms were crossed.

(S/O) "Do you really think bullets can even touch me?"

(Navia) "They're right darling, this is a spreadshot weapon at point blank-"

(S/O) "Then the King of Hearts will show you all! HIT ME, NAVIA!"

(Navia) "A-Alright...Three, two, one!-"

(S/O) "SHINING, FINGER!"

BANG!

In what seemed like an instant, S/O's hand began glowing a bright golden light as it extended out, melting all the bullets she shot upon contact, not even a single one getting through.

Navia and her bodyguards were beside themselves, unsure of what they witnessed even happened.

(Navia) "HUH?! B-BUT-"

(Bodyguard) "HOW DOES THAT EVEN WORK?!"

(S/O) "Hmph! If you think what I can do is impressive, then you should see my Master."

(Navia) "S/O, PLEASE let me meet him! I want to ask him how he can just defy the laws of physics!-"

Himeko at first was convinced S/O was just some kind of actor hired to be a live-action representation of Welt's creations.

But no, they were just inside a Mecha-like suit they had created, and could do martial arts perfectly.

...A little too perfect, actually.

Himeko wants to research how the suit works, but she's pretty sure S/O would drive their fist into her stomach and make her explode if she attempted.

Just like every enemy they've come across.

But other than that? She's not exactly too bothered by their insane behavior.

In her travels, she's honestly seen worse. At least S/O uses their power for good, and heck, they even liked her coffee!

That was good enough for her!

==

Himeko and S/O were strolling through the streets before they were approached by a hooded man, pulling out a knife.

She was mildly concerned by the thug, mostly for them more than anything. After all, S/O was outside their suit.

If they called it down, there would be hell to pay.

(Thug) "Your lady looks rich, hand over all the credits you got, or I'll gut you both."

(Himeko) "Is that right? Well, if I were you, I'd put the knife away."

(Thug) "Wha-Are you stupid?! HAND IT TO ME!"

(Himeko) "Oh, we'll give you a hand, alright. S/O?"

S/O raised their fist into the air.

(S/O) "COME OOUUUUUUUUT! GUNDAAAAAAAAM!"

S/O snapped, and the ground behind them suddenly blew open, shooting debris into the air.

S/O's clothes suddenly changed into a black skin-tight suit of spandex, landing and robotic parts suddenly materializing around them.

The thug was completely shocked by what he was witnessing, while Himeko watched with mild amusement.

(S/O) "HYYYAAAAGH! HYAH! HYAH!-"

S/O was now encased inside their mech, quickly throwing punches and kicks as their machine stabilized and checked if their movements synced up.

Himeko had a blank expression, silently thinking to herself:

(Himeko) S/O has done that every single time they've transformed, and no ones' actually bothered to stop them...

(S/O) "HERE I GO!"

With their warm-up out the way, S/O's machine crossed their arms as it stared directly at the thug, eyes flashing green.

(S/O) "This hand of mine glows with AN AWESOME POWER!"

Himeko tried to contain her giggle with one hand covering her mouth as the thug began blubbering in absolute fear as S/O's hand lit up the entire alley.

(Himeko) "That's so cheesy-"

(S/O) "IT'S LOUD ROAR TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

They immediately grabbed the thug's head as they squirmed, trying their best to make them let go.

(S/O) "SHINING FIIIIIIIIII-"

(Himeko) "Okay dear, you don't actually need to blow him up. I think he gets it."

The head slowly turned to Himeko before a sigh came through the machine, anticlimactically dropping the thug onto the ground.

(S/O) "You heard the lady. Get out of here before she hands you back to me."

(Thug) "AAAAAAAAGH, YOU FREAKS!"

They sprinted away, almost tripping themselves several times in the process.

(Himeko) "...You have got to tell me how that suit of your works someday. Where does it even come from?-"

(S/O) "It comes when I need it."

(Himeko) "...That didn't answer-"

(S/O) "And I'm not going to."

March loved the walking mechanical natural disaster that was S/O.

Did they even make remotely any kind of sense?

Aeons no, but what in this universe really made sense when you think about it?

March takes pictures of S/O all the time inside their suit, pulling off awesome attacks and hanging it on her wall. It made for some really cool wallpaper!

She also likes to steal their headband whenever they were outside their mech, as rare as it was.

March wears their headband and starts mimicking their voice, dramatically shouting in a low voice. It doesn't take her long to break character and begin laughing.

But nothing could top the moment their Master visited the Astral Express.

Upon meeting their disciple once again, the two immediately broke into a strange dance. One that March had to try. If she couldn't make something explode with her hands, then it was onto the next best thing!

==

Dan Heng, March, and S/O watched as S/O's master departed on a mechanical horse, standing perfectly upright on it, while inside their own mech suit.

(Dan Heng) "...That would certainly explain why S/O is the way they are."

(S/O) "Amazing, isn't he?"

(March 7th) "...Hey, S/O? Remember that thing you did with your Master? Do you think we can try it too?"

S/O's machine tilted its head as they responded to March.

(S/O) "Huh? Oh, the dance?...Sure, why not!"

(Dan Heng) "Uh, I think I'd rather pass-"

(S/O) "Don't be such a spoilsport! Come on: Undefeated, School of the east!"

S/O raised their fist to the middle, with March 7th quickly chiming in and doing the same.

(March 7th) "Winds of the King!"

Dan Heng simply sighed, knowing March or S/O wouldn't take no for an answer.

Finally relenting, he raised his own fist.

(Dan Heng) "Zenshin!-"

S/O retracted their fist and struck a pose, as if they were ready to begin fighting.

(S/O) "KEIRETSU!"

March leaped into the air and landed dramatically, pointing upwards into the air.

(March 7th) "TEMPA KYORAN!"

Dan Heng grabbed S/O's metallic fist as they traded places, extending their arms and connecting their fists.

(Dan Heng) "Look!-"

(S/O) "THE EAST!-"

March went to the middle, the three of them shouting in unison:

Stelle kept a straight face through all of S/O's shenanigans.

Watching them pose dramatically, witnessing their machine erupt from the ground before S/O magical girl transformed into it, dodging the explosions their fists created, all of it.

Stelle was more confused than anything.

Rules were made to be broken, but the rules of how gravity, physics, and heat worked too?

That was taking it a little too far.

She wants to know how they do it, but some questions were probably left unanswered.

==

S/O's mech crossed its arms, dramatically posing as it turned to Stelle.

A small army of malfunctioning robots approached them, threatening to attack the camp they were defending.

(S/O) "Hmph, there's too many to take them on individually."

She turned to him, eyes finally widening in surprise.

(Stelle) "Wait, you don't mean?-"

(S/O) "We have no choice! Launch me, just like how I taught you!"

(Stelle) "You can't just defy the laws of physics whenever you want-"

(S/O) "We have no time to argue, JUST DO IT!"

Stelle had performed some crazy plans in her time aboard the Astral Express, but-

Stelle took a deep breath and mimicked the crane stance, her baseball bat still in hand.

(Stelle) "CHOKYO!"

S/O went down on one knee, extending their fists.

(S/O) "HAOH!"

The two struck a dramatic pose in unison, exactly as how S/O's master had taught them.

(Both) "DEN'EIDAN!"

(S/O) "STELLE, FIRE!"

Stelle took a deep breath before swinging with all her might, with S/O suddenly leaping into the air, using her bat as a jumping point.

S/O roared out in fury, their mech spinning rapidly and turning into a tornado of red, blue, and yellow, blitzing a line through the robots, creating a single line of destruction.

Finally, S/O's mech flew up into the air, struck another pose with their feet and fists extended to one direction as if they were doing a flying kick.

(S/O) "ERUPT!"

On command, the entire army detonated at once, creating a beautiful ball of destruction as the dust cloud soared into the air, S/O slowly floating down next to Stelle.

(S/O) "HAHA! BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE SCHOOL OF MASTER ASIA!"

Stelle looked blankly at S/O, then back to the army they had destroyed together.

(Stelle) "...It's probably best I stop asking questions, isn't it?"

(S/O) "Yes!"

Oh Aeons above, S/O was a horrible influence on the kids.

Natasha does not have the mental capacity to deal with their insanity they brought with their mech onto the planet.

Hook and the others thought that S/O and their mech was the coolest thing they had ever seen.

The flashy red, blue, yellow, and white of their suit looked like an action figure.

And their warrior attitude definitely did not help things.

S/O had already made themselves notorious in the fighting club too, adding even more fuel to the fire.

She has to constantly tell the kids to not mimic her S/O.

Natasha loved them, but sometimes she wanted to slam her head against their mech in frustration.

They were great with kids, but seem to grasp no concept on impressionable children actually were.

===

Natasha treated the last of the patient's wounds, waving goodbye to them as they left.

She leaned back into her chair, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing.

Natasha opened one eye and saw that S/O's mech was standing completely still, clearly unmanned.

(Natasha) "...Strange, where is-"

She heard the kids all grunting in unison outside the window.

(Natasha) "...Oh no."

She leapt off her chair at a speed that startled some of the people inside.

Opening the door, she found Seele already approaching the clinic.

(Seele) "Nat, the kids!-"

(Natasha) "I know!"

She rushed past Seele, who quickly joined her as they rushed towards an open part of the courtyard.

S/O was standing in front of a large group of children, all mimicking their actions.

(S/O) "Put your heart into every swing! Your fists are the only way to convey how you feel!"

(Hook) "Yes, teacher!"

(Child) "S/O, do you think your Master could teach us too?!"

(S/O) "Hah! My Master would appreciate your enthusiasm, but-"

(Natasha) "S/O!"

S/O froze in fear, as did the rest of the children as every single one of them rushed to hide behind S/O.

Natasha sighed, looking at the kids, then back to her lover.

(Natasha) "What in the world are you doing?"

(S/O) "...Exercising-"

(Seele) "Really? Is that what you call it?"

(Hook) "S-S/O said they would show us the Erupting Burning-"

(Natasha) "Absolutely not! S/O, the clinic, NOW."

Seele took the kids behind her as Natasha dragged S/O out of sight.

(Child) "...Will they be alright?"

(Seele) "I don't think they will be, no."

...

(S/O) "Nat-"

(Natasha) "Do not Nat me! What are you thinking, teaching the kids such a violent move!?"

(S/O) "W-Well, I can't exactly say no to them-"

(Natasha) "Do I know it, S/O, but I don't need parents telling me their kids were trying to blow up something with their bare hands!"

(S/O) "...But I do it with the-"

(Natasha) "Don't you dare finish that sentence! If I find you trying to teach the kids your crazy moves again, I will make you explode next."

The Mech's head moved and stared at Natasha.

(Natasha) "AND YOU'LL BE FIRST IF YOU LET THE KIDS GET ANYWHERE NEAR YOU."

Both the mech and S/O stepped back in fear.

Honestly, S/O couldn't decide whether their master or Natasha was scarier.

...Probably Natasha.

[oops-all-concrete]

I'm back with more BG3 COMPANION REACTIONS!

This time; Companions see Tav (yours/you) getting flirted with and being too shy/stunned to turn the person down and step in for them. As usual, the romance is only as implied as you would like! These can be read as platonic (but I'm happy to write romance specific posts if you lovelies would like)

Lae'zel -

The concept of flirting tires her. Why make eyes and small touches and idle chatter that eludes to a 'something else' if you can just get to the 'something else- immediately? Assuming both parties are interested of course. Unlike now, where Tav is failing miserably at saying no- because they weren't asked "May I taste your flesh and you taste mine in return?" With a roll of the eyes and a calculated stalk, Lae'zel makes her way over to Tav and takes them by the wrist, dragging them away. If she's stopped, she glares and speaks sharp: "Keep your filth to yourself. If they wanted what your company could achieve, they'd roll around in the mud with an actual pig."

Shadowheart -

Wyll -

She watches from afar with some amusement for a time. But- watching them stay seated several times when the "newfound company" kept getting up and seeming eager to leave- she was happy to put her wine down for such an occasion. "Pardon me, but myself and that one have somewhere to be tonight." She says, hooking her arm in Tavs. If pressed, she'll elaborate. "Well, we travel with a Githyanki warrior, the Blade Of Frontiers, a chosen of Mystra, and a cleric of Shar who's had to put down her wine to come over here and apparently repeat herself." She smiles innocently, though her voice is piercing enough to send the stranger walking backwards with their hands up.

He waits with stepping in, giving Tav the agency to say yes or no on their own accord, but as the stranger starts getting a little too familiar, he can't sit still. "Excuse me, I'm afraid my friend here isn't available this evening" He says, friendly but firm. Of course he's challenged- too nice about it- so he stops being nice. "I should have been more clear-" he starts, placing a hand on their shoulder- watching them become more afraid with the distinct crackle and glow of eldritch energy. "You're either leaving alone- or with me. In a bag." He says again, voice darker than usual. The stranger gets the message and Wyll watches them like a hawk out of the building. "Apologies Tav, I shouldn't have been so harsh. I just have a special distaste for people like that."

Karlach -

This woman jumps in the second Tav shakes their head. "Woah, woah, woah!?" She yells from the distance she is, a lot of the tavern pausing their conversations and looking her way. "Yeah, that's enough of that. If they wanted you as bad as you think, they'd have left with you already, yeah? Hands and unfortunate looking face to yourself" She says, cheeky smile on her face, but her hands itching to swing. Of course the person is embarrassed, especially when some giggles start coming in from the crowd, possibly Tav too, but Karlach knows they're safe with the entire tavern as witness. "Let's get outta here, Tav. There's more drinks and less weirdos down the street" She smiles smugly.

Gale -

He's quite socially eloquent when he wants to be, but knows how to be tactically rude as well. The minute Tav starts shuffling subtly closer to him to get away from this other person, he's inserting himself in the conversation. "Oh, you've got art at your home? I've been meaning to talk to another art fanatic, I've quite a few pieces I'd love to discuss back in my tower in waterdeep filled with wonderful architecture, sculpture, Baroque- Oh! Are you familiar with Oskar Fevras? I commissioned him personally a while ago-" he knows he's hard to talk over, and he takes full advantage. The minute the person tries to talk to Tav- Gale immediately gives them an out. "Oh! I just remembered- Tav my good friend! I believe I've left a ring in the bathroom on the sink while washing my hands" Gale talks fast, allowing Tav all the time needed to leave.

Astarion -

Oh this man is an actor. A few times he catches eyes with Tav- notably uncomfortable, and he rolls his red eyes. He disappears for a moment, but before Tav can think, he's throwing himself between Tav and the stranger. "Darling- This is where you've been??" He says, and you can hear the offence in his voice. Several heads turn. Bar staff is concerned. Oh boy. "I thought you said you'd quit drinking?? And here you are while I'm at home waiting! Look how late it is!" It's like, 4PM, and it makes the stranger frown, but Astarion is yelling again before he can be stopped. "And who are you?? Stealing my lover away like a bandit!" He throws his arms around and sounds on the verge of (fake) tears. Of course the stranger is out of there asap, Astarion taking their seat and drink, making himself at home. He smirks at them like a little shit

Halsin -

As polite and friendly as Halsin is, he can look rather intimidating when he wants. He's huge and he knows it, and while he doesn't like doing it, he will use it to his advantage. The minute he picks up on Tavs discomfort, he's a shadow over the pair. The stranger just has a look up at the druid and that has all the effect needed. "Apologies, I'm afraid you're in my seat. My friend was waiting for me" He smiles, arms crossed in front of him, a mountainous man. If they don't move immediately, he leans down to the strangers height, because of course he's much taller. "Don't worry about paying for your drink, I'd much rather pay for that myself than a bloody floor." He says, voice even and friendly, but a vein bulging out of his forehead.

Hope you've you've enjoyed! Who are you looking to for help in this situation? (I take requests, feel free to ask!♡)

[girlystories]

L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: depictions of animal cruelty, patrick hockstetter (enough said) Words: 3.5k

previous part here

next part here

Chapter 2: Bigmouth Strikes Again

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 wasn't in a good mood that day, to say the very least. His dad had dragged him early to school for some reason. He didn't know why, and he didn't care. What he did know is that it disturbed his routine. 

He usually woke up by his dad's noisy way of getting ready for work – groaning from the living room, where he slept, and he'd demand his morning beer. If he even bothered, Henry would eat something as he waited for Belch to pass by his house to pick him up – a farm located at the outskirts of Derry. He'd get on his seat – which was of course, at the front, and they'd talk shit. Like they always did, although Henry chose most of the time to remain silent, always too moody in the morning. On the ride they would blast music, driving recklessly around town while the townsfolk would shout curses at them to turn the damn volume down. 

But not today. And he was pissed. On the way to school he was resting on his seat with folded arms, looking out the window and refusing his eyes to meet his father's. 

When he arrived he was about to wait at the parking lot for Belch and the others to arrive, but his old man shot him a glare, and he instantly knew what he meant. With his head low, he reluctantly walked up the stairs, turning his head around and seeing his oh-so great son-of-a-bitch dad watching him like a hawk, his stoic and hateful eyes hiden behind his round sunglasses. 

How much he wanted to fucking punch him right then and there, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't want to admit it, but he was weak against him. He could never manage the courage to stand up for himself, proving his point in being a paper man.

To his utter luck, he was seen by the headmaster, not managing to sneak past his office. He was given a lecture about his attitude and lack of presence, as expected. 

When he was finally let to go, his immediate next destination was back outside to meet up with the others. It was the time they usually arrived, anyway. Ten minutes before the first bell rang and they had to attend their homeroom class. 

"What the fu–"

Just as he was about to walk outside the building he felt someone collide with his chest. If the many and unnecessary nuisances until now wasn't enough, this instantly managed to form a vein on his temple as he clenched his fist. Today was his unlucky day it seemed. He stopped himself from punching whoever it was just as he met the girl's gaze. 

They both shared the same look of surprise. He studied her from head to toe, from the way she styled her hair – which looked somewhat messy – to her slightly parted lips and unironed clothes. 

For some reason he didn't know what to say. She seemed... familiar, but he quickly knew she was new. He'd never seen her at any of his classes before, or anywhere else at school. Was she even the same age as him? His eyes then looked behind her to the distance, seeing the all familiar blue Trans-am parked at the usual spot. Their spot, to be in fact. 

He grounded his jaw, frowning his eyebrows, as he pushed past her, not caring a bit if he pushed her or something. He almost didn't notice Tozier hiding behind her, clinging on her jacket. He snorted at that. He'd mess with him later. 

"Get outta my way," he threatened. 

The others were resting their weight against the Trans-am, invested in their good ol' morning chit-chat, some smoking, some not. He approached them with his head low, staring at his shoes, his hands shoved inside his jean pockets. 

"Someone's in a good mood," Belch was the first to acknowledge him, noting his already grumpy attitude mockingly as he elbowed Vic to the side, who grunted in response and rubbed his side. 

Henry shot him a glare. "Shut your fucking mouth," he said and grabbed his pack, shoving a cigarette between his lips and searching for his lighter. 

"Fucking hell," he grumbled. 

Patrick handed him his significant zippo – which was probably stolen from his grandparents. Henry took it and lit his death stick, exhailing a satisfied cloud of smoke, happy for something to easy his nerves and tremendous headache.

"Thanks."

"Did your dad give you shit again?", Vic asked after a long pause. 

He didn't respond, taking another drag. "The headmaster saw me and wouldn't shut up again about the same ol' shit. Be careful in case he sees you too."

"Well, I don't think he has a problem with me. My grades are decent enough."

"That's because you're not afraid to cheat, Vic," Belch remarked. 

The bleach-blonde boy scoffed in response. "I don't cheat, asshole. I, for one, have a goal I want to pursue."

"So do I, smart-ass."

"What, you mean becoming an Olympic player or something?"

"Fuck you, man. You know damn well how much I want to make it to the American League."

"Whatever."

Patrick cleared his throat as he stared forward to nothing in particular, holding back a laugh, while Henry was about to start yelling at them to shut up from beside him. "Are ya done?"

"You're one to talk, Pat," Vic grumbled under his breath, folding his arms.

He looked at him for a moment, letting out a snort of laughter. The icy stare ignored by Vic who looked down as he kicked a stone with his boot. Patrick threw his finished cigarette and patted Henry on the shoulder as he eyed his watch, passing him and starting to make his way to the building's back entrance. He was always first one to separate their morning meeting, despite Henry being the self-proclaimed leader of the group. 

"Meet ya after class."

Without waiting for a response he pushed the door, walking slowly inside. He placed one hand inside his pocket, while the other ran through his mid-length hair that hang around his face. 

Henry's warning forgotten, he passed the principal's office with ease. Patrick rolled his eyes when he heard his name called just as he was out of view. He could just continue his way, pretending he didn't hear him, but allas, he walked into the office. 

"What is it, Mr. Corbin?", his voice dramatically switched into a much innocent one than he intended. His eyebrows lightly raised as he held his hands together in front of him. 

Mr. Corbin took off his eyeglasses, stopping his work on whatever papers he had held in front of him. "Your grades," he started, sighing as he captured his facade. "You've been held back one grade. Are you on your way to make that a yearly end goal? You need to step up, Hockstetter."

Patrick stared back at him, his eyes void of all emotion. He had had this conversation with his parents countless times before. It mostly began after 7th grade, when things got more serious. They would constantly nag about his future – especially his uptight and anxious mother. He didn't care really, only choosing to live in the present. He was mostly out of touch with reality, always going with the flow. If he would magically share a similar life like his parents, that'd be fine. If he ended up tossed aside and unsuccessful, then so be it. 

"I've also been informed about your attitude outside school. These aren't news, I'm afraid. You and Bowers lack motivation, without a care what you'll be doing with your life in the future." 

Patrick was always twisted from a very young age, despite him not seeing it that way. He would get that sort of thrilling feeling through his veins whenever he viewed any kind of discomfort on another, more so when he inflicted it himself. It was so intriguing for him, from the way that rabbit moved so rapid and swiftly, trying to get out of his grasp. When it's escape went unsuccessful it started to make noises. Patrick would study it with round eyes, which eventually were followed with a wide smile. At that age he didn't attempt to kill it yet, and let it go. He didn't see death as a real thing, until he stumbled upon a starved kitten, it's ribs visible and it's legs weak. 

He tilted his head as he stood over it, the kitty meowed at him, it's high-pitched cries filling his ears. At first he found it terribly annoying, but then he came to enjoy it. It was suffering without the care of its mother. He kneeled on the concrete and the small cat saw this as a welcome to come closer. He tried petting it for a moment and it started purring in a weird way. His fingers run along it's dry fur and he gave more attention on its neck as he grew bored. He stopped and he felt a rush of adrenaline when the cat started meowing louder as he grabbed its neck, it's legs trying to scratch him to get back down. 

The corners of his mouth quirked up in an eerily smile, his eyes shinning slightly. He felt the same feeling when he squeezed the rabbit long ago, but this time he didn't stop and increased the pressure. The kitty stopped moving and it's jaw hang open, it's yellow eyes wide – too wide. He had to compose himself for a moment, releasing his hands as it fell sharpy. He was a god. A chuckle left his lips but he stopped when he heard a hault of steps from behind him. 

It was a young boy that seemed of close age range by his height. He expected him to turn back around and run away, but he didn't. Patrick held a cold gaze. 

"What do you want?" he asked. 

The boy – surprisingly approached him. "What you did was pretty cool."

Patrick didn't expect that. He smiled again. "I do it all the time," he lied but it was mostly the truth. 

The boy looked at the dead cat, then at Patrick. "I'm Henry."

"I'm Patrick."

Henry grinned, revealing a missing tooth. "Cool, wanna join me and my friends? We're on our way to throw paper towels that old lady's house."

"The one with the crazy mole on her nose?"

Henry nodded. Patrick thought about it first. He didn't really have any friends, so this was certainly a change. 

"Sure, why not?"

After that he became a member of the group, soon to be the Bowers Gang. At first he wasn't as welcome, being one year older, but they became so close, they were particularly like brothers. 

Mr. Corbin dragged a hang over his features, a headache starting to form. He waved towards the door, finishing: "that's about it. If you and Bowers get send here one more time, I'll have to take drasting measures. You'll get a pass this time. Mainly because it's your first time, Hockstetter. Now get your ass to class."

Satisfied, Patrick fixed his slouched back and turned around. He instantly noticed the unfamiliar girl next to the doorframe, her curious round eyes watching their interaction with keen interest, like a show being presented for her. Only she didn't applaud, and instead stood there awkwardly. Though she didn't quite fear him, it seemed, but Patrick knew that he'd have to give a good first impression then. That'd change her image of him for sure, he mused. 

He walked out the office with long steps, slowing down only as their eyes met and he instinctively licked his lips when he saw that it worked. 

He didn't care in hearing what the principal shouted at him just as he made his way to class, his mind only on the new victim he found and how he'd proceed next. The corners of his mouth quirked up into that same eerly smile. 

 

   Just as soon as lunch period came, [Name] went to take a seat at a table in the cafeteria, grabbing with her a weird looking sandwich and a soda. The school food definitely wasn't considered a five star meal, but she didn't have much of a choice, since she forgot to bring her own food from home. 

She didn't really care much about not having anyone to sit with, although some company would be nice. She would go sit with her cousin and his friends but she couldn't really find them in this crowd. Despite the town being small, the school was pretty packed. 

Just as she was about to take a bite of her sandwich, she felt someone being pushed against her back. She groaned in annoyance and turned around, ready to cuss whoever hit her. 

She stopped when she noticed a boy trying to stand on both his legs, though unstable. In front of him was the large looking guy she saw with Victor in class before, who wore a hat and a sadistic grin. He was about to make another move on him but turned his head around when he heard his name from the other side of the room – Belch, [Name] heard and looked over at the origin of the call, who was an annoyed looking Henry Bowers. [Name] also noticed Victor and Hockstetter with him. As expected. She still couldn't believe that he was possibly one of Richie's bullies. 

Belch glanced back at the guy who was pushed on [Name] with a piercing glare, though he didn't pay any mind on her. He then turned around and left, going back with his friends, who pushed the door opened and left the cafeteria. 

[Name] looked around, wondering if anyone else saw the whole thing happened, but everyone just went on with their businesses, except maybe like three people, but they still said nothing. She raised a brow. Why didn't anyone do or say anything? Do they control the school or something? She couldn't believe it. People fucking sucked here. She looked back at him, who tried to wipe the dust off of him. His clothes were messy and hang around his body, but he quickly fixed them, along with his posture. He cleared his throat. It took a while for [Name] to notice they initiated contact, and she grew awkward knowing that she was looking at him the whole time. 

She decided to break the silence. "You okay?"

He rose his eyebrows – almost surprised – and tried fixing his brown hair, which was not as easy without the use of a mirror. "Uh, yeah."

The awkward silence around them rose once again as he stood behind her while she had her head still turned around. It was growing sore by the second and she drew a leg over the seat, taking a more comfortable position. 

"Who the hell was that?" she asked. 

He seemed more surprised, as his mouth fell agape for a split second. "Hold up. You don't know him?"

"Um, no?"

He let out a laugh, almost not believing her words. "You're joking, right?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "Should I?"

"I mean, no but-", he continued to stare at her with a look of surprise. "You honestly don't know of the Bowers Gang?"

She didn't know how to respond, then she said, "Well, actually, I'm knew here."

Her words seemed to bring some sort of understanding as he let out an 'ohhh'. Without asking he sat next to her and stook out his arm. "I'm Aiden."

She shook it. "[Name]."

He leaned against his palm, the edge of his elbow just barely touching the table. "So you're new, huh? How come of all places you choose good-old Derry?"

"I used to live here a long time ago," she said. "For now I'm living with my relatives while we search for a house to rent or buy."

"Relatives? Who? I might know 'em.'"

"I don't know if you do, but I'm Richie's cousin and –"

Aiden's eyes widened again. It was pretty amusing how easily surprised he got. 

"You're Tozier's cousin? As in Trashmouth Tozier?"

"Hey, I'd really appreciate you not talking bad about my cousin."

He ignored it, continuing, "No fucking way, dude. That guy doesn't know when to stop."

"So?", she asked as her eyes narrowed. 

He waved his hands dismissively. "No – I'm just saying. He's just a pretty easy target amongst the Bowers Gang."

Just as [Name] was about to ask more, a voice called Aiden from the distance. Two girls waved at them and approached them. 

"We've been looking everywhere for you," the blonde-haired girl said as she gave him a quick hug. 

"Fucking Huggins thought it was funny to push me while I was about to leave," Aiden rolled his eyes. "But he immediately left. I don't care either way."

"Ugh, just ignore them. They're just dumb."

The brunette's focus was at [Name]. "Hey, you're the new girl, right? I think we share English together," she pointed out. 

She titled her head, trying to recall seeing her. "Really? I didn't really notice you. Sorry."

"Oh, where are my manners?" Aiden said. "This is Jamie and Evelyn", he pointed first at the blonde then the brunette. 

[Name] shook their hands, while she revealed her name to the girls. "I'm new here," she added. 

"And she's Tozier's cousin," Aiden interrupted with a grin. 

[Name] sighed at that as she opened her soda. "I still wanna know about that Bowers guy."

The girls sat at the other side of the table, sharing a look and then looked back at her.

"Well, it's best to say to not mess with him or the rest of his gang. Unless you're unlucky then you're fucked. It's best to just not be an easy target," Everly said. 

"It's almost like the whole town fears them," Jamie added. 

[Name] raised a brow. "How come they target my cousin?", she looked at the boy next to her. "Or Aiden for that matter."

He sighed. "It's... a long story."

It would be a lie if she said she wasn't curious, but decided not to push it. "Okay, well," she said between bites, "They better not mess with Richie again."

Everlyn leaned close, "I don't think you're in control of that. I'd advice you to tell Richie to just avoid them as much as possible."

[Name] frowned at that, but she didn't say more. There was something she could do, right? She took a sip of her soda and licked her lips. 

Jamie nudged her friend's shoulder next to her, "Hey, let's invite her to Frank's party," without waiting for a response she looked back at [Name]. "Wanna join us on Friday? It starts at 8 pm."

She stopped chewing as she glanced at the three reluctantly. She really wasn't in the mood for that, wanting to relax the first week. 

"Come on! It'll be fun! We'll introduce you to other people. That way you'll make friends or something." She placed her hands together in a pleading manner, flickering her long lashes. "Pleaseee? Evelyn will give you a ride."

Evelyn shot a disapproving glare at her, mostly because she didn't bother asking first, but it went unnoticed by Jamie. 

[Name] shrugged. "Sure, I guess?", she rubbed the back of her head. "But I'll leave as soon as I get bored. I'm not really in the mood these couple of days."

Jamie rose from her seat and walked over to her, squeezing her into a hug. "Yay! I swear you won't get bored. And if it makes you feel better I won't leave your side."

   Evelyn was kind enough to give [Name] a ride back home, but she didn't really mind since she gave the other two a ride as well. She thanked her as she shut the door behind her, seeing Aiden wave at her while Jamie blew a kiss from behind the window. 

She walked in the Tozier residence and called out if anyone was home. She heard no response and she shrugged. Richie would be with his friends while her dad, and uncle and aunt would be at work. She threw her backpack and shoes off, going to the kitched and opening the fridge. Groaning at the vague options and the rumbling sound from her empty stomach she opted with a bowl of cereal. She sat at the living room, the blanket embracing her comfortably as she wore her pajamas. She should probably have better done her homework or study for that history test, but she really needed some sort of peace. She wasn't really paying attention to the movie, or the random commercials but she was almost shaken up by the sound of her door opening. 

It was her dad. He seemed to be in a really good mood – if the wise smile he had wasn't obvious he greeted her with enthusiasm. 

She quirked a brow, muching on her cereal. "Why so happy? Not that I mind."

He took of his boots, "We're having a barbecue tomorrow!", he exclaimed simply. 

"Huh?"

"Cancel any plans for tomorrow if you have any."

[dewdropdinosaur]

I Guess I Fall Hard

HUSK X READER X ANGEL [Poly] Summary: The events leading up to my fic, 'Cocoa, Not Chanel' as requested by @little-bloodied-angel Warnings: Cusing, Allusions to abuse, hypersexuality, and spice. Rating: PG-13

Day 1: 

Angel Dust leaned against the bar, sipping a martini as the music of the club throbbed around him. His pole dancing show had just ended, and he was basking in the afterglow of the applause and whistles from the crowd. The bar was packed tonight, filled with demons of all shapes and sizes looking to forget their troubles in the smoky haze and neon lights.

Y/N sat at the bar, nursing a drink and trying to blend in. They were new to Hell, still trying to navigate the chaos and find their place. The bar was an escape, a place to observe and maybe, just maybe, find a connection. Angel noticed Y/N immediately during his earlier dance routine. Their presence was different, not as jaded or hardened as the usual patrons and most noticeably, had owl like features with plumage puffung out of their chest. He sauntered over, his characteristic smirk firmly in place.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he drawled, leaning on the bar next to them. "Enjoy the show?"

Y/N looked up, meeting his eyes with a shy smile. "Yeah, it was amazing. You're really talented."

Angel preened under the compliment, tossing his fluffy hair back. "Thanks, doll. Name's Angel Dust. What's yours?"

"Y/N," they replied, feeling a bit more at ease. “I”…uhh..am kinda new here.”

"Well, Y/N, welcome to Hell," Angel said with a wink. "It's a real shithole, but it has its moments."

Y/N chuckled, and Angel found himself liking the sound. They talked for a while, the conversation flowing easily. Y/N told Angel about their life before Hell, and Angel shared some of his own wild stories. They laughed together, the connection growing with each passing minute.As the night wore on, Angel found himself feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time: genuine warmth. Y/N's presence was comforting, a light in the darkness of his world. He hadn't expected to make a friend tonight, but there they were, sharing drinks and stories like they'd known each other for years.

"Hey, wanna get outta here?" Angel suggested after a while. "I know a quieter place where we can talk without all this noise.”

“Oh…I am not really looking for that kinda—“

“No doll face, I ain’t asking you for that kinda favor…tonight atleast~”

Y/N evntually agreed after making sure no funny business was afoot, and they left the bar together, stepping into the cool night air. Angel led them to a small, hidden park—a rare quiet spot in the chaos of Hell. They sat on a bench, the sounds of the city distant and muffled.

"You know, it's nice to have someone to talk to," Angel admitted, his usual bravado softened. "Most people just see me as the dancer, the entertainer. It's rare to find someone who actually listens."

Y/N smiled, touched by his honesty. "I'm glad we met, Angel. You’re more than just a performer. You’re... a new friend."

Angel felt a warmth spread through his chest at the word. "Yeah, a friend. I like that."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the dim stars in Hell's sky.

Day 25: 

The sun was setting over Pentagram City, casting long shadows through the windows of the Hazbin Hotel's library. Y/N and Husk were nestled in one of the cozier corners of the room, surrounded by stacks of old books. The smell of aged paper and leather filled the air, a comforting scent that spoke of countless stories and secrets waiting to be discovered.

Y/N carefully turned the page of a worn, hardcover book, the title embossed in faded gold: "The Picture of Dorian Gray." They glanced over at Husk, who with curous eyes, was attempting to the read the title of the novel. Holding it up to him, Husk gave what could have been considered a soft smile; one full of memory. 

Y/N smiled at him, their fingers tracing the delicate pages. "Oscar Wilde has always been a favorite of mine. His wit and the way he captures human nature... it's timeless."

Husk nodded in agreement, setting his book aside. "Wilde's got a way with words, that's for sure. 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' is one of those books that sticks with you. The whole idea of beauty and corruption, it hits home."

Y/N’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Exactly! And his plays, too. 'The Importance of Being Earnest' always makes me laugh."

Husk chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. "That one’s a classic. Wilde knew how to poke fun at society's pretensions. Sometimes I think if he were alive today, he'd fit right in here."

They shared a laugh, the bond between them strengthening over their shared love of literature. Husk leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his ever-present flask. "You know, it's nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. Most folks around here aren't exactly the reading type."

They continued to talk, sharing their favorite passages and discussing the deeper meanings behind Wilde's works. Husk found himself opening up more than he had in years, the walls he usually kept so firmly in place gradually coming down.

As the night wore on and the library grew darker, Y/N reached for another book. "You know, we should do this more often. It’s nice to escape the madness of Hell and just... be."

Husk looked at them, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I’d like that."

Day 70: 

Angel Dust and Y/N strolled down the bustling streets of Pentagram City, their laughter cutting through the chaotic noise of Hell. Today was a rare day off, and they decided to spend it shopping, a favorite pastime of both. 

"Husk, hurry up!" Angel called back to their reluctant feline companion, who was lagging behind, arms laden with clothes.

Husk grumbled, shifting the pile to get a better grip. “I “swear…no you get back here…fuck this shiny glitter!”

Y/N giggled and turned to Angel. "You think he secretly loves it?"

Angel smirked. "Oh, definitely. He wouldn’t be here otherwise."

They entered a nearby store, the racks filled with an array of clothing to suit anyone’s interest. Angel’s eyes lit up, and he immediately began rifling through the racks, holding up various items for Y/N to see.

"Look at this!" he exclaimed, showing off a spink parkly jacket. "This would look killer on you."

Y/N took the jacket, admiring the fabric. "I love it! And check this out," they said, holding up a pair of silver sequined pants. "Totally your style."

Angel’s eyes widened with excitement. "Oh my God, yes! We’re definitely getting these."

Husk trailed behind, dutifully adding the new items to his growing pile. He watched the two with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, their enthusiasm infectious despite his gruff exterior.

Angel and Y/N continued to explore the store, trying on different outfits and showing them off to each other. They discovered they had a remarkably similar fashion sense, both gravitating toward bold, flashy pieces that made a statement.

"Great minds think alike, huh?" Y/N said, twirling in front of a mirror in a shimmering dress.

Angel nodded, adjusting the feathered boa around his neck. "You know it, babe. We’re a match made in Hell."

Husk rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. Despite his grumbling, he enjoyed seeing his friends so happy. It was a rare sight, and he found himself appreciating the moment more than he cared to admit. After a few hours of shopping and countless outfit changes, they finally made their way to the checkout, Husk still carrying the mountain of clothes. 

"Thanks for being our pack mule, Husk," Angel teased, patting him on the shoulder.

Husk grumbled again, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit of it."

Y/N gave him a grateful smile. "Seriously, Husk, we appreciate it."

As they left the store, bags in hand and Husk trailing behind with the last of the load, Angel slung an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. "We gotta do this more often. It’s been a blast."

Y/N nodded in agreement. "Definitely. And next time, Husk, we’ll treat you to something special for putting up with us."

Husk snorted, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "I’ll hold you to that."

Day 132:

The pulsating beat of the club music reverberated through the walls, and the dance floor was a sea of moving bodies. Neon lights flickered in rhythm with the music, casting colorful glows over the crowd. Angel Dust, Y/N, and Husk had decided to hit one of the hottest clubs in Pentagram City for a night of fun and letting loose. Angel and Y/N were in their element, moving fluidly to the music. They danced close, their bodies swaying in perfect sync, exuding a magnetic, sensual energy that turned heads all around them. Angel’s lithe form glittered under the lights, his moves confident and alluring. Y/N matched his energy, their movements fluid and captivating. It helped that they were of similar height, at least Husk thought, for them to be so in sync with each other

Husk leaned against the bar, nursing a drink and watching the pair with a mix of amusement and admiration. He was used to Angel’s antics and charisma, but seeing Y/N keep up with him so effortlessly was something else. Despite his usual gruff demeanor, Husk couldn’t help but feel a pang of something deeper as he watched them—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. As the song shifted to a more seductive beat, Angel spun Y/N around, their laughter ringing out above the music. They were clearly enjoying themselves, lost in the moment, winks, hands touching lightly, it was a flirt fest of anyone had ever seen one. Husk found himself smiling, genuinely happy for his friends. Yet, the sight of them together stirred a desire within him to be part of that closeness.

With a deep breath and a resolve he didn’t quite understand, Husk finished his drink and made his way to the dance floor. As he approached, Angel noticed him and flashed a mischievous grin.

"Hey, Husky! Decided to join the fun?" Angel teased, twirling around Y/N.

Y/N turned to Husk, their eyes bright with excitement. "Come on, Husk! Dance with us!"

Husk hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

He stepped into the circle with them, and Angel pulled him in closer, their bodies moving together to the rhythm. Husk’s initial awkwardness melted away as he got into the groove, the energy between the three of them electric. Angel’s hands brushed against Husk’s shoulders, guiding him, while Y/N’s laughter and enthusiasm were infectious.

They danced together, the world outside the dance floor fading away. There was something special about the way they moved, a connection that went beyond friendship. As the music built to a crescendo, Husk felt a surge of courage.

When the song ended, and they found themselves catching their breath, Husk looked at Angel and Y/N, his usual gruffness softened by a rare vulnerability.

"Hey, I’ve been thinking," Husk began, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "How about the three of us go out sometime? Like, a real date?"

Angel’s eyes sparkled with surprise and delight. "A date, huh? I never pegged you for the romantic type, Husk."

Y/N beamed, their eyes shining with excitement. "I’d love that, Husk. I think it’d be fun."

Husk relaxed, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Alright then, it’s a date. Let’s make it a night to remember."

Day 175:

The warm, sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the hotel kitchen, mingling with the scent of chocolate and vanilla. Y/N hummed softly to themselves, their large wings fully extended as they mixed flour and butter, the feathers shimmering in the soft light. It was a rare sight, one they reserved for the privacy of the hotel kitchen, away from the bustling streets of Hell. Today marked nearly the one month anniversary of Y/N and their partner’s relationship, and being the lover of baked goods that they were, cookies were in order.

Angel Dust and Husk, having spent the afternoon lounging together, decided to check on Y/N. Following the heavenly smell, they walked into the kitchen, laughing and chatting, but their conversation halted abruptly at the sight before them.

“Whoa,” Angel breathed, his eyes wide with awe. “Toots, your wings… they’re beautiful.”

Y/N turned, a bit startled, their cheeks flushing. “Oh, hey guys. I didn’t expect you in here. I, um, usually keep these hidden.”

Husk’s usual gruff expression softened, a rare look of tenderness in his eyes. “You don’t need to hide them from us. They’re incredible.”

Angel approached first, his fingers gently brushing against the feathers. “So soft,” he murmured, his admiration clear. “Why don’t you show them off more?”

Y/N shrugged, a shy smile playing on their lips. “They’re just… big. Its a hassle to wear clothes and be around Hell.”

Husk stepped closer, his hand joining Angel’s in touching Y/N’s wings. “You should never feel like you have to hide who you are. You’re amazing just the way you are.”

The three of them stood close, the intimacy of the moment enveloping them. Angel’s gaze shifted to Husk, noticing a flicker of insecurity in his eyes.

“You know, Husk,” Angel said softly, “your wings are pretty amazing too. I bet you and Y/N could match sometimes, with all the accessories that they own.”

Husk’s wings, though smaller and more rugged, were a point of self-consciousness for him. He rarely showed them, preferring to keep them hidden under his trench coat.

“Yeah, right,” Husk muttered, looking away.

“No, seriously,” Y/N said, reaching out to touch Husk’s arm gently. “Kit, you’re perfect just the way you are, wings and all. And trust me, I have tons~ of wing jewelry to spare.”

Angel wrapped an arm around Husk’s shoulders, his voice earnest. “We like you, Husky. Every part of you.”

Y/N joined in, wrapping their wings around the three of them in a protective, loving embrace. “”

Husk felt a warmth spread through him, their words melting away the insecurities he’d held onto for so long. In this moment, surrounded by the two people he loved most, he felt a sense of belonging and acceptance that he hadn’t felt in years.

“Thanks, guys,” Husk said, his voice thick with emotion.

Day 203:

The cozy warmth of the hotel’s lounge enveloped Y/N, Husk, and Angel as they settled on the plush sofa. The soft glow of the lamp cast a comforting light, creating a serene atmosphere. Y/N and Husk had sensed something weighing on Angel’s mind for a while now, and they knew it was time to address it with love and understanding.

“Starlight, dear…we need to talk” Y/N spoke softly towards Angel.

Angel leaned back, a playful smirk on his lips, though his eyes betrayed a hint of uncertainty. “So, what’s the occasion, guys?” he joked, trying to mask his nervousness.

Y/N smiled gently, reaching out to take Angel’s hand. “We just wanted to talk, Angel. We’ve noticed some things, and we want you to know that we love you no matter what.”

Husk nodded, his usual gruffness softened by concern. “Yeah, Angel. You don’t have to put on a show for us. We see you, the real you, and we care about you.”

Angel’s smirk faltered, and he glanced between them. “What do you mean?”

Y/N took a deep breath, squeezing Angel’s hand reassuringly. “We’ve noticed how you use your hypersexuality to get validation from others. It’s like you feel you need to be that way to be loved or accepted.”

Husk chimed in, his voice gentle. “But the thing is, Angel, you don’t need to do that with us. We love you for who you are, not for any performance or act.”

Angel’s eyes softened, a mixture of relief and vulnerability washing over him. “It’s just… It’s what people expect from me. It’s who I…am”

Y/N moved closer, wrapping an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “We understand, Angel. But you’re so much more than that. You’re funny, caring, and incredibly talented. You don’t need to prove anything to us.”

Husk reached out, placing a comforting hand on Angel’s knee. “We love you, Angel, every part of you. You don’t need to change or hide behind an act to be worthy of love.”

Angel’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he leaned into Y/N’s embrace.

Day 205:

A few days later, after remising on their conversation, Angel looked up, his eyes meeting Y/N’s in their shared bedroom. “You know, you guys help me feel more like myself. And, Y/N, you should know that you’re amazing just the way you are too.”

Y/N’s bird-like features, usually hidden behind a composed exterior and glitzy clothing, softened as they looked at Angel. “I’ve always felt a bit…off, you know? It’s hard to accept myself sometimes. especially with the shit show of a private area I was given. Like couldn't have when I died been given the right fucking genitalia?@”

Husk nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. “We all have our insecurities. Hell, I am a fucking cat. But you’re incredible, Y/N. Your uniqueness makes you special, and I don't care about what's under your pants. Your personality, strength, and beauty are just things we love about you.”

Angel smiled, wiping away a tear. “Yeah, Y/N. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Those owl-like features? They’re part of what makes you you, and we wouldn’t change a thing.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through them, their heart swelling with the love and acceptance from their partners. “Thank you, both of you. I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

Husk pulled both of them into a tight hug, the three of them finding comfort and strength in each other’s presence. In the quiet of the lounge, they found a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a reminder that they were loved and accepted for exactly who they were.

As the night wore on, they stayed close, talking and laughing, their bond growing stronger with every shared word and touch. In a world that often felt chaotic and unforgiving, they had found a sanctuary in each other, a place where they could be their true selves and be loved unconditionally.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; giving him flowers

summary: how he'll react when you give him a bouquet

warning/s: none, pure fluff, gn!reader

- it'd be a bouquet of red tulips

- he'd blush soooo hard. like he'll be so red he looks like he'll run out of air

- he'll be hesitant to take it

- once he'd bashfully take the bouquet and say thank you through gritted teeth

- "why the fuck are you givin' me this shit?"

- your face would soften when you hear him call the flowers "shit"

- his demeanor would shift immediately trying to salvage the situation

- "i-it ain't that ugly, b-but... you didn't have to. really."

- you'd smile at him and give him a peck on the cheek or neck (wherever you could reach) and tell him to keep it, telling him you want to do it for him

- he'll fondly tell you to shut up

- you'll get him smiling and shit

- the entire day he'd blush when he sees you or when he sees the bouquet lying on the window of his workshop

- his heart wouldn't calm down i'm telling you!!

- but he'd turn it to a competition tho

- you'll have a bouquet on your side of the bed the next morning with a note saying "you're not the only one who's romantic, short stack."

- there'd be one whole week where you two compete who'll give the bouquet first

- your crewmembers would suffer the most btw

- they'd each find you running first thing in the morning just to get to the flower shop first, raising a racket around the ship at buttcrack dawn

- at the end of it all, he'd come and meet you at the deck during the night when you two unanimously stopped the shitshow

- "you refuse to give up, huh?"

- "you're giving me more reasons to love the shit outta you."

- "if this is what it takes, i'll happily give you a fuckpile of bouquets."

kinda wanna make one for könig :(

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 5 - Fake Fights and Failed Flights

— — — — — — —

“I still don’t know what you’re making over there, but if I could toss out a suggestion: you can’t go wrong with copious amounts of glitter~! Ooh, or flames spray-painted on the side! Makes for a great accent to any art project!”

Bill’s remark didn’t even earn so much as a glance from Ford, his gaze fixed solely on the desk before him as he continued to work on his mysterious project.

A project which Bill had continued to try and get a glimpse of every time Ford stepped away from his desk to fetch more—just as mysterious—supplies. But much like the first time, any attempt to stretch or crane his neck for a peek at the desk’s contents only ended in failure.

And at one point, resulted in Ford’s only acknowledgment of him throughout the entire process—in the form of propping one of his books upright on the desk, to further block his line of sight. An action that had earned a drawn-out eye roll on Bill’s end; somebody was being dramatic for the sake of dramatics.

Eventually, however, Ford rose from his chair a final time and reached for the mysterious whatever that waited on the desk before him. And it was only once he turned back towards the far side of the study and reapproached the rope circle that Bill finally got a clear look at the fruits of the man’s labor.

“…A sock puppet. Adorable.”

Sure enough, Ford had haphazardly sewn googly eyes and little pipe cleaner arms to a worn sock, one that Bill assumed had come from the emergency stash of clothes he kept up in the bathroom. It was a rush job, far more amateur than the work he would normally put into an artisanal project. But even a clueless idiot could take one look at his creation and coin it as a puppet of sorts.

After a double-check of the stitching to make sure the various parts would stay connected to the sock, Ford knelt down just outside of the rope circle before setting the crude little puppet down at his feet—

—and he waited.

Bill watched him for a few minutes, eyebrow raised, before—

Ah.

Okay, he knew what was happening now. 

“Trying to contact the poor sucker whose body I’m playing puppetmaster with?” he guessed aloud. “Come on, Sixer, you can’t pretend you aren’t~!”

“They’re likely to give me more answers than you ever will.”

Both of Bill’s eyebrows shot further up his forehead. After the many times Ford had ignored him throughout the past day, it was truly a surprise to get an actual response out of him!

Both a surprise and an annoyance, one that earned him a hard raspberry from Bill—which was immediately followed by the loud sound of him smacking his lips with discomfort. Eugh—it just felt so wrong to have a tongue that wasn’t tenderly and carefully tucked beneath his eyeball. Or rows of teeth that pressed uncomfortably against each other, as opposed to retracting into slots around his eyeball when not in use.

Oh, right, he was mocking Ford—“I mean, you say that, but out of the two of us, which one was refusing to talk all night?” he taunted. “I mean, I tried and tried to have a nice chat—ask about what you’ve been up to for the past few months, how the family’s been—but you were being just as stubborn as ever.”

Ford didn’t respond, his gaze fixed solely on the puppet as he waited for something to happen. And Bill couldn’t help but let his own eyes fall to the crude little sock creation as well, while he also waited in just-as-curious silence. 

Sure, Birdbrain had plunked him back down in a human body, but they hadn’t elaborated on where they’d be getting that body in the first place. Heck, they’d been downright sneaky about what body they’d planned on sticking him into, deliberately avoiding any specifies right up until the second before they zapped him outta their mindscape. 

But unless they somehow possessed the ability to create a brand new body from nothing, they would’ve had to get his vessel from somewhere. 

And if they'd actually resorted to pulling out the soul of some unlucky chump and recycling the leftovers for him to use as his own, then Bill couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t the tiniest bit curious about what said chump was like in the personality department. 

…Of course if they were hoping to get their body back from him, then they were straight-up outta luck in that regard. Finders keepers, pal! 

But hey, no harm in being a little curious about his vessel's origins. Curiosity killed the cat, after all—and a dead animal here and there always added a delightful splash of color to the room.

The two of them waited a minute, two minutes, five minutes—

But the puppet remained an immobile lump on the hard, wooden floor.

“Now, I might be wrong,” Bill finally spoke up after their waiting period hit the seven-minute mark. “But I feel like something should’ve happened by this point. Just a guess, though!”

Ford remained silent, eyes still fixed on the puppet—

—before he too decided to call it quits, and rose to his feet. “Well, I suppose that answers a few questions,” he muttered to himself. “Alright, on to the next step…”

Bill bit back the urge to pester Ford with an inquiry of: “Oh, and what’s the next step, Smart Guy?” and instead kept his attention on the sock puppet as Ford headed back to the desk. Even if nothing had actually happened, it had still given him a few more hints about the kind of body possession he was dealing with at the moment.

If Birdbrain had done some soul switcharoo-ing to free up a body, the original soul would’ve likely pulled a Pine Tree and used whatever other vessel they could get their hands on—in order to communicate as much to anyone willing to listen. 

So if they hadn’t been tempted by the puppet equivalent of the bargain bin—nobody’s first choice but it would do in a desperate pinch—then there were a few possibilities.

One: they had already found a vessel somewhere else to claim as their own. An unlikely guess if his theory of Ford finding him close to the Shack turned out to be correct—a soul whose body was being temporarily borrowed by someone would ideally stick as close to the body as possible. Or at least, if someone else had found a way to parade Bill’s body around as their own, he knew for a fact that he’d personally be hovering around it at all times and annoying the thief into giving it back.

Two: Birdbrain had thought ahead and decided to keep a tight leash on the soul, to prevent it from trying to take its body back. A possibility more likely than the first, although Bill had no way of clarifying this fact without finding some way to contact Tangy at all.

His brow furrowed as his thoughts switched gears to that smug, feathered jerk. He still had plans to play their dumb game, but he’d already wasted most of the past day being tied to a chair. How was he supposed to track down the stupid little bricks to their stupid little charm if he couldn’t even move from this stupid little chair?

Concerns to gripe about later—Right now, he was on to possibility number three; the body had no former host, and Birdbrain has just crafted him a new body from scratch.

Making something from nothing was a task only the most powerful of entities could perform. Bill would know from experience—he’d been able to do it once he’d escaped from the Nightmare Realm and ventured into this dimension, crafting a beautiful, three-dimensional pyramid body for himself. 

How he missed that body dearly—he had even sprung for a square base over a triangular one, just to mix things up a little bit. Sure, it’d mostly been a spur-of-the-moment idea, but settling his consciousness into such a form had just felt so right for him. A rightness that he would probably unpack at some point in the future, when he no longer had to focus on the task at hand.

But creating an entirely new, physical vessel from within the mindscape itself, all without a rift to the dimension where it would be used? 

That was something that even he hadn’t been able to accomplish. If he had, he wouldn’t have needed the help from mortals with crafting a portal in the first place—he could’ve simply cut out the middle man, poofed a ready-made vessel into existence, and used that to build the portal himself.

If Birdbrain possessed that much power, then—

“A-ha! Found it!”

Bill was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of Ford’s voice, and he looked up to see him approaching the circle again. “Yeesh, took you long enough,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to bore me to death with all your dull research and secret art projects~!”

“I do have my reasons for both,” Ford admitted as he drew closer. “That much I am willing to disclose to you.”

“Oh~?” Bill perked up with curiosity. “And what reasons are those?”

As Ford finally came to a stop outside the circle and knelt down to pick up the sock puppet, Bill could see something cradled in one of his hands. 

A small burlap sack, hardly bigger than his palm.

“I needed to determine the proper dosage to knock someone of your stature out cold.”

—oh, he was not serious!

The puppet was dropped inside the rope circle near his feet, and before Bill could finish his irate warning of: “Stanford, don’t you dare—”, Ford was already tossing the bag’s contents at his face.

Bill sputtered as a pink burst of fairy dust hit him square in the mouth, yanking his arms desperately against his restraints in the hopes of freeing one so he could wipe his face clean. 

But it was only a matter of seconds later that the sleep effects start to overtake his vessel’s fragile immune system, and his body drooped forward with exhaustion. 

He saw Ford step into the circle and continue towards him, reaching a hand into his pocket—

—and Bill managed one feeble kick of his leg before he once again slipped into unconsciousness.

— — — — — — —

“Okay, get a load of this~!”

After a quick glance back at the younger teens to make sure she had their attention, Wendy pulled a flashlight from her belt loop and took aim at the nearby half-pipe. One press of the button later and the ramp had been shrunken down to a size more suitable for skateboarding ants, rather than people or Abominable Bro-men.

With a pleased grin, Wendy strolled over to scoop it up off the ground. “You guys have no idea what kind of geniuses you were to put this thing together,” she said, giving it a light shake to clear away the miniscule soda cans. “It makes cleaning up the exhibits soooo much easier!”

“I just can’t believe I never thought to use it for cleaning before,” Dipper said from where the two of them were seated. “Do you know how easy it’d be to clean under my bed if I could just shrink it first? Or how much time I could save on washing clothes if they were half-an-inch tall?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a possible patent on your hands,” Wendy said, setting the shrunken half-pipe into a storage box. “But I came up with the cleaning idea, so I want at least seventy percent of the cut.”

“Aww, what? I’m the one who invented the thing,” Dipper pointed out. “Forty-sixty split where I’m getting the sixty, or no deal.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine, what if we make it fifty-fifty but I get to pick the name?”

“No way! I made it, I should get to name it!”

“Oh, yeah?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “So what did you name it?”

At this question, Dipper suddenly became very interested in the dirt beneath his shoes. “...I mean, I said I should get to name it, not that I’ve actually named it yet,” he muttered weakly. “But you know, if you happen to have a name already picked out, I’m open to suggestions or whatever…”

With a laugh, Wendy lightly tapped the flashlight against her leg as she pondered ideas. “What about…the Shrink-and-Scrub?” she suggested. “The main words start with the same letter, it’s catchy…would probably snag the attention of overworked parents or something.”

“Not bad, not bad,” Dipper mused thoughtfully. “But you’re not really scrubbing with it, are you? We could get slapped with a false advertising charge.”

“Ooh, good call! Whaddaya think, Mabel, you got any good name ideas?”

Dipper turned to face his sister, seated on the ground next to him with her attention on her phone. At Wendy’s question, however, she lowered the screen with a contemplative look. “The…Shrink-and-Span? Like spick-and-span, but there’s shrinking? And it still sounds all clean-y and stuff?” 

She placed her phone on the ground next to her so she could make a growing-shrinking motion with her hands. “Also Span, like Ex-span…d? It’s almost a pun and people love puns!”

Her arms were thrown into the air with bright enthusiasm, but it was only seconds later before both her posture and expression sank again. “I dunno…”

While she slipped her chin back into one hand and her phone back into the other, Dipper and Wendy exchanged a knowing look. “Man, even when you’re down in the dumps, you’re still better at this than both of us,” Wendy said.

Mabel’s response was a sad hum, and Dipper scooted closer to place a hand on her shoulder. “Still worried, huh?” he asked. “I thought the streamer thing would’ve made you at least a little bit excited.”

“I can’t work my Mabel Magic on the shack until everything’s all cleaned up,” Mabel explained. “Which means I gotta sit and think about Bill and Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford and everything else we had to worry about last year!”

Her hands once against returned to the air as she continued to speak: “We were gonna spend so much time with both Stan and Ford this summer! But now that big, dumb, pointy, jerky…jerkface is back and they’re fighting because of him, and—and—”

Rather than finish her sentence, she reached to her sweater collar and pulled it up over her face with a groan—an action that earned a comforting shoulder pat from her brother. “Come on, Mabel, you’re not really gonna believe what Bill said about Stan and Ford fighting, are you?”

“Yeah,” Wendy added. “Isn’t the guy, like, a notorious liar or something? Who cares if he says they’re fighting?”

“It’s not what he said,” Mabel explained, pulling the collar back down past her mouth. “It’s what they’re doing! I mean, you and Grunkle Stan went to give Ford his breakfast, right?”

She directed this question at Dipper, who nodded in response. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, what happened when you did?”

“Not a whole lot,” Dipper said, and began to tick off his fingers. “We went to Abuelita’s bedroom, Bill was trying to be as creepy as possible, we went out into the hallway to talk about Ford’s plan—”

His hand sank a bit. “—Stan started getting upset because Ford wasn’t letting him help,” he finished defeatedly. “And then I…left to go up to the bedroom.”

Mabel pointed to Wendy, who had occupied herself by taking aim at another exhibit. “And what happened after that?”

“Well…Stan came storming up the hallway,” Wendy began, placing the newly-shrunken exhibit into the box with the others. “And then he—”

She hesitated to reply for a few seconds, before pressing a hand to the back of her neck. “—he punched the wall and went out to the boat.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re fighting, though!” Dipper added quickly. “It could mean anything! Maybe Bill was getting on Grunkle Stan’s nerves, and he got frustrated before he…stormed away and punched a wall about it?”

A pause. “…Even though he already punched Bill in the face last night and probably wouldn’t have to just punch a wall if Bill was getting on his nerves again?”

Mabel flumped over her knees with another groan. “You see? They are fighting! And now Grunkle Ford’s down in his lab doing lots of secret sciencey stuff, while Grunkle Stan’s over on the boat, doing secret boaty stuff—”

They all turned their heads in the direction of the Stan-O’-War 2 before she continued: “They’re doing stuff by themselves instead of together, like last year!”

She pulled her collar back over her face. “I don’t want things to be like last year…”

While Dipper gave her shoulder another comforting pat, Wendy kept her attention fixed on the Stan-O’-War 2 for a bit longer, before letting it travel across the yard towards the waiting Manotaur stage at the edge of the woods.

A stage which she eyed for a second, then the flashlight in her hand for another, before turning back to the twins with a wink. “Hey, you know, we never got around to having that fight yesterday,” she said. “You dorks up for—oh, wait, lemme just—”

She held up the Shrink Ray and fired it at the stage, quickly rushing to shake it clean of any debris left from the previous day’s performance. And once it was properly cleared and regrown to its original size, she spun around to face them again. “Alright, so now that we don’t have to worry about stepping on broken glass and wood, you dorks up for a little random gratuitous violence to get out some of those bad Bill feelings?”

Dipper’s mouth curled into a small smile as he gave his sister’s shoulder a light nudge. “Whaddaya think, Mabel? Would punching out some of those feelings about the jerky jerkface make you feel better?”

There was a pause, before Mabel pulled the collar back down again with a curious peek. “Can I pretend you’re Bill while we fight?”

After another wink in her direction, Wendy slapped a hand over one eye. “Come on, Falling Star!” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Betcha wanna punch me real hard in my stupid, triangle face!”

With a grin, Mabel bounded to her feet with delight. “Actually, he calls me ‘Shooting Star’,” she corrected. “But if you do that funny voice again, I’m so in!”

“Atta girl,” Wendy said, the hand over her eye shifting into a thumbs up before she broke into a sprint toward the stage steps. “Come on, let’s get our swings in before Soos and Melody notice that I’m taking my break!”

— — — — — — —

“Massive Maude? Nah, nah, that wouldn’t work—little jerk can’t leave town. Ahab’s Harpoon through the chest? Nope, can’t kill him—”

Stan flipped to the next page with a huff, his fingertip trailing down past every little location, creature, and discovery Ford had listed during their oversea adventures. 

And as he’d initially suspected, most of the potential ways to rid themselves of a pesky triangle demon involved killing Bill outright—deeming themselves a no-go, according to Ford’s previously-established mumbo-jumbo about how they couldn’t kill the body.

Stan let out another gruff sigh as he slammed the journal shut. Yeesh, his only lead and so far it was proving to be completely useless. Too bad Ford had made the choice to chuck all the other journals down into the Bottomless Pit. It had probably been really cathartic for him, but in hindsight, they would’ve really come in handy at a time like this—

“Wait a sec—”

He pressed a hand to his chin, the metaphorical ding of a lightbulb almost audible as an idea began to form. It was a longshot after what happened last year—so much was scattered after the kids turned the Shack into a massive fighting robot that he wasn’t sure if there would be anything left to find.

But on the other hand, the only thing that had managed to pry open his safe in the past had been straight up dynamite. Meaning anything that had been locked away during last summer’s rigamarole had a fifty-fifty chance at still being there to this day.

Moving the hand to his hair, he turned his gaze to the door. The idea also required him to venture back into the house, which came with the risk of running into Ford again.

And the last thing Stan wanted or needed was to get into another row with him, especially not in front of everyone else. 

Not that he wouldn’t deserve getting an earful from Ford after what he’d said earlier, but—

After letting the hand drag back down his face as slowly as possible, he exhaled a groan and made his way across the room to the door. Heck with it—even if Ford still wanted to handle all of this alone, at least Stan could try to be of some use to him and get all his research together in one place. Whether or not he wanted to use it was up to Ford himself, but at least he’d have the option if Stan’s intuition turned out to be correct.

Plus even if it was a longshot, could he really call himself a true gambler if he cowered away from risky odds?

…Not to mention his office was pretty close to the stairs and he could always make a mad dash back to the boat if Ford came up the hall.

— — — — — — —

“Alright, squirts, let’s see who can knock me down!”

Wendy raised her fists with a determined look. “Come on, who wants to go first?”

From the opposite end of the stage, Mabel pressed her own hands to her mouth in a giggle. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna act like Bill while we fought?”

“Yeah, no sense in getting out these bad Bill feelings without the Bill part, right?” Dipper added.

With a nod of agreement, Wendy’s hand returned to her eye as a wide, devious smile spread across her face. “Hahahaha, look at me!” she said in that same high-pitched voice from before. “I’m a stupid triangle who throws bad parties and wears a dumb hat!”

While the twins dissolved in a fit of laughter, she stomped around the stage in an exaggerated fashion. “I think I’m the coolest and most powerful guy in the world, but I was defeated by an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face!”

“Don’t forget kittens and tickles!” Mabel jeered in delight.

“I was defeated by kittens, tickles, and an old man punching me in my stupid, dumb face! Do-do-dodo, I’m so stupid and terrible!”

She stuck her tongue out for an extended raspberry—an action that only earned more laughter—and made a beckoning motion towards Dipper with her hand. “Come on, Pine Tree!” she taunted. “Betcha can’t knock me on my sorry, triangle butt!”

After a few deep breaths to compose himself, Dipper raised his fists. “Betcha I can!”

“Aww, wait, why’s he get to go first?” Mabel whined. “Didn’t we come over here so I could get out some of my bad Bill feelings?”

“Well, yeah,” Dipper said. “But I mean, I’ve got beef with Bill too. And throwing a couple of punches about it would probably be fun.”

“Rock-paper-scissors to see who goes first?” Wendy suggested.

The twins exchanged another look—and after a quick three rounds, Mabel was left disappointed while Dipper took his spot on the stage near Wendy. However, her sour mood was quickly replaced with a fistpump and several supportive cheers of: “Go, Dipper! Play dirty if you gotta!”

Dipper chuckled. “Mabel, come on, I’m not gonna—”

Without warning, he rushed at Wendy with a charging fury and threw as much of his weight against her body as he could muster. Despite the unexpected attack, Wendy managed to stay solid on her feet—

—until Dipper’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her lower legs and he gave a sharp yank towards his own body, causing her to stumble and fall hard to the stage from a lack of balance.

Still clutching her legs, Dipper stared with a look of complete bewilderment on his face—as if his own successful attempt to bring her down had surprised even himself. “Haha, woah—I can’t believe that worked!” he said with a shaky laugh. “I’ve never actually tried that with anyone but Waddles before!”

“Woo! Go Dipper!” Mabel called, clapping her hands with proud enthusiasm. “I’ll bet if you’d done that to the real Bill, he would’ve been soooooo embarrassed!”

From the stage, Wendy let out a laugh of her own. “She’s not wrong. Also, you can let go of me now.”

With a yelp of surprise, Dipper dropped her legs in an instant. “Ah—sorry!”

Despite the hard thump of her legs against the stage, Wendy was quick to pull herself up into a proper kneeling position. “No worries, dude,” she reassured him with a grin. “Pretty sweet trick, though. Where’d you learn that?”

“A few months back, Waddles found the secret stash of snacks I hid under my bed and kept being real determined to get to them,” he explained. “It was either establish dominance and learn how to drag him out from under the bed by his lower half, or admit defeat to a pig.”

He flexed his arm with a smile. “And guess who didn’t have to admit defeat to a pig~?”

“And now you know how to knock down Wendy!” Mabel called from her spot. “Sounds like someone needs to give Waddles a well-earned thank you later.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just move your snack haul somewhere else?”

“Closet’s too full of Mabel’s sweaters and the dresser makes everything taste like lint,” Dipper said matter-of-factly.

“Well, either way, color me impressed,” Wendy said, before looking to where Mabel was situated. “Alright, Mabel, you’re up next~!”

Dipper approached her, holding his hand out for a hi-five. “Go get ‘em!”

Mabel slapped his hand with gusto as they passed each other and bounded over to where Wendy waited for her. “Okay, ‘Bill’,” she said, raising her fists. “Put ‘em up!”

Winking in return, Wendy slapped a hand back over her eye and thumbed the other across her nose. “Alright, Shooting Star,” she said with a fake sneer. “Let’s see what you got!”

“Woo! Go Mabel!” Dipper cheered from the side.

With a laugh, Mabel took a fighting stance of her own—

—only for her attention to shift towards something else at the far end of the yard. 

The other two followed her gaze over to the Stan-O’-War 2, where Stan could be seen exiting the cabin and making his way across the deck towards the ladder. With a smile, Mabel cupped her hands around her mouth and called loudly: “Hey, Grunkle Stan, over here!”

While his body language was low as his feet touched the ground, Stan perked up at the sound of Mabel’s voice—and his mouth spread into a smile when he turned around to see the rest of the kids gathered with her. 

He moved towards them with quick, determined steps—or at quickly and determined as a man his age could move—before he eventually slowed to a stop near the stage. “Whatcha gremlins gremlinin’ about out here?” he asked, propping his arms over the edge.

“They’re wrestling me while I pretend to be Bill,” Wendy explained. “Since they can’t exactly punch the real thing right now, I thought maybe getting a few swings in at someone pretending to be him would do the trick.”

Mabel hurried to Stan and seated herself near him, legs dangling down over the side. “Dipper won his fight!” she said excitedly. “And I was about to fight her next!”

“I pulled her legs out from under her,” Dipper elaborated, as he followed in his sister’s steps and seated himself on Stan’s opposite side.

Stan raised an eyebrow at Dipper. “Wo-ow, first the body hair and now you’re actually winning fights? You really are growin’ into a tried-and-true Pines, ain’tcha, kid?”

He reached up to plap a hand against the top of his hat. “You didn’t hear that from me, though, so don’t go gettin’ a big head about it.”

While Dipper beamed with pride, Wendy shot him a finger gun. “What about you, Mr. Pines?” she asked. “You up for getting a little of that Bill aggression outta your system?”

“Like you gotta ask,” Stan said. “Don’t think I should be wrestlin’ any of you about it, though. Not unless you’re lookin’ to get snapped in half.”

“I take offense at the implication that you could snap me in half,” Wendy said, although her grin implied otherwise.

“I take offense at the implication that I couldn’t.”

He let out a chuckle at that, one that slowly petered out into a halfhearted grumble. A sound that made the twins exchange a look of curiosity before Mabel asked: “So what’ve you been doing out here, Grunkle Stan?”

“Wendy said you went outside to the boat,” Dipper explained. “But she didn’t say why.”

Stan looked to Wendy with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, she did, did she?”

“What, was I not allowed to tell your beloved great-niece-and-nephew where their great-uncle had gone?” Wendy asked innocently, and leaned over to place a hand atop each of the twin’s heads. “They were just worried about how you missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel added, before her expression fell. “Plus Grunkle Ford was heading down to the basement with Bill, and he said that the two of you were fighting…”

At the mention of Ford, the gruffness in Stan’s expression shifted. “Ford said we were fighting?”

“Nah, Bill did,” Dipper corrected. “Probably to try and get a rise out of us.”

He cast a look beyond Stan over to Mabel. “Which is why Grunkle Ford told us not to listen to anything he says.”

“I’m not listening to him,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, weren’t you were the one who said they seemed really tense in the hallway earlier!”

“All I said was that if Grunkle Stan really needed to punch Bill again, he would’ve done it instead of just punching a wall,” Dipper said, then glanced hesitantly at Stan. “But, uh—is everything okay between you two? You seemed really stressed earlier, and y’know…you didn’t go down with Ford to take care of Bill.”

Stan looked between them, the uncertainty in their features near identical to the faintest hints of concern threatening to peek their way through his own. And with a strained inhale to force it all back down again, he stood up straight and pointed a finger at them. “Ford’s absolutely right, you shouldn’t trust a word outta that jerk’s mouth,” he said. “Whatever’s goin’ on with the two of us, it ain’t any of Bill’s business and it definitely ain’t a fight.”

“But it’s something?” Wendy chimed in.

“It’s somethin’ that ain’t any business a’yours either,” Stan said firmly, giving her a wave of his hand before pointing it back at the younger twins. “And that goes double for you two. Like I told you last night, you’re here to have fun for the summer. Don’t go gettin' yourselves all worked up over all this Bill stuff or the stuff with me and Ford, alright?”

Mabel let her body flump forward until her forehead was gently pressed against the tip of his finger. ““But we wanted to have fun over the summer with both you and Grunkle Ford,” she pointed out. “How can we do that if he’s too busy dealing with Bill? Or if you two are fighting?”

His expression softened at this motion and he let his hand fall. “Well, now, I can’t give an answer to that first question—lean back again for a sec, Pumpkin—” 

While she obliged, Stan rotated himself around to lean his back against the stage. “Like I was sayin’, I can’t give an answer to that first one,” he continued, draping one arm around her body. “But as for the second—just because the two of us are buttin’ heads about all of this doesn’t—”

He hesitated for a millisecond, before continuing: “—it doesn’t mean we’re fighting. And it doesn’t mean that the rest of the summer’s gonna be a bust, alright? Just means that we’re gonna have to deal with some rough patches first.”

He turned to Dipper, slinking his other arm around his shoulders. “And as for you, you little knucklehead—you heard Ford earlier; he’s got himself a plan to deal with our little yellow headache down in his lab. And if he needs help, he’ll ask for it!”

“Maybe…” Dipper agreed halfheartedly. “Still, I hate to agree with Bill about anything, but he did have a point about Grunkle Ford’s ideas not exactly being the best ones out there after a full night with no sleep…”

“Ugh, he said that?” Mabel asked with a sneer.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, disgust painting his own expression. “He was practically rubbing it in Ford’s face.”

“Hey, hey, what did I say?” Stan said. “Don’t believe a word outta that little creep's mouth! You know he’s just tryin’ to get under your skin, so he ain’t worth the time of day.”

With a sense that the fight was going to be paused for a bit, Wendy hopped down from the stage and aimed the shrink ray towards the mermaid tank. “You know, Dr. Pines probably would get rid of Bill much quicker if he had someone helping him down there.”

Stan narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, come on, don’t you start now.”

“I’m just saying,” Wendy continued, before pressing the shrink button. “I mean, I’m sure he’s got his reasons for going at it alone—

Once the tank was shrunk, she strolled over to scoop it up from the ground. “—but working together took the little fucker down last time, didn’t it?”

She tilted the small tank forward and let the water—the volume now barely enough to fill a teacup—spill out over the grass. After giving it a few additional shakes for good measure, she spun on her heels back to face the others—

—only to be greeted by mirrored looks of shock on all three of their faces. “...What?”

More surprised blinking followed as they stared at her with mouths agape, before Stan finally slapped a hand to his forehead. “Are you kidding me, Wendy?! I worked so hard not to swear in front of these kids last year and you go and throw all of it out the window in a single, goddamn sentence!”

“I’m just more surprised that you swore at all,” Mabel said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before!”

“Come to think of it, I actually don’t remember hearing anyone swear around here last summer,” Dipper said thoughtfully. “Which is such an oddly specific thing to…I dunno, not hear? Kids swear all the time at school, Mom and Dad swear at home sometimes—”

“I know you let out a very hearty f-word the other day when you bumped your toe on the coffee table,” Mabel added.

“It was the left pinky, I was completely justified and will not apologize.”

“It is weird!” Wendy agreed, before tucking the mermaid tank into the storage box. “Actually, I got this totally wild story to go with it—one I was trying to tell Stan yesterday before all this dumb Bill stuff started.”

After tucking the flashlight back into her belt loop, she raised her hands for emphasis. “Okay, so you remember how the couch we found in the woods last year was like, mega-infested with rats?”

“Dipper screamed so loud when one tried to crawl up his legs!” Mabel said with a grin.

“Once again; moment of weakness, it could’ve easily happened to anyone.”

“So anyway, Soos, Melody and I managed to get most of ‘em out of the house,” Wendy continued. “But after that, something felt different about the town. Not bad different, just…different.”

“Elaborate,” Stan said.

“Well, there was the time when Nate and Lee got together and have kinda been having an on-off thing going on since,” she said, and began to tick off her fingers. “Then at some point, one of the Manotaurs decided that she felt more comfortable being called Womanotaur instead—all the boys came together and collectively punched a piece of metal until it was dented into the right shape for a celebratory carabiner—”

“Ooh, ooh, and at another point your dad and Mayor Tyler started dating?” Mabel guessed.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that,” Wendy said, looking mildly annoyed for a second. “Couple of folks also started realizing some things about themselves in a similar way, people started swearing a lot more than they did last year—

She tossed her hands in the air. “—and all of that only started happening after the rats were gone!”

“That sounds like a load of stupid fresh from the stupid factory,” Stan said. “But also I wouldn’t put it past this town to have some weird rats be the source of everyone’s inability to swear or for two men to start mackin’ on each other or something.”

“Everything going alright out here?”

Everyone turned to see Soos and Melody approaching from the shack, clipboards and a large box of party decorations in hand. “We figured Wendy would probably be done with cleanup by now,” Melody explained. “So we thought we’d start bringing out the decorations.”

“Did we give you enough time for amusing and exposition-y conversations that would be stimulating enough to get you through the work quicker?” Soos asked..

“Yeah, yeah, just one sec—” Wendy said, and turned back to the Manotaur stage. “Alright, everybody clear outta the way.”

Mabel’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Aww, we’ve gotta finish cleaning up? But we didn’t get to have our fight! Again!”

“Maybe not, but it did distract you long enough to get to the decorating part, right?” Dipper pointed out, and hopped down from the stage. “Wasn’t that the point in the first place?”

“Mmm, I guess,” Mabel said sadly as she hopped down after him. “Still, would’ve been fun to fight Wendy while she’s pretending to be Bill.”

Soos raised an eyebrow at Wendy, who shrugged in response. “We were working out our feelings,” she explained. “But since we’re moving on to the actual decorating part, how’s about we put a pin in that fight for now and work on drowning this place in decorations?”

She raised the flashlight and took aim for the stage. “Also again, step outta the way or you’re gonna get caught in the crossfire.”

Once the three of them had cleared away from the stage, Wendy once again shrank it to a more manageable size. While she stored it away with the other exhibits, Soos reached a hand into the box of decorations. “Like I said earlier, we’ve got just about every color of streamer under the sun! Plus some colors under the moon, too!”

He pulled out a few rolls of streamers and waved it in front of Mabel. “Who wants to toss a bunch of them up onto the roof like they’re TP-ing the Shack, but with color~?”

Despite Mabel’s initial disappointment towards another postponement of the fight, a smile began to creep its way through her features at Soos’ suggestion. “Oh, like you’ve gotta ask~!”

She reached for one of the rolls before casting a look at Stan. “You wanna help us decorate for the party, Grunkle Stan?”

“Nah, I actually came out here for a reason,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Gotta go fetch somethin’ from my office.”

He gave her a thumbs up as he started making his way towards the porch. “You kids have fun, though, and no more stressin’ about all this Bill stuff, okay?” he said, then looked over to Wendy. “Also lemme take a look at that shrink-thing later, Wendy! You could make a fortune with a doo-dad like that!”

“We’re already workshopping names,” Wendy called in return.

A second thumbs up was his response as he headed up the porch steps and disappeared out of sight. Mabel continued to stare at the porch, optimistic expression sinking back into a look of sadness until Soos gave the streamer bag another shake. “Check it out, Mabel! The lady at the store even said she named one of the shades of pinkish-purple after you! She calls it ‘Pink-Mab-urple!”

After staring for a few more seconds, she finally turned to Soos with a grin. “Uh, why didn’t you start with that, Soos? Slap a roll of Pink-Mab-urple in my hand and let’s get this streamer train rolling!”

— — — — — — — —

With all the stress of the past twenty-four hours, Ford had almost forgotten what it was like to feel relaxed.

Granted, he hadn’t felt truly relaxed since his early childhood. But the past nine months up until Bill’s return had been the closest he’d gotten to recapturing that ease of his adolescence.

And for the fleeting moment before the fairy dust made impact with Bill’s face, a surge of anxiety rushed through him as the possibility of the dust losing its potency after decades of disuse reared its ugly head. That by some cruel twist of fate, it simply wouldn’t work against Bill at all.

But within seconds, Bill slumped like a lifeless ragdoll against the chair’s restraints and Ford could physically feel some of the stress melt away from his being.

Not all of it; there was always a chance that the fairy dust hadn’t worked and that Bill was simply pretending to be knocked unconscious. But the sight alone was enough to grant him the smallest sense of comfort.

Still—

He finally pulled out the hand he had slipped into his picket after tossing the dust, a small pocketknife clutched tightly in his grasp. After a few more seconds, he flicked open the main blade and knelt in front of Bill’s body.

He hesitated—hand trembling around the weapon as the temptation to do more than a simple act of research examination bubbled up inside his chest. But with a shake of his head, he reached for one of Bill’s restrained hands and lightly pressed the tip of the knife into his palm.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt if he was truly faking his unconscious state. And after a few seconds passed with no vocal complaints from Bill, Ford let out an exhale of relief.

He wasn’t faking. At least there was that fact.

But Ford also knew not to let his guard down completely, nor was he foolish enough to think that the fairy dust’s effects would last forever. He had to move quickly.

Reassured that Bill was properly unconscious, Ford moved to the binds that kept Bill tied to the chair. It was a risk to free Bill completely, but his plan wouldn’t work if the body was still bound by the unicorn spell.

He pressed the blade against one rope and inhaled slowly, before bringing it upwards in a clean cut—

—and quickly backed up as the tiny body slacked to the floor in a crumpled heap.

His grip on the knife tightened as he stepped back out of the circle, as if he still expected Bill to drop his facade and finally take advantage of his chance at freedom. But when the fairy dust continued to prove effective, he returned to Bill's side to cut his wrist binds.

Once Bill was completely unbound from all angles, Ford looked to the puppet he had tossed at his feet. Sure, it had been a five-minute effort but Bill was far from picky when it came to his vessels of choice. And if he suddenly decided to start being picky once he’d reawakened—

—well, too bad, Cipher.

His gaze moved back to the unconscious body again, eyes landing on his face. Naturally he’d written down the research he’d gathered, and he hadn’t been lying to Bill when he said it was to figure out the proper dosage of fairy dust to knock him unconscious. The stuff was powerful enough to put a full-grown unicorn to sleep; too much on a body Bill’s size could potentially have disastrous effects.

And even if Ford’s attempt to contact the body’s original owner had failed, his main concerns still lingered—he still had no way of knowing how harming the physical body would affect Bill himself.

That being said, his quick and simple research had provided Ford with a few interesting discoveries.

As he’d initially hypothesized, every studied part of Bill’s vessel really did scream teenager. A lack of wisdom teeth pinpointed the body as younger than twenty, and his quick count of almost-thirty teeth settled his guess between the ages of about thirteen and fifteen. 

General appearance seemed to back up that fact; limbs were gangly and awkward—even moreso than what would normally be expected from Bill in a human body—those yellow, catlike eyes sat large on his face, larger than they would on the face of an adult—

It was so odd. Of all the vessels to possess, why would Bill choose that of a human teenager? It certainly added credence to the theory that he hadn’t possessed a choice in the matter, but it also added credence to the theory that he had specifically sought out such a body as a way to purposefully mess with Ford and the rest of his family.

Once again, more theories without a clear answer.

With a huff, Ford set the knife near his boot that was furthest away from Bill—putting down his weapon was another risk, but at least he’d had the advantage if he needed to grab it in a hurry—and reached into his pocket again. 

This time his efforts rewarded him with a worn scrap of paper, one he unfolded with both hands and set to the ground in front of him. He might’ve tossed the journals down into the Bottomless Pit, but a proper scientist always had backup options when it came to his research.

…Granted, the backup in question was an old spell he had hidden away during one of those sleep-deprived days between Bill’s betrayal and the portal incident, but it would still prove effective nonetheless. 

Thank goodness he had possessed enough foresight to keep it out of the journals and tucked safely between the edge of his desk and the wall, somewhere Bill had clearly not thought to look during the brief periods when his body had succumbed to sleep.

His gaze narrowed with determination at the body again. Omniscient abilities or not, even Bill Cipher possessed blindspots. A piece of paper tucked between the wall and desk. A lack of knowledge on how to collapse the weirdness barrier that surrounded the town.

An extra finger on a hand where it shouldn’t be, or vice versa.

Shaking his head, Ford turned back to the paper. A wiser man might’ve tried to actually use the spell back when he originally discovered it. But a number of variables—no additional person to read the spell while Bill was in his body, no knowledge on whether or not it would actually work as intended, a general lack of sleep across those several days—had prevented Ford from attempting such a method at the time. 

And once he’d properly returned home after the portal incident, the metal place in his head had already been installed—rendering such a spell mostly pointless.

Until now.

After scribbling down a few additions, he cleared his throat and began to recite aloud: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

He paused, looking to the puppet and body for a moment before continuing with a bit more confidence: “Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum—”

— — — — — — —

Whenever Bill lounged around in the space between the Nightmare Realm and the mortal world, there was always a clear lack of color. 

Whether he was situated inside a dark room, outside over a summoning circle or inside the bedroom closet of an easily-frightened child—always watching, but never seen—the scenery of the mindscape was always draped in a monochromatic curtain of black and white.

Here, however—the warm browns of the study had only dulled the slightest amount while still maintaining their general color. Heck, Bill might not have even noticed the difference at first, had it not been for Ford.

Rather than be subjected to more violence at the man’s hand, it was as if time had completely frozen for him. The arm that had tossed the fairy dust into Bill’s face was still outstretched, but remained still and unmoving in the air.

Bill’s mouth curled into a smirk, and he made no effort to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “Hehe, what’s wrong, Fordsy~?” he asked, leaning forward. “Can’t access the mindsca—ACK!”

He leaned forward too far and hit the hard ground with a thud and an irritable yelp, face once again squished against the floor. Unlike the other times he’d fallen throughout the past day, however—his body felt noticeably lighter and chair-free.

Grin widening further, he pulled himself off the ground until he was standing up proper. Once on his feet, he took a step to grow more accustomed to using legs again. One step, then two more—before he simply launched his body up into the air to hover in place.

Oh, how he loved the Mindscape to pieces~! Possessing people was fun and all, but it came with the unfortunate side effect of not being able to use his powers.

Not in the Mindscape, though~! Here he could do just about anything he wanted!

Speaking of which—

He cast another look in the inanimate Ford’s direction, while a wicked grin spread across his face. Sure, any harm caused to his body in the mindscape wouldn’t carry over to the real world. 

But at the same time, fireball or two to the chin would probably get rid of that stupid beard for a few glorious minutes, right? Perhaps a fireball full of spiders? 

Why not? The past twelve hours had been so frustrating dull for Bill, and he deserved a nice little treat for himself.

He raised his hand into the air with a giddy little laugh, as he waited for the familiar blue flames to blossom from his palm—

—hey, wait.

Bill snapped his attention to what should’ve been a pitch-black hand engulfed in flames. And while the flames had indeed begun to spread out from his palm and up towards his fingertips, the hand itself was still clearly one made of flesh and blood. Just as flesh and blood as the legs he had wobbled on mere seconds ago as he took a few steps. 

Legs that his gaze quickly fell to, realization beginning to take hold of him as his concerns were reaffirmed; black, panted legs attached to a body that was clearly still humanoid.

His hands instinctively moved to touch the opposite arms—as if touching them would somehow transform them back into the twig-thin limbs he was used to having—and then to his chest and stomach—as if touching them would somehow transform him back into his familiar, triangle shape.

When neither attempt bore any results, he blinked a few times in sheer confusion. Okay, so something was clearly wrong. Jumping out of a body into the mindscape should’ve at least reverted his soul back to its usual shape and form. So why was he still stuck in a useless flesh-suit?

He moved his gaze around the study before his attention fell back on Project Mentem, eyes once again locking with one of the unbroken screens. He hadn’t gotten a proper glimpse at his vessel’s face the first time around, but if he was currently situated in the mindscape and able to move freely—

Just before he could make out the shape of his face in the monitor’s reflection, however, the dull colors around it began to distort and—

—well, there was no better term for it than ‘melt’.

Every color in the room—from the warm browns of the nearby shelves and desk, to the dull grays of Ford’s entire being—started to melt towards the floor, leaving behind the usual, monochromatic palette of the Mindscape.

And once all the colors reached the floor, they slowly converged into a muddy blob in the very center of the room. Converge, then shift into a single tint of orange.

Or if Bill wanted to get specific with it—tangerine.

Oh. 

Great.

Sure enough, the blob of tangerine began to twist and morph into a clear silhouette of the shelduck, a loud, giddy laugh echoing through the study even before their beak had fully taken form. “Wow, it looks like someone’s had a busy first day, huh?” they said, placing their hands on their hips once both appeared. “Not even back in town for a full twenty-four hours and they’ve already brought you down to the study for research.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed in their direction. Oh, contract or not, he was going to pluck every single one of their feathers out with the Multiverse’s rustiest pair of tweezers once this was all over!

For the time being, he simply folded his arms across his chest with an unimpressed huff. “Yeesh, took you long enough to get your butt down here, Birdbrain!” he said irritably. “Do you know what kinda day I’ve ha—oh, actually, you just said you did, didn’t you?”

He tossed his hands in the air. “Well, if you could see what kinda day I was having, why haven’t you stepped in yet? Thought you were all about helping people in need or whatever?”

He made a casual gesture in Ford’s direction. “Well, I’ve sure needed some help getting away from him!”

Tangy held up their own hands with a guilty smile. “Okay, okay, I realize you have some concerns,” they said. “I don’t blame you, you’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time.”

One hand went to their forehead. “And admittedly, I’m mostly here because I realized I forgot to tell you a few things!”

“Oh, gee, you think?” Bill said, moving the gesture towards himself. “How about you start with explaining why you kept the fact that you’d be sticking me in a vessel like this a secret? Or why I’m still a pile of meat, bones and nerves in the mindscape instead of my usual form?”

“You—wait…”

They lowered their hand to give him a perplexed tilt of their head. “You mean you haven’t figured out what’s happening yet?”

“I mean, I figured out that you think you’re clever,” Bill said with a roll of his eyes. “Sticking me in a vessel this small for your dumb game, all without telling me ahead of time? That’s real cute, Birdbrain.”

A shrug, one accompanied by a smirk. “Hehe, what, did my short jokes bother you that bad?”

“No, they didn’t, but—”

“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

The sound of Ford’s voice echoing through the mindscape turned both their attention to the ceiling, the imaginary mindscape shaking and rattling around them as he continued: “Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

Bill’s brow furrowed at the sound, attention moving back to the still-inanimate Ford. So that was Sixer’s big plan, huh? To try his hand at a transfer spell while the vessel was unconscious?

That sneaky jerk, always trying to go behind his back—

“Oh, so, he’s trying that, huh?”

And back his attention and furrowed brow went to Tangy. Speaking of jerks, the feathered jerk needed to stop stealing his lines and get to their jerk point already! “You said you had something to tell me,” he said, hovering closer to them. “So hurry up and spill the beans before Sixer succeeds in doing whatever he’s doing out there!”

“Aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto—”

“Quickly, Birdbrain, we don’t have all day!”

Tangy looked to the ceiling again. “Yeah, I dunno if I’ll actually have the time to cover everything at this rate,” they said, and held up a finger. “But he won’t succeed in getting you outta that body, if that’s what you’re worried about!”

“Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

Between the chanting from Ford and the crypticness from Tangy, Bill could physically feel his face reddening with anger. “Birdbrain, if you don’t explain right now—”

“Sorry, don’t have time!” they said quickly. “But I promise that this won’t be the last time we chat, and I can cover everything else the next time we do! Plus there’s always the thing on your wrist—”

“Wait, the what—”

There was a flash of light before all the color that had congregated to make Tangy’s form sank back into the floor and slowly started returning to the rest of the room.

And as the last little bits of brown and grays situated themselves back into place, Bill’s hovering body hit the floor again with a hard thud.

His eyes snapped closed on impact, then snapped open again with a shout.

— — — — — — —

“—aufero, delego. Amoveo, inflecto…Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum, Expuli Triangulum!”

With a final recital of the spell, Ford leaned back with another shuddery exhale of relief. Whether his attempt to shift Bill from one vessel to the other proved successful or not, the spell still required a few minutes of waiting for the end result.

While he waited, he let his gaze move once again to the unconscious teenager’s forehead. It had given him pause upon observation; not for any research purposes, but for the birthmark that waited beneath that mop of blonde hair—

“AAH!”

Ford jumped at the sound of a yell echoing through his study, the surprise of Bill suddenly moving again causing him to stumble backwards and trip over—and sever—the rope circle he had created on the floor.

Leaving a few inches of empty space between the ends of the rope.

Bill’s eyes were wide as dinner plates as he snapped back to consciousness, his screams of surprise petering out into sharp inhales of breath while he jerked up into a sitting position.

And with a final, shuddery exhale to ground himself—Yeesh, this body was weird. Who was in charge of designing a pile of flesh who needed oxygen, but not too much oxygen at once, to live?—his gaze locked to a still-floored Ford.

He stared, Ford stared back.

His functional pupil flitted down to the severed circle—

“Cipher, don’t you DARE!”

And Bill took off like a flash in the direction of the emergency exit staircase.

Ford was after him in seconds—rope and knife in hand—and the heavy thud of his boots against the medal stairs rung throughout the study over Bill’s maniacal cackling as he hurried for the cellar door.

Perhaps leaving fairy dust in a bag for over thirty years hadn’t been the best idea after all.

— — — — — — —

“Okay, so party preparations for today…” 

Melody tapped her clipboard with the end of her pen, before turning to Mabel at her left. “We’ve got Mabel on the streamers—”

Mabel held up the rolls in her hands with a look of pride. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years!”

“Please don’t actually give me that much more work to do,” Wendy said from her right.

“...You’ll be fishing them out of the gutters for years in theory,” Mabel corrected herself. “In actuality, I’ll be cleaning them up myself so Wendy doesn’t have to!”

While Wendy gave her a thumbs up, Melody looked to her list again. “And we’ve got Dipper on balloon duty—”

Dipper shifted the countless packs of balloons in his embrace to one arm so he could give her a salute. “There won’t be a single bare table, chair, or loose area where a balloon can easily be tied to when I’m done with this place!”

“Just be careful not to tie too many to the shack itself,” Soos chimed in. “Otherwise they could, like, carry it up and away in the air!”

He made a series of floating motions with his hand. “You know like…WOOSH! Just floating all the way up into the sky!”

“Soos, you realize that’s probably impossible, right?” Dipper pointed out. “Do you know how many balloons we’d need to be able to rip through the foundation alone? They’d lose their helium way faster than I could inflate the necessary amount—”

“Poke!”

“Hey!”

While Dipper slapped his now-freed hand to his cheek where Mabel had poked him, she waved her arms around in a playful fashion. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Dipper~!” she teased. “I’ve seen gnomes, giant Manotaurs and dream demons, but balloons lifting up a house is impossible~!”

She leaned over to poke her again, and he nudged her back in amused retaliation. “Hey, come on, those things are actually real,” he pointed out with a chuckle. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t believe in a floating balloon house if it was right in front of me, but you know…it’s gotta prove itself possible first.”

“Balloons and the possibility of discovering something new,” Melody said, pressing a finger to her clipboard. “Check! Alright, what’s next?”

“I think we’ll wanna get the tables set up as soon as possible,” Soos chimed in. “I know we’ve still got hours until the party, but we’ve still gotta get all the food ready, right?”

He made a walking motion with his hand. “And who wants to make a buncha food, then carry a buncha tables outside—and then have to go back and carry out that same buncha food from before all in one go?” A shrug. “Just saying, babe, it’d be smart to get the tables out first, then focus on covering them with the food!”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Melody said, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “I’ll help you get the first one out here if you want.”

She flashed the others a smile. “Wendy, do you want to help us with tables or stay out here and decorate with the twins?”

“Hey, I’ll take tossing up balloons and streamers over having to carry whole tables back and forth,” Wendy said.

Dipper looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “...Don’t you have a shrink ray—oh, you’re not mentioning it just so you don’t get stuck carrying tables, aren’t you?”

“Sure am.”

“Have fun, dudes!" Soos called to them, as the two of them made their way to the porch. "Make this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party!”

“You got it, Soos!” Mabel said with a salute. “Like I said earlier: by the time I’m done with this place, you’ll be fishing old streamers out of the gutters for years!”

A pause, before she added as an afterthought: “...Again, I mean that metaphorically, and not in the way that will give Wendy more work!”

With a laugh, Wendy gave her a light nudge as the adults disappeared inside the house. Once they were out of sight, she turned her attention towards the yard before them. “Alright, so what side should we get to decorating first?”

BANG!

A loud clattering of the nearby cellar doors caused everyone to jump in surprise, right before Bill came barrelling out of the darkness with a shrill laugh—

“GET BACK HERE!”

—while the sound of Ford’s voice thundered after him from the cellar.

Bill skidded to a stop in the dirt, taking a brief second to catch his breath until he looked over to where the kids stood.

They stared, he stared back—

“Quick, somebody grab him!” Ford’s voice yelled from the cellar, seconds before he himself appeared in the doorway.

—and Bill spun on his heels before sprinting towards the nearby wood.

Despite their initial shock, Wendy was quick to the draw with the shrink ray. Rather than shoot a beam at Bill, however, she aimed it towards something in the line of his path—a small rock that suddenly quintupled in size in a matter of seconds.

So few seconds that Bill didn’t have enough time to slow to a halt before his face and body slammed against the rock, the impact knocking him off his already-wobbly feet and bringing him down to the dirt with a thud.

His escape attempt was momentarily forgotten as he pressed a hand to his injured nose, before casting a bitter glare in Wendy’s direction. “Oh, that’s real mature, Red!” he called. “I suppose your next trick involves painting a tunnel on the side?”

“Haha!” Mabel said delightedly. “Nice one, Wendy!”

“Yeah, I’m really liking this thing,” Wendy said, with a small twirl of the flashlight.

“Did you hear me?!” Ford said sharply—probably sharper than intended—as he stepped out into the yard. “Someone catch him before he gets to the woods!”

“Oh, right—”

As Bill sprung back to his feet and took off in another direction, the rest of the group rushed after him in a frantic hurry. And despite the burning sensation in Bill’s lungs, he was cackling with wicked delight at the others’ misfortune as he rounded the side of the shack near the porch—

“Gotcha!”

—right before a large hand snagged the back of his jacket and yanked him backwards.

Despite Bill’s desperate attempts to struggle free, Stan’s grip remained strong as he hoisted him up in the air. “Nice try, pal.”

If Bill could feel his face reddening in anger within the Mindscape, the sensation was tenfold in the real world as he glared daggers at Stan. “Put me down!”

“Not happening, Pyramid Face.”

Ford came into view around the corner, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his chest as he drew closer. “Nice catch, Stanley…”

“Maybe to you, it is!” Bill protested, with a pointed glare at Stan. “Thought you were busy pouting on the boat, or whatever.”

“And I thought you were busy dyin’, or whatever,” Stan shot back, before looking back to Ford again. “Need to tie him up, or—”

“Right, right,” Ford said, unfurling the rope he’d snagged from the study. “Hold him out?”

While Stan extended him out to Ford—the sight of Bill’s body dangling as he struggled to break free reminiscent of a scruffed kitten—the kids also rounded the side of the house in a rush. At the sight of Stan holding Bill, they too slowed to a stop with looks of both relief and mild confusion. 

Confusion that Mabel finally vocalized with a: “What’s going on?”

“Aside from the obvious escape attempt on Bill’s end?” Dipper asked.

Despite his struggles, Bill couldn’t help but let out a mocking laugh at Dipper's remark. “Aww, look who has eyes and a brain that can string together two coherent thoughts. You’re really movin’ up in the world, aren’tcha, Pine Tree—hey, hey! I felt that, Stanford!”

He shot a sour look at Ford, who had already started the process of rewrapping the rope around his body to restrain him. Restraint with clear intent on Ford’s end to be as uncomfortable for Bill as possible.

And at Bill’s confrontation, Ford locked eyes with him and pulled the ends even tighter with an insincere: “Oops.”

While he moved to loop them again—and while Bill continued to try and struggle free—Stan raised an eyebrow. “Gonna guess whatever you were tryin’ down there didn’t work?”

“Oh, no, it worked perfectly~!” Bill replied in Ford’s place. “Clearly I’m now stuck in one of Sixer’s badly-made arts and crafts and—actually, I don’t exactly know what he planned on doing with me after that, so I can’t spin some dramatic yarn about it, but the point is that it obviously worked~!”

He gave Stan a cutesy bat of his eyelashes, which quickly fell into a flat look. “Asking questions like that is why you’re the dumber, sweatier twin. You realize this, right?”

Despite Stan’s fists tightening around Bill’s jacket in one hand and the stack of papers in the other, he kept his reply limited to an enraged stare that could’ve burned through a sheet of metal. From the side where the rest of the group stood, however, Mabel’s features lit up with intrigue as she took a cautious step closer. “Did he say arts and crafts project?”

“Pay him no mind, Mabel,” Ford instructed, as he fiddled with the rope further. “As I told you earlier, nothing he says is worth taking into account.”

Despite another tight yank of the ropes against his chest, Bill managed a disapproving tut. “Wooooow, Sixer, and here I was being open and honest to them about our exciting adventures down in the study,” he scolded. “I realize that the concept of honestly and openness is completely foreign to you, but there’s no time like the present to learn—ACK!”

Ford’s next rope tug forced a strangled gasp out of Bill’s chest that even he couldn’t mask with a snarky comment, and one that earned an uncomfortable wince from Dipper. “Grunkle Ford, I know he’s being a massive jerk and would probably deserve it, but you might suffocate him if you’re not careful.”

“Also what were you doing down in the study, Doc?” Wendy added, taking a step forward as well. “If you tell us, then he doesn’t have to, right?”

Despite his discomfort, Bill flashed her a small grin. “Doc? Hey, that’s not a bad one! Might add that one to the ol’ mental rolodex~!”

He tilted his head in Ford’s direction. “And she’s got a point, Fordsy! I mean, you can’t exactly get mad at me for spilling the beans when you aren’t willing to go and do it yourself, right!” he pointed out with a cackle. “Once again, we know you’re not exactly the expert at being honest with people, but I repeat my previous sentiments of ‘no time like the present to learn’!” 

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Or I guess it’s the best time for you mortals to learn, since you’re lacking one of those nifty little time dispensers or any sort of ultimate power like yours truly. But you get the idea!”

With a slow, shuddery exhale, Ford slackened his grip on the rope and reached around to loosen his previous loops. “Fine, Wendy—” he said, with strong emphasis on her name. “I suppose filling everyone in on the details wouldn’t cause any harm now.”

“Subtle,” Bill remarked, with an attempt—a failed attempt—to pull his arms free once the ropes were looser. “Also I bet you wish you hadn’t cut the rope around my hands now, huh?”

“As I informed Dipper and Stan earlier,” Ford continued. “I was attempting to move Bill’s soul from one vessel to another. I used fairy dust to knock him out in a second unicorn barrier and tossed a sock puppet into the circle, before I cut the binds that held him to the chair and attempted a transfer spell that would—well, as I said before, move him from one vessel to the other.”

“Fairy dust?” Mabel repeated, perking up further. “Sock puppets?”

“Magical, ain’t it, Shooting Star?” Bill asked. “But as I pointed out before, I’m still stuck in this body and not some badly-made puppet that Sixer put together in five minutes. So it was all for nothing~!”

His smile faltered as he glared back at Ford. “By the way, a transfer spell? That was your big, secret plan?” he asked with a scoff. “It’s so juvenile, I’m almost offended at your laziness. Props to you for finding one in the first place, though—didn’t realize you had one on hand! Too bad it didn’t work!”

“Woooow, and here I thought you were completely serious when you said it worked earlier,” Stan said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Of course you would, Goldfish,” Bill shot back with a smug grin. “Like I said; dumber and sweatier~! Not just pretty words tossed at you by your childhood bullies!”

Stan’s shoulders tensed further as Ford finally tied the rope off with a sturdy knot. “That should do it,” he said, then made a beckoning motion with his hand. “Alright, you can pass him over to me now.”

Stan stared at the hand, then down at Bill—earning another one of those toothy smiles of his; having a mouth really was a detriment to everyone but himself—before turning his gaze fully back to Ford.

Ford’s gaze was locked on him in return, any words he would’ve preferred to say silenced by the presence of Bill. Not just his presence but that of the kids, of Wendy—perhaps even by the presence of Stanley himself. An apology for earlier events lingering at the back of his throat, desperate to push itself out into the open, desperate to reach Stanley’s ears—

An apology almost identical to the one that Stan couldn’t bring himself to vocalize, the sheer vulnerability of such an action forcing him to avert his eyes from Ford to the kids, to Wendy, and finally to—

“No, no, don’t mind me,” Bill piped up. “If you two feel like fighting again, be my guests! And this time, you don’t even have a hallway to go out and fight in, so I get a front-row seat, baby~!”

Stan glowered at him before finally passing him off to Ford with a huff, one that allowed him a chance to push of that vulnerability back again. 

Most of it, at least. “So, uh—that plan of yours,” he began slowly. “It really didn’t work, then?—don’t you say a word, Cipher!”

He directed that last part at Bill, who simply grinned in response as Ford shook his head. “No, unfortunately it didn’t work. As Bill is so keen on reminding us, his soul remained inside his current vessel even after the transfer attempt.”

He held up a finger. “However, that doesn’t mean I’m out of ideas. If anything, I did learn a few interesting things that might allow me to try a method I initially rejected.”

“Oh, because of the whole—” Dipper began, before his gaze shifted to Bill again. “You know, the stuff we talked about earlier—”

“Precisely,” Ford replied before Bill could get a word in. “While my initial theory wasn’t proven wrong by the failed attempt, it did prove that—”

He paused and returned his attention to Bill for a moment, who gave another cutesy bat of his eyelashes. “Well, Sixer, we’re waiting~?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Wendy started, then continued forward until she’d joined the adults proper. “Turn him towards me for a sec.”

With a confused look from all of them—Bill included—Ford obliged and held Bill out further in front of him. Once she was at a safe angle, Wendy leaned over and slapped a hand over each of his ears, earning a very irritable “Oh, COME ON—” from him for her efforts. “Would’ve covered his mouth too, but I’m not looking for another rabies shot,” Wendy explained. “Plus he seems like the kinda guy who’s going to yell and whine about me doing this, and it’ll muffle anything you have to say.”

“I’ll bet you mortals think you’re SO advanced for possessing external ear lobes!” Bill yelled, whipping his head back and forth. “Well, the joke’s on you! If I were in my usual form, I wouldn’t possess such a horrible evolutionary flaw! In fact, I’ll probably just get rid of ears altogether once I’m outta this stupid body—”

“Wow, smart call,” Dipper said.

Despite Bill’s best efforts to shake her off, Wendy’s hands remained firm against his head as she raised an eyebrow at Ford. “Alright, you wanted to say something?”

Ford blinked a few times in surprise, but cleared his throat with his free hand before responding: “As I was saying and as I told Stan and Dipper this morning, I was originally hesitant to cause any lethal harm to Bill’s current vessel, due to—well—”

“The fact that he looks like Dipper?” Mabel asked.

“Oh, so you guys saw that too,” Wendy asked with a grimace.

“We’ve seen it, acknowledged it—” Dipper added quickly. “But the main issue outside of that was that Grunkle Ford didn’t know if killing Bill’s vessel would actually kill Bill himself, since he’s a mind demon and stuff.”

“I had those concerns,” Ford continued. “But the failed transfer attempt proved a few things to me that I did not know at the time of those assumptions. I don’t have a lot of time to get into everything right now since, well—”

He gestured to the still-deafened Bill, who shot him a dirty look. “I know you’re talking about me! You think I don’t know your ‘showing off something as you talk about it’ gesture?”

“My point is—while the transfer failed, it taught me one important thing,” Ford said, while Bill droned on in anger. “While it’d still be dangerous to outright try killing Bill, he is unable to be pulled out of his current vessel.”

“...Meaning—?” Stan asked.

“Meaning that if he’s unable to be forcibly pulled out of his current vessel, there’s a high chance he also cannot leave of his own accord,” Ford explained. “Meaning he’s stuck. And if he’s stuck, there’s at least one specific thing we can try to get him out of our hair for the time being.”

“What is it?” Mabel asked.

“I’m going to take him down to the bunker and place him in one of the cryogenic chambers.”

“You’re gonna freeze him?” Wendy asked, then paused. “Woah, woah, time out—you had the idea to freeze him this whole time and you spent this long not doing that?”

“Well, to be fair, the process has only ever been used on the supernatural,” Ford explained. “I have no idea what kind of effect it’ll have on a human body, and the last thing I wanted to do is actually cause harm beyond repair to Bill’s vessel, for previously-explained reasons. But since my attempts to either contact the previous host or expunge him from the vessel were failures, it seems like a safe enough method to try next.”

“Hello?! Did we forget I was here?!”

Bill continued to shake his head about in an attempt to free his ears from Wendy’s hands, and Ford gave a nod to her to pull them back. “Anyway, what I told you is the current plan,” he said, while she obliged. “It shouldn’t take me too long to complete, and I should be back within an hour or so.”

“What, you’re going to the—” Dipper’s gaze bounced over to Bill for a split second “—the place we just talked about by yourself?”

“Oh, great recovery, Pine Tree,” Bill said. “By the way, it’s cute how you think that someone who’s been around the block as much as me doesn’t know how to read lips.”

He flashed the group a wide grin. “So if you guys wanna prattle on about how Sixer’s going to take me down to the bunker to pop me into one of those freezy-tubes like I were a pack of Mustelid Sticks, then by all means~!”

At the sight of their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads in surprise, Bill cackled in delight. “Wait, did I seriously get it right the first time?”

And as they attempted to settle their features back into more neutral expressions, he let out another elated cackle that rocked his entire body. “Haha, wow, I can’t believe that bluff actually worked!” he taunted. “I mean, it was my third guess, after ‘ultra-powerful vacuum’ and ‘fishing around inside my vessel’s ear with the soul-equivalent of those garbage-grabbing hooks’, but man, you guys gotta get better poker faces!”

“Yeah, well, so what if you’re right?” Mabel added, folding her arms across her chest. “What’re you gonna do about it to stop us from locking you up?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something~!” Bill said with a grin. “The universe does seem to have me in its favor when it comes to last-minute rescues~!”

He waggled his eyebrows at the group. “Do you get it? Because you jerks tried to kill me and I—hey!”

His smug look melted into annoyance as Ford gave his body a warning shake. “Don’t you worry about him, kids,” Ford said to the others. “No matter what he says, it’ll only be a matter of time before he’s out of our hair for good.”

“Going back to what Mabel was saying, though,” Stan said. “You’re really gonna handle this all by yourself?”

“Yeah, don’t you need someone to, like, push the buttons in the security room?” Wendy asked, then added as an afterthought: “I figure since he guessed the plan, we can talk about it freely now.”

“Hey, yeah!” Dipper agreed. “There’s no way you’ll be able to do the code all by yourself, especially not with Bill in your hands!”

“Once again, very hurtful that people are talking about me like I’m not even here,” Bill said with feigned offense. “But the peanut gallery raise a good point. Pretty sure that unless you’ve gained the ability to grow another pair of arms—not that you’d tell me if you did, I guess—you’ll be squished flatter than—well, me~!”

A pause, before he flashed Ford a grin. “And while imitation’s the sincerest form of flattery and I highly suggest you try it, I’d rather not be involved in said imitation attempt myself. You know what I mean?”

Rather than respond, Ford pressed his free hand to his chin. “I suppose the security room does provide me with an issue I hadn’t previously considered…”

Stan’s features lit up with a spark of inspiration, and his grip once again tightened around the stack of papers in his hand. “Hey, you know, if the cat’s outta the bag on that bunker plan,” he said, and began to flip through them with one hand. “I might have somethin’ that—”

“No, Stanley.”

It was said too quickly, far too quickly for either of their liking. And Stan’s thumbing through the papers was halted with a deflated look, one that earned a remorseful expression from Ford in return. “I—I appreciate you catching Bill for me, but I can handle this myself,” he said quickly, regaining his composure. “I’ll…simply deactivate the security room before I bring Bill through. It might add some extra time to my bunker venture, but it would make for an easy and safe transfer to the main lab area.”

“But I—”

“Yeah, so why don’t you do what I told you to do earlier, Goldfish,” Bill chimed in. “And run along and let the adults handle things here?”

Red once again flooded Stan’s vision, the stack of papers dropped to the ground beside him as he bared both fists in a surge of anger. “Oh, you wanna see how an adult handles things, you little—”

He grit his teeth together as his vision shifted between Ford and the kids, before he exhaled as much anger as he could possibly expel in one breath and scooped the papers back up off the ground with a halfhearted “Forget it.” before storming off towards the Stan-O-War-II.

Ford opened his mouth the slightest amount to object, to call him back, to say something—

“Yeesh, the temper on that guy,” Bill spoke up with a laugh. “No wonder you avoided him for so long, I’d go nuts having to deal with that all the time!”

—and his grip tightened on Bill before he turned to the nearby wood. “As I said before, it shouldn’t take me more than a few hours at most to disable the security system,” he called back to the kids. “Once it’s done, Bill will be out of our hair for the time being.”

“If it works,” Bill added with a laugh. “I mean, your silly little transfer spell didn’t work, so who’s to say—hey, hey, quit shaking me!”

Bill narrowed his eyes at Ford, who returned it with another shake of his body as he stepped from the yard into the forest underbrush—

“Grunkle Ford, wait!”

—and spun back around at the sound of Mabel’s voice, dirt crunching beneath her shoes as she hurried towards him. “I know Soos asked you earlier and you didn’t respond,” she said. “But…do you think you’ll be done with the security room in time for the party?”

“Yeesh, Shooting Star,” Bill piped up. “You’re all in the presence of greatness here, and all you can think about is some silly party?”

A laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you focusing on yourselves over anything else. You Pineses don’t do enough of that anymore. But c’mon, I’m dyin’ over here!”

He flashed Ford a grin, one far more teeth than actual amusement. “Although I guess that’s the goal here, isn’t it, Sixer?”

“I…don’t have an answer to that question, Mabel,” Ford replied to Mabel. “While I have confidence in my own skill to deactivate the security room without issue, there’s always a chance that things could go astray in the process. If all goes according to plan, I should at least make it back for the tail end of things. If it doesn’t—”

“If it doesn’t, too bad!” Bill interrupted gleefully. “No party for Sixer~!”

This time, Ford didn’t even bother to acknowledge him as he turned and continued onwards into the woods. Mabel didn’t budge from her spot, keeping her eyes locked on Ford's back until both of them disappeared from sight between the trees.

“Well, I still don’t know if him and Stan actually fighting or not,” Wendy chimed up from behind her. “But either way, that could’ve gone way better.”

“No kidding,” Dipper added. “And I know this goes without saying, but Bill wasn’t exactly making things any easier.”

“You’d think dying would’ve taught him how to shut up a little bit,” Wendy agreed with a huff. “Bet you anything Stan was a second away from swinging on him again.”

“A bet I’d never take because you’d win it easy.”

Mabel kept her attention on the woods for a few more seconds, her entire posture sinking as she finally turned back to face them. “And now Grunkle Ford’s gonna be at the bunker all day, doing secret bunker stuff all by himself,” she said sadly. “He might not even make it back in time for the party tonight…”

She reached over to grab one of her sweater sleeves with one hand. “Guess that’s not the most important thing right now, though, huh? Guess it’s getting rid of Bill first…”

Dipper crossed his arms with a sigh. “He never did tell us how he was going to handle that alone,” he pointed out, with his own unsure look towards the forest. “I mean, I know he said he’s gonna deactivate the security room. But how’s he going to get into the bunker at all?”

“Hey, yeah,” Wendy said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t he need to climb up and reach the lever? How’s he going to do that when he’s gotta keep a hand on Bill?”

Realization painted both Dipper and Mabel’s features at the same time, and their gazes immediately snapped to each other. “Grunkle Ford isn’t letting Stan help him—” Dipper began.

“—but he didn’t say we couldn’t come help,” Mabel finished knowingly.

“And even if he said he could handle the Bill stuff by himself, he never said anything about getting help with the bunker stuff,” Wendy added with a wink.

“Plus, he’ll probably need at least one other person to watch Bill so he can focus on the security room!” Dipper said thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his face. “I know it’s not technically a loophole dodge, but I mean…how’s he supposed to focus on dismantling a dangerous security system if he’s got to keep one eye on Bill?”

“And keeping that eye on Bill for someone else will probably be super easy if he’s tied up,” Mabel agreed. “I mean, all he can do right now is talk, right? And it’s not like we’re not gonna listen to anything he says!”

“Sounds to me like we’re all in agreement on this ‘go and help that stubborn old doc out’ train,” Wendy said. “So you two gonna get a move on towards the bunker, or what?”

“Oh, should we both go?” Dipper asked, directing the question at her, then Mabel. “I think one of us would be more than enough, right?”

“One should be good,” Mabel said with a nod. “And we can always keep in touch with our cell phones, right?”

“Signal might be hit or miss underground, but it’s not like I can’t just step out and guard the exit as I text,” Dipper agreed.

“Yeah, y—wait, you?” Mabel tilted her head in confusion. “You wanted to go?”

“Oh, was that not—” Dipper began. “Did you want to go instead? I thought you’d want to stay and decorate for the party?”

“Yeah, plus we have no idea if Dr. Pines will actually be finished by the time the party starts,” Wendy added. “Are you sayin’ you’d be willing to miss a party of this size, Mabel?”

“Eh, there’s always gonna be other parties,” Mabel insisted. “Plus, I trust you two to follow Soos’ vision of ‘making this place look like a party threw up from spending too much time at another party.’”

She looked towards the woods again. “Plus, I…I said I wanted to spend some time with Dr. Grunkle Ford, right? What better way to do that then to help him with all this Bill stuff?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth with a giggle. “Oops, I mean…all this bunker stuff.”

“Fair point, fair point,” Dipper agreed with a nod. “Alright, then you go help Ford, and keep me posted on what’s happening! And I’ll snap as many pics as I can of the party for you, just so you don’t feel too left out.”

“You’re the best, Bro-Bro~!” Mabel said, smile widening as she looked between them. “Alright, I’d better get going then, huh?”

“Good luck, Mabel!” Wendy said, and flashed her a thumbs up. “And be sure to drop a couple of swears at the little triangle bastard in my honor.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Mabel said excitedly, then pressed a hand to her chin. “Uh…which ones should I use?”

“Whatever one you want, so long as I don’t get in trouble for it.”

Mabel thought for a second. “Bill’s a…dumbass?”

Wendy slapped a hand to her mouth to try and bite back a laugh. “Good try, but maybe put a little bit more oomph behind it? C’mon, say it with your whole chest!”

“Bill’s a dumbass!” she tried again with more confidence.

“Yeah, atta girl!” Wendy said, pumping a fist into the air. 

Dipper let out a laugh of delight, pressing a hand to his own mouth. “He really is a dumbass, huh?”

“The biggest one!” Mabel said, clapping her hands together. “Dumbass triangle!”

“Alright, alright, let’s spread ‘em out a bit, huh?” Wendy suggested. “Swears are fine and good, but you use too many of them at once and they lose their punch.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Mabel said with a nod. “Better save them for when I get to the bunker, huh?”

With a laugh, Wendy gave her a two-finger salute, one accompanied by a thumbs up from Dipper. And after a confusing attempt to mirror both at the same time, Mabel bounded off through the underbrush in the direction where Ford had gone.

The two of them watched her go in silence, before Wendy looked down to Dipper. “So, you wanna get started on those streamers while we toss out a couple more swears about the little jerk?”

“Like you’ve gotta ask,” Dipper said, before they turned back towards the Shack. “I know for a fact I’ve got a couple of those hearty f-words saved up just for him.”

[morganalatina21]

Manipulating Death: Chapter Twelve

Series Summary: When Harry discovers he has a twin sister that was hiding for years, he wants to know all about her, specially about her ability to bring people back to life.

a/n: yo yo! (Timmy's voice). I know, I know, it's been a rough couple of months since I last posted something but i was just starting college (i passed in one of the top best in my country so I'm really glad), and now that everything's outta the way I can go back to writing so better get used to receive some news from me baby!

Aaand, Ik this one's a little shorter than usual but i just wanted to announce that im back so... yeah

(Also, english isn’t my first language so I’m sorry in advance lol)

Last Chapter | Masterlist

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When summer came and Harry had to go back to Hogwarts and then back to his uncle’s house, Sirius was ready to throw hands.

The remaining marauders grew a very solid anger towards their old headmaster after everything Y/n and Regulus told them about, and were ready to disobey him one more time, however after some long days of talking, they decided to play the game.

If Dumbledore was allowed to lie to them and risk their lives as if they were a bunch of pawns, so could the Order.

So Harry, Hermione and Ron went to Hogwarts to finish their fifth school year, the Potter would write letters to his sister everyday and once every two days they’d talk through the fireplace.

He’d tell her how his day was, how he missed the twins fooling around, how Umbridge was such a pink bitch he could throw up; and Y/n would give small hints about how their search for the Horcruxes was going, and the best way to hex his professor without her knowing.

He avoided referring to her as a sister, and just went with “a very dear friend”, and also never mentioned Dumbledore, just in case he decided to somehow capture Edwiges and read the messages.

But they were so happy being able to talk to each other basically everyday after being almost sixteen years apart.

The boy was happy he, for once, could write home, to someone who was actually interested, some family.

Of course, before, he had Sirius, but the man saw him as a replacement for James, and Harry viewed him the same way; this was different, he didn’t saw Y/n as his mother, neither did her.

But it was pretty clear he was jealous whenever someone else interacted with her.

Like this time when Hermione told him she sent a letter to Y/n to ask about some potions and how she was healing, Harry turned red immediately and wondered why she was so worried if she wasn’t her sister.

Or whenever they were talking through the fireplace and Regulus would be right beside her in the room.

“It’s like” He mumbled, “You guys have your own families and I don’t interfere, let me have mine!”

Speaking about her healing, it took longer than expected, and she hid that from Harry, not wanting the boy to worry over nothing, but Regulus only allowed her to step out of the bedroom when her brother was going back to Petunia’s house.

“Honestly, I do think I will die here.” She confessed one day when he came in with her meal. “But of boredom.”

The day Harry had to go back to his uncle's, he decided to see his sister one last time before spending the entire summer without her.

And everyone got a pretty clear view from Harry's jealousy that day.

Remus left the house to receive the golden trio outside, not knowing an exact hour they'd be there, so it was just Regulus and Sirius downstairs and Y/n in her room.

The kids' presence not being exactly announced when they arrived, both Black Brothers thinking she'd be asleep and didn't wanted to bother the poor girl.

Well, they were wrong.

Because her voice came loud and clear, not even a little groggy: "Hey Reggie?"

They perked up at that, the man standing up.

"I'm bored, do you wanna come lay with me so I can play with your hair?"

Their eyes widened, staring at the younger Black in pure shock. He nodded his head at them, as in greeting goodbye and started going upstairs.

Mid-way he started running towards her, knowing she'd probably change her mind if he took too long. "Yes!"

Harry was fuming, as red as Ron's hair.

He busted into his sister’s room and finding her messing with Regulus’ curls. The boy shooed him away harshly and dropped his own head on her lap, staring at the Black with a cold glare that made Y/n laugh.

After a couple minutes, they decided to hang out with everyone else, and Harry would never leave his sister, following her around like a shadow and even making Regulus jealous, and it was so comic for his brother.

She told Harry things they couldn't talk about through letters, like the possessor's training that Reggie was responsible for, or how the Horcruxes hunt was going in full details.

"That reminds me, I got something for you." Y/n announced before sprinting upstairs, to which Regulus was really unhappy about. But she then came back a few moments later, with an old and messy hairbrush on one hand. "It was our father's, it's the only thing I have from him and I want you to have it."

"Are you sure?" He reluctantly asked, holding it as if it could break and disappear if he as much breathed on it. But Y/n shook her head yes with a huge smile.

"Consider it an early birthday gift."

The boy felt his eyes watering, sucking in a hiccup and holding the Potter in a tight hug that almost made him cry his eyes out.

Throughout the rest of the year, Harry would look at the hairbrush almost as if he was begging for his dad's guidance. He felt back on his third year, standing by the lake, with Sirius and his own image passing out on the other side, waiting for his dad to come and save the day.

Except that right now, he knew it was basically his own mind giving him advice. The boy was desesperately trying not to get his hopes high that Y/n could bring them back to life.

She sure was powerful, but after her death she appeared to get weaker and weaker by the day.

He'd get letters from Remus or one of the Black brothers saying she was too sick to write, that they'd keep him uptaded on any important news.

But how could Harry stay fucking calm? Deep down, he felt lied to. He had no reason to suspect his godfather or his sistser's godfather, but Merlin there was something wrong.

And he was right.

Because a week after he arrived at the Dursley's, Regulus Black woke up to an empty bed except for himself.

Calling out her name, no answer.

The basement just as empty as the bed.

Sirius and Remus? Clueless.

Kreacher? Obliviated.

Y/n Potter was, once again, missing.

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[steventhusiast]

@steddie-week day 5: established relationship

<- day four

--

"you think we're gonna get outta this anytime soon?"

steve looks over from where he’s helplessly watching the kids of the party bring all of their movie night supplies into his living room to see eddie looking at him with a somewhat desperate expression on his face.

before the kids arrived, they'd been having a date night. they'd already eaten dinner, and steve was just about to put his hand down eddie's pants to get to work on dessert when dustin literally threw open the door to his parents' house. so.

sure, he and eddie had practically jumped to opposite sides of the couch immediately at the kids' entry, but still. close call to traumatising the kids, and wouldn't that be a way for them to find out about them.

"something's telling me no, eds." he sighs, and leans back into the couch.

the kids don't even know about their relationship, so he can't be too mad at them for crashing his hot date.

"steve! come on man i wanna watch the goonies!" dustin whines from where he's dumping a backpack's load of snacks onto the coffee table.

steve's not really sure what he's supposed to be helping the kids with. they hadn't offered much of an explanation when they came barrelling in, except for a lot of talking over each other about how they have to watch the goonies at steve's because steve's the only one with a decent tv. it's steve's fault for forgetting to lock the front door, he guesses.

"steve!" dustin complains again, and steve decides maybe he can be a little pissed at the kids for unknowingly interrupting.

"henderson, do you ever think about how i too have my own life and plans so you can't just barge in here whenever and take over my tv?" he asks, letting his head drop onto the back of the couch to look at the ceiling in dismay.

he had been so close to such a good night with eddie. like, one handcuff-themed belt away.

"clearly you don't have a life, steve, because it's a saturday night and you're here with eddie instead of out on a date like you would've been six months ago." max retorts easily, and steve whips around to glare at her.

"you wound me, red. why is hanging out with me such a low point to you?" eddie gasps from the other side of the couch, one hand dramatically clutching at his chest. max rolls her eyes at the display, and steve lets a little grin take over his face.

oh, he can have a little fun here.

he and eddie have been talking about telling the kids soon. they're a good group, and seeing the world almost end four times really puts things into perspective when it comes to primitive controversies like sexuality, so they both know they'll be safe.

before tonight, the plan had been to tell them in a few weeks at the next byers-hopper gathering, because if steve's being completely honest with himself.. sneaking around and giggling to themselves as they make out in a bathroom, or a garage, or on someone's back porch, is fun.

before he speaks, he makes eye contact with eddie across the couch, and raises one eyebrow. he doesn't think eddie quite gets what he's about to do, but steve knows he'll be okay with it.

"who's to say i wasn't on a hot date before you guys barged in?" he crosses his arms over his chest to accentuate his words, and the kids all pause their chaos for a second to look over at him with incredulous expressions.

eddie's expression, meanwhile, has morphed from a confused frown to a slightly wide eyed grin. the manic look in his eyes as he watches the kids in glee tells steve enough about eddie being okay with what he's about to do.

"you really made eddie third wheel one of your dates?" dustin asks like the oblivious idiot he is.

steve levels dustin with a very unimpressed look, and pointedly shuffles across the couch until he's next to eddie again.

"i wouldn't say i was third wheeling, would you big boy?" eddie asks with a smile, and steve glances around the room at the still paused kids to see them all processing his words.

eventually, they all kind of shrug and nod to themselves, as if that makes sense after some retrospection.

"well, now i feel bad." lucas says after a couple seconds.

"i don't. shitheads did this to themselves." dustin grumbles, and reaches forward to the snack-filled coffee table to grab a candy bar.

"so what were you doing on your date before we interrupted? you were literally sitting on opposite sides of the couch." max asks, eyes narrowed at the two.

"do you really want the answer to that." steve doesn't even say it like it's a question. max's face immediately scrunches up in disgust.

"you guys are gross!" mike finally pipes up at that, and steve's heart drops a bit for a second before he sees him with his eyes screwed shut, and then mike continues to explain "it's like visualising my parents- UGH!"

"maybe we should go." lucas offers, and all the kids but dustin are quick to agree.

"but- my snacks!" he whines, but lucas just grabs dustin's arm in one hand and his backpack in the other.

"our snacks now, henderson. that's the payment for ruining our date night." eddie declares, and dustin narrows his eyes at the pair but lets himself get dragged out of the house.

"bye eddie! bye steve!" the kids all yell as they leave steve's house again.

steve and eddie stay where they are, thighs pressed together as they sit on the couch, for a few seconds. eventually, eddie throws a glance over his shoulder at the window.

"do you think they actually left, or are we about to traumatise them?" he asks, voice casual even as his eyes flicker down to steve's lips.

steve grins at him, and holds eddie's chin in one hand, lets the other settle on his thigh.

"that is up to them." he says softly, and then leans in.

they end up giggling through their kiss as they hear a group of shrieks from somewhere outside steve's window.

--

-> day six