#this is it - the moment we've been waiting for

[iamthatonefangirl]

Can you write something about Bucky and different toys he uses pretty please? I also wanna claim this 🍌 emoji teehee. Thank youuu

i gotchu nonnie 🍌

~~~

the way Bucky blushed when you took him to the sex shop was a sight like no other. seeing him that embarrassed? only other time that happened was that one time you called him a good boy.

"didn't have this kinda stuff in my day, doll," he excuses, picking up a bottle of grape-flavored, desensitizing lube. his brow furrows as he reads the label.

he follows you to another section, passing by some tentacle-looking things on the way.

"that's gotta hurt," you comment as you pass by.

his face contorts as he looks at it. "that's supposed to go inside you? it's got a pointy end!"

you shrug your shoulders and keep walking. he considers it for another minute, shocked every single day by what he finds in the 21st century, before continuing to follow you.

he grits his teeth and keeps his head down as you check out fifteen minutes later.

~~~

that embarrassment of his is long fucking gone once he gets you home.

you're barely in the door when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing down your neck. "I bet you're just dying for me to fuck you with your new toys, aren't you, babygirl?"

his hand trails down from your waist to the button of your pants.

"James!" you yelp, and you can't help but laugh at his eagerness.

"come on. let me, baby?"

"it's the middle of the day," you excuse as his hands stop moving abruptly, resting in place over your clothes.

"all the more reason to let me take you to bed now. we've got hours..." he says, unzipping your pants and sliding his hand underneath. "you gonna let me fuck you for hours, baby? hmm?" he says, rubbing you over the fabric of your underwear.

you stand there, leaning your weight against him with your eyes closed. you let him hold you and rub you for a minute or two before relenting.

"take me to bed, James," you affirm, and then you're being hoisted over his shoulder as he does exactly as you've requested.

~~~

after a few minutes of unpackaging and reading instructions, he's ripping off your clothes as though they've personally offended him.

"here you go, doll, just like it's my cock," he says as he parts your lips with his thumb and begins to push thick silicone over your tongue. your eyes shut as he feeds you the length of the dildo, his own eyes widening in arousal as he watches.

"that's it. get it nice and wet for me, baby. knowing you, though, your cunt is probably already soaked just from this, aren't you? you drip like a faucet whenever I do anything at all to you, baby. even something this demeaning."

you moan around the toy, even as it's buried in the back of your throat. you do exactly as he's instructed, trying to pretend like it's his dick, but the taste of the silicone is foreign and off-putting.

you take it anyway. you take whatever he gives you.

he pulls it out from between your lips and presses it back in a couple times as you drool all over it. you can't help it.

he soon reaches down to pull your panties off with vibranium fingers, making you squirm as his fingertips tease you with the motion.

his other hand, holding the toy against your lips, withdraws it to bring it down to where he's now exposed you to his gaze. he presses the tip against your clit, the same way he'd do with his cock, and you buck your hips up against the sensation.

he wastes no time dipping his fingers into your heat, but it's only just a moment before he gives you what you've both been waiting for. you're both far too eager for this to wait any longer.

he pushes the silicone inside, slowly fucking you with the dildo, only giving you another inch or so at a time. he's watching, you know it, eyes focused on the way your hole stretches as he opens you up for him.

"fuck, babydoll, that's such a pretty sight," he says lowly. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of watching this."

you lie there, gently writhing under him as he spreads your thighs further so as to get a better look. you feel like you're under a microscope, being analyzed and observed so intently, but you know he's eating this up. you love him and he loves you. you trust him with this, even as you feel so vulnerable.

he leans in to lick at your clit as he fucks you slowly. but then a light must go off in his head and he pulls back, looking up at you with a smirk. he leans over to the nightstand where he's conveniently laid out your entire haul from your shopping trip.

he waves a bright pink wand over your face, making your face heat a little bit as you look at it. he stares down at it, looking for the "on" button, and flicking through the settings before finding one that apparently pleases him.

"here, babygirl," he says, pushing it into your hand. you consider it for a moment, looking it up and down, before he urges you on.

"come on. you know what to do."

you tentatively bring it between your legs and to your clit, letting out a low moan as you move it over your sensitive skin, figuring out how best to use it.

he pauses his ministrations with the silicone still buried inside you. his gaze flicks between your facial expressions and the sight between your legs. he notices the way you begin to relax into it, the way you become more whiney and really begin to enjoy the feeling.

you're not at all prepared for it when he leans in and presses his tongue against you, laving over you where the vibrator makes contact with your skin. you gasp as he licks between your labia and the vibrator, and it's so wonderfully intense.

sure enough, he leans back and begins to thrust the dildo in and out of you once more, eyes focused solely on the view between your legs.

you watch him for a minute, seeing the excitement in his eyes as he plays with you to his heart’s content. he looks like a kid in a candy shop.

he can’t help but spit on the dildo as he pulls it out, watching the way he fucks it back into you. he pokes at the head of the vibrator, pressing it deeper into your clit for a millisecond at a time to see your reaction.

it makes you squirm, the feeling all-consuming, all while his gaze never veers off track. his shoulders are strategically placed to hold your legs apart, not letting you hide anything from him.

"you close yet?" he mumbles.

"mhm," you whine, your hips shifting of their own accord, enhancing the feeling and making the show even more delicious for him.

"that's it, baby. come on. gonna watch your pretty little pussy fall apart for me, right in front of my eyes."

you slowly get louder, breath increasing, limbs shaking. the feeling of the vibrator is so intense. your arm is trembling, and you struggle to hold the wand because of it, so your grip loosens–

he takes over, holding the wand in place, forcing you to endure the overwhelming sensation.

as you fall over the edge, you're louder than you think you've ever been before, whining out, "James.” you can't even manage to take a full breath.

he's never seen anything more beautiful.

"fuck," you say when you come down, and he tosses both toys onto the sheets beside you.

he crawls over you and brings his eyes to meet yours, looking between them to check in, before pressing a kiss to your lips, licking over your bottom lip.

he pulls back to ask you, grinning devilishly, “you gonna let me keep doing that to you all day, baby?"

~~~

hope this was enough to feed you for today nonnie 🫶

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[mirclealignr]

self preservation | james potter [4k]

james potter x fem!reader

requested by anonymous wherein james likes everyone but y/n.

warnings: descriptions of vehicle disasters, death, gets a little dark, angst, she / her pronouns, and i think that’s it?

a/n: help IDK. anyway lemme know ur thoughts !

If James Potter could embody his hatred into a sentient being, he knew it would take the form of Y/N. Ever since their schooling days, James had held a particular disregard for her. Though she seemed the person everyone could like - a pleasing disposition, an amiable temperament - James could not help but dislike her.

No one else could see through her falsity. James vehemently protested her joining the Order, but alas, he was overruled. To James, this was merely a temporary setback, and he would still yet prove to the others what a mistake it was accepting her.

She was insufferable, inappropriate, and unsuitable for this sort of position. She would not be an asset to the Order, purely a liability. He watched her train, knowing she could never rise to the challenge of the types of operations they carried out: gathering intelligence, attacking Voldemort’s followers directly in meticulously orchestrated missions, and protecting vulnerable individuals who had, for some reason, made themselves Voldemort’s targets.

James knew it was only a matter of time before she proved herself unworthy.

“If everyone is here, I think we can start the meeting,” suggested James after a few moments of polite mingling.

“Y/N isn’t here,” Remus noted. “We should wait for her.”

“It isn’t our fault if she can’t make our meetings on time,” spat James.

“She’s not actually late yet, James,” Marlene rolled her eyes. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”

James ignored the probing of Marlene and instead crossed his arms, his lips pressed in a tight line. What would it matter if she missed the start of the meeting? She was not so very important to the Order, in any regard.

As James quietly huffed, Y/N peered around the door sheepishly. “Sorry. Was hoping I wouldn’t be the last to arrive.”

“No matter,” hummed Dumbledore. “Shall we begin?” He lifted his arms, a sort of request that people took their seats and quietened down.

James could hardly pay attention to the meeting at all. He seethed at Y/N, glaring at her, thinking about all the ways in which she would inevitably fail the Order and cost them valuable information, their secrecy, and perhaps even their lives. Sirius had once asked him why he disliked her so, but he could not think of an answer beyond — “There’s just something about her.” 

The truth, no one would ever know.  

“Mr. Potter?”

James said nothing.

“Mr. Potter?!” Minerva said again, louder this time.

James snapped his attention toward Minerva. “Sorry! What were you saying?” his cheeks flushed.

Minerva sighed. “We have it on good authority that Voldemort is planning some sort of attack in London. However, we believe this to be a decoy for something much bigger. Now, we can't be sure, but-"

"But we think they're planning an attack on the Ministry," interrupted Moody.

"The Ministry?!" Lily seemed rather shocked. "It's one thing attacking defenceless Muggles, it's another to attack the Ministry of Magic."

"We've been aware for some time that the Ministry has been infiltrated, Miss Evans," Kinglsey Shacklebolt chimed in. "We have only been unaware as to who it is feeding information back to Voldemort."

"Why now?" Asked Sirius.

"The Ministry is...distracted. With the recurrence of attacks in the Muggle World, the Ministry's top priority is maintaining our secrecy. The Muggle Prime Minister is becoming more uncooperative." Moody explained.

"Who can blame him?" Minerva scoffed.

"So, what are we doing about it?" James asked.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Moody turned to him. "We need people stationed both in the potential attack spots in London and within the Ministry. We need a safe house, we need-"

"Numbers," James finished his sentence.

"Exactly. Which means everyone will be a part of this operation, everyone."

Although this was to be expected, it did not mean that those who were usually part of the behind the scenes aspects of the Order were not apprehensive as to their performances in the field. While everyone had received training and were more than enough prepared for such an operation, training in a controlled space was nothing to the unpredictability of real life. There would be no second chances.

James laughed humourlessly. The disaster he had predicted was about to come to fruition. Thursday next, he would be proven right.

Y/N out in the field? Though she had been desperate to be part of operations like this, James had protested her at every corner. Albus and Minerva merely agreed due to her age and inexperience, though she was not much younger than James herself.  James did not care why they kept her out of the field in the end, as long as she was kept out.

But it seemed, there would be no protesting this decision.

The mingling continued post meeting, some taking small portions of food and others inching their way to the door with polite smiles on their faces. James watched the scene before him unfold—observing the awkward small talk, tuning in on the more serious chatter of the senior members.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admitted. “Are you?” She asked Lily.

“A little, yeah. But we’ll be fine!” She assured her.

“You won’t be alone,” Remus reassured the both of them. “We’ll all be there.”

James chuckled. “Yeah but we can’t be covering your arse the whole time.”

The three of them turned to James’ direction. Remus shot him an uncomfortable look, a silent plea to drop the subject and move on.

“What? I’m just saying, we’re not here to hold your hand and risk the entire point of the operation just because you aren’t good enough for field work.”

Y/N’s countenance could not be characterised by merely one thing. It was evident in her face she felt humiliated, downcast and reproachful. Nevertheless, with a brave face, Y/N smiled gently, strategically avoiding the concerned looks of Lily and Remus.

“Best not get in my way, then,” she said through gritted teeth, sliding between her friends to bid her goodbyes to Albus and Minerva.

“Careful, James” Lily warned. “Anyone would think you don’t want her to get hurt.”

- - -

Y/N hadn’t the faintest idea as to James’ disdain for her. For a while, during their Hogwarts years, Y/N optimistically imagined it was part of a bit, that perhaps this was his way of seeking her attention. But after years of growing and maturing, this part of their relationship remained unchanged, regardless of his obvious efforts to mend his other ways.

If anything, his hatred for her only grew. His childish dislike was replaced with concrete, adult contempt, something that could not be easily shifted nor changed. For the most part, she didn’t let him get to her, for she was adamant in rebuking his success. However, upon discovering it was James who was behind keeping from really being a part of the Order, things took a drastic change.

Almost instantly, his immature jibes and snarky comments pricked at her fragile skin, pinched her nerves and seized her sensitive heart. Suddenly, it was much harder to ignore the words that came from a place of such hatred. Especially when it came from someone she truly admired.

Yes, Y/N could not deny that ever since Hogwarts, she had admired James Potter. Confident, successful, intelligent—she was in awe of him from the beginning. It was quiet admiration, a well kept secret. After joining the Order, she observed that these talents had only blossomed.

Y/N slipped quietly away from the safe house, walking through the small park lit up by extravagantly designed lampposts. She listened to the fountain, the crunch of leaves from hedgehogs coming out of their slumber, and for any sign of footsteps behind her. These were dangerous times. When it was safe, she apparated home—a small flat on the outskirts of the centre of London. From her bedroom window she could see the impressive city skyline.

She didn’t mind living in Muggle London for the most part, but she knew it wouldn’t be forever. When it was all over, she’d move far away from it all, from where it had all happened.

But for now, she was exactly where she needed to be.

- - -

It had all been decided. A safe house had been provided in South Hampton, where Dorcas would stay and monitor, charming it with spells that could not be pierced. Kingsley would remain with the Muggle Prime Minister with an extra helping hand from Minerva. Moody retained his position within the Ministry where Remus, Lily, Frank and Marlene were posted.

Albus, Y/N, James, Alice, Gideon and Fabian were stationed throughout Muggle London, paired off and waiting for some sort of attack. James and Y/N were waiting near the Thames, a coffee sitting on their table, a half eaten pastry—blending in. James hadn’t said a word.

“The Order does not function when we are divided, Mr. Potter. This is not a punishment, as you have described, it is a reconciliation.”

James could hear Dumbledore’s words reverberating through his thoughts. Mindless words, he thought. As much as he hated to admit it, however, he knew Dumbledore’s words rang with truth.

“So…what’d you order?” James asked.

Y/N snapped her eyes from the river, laughing through her nose before answering. “Err something with pistachio, I think? Not that nice. You?”

“Regular.”

Y/N knew this was simply an attempt to appear normal—to chat and act natural. But there was a small part of her that wished it was more.

“I don’t even like coffee,” James laughed.

Y/N laughed too, scrunching her brows together. “Why didn’t you get a hot chocolate or something?”

“I don’t even know,” he shook his head.

“Want to try mine?” Y/N asked.

James was taken aback. He had his reasons, but he’d never been nice to Y/N, not even polite, so it took him by surprise when she gave him the benefit of the doubt and was nice to him anyway.

“No, it’s okay.”

She shrugged, leaving her pistachio drink on the table. She wondered if she should say something now or let the silence settle around them again like a cage they seemed to never be released from.  

“Have you heard anything?” Y/N asked.

“Not yet. It’s getting to that time when all the Muggles leave work. London is about to get even busier,” he sighed, concerned for the lives he couldn’t protect.

“Even if our best isn’t good enough, we still cared enough to do something,” Y/N reassured him, placing her hand on his atop the table.

James felt curiously warm from her act of kindness, something which led him into a kind of comfort he’d never felt before. And it was likely to do with the fact he’d never let her this close before.

Y/N had run out of time to fix what was broken between them, for behind James’ head, she saw it—a flare of red sparks. Someone had cast Vermillious.

“James, we need to go,” Y/N instructed, nodding her head in the direction of where she had seen it—the remnants of red hung in the air.

“Shit!”

The two of them ran to a nearby alley, Y/N ever so slightly behind. When they were sure enough to be alone, the two of them clasped hands and apparated to the nearest high rise they could remember seeing beside the red sparks. It did not take them long after arriving to realise from where the commotion had originated.

Streams of people spilled out from the stairs of the Underground, running, screaming, and terrified.

James dove into the horde of civilians, squeezing and shoving his way through the onslaught of panic. Y/N followed, slipping through behind him in the path he’d already cleared. It was a maze and understanding it certainly wasn’t helped by people running in every direction to find any sort of exit. James had only been down there once as a laugh with his mates, curious to experience how Muggles got around.

But Y/N, she had been on the tube a plethora of times. She enjoyed feeling like she was a part of something just as everyone else was. She missed the feeling of belonging—being in Muggle London made it easier for her with the Order, but she felt bitterly alone, isolated and excluded in a city that would never understand nor accept her.

“I can’t tell what’s actually going on,” James shouted over the swarm.

“I don’t-”

But Y/N was cut short by an Earth-shattering crash somewhere in the distance ahead, followed by an echo of shrieks. The citizens of London intensified their cries, panic overloading as people began to push and shove, trampling over each other to reach some kind of safety. 

James began helping individuals who had tumbled to the floor while Y/N tried to deduce the direction from which they were running. It seemed as if most people were heading away from the north east side, and so that is the direction they headed.

However, they did not need to reach their destination to figure out what had caused so much horror. On their way, they saw Gideon and Fabian, crawling and stumbling in the wreckage of two Underground tubes that had evidently crashed into one another. And further on, Albus and Alice at yet another wreckage site. 

This was grave. There were not enough of them.

James had lost sight of Y/N, torn between who to help and what direction to go. He ran through the Underground, searching for more trains, if there were any other damages, searching for Y/N. After many twists and turns he found her, leading civilians aboard a train to safety. It had not been crashed into by another, but James suspected, as she did, it was mostly likely a sitting duck.

James herded the swarm of people towards the nearest exit, panic setting in as he heard a train barrelling into the station from a distance through the echoing tunnel. There were still people on the train, including Y/N, forcing people up, helping children who had lost their parents in the tumult. It was nearing ever closer, blasting its horn as a siren of danger which only fueled the hysteria of helpless innocents.

Death approached, warning its potential victims, crying for lives to be spared. Y/N was determined to save as many as she could, as time would allow. And though she had been unwilling to sacrifice her own, in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

“Y/N, get off that train now!” James screamed.

He had never felt such fear seize him before, snatching his breath from his lungs. He was immobilised with dread, terror, a fear that had forced on him the truths he had not previously been willing to confront. If Y/N died now, those truths and his regret would be buried, unable to be dug out to make way for something new, someone new. Y/N would remain with him forever, interlaced into the very fabric of his being, unable to materialise. 

Y/N looked up through the window, a child in her arms. She knew the deadly collision was imminent, she knew the child was frightened yet unaware as to why. She could see his mother was crying, held back by onlookers - those who had no attachment to the child yet could not see a mother die alongside her young.

James watched as Y/N fought to reach the open doors as he forced his way through the crowd scrambling to get away and avoid the impact. He watched the train speed closer, inching Y/N towards the end. She understood nothing but to get the child off the train and into his mother’s arms. In a desperate attempt to bring this to fruition, she threw the child off the train, for time had swiftly been exhausted. James caught the screaming child, handing it off quickly to the mother who had not time to even express her gratitude before she ran from the platform seconds before the train collided with the other, Y/N having not made it to safety.

James threw himself round a corner, diving to the floor for some sort of cover. But almost as quickly as he had gone down, he was back on his feet, searching for a sign of Y/N in the wreckage. He could not see her anywhere, he could barely see anything in the mangled train. His heart stopped. Moments later Gideon and Fabian arrived on the scene, pulling survivors from the other train, calling for aid, but James merely fell to his knees.

After years, James had come to realise that it was not Y/N that he had hated, but the possibilities she illustrated, the hypotheticals that all too often ended in tragedy, of which she symbolised. Because, in spite of it all, James was afraid that the potential of her love, that eternal promise, would vanish, taken as a victim of the war like so much else.

All the hatred he had fostered and nurtured towards her, all the loathing, was nothing more than a pathetic attempt at self preservation. At all costs James would protect his heart against what might tear it apart, the remnants of his flesh revealing the pieces of her woven into him.

“James? What is it?” Alice cried, arriving at the scene.

He couldn’t speak, only lifted his head to look at the sight of it again, wincing. Alice followed his gaze, unsure of what he meant.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, suddenly frantic.

James whimpered.

“Where is she?” She asked again. “James?!”

“Gone! She’s gone, alright?!” Screamed James, tears slowly beginning to fall from his eyes and pathetically flow down his cheeks. 

Everything he had been protecting himself from had happened anyway, despite his efforts and regardless of what he had done to prevent it. Except, James was left with the uncertainty, the soul eroding sentiment, of ‘what if.’ In the months and years to come, instead of being able to reconcile with his grief, comforted by the fact that he had made the most of the time he had with her, James would be left a shadow of himself, shrinking into his shame and regret. 

He had convinced himself to hate her, and over the years had begun to believe in his own lie. He did not hate her at all. Everything he had done to keep her out of the Order had, perhaps sometimes subconsciously, been to prevent this very fate. Though he had disguised it with disregard and disbelief in her abilities, even at times believing in his own lie, it was all deception.

His biggest fear was loving and losing her, but now he had lost her without the privilege of being able to love her. 

There was no final goodbye, nothing he could say to her in her final moments to make anything worthwhile. She was simply gone. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. His tears had been few, perhaps too in shock to really hand himself over to the anguish that would inevitably consume him. 

He couldn’t stay there, not while there were innocent lives at stake. So James stood and mustered the strength he had left, turning to face Alice and Dumbledore. 

But James was met with a different face. Someone wholly unexpected. Y/N. 

“It’s okay,” Y/N laughed. “I’m fine.” 

“Wh- How?” James sniffled. 

“I disapparated. I don’t know why but I thought of home and that’s where I ended up. After the shock of like…nearly dying, I came straight back,” she explained, rather nonchalantly, James thought. “Sorry if I scared you.”

He could say nothing. He felt all too much to be able to decipher each emotion which mercilessly punctured his heart. James wrapped his arms around her in a pure and driven show of his affection, overcome with the emotion he had hidden and locked away for too long. He squeezed her tightly, and thanked some greater being that she hadn’t been harmed. 

He’d been given a second chance. 

- - - 

James didn’t see Y/N again until the next Order meeting a week later. Time and time again he found himself outside her apartment building, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, or a coffee without pistachio in it. But every time he felt the courage slip from his body, carried away in the late summer breeze. 

He didn’t know how to begin to make amends, how to say what he’d felt for years in a comprehensive way. It barely made sense to him why he had chosen the path that he had. How would it make sense to her, the person he had treated so poorly for all these years? 

As Dumbledore droned on, praising the members of the Order for how many lives they had saved, reassuring them over the lives that were lost, and cheering to an overall successful mission, James felt his eyes drawn to Y/N almost every second. She was her usual self, no different to how she had always been. 

James had faced his torment alone. 

“Y/N, could I speak to you?” James asked when the meeting had ended. 

“Sure,” she shrugged, heading into an empty room, suspecting nothing. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” James shifted his feet. “I don’t really know where to start.” 

James could hardly hear himself over the pounding in his ears. 

Y/N only smiled. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry…for how shit I’ve treated you over the years-”

“Oh, please, James, it’s fine,” laughed Y/N. “You don’t have to feel guilty ‘cause I might have almost died or something. I’m fine, so don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge,” she smiled, patting him on the shoulder. 

“No,” James said firmly, causing Y/N to remove the hand that had been placed comfortingly on his shoulder. “It’s more than that,” he hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve never felt so frightened in my entire life than when you were on that train. When I thought-” he steadied himself. “When I thought you’d gone, I’ve never felt such…despair.” 

Y/N listened closely, breath hitching. 

“I’ve never been able to tell you before, I’ve never wanted to because I thought that what I was doing was protecting myself. It didn’t matter if I was hurting you because in the end, I’d save us both from more heartbreak. But that day I realised, I wasn’t saving us from anything but more pain,” James took a deep breath. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. And I have been for a long time. Please, let me try to make things right between us.” 

Y/N stood and analysed James in silence. His sincerity was written all over his shameful expression, desperate for her approval. He wanted nothing more than to make amends, a second chance to make up for the years he had lost to foolishness. 

“James I-”

She hadn’t an idea of how to address him, or what to say. Could it work between them? The boy she had admired and the boy who hated her?

He waited anxiously, impatiently, tapping his fingers against his thighs. 

“I’d like you to try,” she let out a breath as she spoke the words. “I’d like us to try,” she smiled. 

James’ breath was trembling, but a wide grin spread over his lips as he took her in. Someone he had been so afraid of was so beautiful, so graceful, so forgiving.  He stepped an inch closer, and could smell the hint of her perfume. 

“Then, please, can I kiss you?” 

He was quivering. Y/N only nodded, unable to voice her response in fear she would sound too eager. James was tentative, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. Y/N closed her eyes before he had reached her, nervous and waiting for a moment she thought would live only in a fantasy. 

When James’ lips met hers, it was gentle but passionate, conveying every unspoken word between them in one simple, human gesture that mankind had designed to mean so much more. 

tags 🏷️: @foolexby @jaeviii @velvetcloxds

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[ckret2]

Chapter 93 of Bill Cipher somehow femme fatale-ing his way through tricking the government agents into leaving the Mystery Shack alone:

The grand conclusion! Bill has successfully sucked the agents into his cult—sorry, I mean successfully convinced the agents that the shack doesn't need investigating.

And Bill stops thinking about Powers within like fifteen minutes.

Time to celebrate!

Dipper and Mabel were crowded against the back door, trying (unsuccessfully) to eavesdrop through it, and only barely backed up in time to avoid being hit as Ford opened the door. "Well?" Mabel pressed. Dipper asked, "How'd it go?"

For a moment, Ford maintained the stern glare of an imaginary high-ranked government official; and then a goofy, self-conscious grin stretched across his face. "That was actually kind of fun."

####

Powers didn't instruct Trigger to call Dale until they were on the road and the Mystery Shack was safely hidden behind the trees. "We're heading back your way."

"Did you make it inside the shack?" Dale asked.

Powers sighed. "No. We were—intercepted."

"By who?" That was Goldie's voice.

"The same officer who took our flash drive last year."

Her voice got a little louder and quicker. "What did he say? Who is he? How much did he tell you—"

"We'll debrief you when we rendezvous."

She grumbled impatiently, but said, "Fine."

Dale said, "While you were gone, I went through the rest of last year's reports and I'm putting together a preliminary report on what we've discovered. I'll forward it to you and HQ—"

"No," Powers said immediately.

"N... no, sir?"

"Send it to me, but that's it." Powers straightened his back. "We'll be reporting that there were no gravitational anomalies in Gravity Falls."

Trigger stared at Powers and Dale fell silent. Trigger said, "What?"

"There were no anomalies," Powers repeated. "Equipment misreadings. Same with the power surge this past weekend. Very embarrassing for us."

"But... but we have eyewitness reports," Dale said.

"Mass hysteria," Powers said firmly.

Dale said, "Sir, I don't understand—"

"Then I'll explain it when we rendezvous" Powers said. "There's nothing else to investigate in Gravity Falls."

"Nothing—?!" Trigger repeated. "You can't be serious! What about—"

Powers shot him a sharp look. "That wasn't a suggestion, Trigger. Our investigation is over."

Trigger fell silent; and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the slightly unhealthy wheezing of the Gleeful Auto used car engine.

Goldie said, "We can rendezvous at the diner."

Powers nodded. "Good idea." For most of the day, he'd been running on more coffee than food, and it was beginning to catch up with him.

Dale said, "Okay. We'll see you there, sir." Trigger frowned, but he didn't argue.

Powers flipped the turn signal as they moved from a dirt path through the woods to a paved road; he noticed his hand was shaking. He couldn't get out of here fast enough.

####

They retreated to the diner, the waitress who'd seated Powers and Goldie last night escorted the four of them to a booth ("What is this, a double date? That's nice!"); and once they had coffee, Powers quietly told Trigger and Dale what they'd found at the museum and graveyard and told Dale and Goldie what they'd found at the Mystery Shack:

This town was rotten with governmental secrets. By all appearances, it was a veritable dumping ground for cover-ups and conspiracies, starting with its founding by a disgraced secret president and continuing right up until today. The task force operating as "the Society of the Blind Eye" had taken responsibility for keeping these secrets buried; and they weren't just working with the Department of Cover-Ups, they were were being run by it. Their leader was the very same superior officer from the DCU who'd taken their flash drive.

("Wait," Goldie said, "how do you know that?" And when Powers had said he'd introduced himself to them, she'd sucked in a quiet gasp, and then seemed to zone out a moment as she processed the implications of this revelation.)

This "Blind Eye" task force had free rein to erase the memories of any civilians who knew anything about their operations; and those who were permitted to know about the group—no doubt the local police had to be clued in—simply brushed off any questions about mysterious happenings in town. Never mind all that.

The DCU officer said what was happening in the shack was a matter of international security; somebody in this town thought there was somebody dangerous in the Mystery Shack, and they'd made an anonymous report to that effect; the residents in the shack knew how to get radioactive waste far too easily; reports this last weekend claimed the townspeople had witnessed some sort of massive laser beam originating from somewhere near the building; all their investigations last summer had suggested a subterranean doomsday weapon was beneath the shack; and yet, when this "doomsday weapon" went off, nothing happened. As far as Powers could tell—and, he suspected, as far as he'd ever learn—the Mystery Shack was likely some sort of secret weapons testing facility, and when they'd stumbled upon it last year and dug too deep, the Blind Eye had swooped in to confiscate their intel and erase their memories. Some agents' memories more than others. (Trigger and Dale stared at Goldie, trying to remember their lost colleague's face.)

"But... but why us?" Dale asked. "We're not civilians."

"I know," Powers said darkly.

Dale sat back in his seat, staring at his coffee, looking lost.

"I don't like any of this," Powers said. "I understand that a nation must cover up its embarrassing secrets. It's part of a government's duty to hide things from its citizens." (Trigger and Dale nodded in agreement, that was just common sense.) "But... but brainwashing them? Manipulating their memories? Even other government agents? That isn't the America I thought I was serving."

"And imagine what else you still don't know," Goldie said.

"I was trying not to."

"You thought the Blind Eye might be a unit that's gone rogue?" Trigger suggested hopefully. "We could report this DCU officer back to HQ. Perhaps the Bureau should look into..."

But Powers shook his head. "They appear to have ties to the police, and until very recently they were colluding with the Northwests. If they are rogue, they're powerful. We report this, it goes one of two ways. Either our superiors don't know about the Blind Eye, in which case they were left out on purpose and now the entire Bureau is in their ray gun's crosshairs; or they do know... in which case they deliberately put us in harm's way. Twice."

Goldie piped up, "But if the Bureau didn't know about the Blind Eye, don't you think somebody in the past year would have mentioned Trembley to you? Since they shouldn't have know you were taken off that case."

Powers's stomach flipped. "That's true. So—they knew."

Dale slowly shook his head in disbelief. Trigger asked, "But... why? If they don't want us to know what's happening here, why would they let us come back?"

"How should I know? To experiment on whether their brainwashing holds? To get the rest of our memories erased? You heard what he said about the long-range memory gun!"

"Wait," Goldie said, "what did he say?"

Powers grimaced in disgust. "That they didn't just tell us we'd stumbled on a secure facility and ask us to leave because they'd wanted an opportunity to test out a long-range upgrade to the memory gun—and considered us convenient targets."

Naked amazement bloomed across Goldie's face. "He said that?" Her voice was hushed with awe. "Wow. That's—that's diabolical." 

"As diabolical as creating a government-sponsored robe-wearing mind-wiping cult in the first place," he snapped. "I'm sure there's some kind of behind-the-scenes bureaucratic nonsense that made it seem like a good idea, but—!"

Goldie put a hand on his shoulder. He fell silent. She squeezed his shoulder. "Hey. It's all right. There's four of us now. We can watch each other's backs." She gave him a reassuring smile. "As long as we don't tell anybody else what we know, we'll be safe."

He breathed in slowly. "You're right." How lucky he was to have found her—the only person he could trust in Gravity Falls. Perhaps the only person he could trust in the world.

"If we want a chance to do something about the Blind Eye, this must stay between us," he said. "And we just have to hope the Blind Eye's leader is convinced we'll keep their secrets."

####

Goldie had insisted that Powers not drive her "home" to the Mystery Shack—now that they (belatedly) knew the danger, it seemed safer to minimize how many times the residents saw Goldie and Powers together. But she rode with him as far as his motel. It seemed neither of them wanted to leave each other quite yet.

As Powers drove, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come back to Washington with us? The Mystery Shack is the most dangerous place you could possibly be staying. And there's a chance we could get you reinstated as an agent..."

"Or, there's a chance they'll tell the Blind Eye that I've regained my memories." (She was right, of course. It had been a foolish, hopeful suggestion.) "Besides, I can't go back there, knowing what I know now—and not knowing what I don't know. We need to find out what's going on in that shack. And as long as they don't know I'm getting my memories back, I'm the only one of us they'll let inside. If anyone can get to the bottom of this whole Blind Eye mess, it's me.

 She picked up the folder she'd left on the car's dashboard, the one they'd taken from the museum, and waved it at Powers. "And hey, I've seen the names of everybody in town who's involved in the cult, remember? I know who to watch out for."

He conceded, "Strategically, keeping an agent in town does make sense. I'm just... worried about your safety."

"Comes with the business. Don't you know I'm worried about you, too?" She reached over to run her fingers through his hair along the back of his head. (It was hard to concentrate on the road.) "But we've both got jobs to do. While I'm here, you can investigate these guys from inside the system. Maybe try to find out who warned the eagles about somebody dangerous in the shack! If you give me their name, I can track them down and... see if maybe they're an ally." (He could see Goldie's smile from the corner of his eye.) "I'd just love to have a conversation with that little whistleblower."

Powers had already nodded in agreement before he realized what he was agreeing to. "You're asking me to spy on our own bureau?"

"I'm not asking for anything. We both already know what's necessary," Goldie said. "They're erasing people's memories. We can't just stand for that. If we don't do something, who will?"

His grip reflexively tightened on the steering wheel. "You're right. If it has to be us, so be it. I'm fine with extensive government cover-ups and secret weapons testing in populated towns; but I draw the line at wiping people's minds! Look at the damage they're doing to people! To their own agents! Look at you—because of the Blind Eye, you've forgotten most of your life, you've forgotten your real name, you've even forgotten how to open doors!"

"Yeesh, you don't have to keep reminding me," Goldie muttered. "Although I'm glad you're indignant on my behalf! Most people around here think it's funny!"

Sometimes, Powers was glad he didn't understand humor. So often, it just seemed like cruelty. "I give you my word, we'll find out who's behind this and how deep their influence goes. And... we'll decide what to do then." Some of the hardness leaked out of his voice as he pulled into the motel parking lot. "I just hate leaving you behind."

"Hey. We'll meet again, promise. In the meantime..." As Powers parked in front of his room, Goldie unclipped one of her earrings—the green triangle that had a gold eye painted on—kissed it, and offered it to Powers. "Something to remember me by!" She winked. "Just keep this with you, and wherever you go, I'll go."

A lump formed in Powers's throat as he took the earring. "Goldie, I..." He couldn't figure out what he wanted to say. Instead, he unfastened his seat belt and leaned toward her; she met him in the middle, coiling her arms around his neck as he pulled her into a deep kiss. He'd hardly gotten used to her presence and he already had to leave her behind.

She broke the kiss to murmur, "By the way—a bit ago, I did remember something about my past life."

"Did you? What?"

"My real first name," Goldie said. "It's Dorabella. But call me Bell."

"Dorabella. It's a beautiful name." He was just brokenhearted that it wasn't familiar. "Stay safe, Bell."

"Stay safe, Gary."

####

Bill blessed the poor besotted agent with one final kiss at his motel door; and somehow managed to suppress a triumphant giggle until after the door was shut.

One little hiccup aside, that went so, so well.

Bill had three suspects for who had ratted him out to the Bureau of Covert Investigations: Soos's fiancée Melody Grue, who hated that Bill was still in the house; Gideon Gleeful, who'd probably just love to get out from under Bill's thumb without Bill being able to trace it back to him; and Old Man Fiddleford McGucket, who must have been involved in getting Ford's gun working because Ford never could have done it alone, which meant he'd probably been told Bill was still alive.

Bill was sure it was no coincidence that the anonymous tipster had reported "someone dangerous" in the Mystery Shack the day after Bill revealed he'd survived his execution.

At the moment, he was most suspicious of Melody. It was too lucky a coincidence that she'd just happened to be absent on the day the agents first came by the Mystery Shack. Because she'd slept bad. Ha. Melody had slept bad since she was five years old. She just came to work tired. But it made a convenient excuse to keep out of the way for a day, didn't it?

Bill was in the shack; he could put pressure on Melody himself. But Gideon and McGucket...? Well—it would be easier for someone with a little more mobility to look in on them.

And it was more efficient to have somebody else do his dirty work.

Bill fished out his eye patch and put it on as he walked several doors down from Powers's to the car he'd noticed the night before with the rising triangle logo of his Death Valley girls. He peeked into the motel rooms nearest the car, then knocked on a door and waited.

"Hel—Cipher? My lord?" Sue stared at him in surprise. "I—How did you find out I'm here?"

"I have my ways."

Her face broke into a grin that she quickly tried to temper. "I'm honored by your visit, but—is it safe for you to be out in broad daylight like this...?"

"Sure! Didn't I tell you the tide's turning?" He gave her a broad smile. "But unfortunately, your god hasn't been given access to the currency you mortals use to do business with each other. Care to help me with a little grocery shopping?"

####

As Powers packed to leave, his mind turned away from Goldie (Dorabella) and the Blind Eye.

Something was rubbing him wrong about the Northwest cover-up.

So Gravity Falls' real town founder was the madman Quentin Trembley; he was replaced in the historical record by the "waste-shoveling village idiot" Nathaniel Northwest, who was immediately made one of the most important men in Oregon and whose descendants were unimaginably wealthy...

Or, rather, they had been wealthy, until they got wrapped up in some kind of muddled financial fraud case last summer. Something about investing the family fortune in some fraudulent bonds that nobody could find any record of.

Years ago, before the BCI approached him, Powers used to work for IRS Criminal Investigation. Everything he knew about the Northwest case seemed wrong. It didn't line up with how crimes like that were supposed to work. It was difficult for con artists to vanish into thin air with that much money and no paper trail—not even any record of their communication with the victim. Suspiciously difficult. Suspicious enough that part of Powers wondered whether the fraudulent bonds were a cover story for something else.

Last summer, Fiddleford McGucket was an insane homeless man living in the town dump. The exact words Goldie had used were "village idiot." Powers remembered seeing him a couple of times in town, as forlorn and destitute a figure as you could imagine. Just a few weeks after they pulled out of Gravity Falls, this insane village idiot spontaneously went sane, filed countless patents, and became unimaginably wealthy overnight... and just so happened to move into the recently-vacated Northwest Manor.

Probably around the same time that the Blind Eye cut ties with Preston Northwest and erased his memories of the society.

It was very interesting for all those patents to come out of the same town as some kind of hidden weapons testing facility and the blueprints for a memory-erasing gun. The gun's blueprints were handwritten; he'd have to compare them to some of McGucket's patents to see if there were any similarities. He'd bet anything that either McGucket was a genius who'd gone undercover for some mysterious purpose at the Blind Eye's behest; or else he was another Nathaniel—a fool to serve as an easily-manipulable figurehead in return for wealth. Powers would have to come up with an excuse to visit him very soon.

And then there were the people in the list of Blind Eye members that Goldie had deciphered. The list contained a couple of prominent local businessmen and the owner of the town newspaper—never the kind of people you wanted to see as part of an organization dedicated to hiding and suppressing information.

But the name that concerned Powers the most was Bud Gleeful, whose name had come up multiple times during the investigation into the Blind Eye. He was the father of a child arrested for conspiracy, fraud, and illegal surveillance. (Surely a child couldn't have done that? And who sends a child to jail, anyway?) Bud's used car lot was apparentlyrecommended to federal agents in need of incognito vehicles. He was addressed in a note on the back of the threatening letter left in Powers's motel room—which suggested that piece of paper had passed through Bud's hands before reaching Powers. And there was a recording of him voluntarily using the Memory Gun on his wife and himself—clearly he was a strong believer in their cause. Powers needed to investigate everyone in the Blind Eye's list of members—but he probably needed to investigate Bud first.

Hopefully he'd find something useful he could pass on to Goldie.

Before he packed up his laptop, he connected to the Bureau of Covert Investigations' system. There was no easy way to see a directory of everyone in the bureau (secret agents, after all; a list of all personnel would be a major security threat) but he at least had access to all the agents who were or had ever been assigned to the Gravity Falls case. Nowhere in the list was there a "Goldie Locke." Just one more thing covered up. HQ clearly wasn't concerned with searching for a missing agent, whether it was because they'd forgotten her or abandoned her.

On a whim, he did an online search for any open missing persons cases with the first name "Dorabella." No cases came up, but he stumbled on something else: the first search result under her name was for the "Dorabella cipher". Goldie was a cryptologist; for a brief moment, he hoped that maybe she had invented some cipher and they could track her identity that way. But no, the Dorabella cipher was a mathematical curiosity—some unsolved ciphertext from 1897. He was no closer to finding out who she was.

Well, until they figured out her real last name... maybe he could privately call her Bell Cipher.

####

Bill knocked on the shack's back door and Stan answered it. Beaming, Bill said, "Happy birthday!" He shoved a cake into Stan's hands and swept past him. "Today we brought a bouncing baby conspiracy theory into the world! That calls for celebration."

"Where did you get a cake?" Stan asked.

"From the grocery store!"

Pacing in the kitchen, Ford asked, "How did you pay for it?" From the twitchy look in his eye, he appeared to be on his fourth mug of nervous coffee.

"I didn't!"

Mabel and Dipper ran halfway downstairs to see what the commotion was. "Bill!" Mabel called. "Did it wor—? You brought cake!"

"I brought cake!" He stepped back to let Mabel zoom past him and seize the cake from Stan. "Anyway, good job, humans, you performed your jobs terrifically! Mabel, your map was amazing, Powers bought it completely—and so fun to play with!" He ruffled her hair as she passed him again to take the cake to the kitchen; and then punched Stan's arm. "Stan my man with the heisting hands, good work at the police department and the motel! He never even noticed that file had been missing!" He turned toward Dipper. "You!" He looked at him. "You did your job."

"Thanks," Dipper said flatly.

Bill swooped into the kitchen. "And Ford!" He flung an arm around Ford's shoulders. Ford shrugged it off. Bill put it back. "Fordsyyy you dark horse, what a performance! You should play villains more often! The fun kind of villain, that is. Not the kind that drags innocent triangles through a mountain."

"'Innocent,'" Ford echoed. He pushed Bill off again and set his coffee down so he could accept the slice of cake Mabel was holding out.

Bill planted both hands on Ford's shoulders to keep him from wiggling away again. "What did you tell those government goons, anyway! I mean, I thought you did a good enough job at the museum last night—but when they got back from the shack, they were shaking in their shiny black shoes!"

"I didn't say anything that remarkable," Ford said. "I just said the shack was a top secret facility and dropped a couple of the biographical details you gave me to convince them I really am with the government."

"And you let them know you're our fake Blind Eye boss?" Bill said. "I am impressed!" (In the next room, Dipper quietly noted that Bill hadn't said he was "sincerely" impressed.) "Here I was afraid our worst-case scenario would be them figuring out we've got one actor playing two parts, but no! You, you made it an asset!"

Ford fought down a flattered smile. "It wasn't that big a leap. It fits in with this conspiracy narrative we're trying to spin."

"And so does the government using its own agents as guinea pigs for mind control weapons! Beautiful! You've upped your roleplaying chops since the last time you dragged me into a DD& More D game."

Ford was losing the battle with his facial expression. One corner of his mouth crept up as he asked, "Did he mention the bit about threatening to use him to find out whether the memory gun accelerates Alzheimer's?"

Bill's eye stretched wide open. "No," he gasped. "No way! Because his mother—? That's sheer evil! Oh, Fordsy, I am sincerely impressed!" (Dipper frowned.) "He'll be thinking about that every time he forgets his wallet for the rest of his life!"

For a moment, Ford's pride began to flag as he stopped thinking about doing an A+ job at protecting his family and started thinking about what this would mean for the agents they'd done it to; but he didn't get long to think about it before Bill went on, "How did you come up with that!"

"Ah," Ford said, "well. It was easy, really. After all, I knew that our goal was to gaslight these men and manipulate them into losing trust in every ally and authority figure they had so we could convince them to put all their trust in a deceptive con artist's word." He paused; and then a sly smile stretched across his face. "So I asked myself, 'What would Bill Cipher say to them?'"

Bill let out a shrill cackle. "Now that's my Sixer!" He ruffled Ford's hair roughly. "Listen to you! Best student I've ever had! Brilliant!"

Mabel shoved a plate of cake between them and jammed it into Bill's diaphragm.  "Here! I added sprinkles." 

Bill and Ford averted their gazes as Bill took the plate. "The cake already had sprinkles! I got one with sprinkles on purpose."

"And I added more," Mabel said firmly. "Grocery store bakeries are way too stingy! It's like they think we're gonna run out of sprinkles or something. Crazy!"

Bill shrugged. "Can't blame 'em. The Great 2015 Sprinkle Shortage is just around the corner." At Mabel's terrified look, he burst out laughing. "Kidding! Kidding! Your planet's never running out of sprinkles, you're fine."

"Jerk." Mabel punched his arm, then went back to cutting up cake.

Stan nudged Ford and muttered, "You're not falling off the wagon, are you?"

Ford grimaced, but he just slightly shook his head.

Stan dug into his cake and raised his voice. "So, I take it the plan worked?"

"Did it work!" Bill crowed. "We'll never see those guys again! I've got 'em convinced that every weird thing in town is tangled up in some secret weapons testing project connected to a Trembley cover-up they've been booted out of, and they'll either get brainwashed or arrested for treason by their own bureau if they keep digging! They—are—gone!" He beamed at the assembled family. "I'm proud of you all! You can't always trust a human to do a good job for duty, for charity, for love, or even for greed; but there's one thing you can always depend on to motivate a human!"

Digging into his cake, Stan asked, "Self-preservation?"

"No, shenanigans! And I love that about you people."

"Is this how you start all the conspiracies you've been involved in?" Dipper asked. He'd come in to accept his slice from Mabel.

"Pff, yeah, pretty much!" Bill rolled his eye. "Behind every giant, globe-spanning conspiracy... there's a very smallconspiracy made up of six regular guys who are really invested in convincing people that a giant globe-spanning conspiracy exists." He grabbed a bottle of tabasco sauce from the counter and started saturating his cake. "And framing secret societies for things they didn't do is always loads of fun!"

Ford had taken a seat at the kitchen table to eat his cake, which he immediately regretted when Bill elected to sit on top of the table and cross his legs. "So you admit you haven't actually run any globe-spanning conspiracies." He exchanged a sideways glance with Stan—get a load of this guy. Stan, mouth full of cake, rolled his eyes in agreement.

"You're impressed with what I can pull off with a non-existent budget, three old fogies, and two children. Admit it." He flung his arms open wide. (Ford moved his head out of the way of Bill's cake plate.) "Anyway, everybody lavish me in gratitude and praise for saving the Stans from federal prison! Go ahead! Shower me in reverence!" He looked at them expectantly. "No? I shoulda kept that cake to myself."

"I'll thank you!" Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you so much for keeping my grunkles safe. I know you didn't have to, and you still resent them for killing you and everything—so it means a lot to me that you did so much for us."

Bill warred with his expression to keep it steady as four different emotions threatened to cross his face. He patted Mabel's head and said weakly, "Gimme a 'Good Job' sticker and we'll call it even." He cleared his throat. "Hey! Speaking of rewards for good behavior, it was nice running around outside without being leashed like a dog! When's the next time I get to do that?" He looked at Ford and Stan expectantly.

They winced and looked at each other. Stan shoved another forkful of cake in his mouth.

Ford said, "We, uh... we haven't... discussed it—"

"Finished," Stan cut in, "haven't finished discussing it."

"Hmm!" Bill gave them a thin smile. "Okay! Let. Me. Know." He jabbed his fork violently into his cake.

####

"He did just save all our butts," Stan said. He and Ford had retreated to just about the only place where it was safe to talk without Bill eavesdropping: Ford's subterranean study. "He could've thrown us under the bus. What would we have done? Said, 'No, you don't understand, this guy is actually an evil alien triangle who wants revenge on us'?"

After Ford's near relapse into his old Cipherholic habits in the kitchen, he'd been worried that would be the first thing Stan brought up. But to his relief, they were on the same page. "I'm sure there was some self-interest involved," he said. "Bill doesn't have any legal identity, he wouldn't want the government figuring that out. But I'm also sure he could have talked his way out of that. And by all appearances, he behaved himself while out in public. Aside from shoplifting a cake."

"Which was delicious," Stan pointed out. "Nobody's dead, nothing's on fire—that we know about, anyway—"

"And we already know he isn't interested in running away from the shack. He's had at least three opportunities in the past week, and he's come back every time," Ford said. "So..."

So.

They eyed each other uneasily.

"Obviously we can't trust him completely unsupervised in town," Ford said.

"Obviously. He'd start a cult with a thousand dollar entry fee in an afternoon," Stan said. "But..."

But.

Ford said, "All right. Let's come up with some new rules."

####

(No TBOB-related edits in this one I don't think. Even the line about Bill being able to start a cult in a day is pre-TBOB (and pre-TINAWDC).

Anyway!! At long last, the end to this arc! Which expanded a lot more than I expected it to! Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts. The next big thing we've got is a flashback to Bill's howling void girlfriend (which, amazingly, I was in the middle of writing last summer when TBOB came out... before we found out he canonically had a howling void girlfriend). I'm still deciding whether I wanna post those chapters all together or separate them with some other chapters in between.

But, before we start that, we're gonna chill out and do nothing terribly important for a few chapters.)

[morganaawriterr]

The Enchanted Corner; Enhypen

To honor the 1k followers, The Vampire’s Lover (me, Morgana) has carefully crafted this request event to give you guys some new exciting fics and to make us interact more! Request away and have fun :)

NAVIGATION ➺ Original Post - Waiting List

The cards have been shuffled, the candles lit, and the shelves stocked. In the dark shadows of the night, a magic store awaits you, lost traveller. Send an ask to receive a custom drabble inspired by your chosen items. Choose your fate wisely— not all the choices lead to the light.

The vampire's lover knows what fate is in the items you picked... what magic bundle of fate will you end up with?

✡ The Enchanted Corner Sections:

Take a stroll around the dim shop and browse for all the options you have to choose from. Remember to follow your intuition, so the bundle resonates with you!

— The crystal Cabinet: Choose your favourite crystal to find out who your lover is:

♰ Moonstone (Heeseung);

♰ Red Jasper (Jay);

♰ Lapis Lazuli (Sunghoon);

♰ Citrine (Jake);

♰ Rose Quartz (Jungwoon);

♰ Amethyst (Sunno);

♰ Tigers Eye (Ni-ki);

— The Tarot Card Spread: Pick from the table the card that draws you the most:

♰ The lovers (Best friends to lovers);

♰ The moon (Enemies to lovers);

♰ The star (Fake relationship);

♰ The empress (Forbidden love);

♰ The devil (Cursed bond);

♰ Death (Second chance);

♰ Judgment (Eternal soulmates);

—The Potion Shelves: Be careful what potion you choose to carry with you, because it doesn't affect you, but your lover:

♰ Rain water + lavender (Human);

♰ Moon water + clove (Vampire);

♰ Honey + Ginger (Werewolf);

♰ Rose water + Chamomile (Angel);

♰ Wine + Nutmeg (Demon);

♰ Ashes + Star anise (Ghost);

♰ Milk + Rose petals (Witches’ Familiar (can shift to human));

— The Bookselves: Ponder carefully what book you wish to read:

♰ Fluff (lighthearted romance);

♰ Angst (Aching and longing);

♰ Suggestive (Tension and desire);

♰ Dark romance (Obsessive turned love);

♰ Slice of Life (Calm and crack moments);

— The Wall of Spells: Help trace your fate with one spell from the spell wall:

(1) “You don't know what I am, do you?”

(2) “There is no turning back now.”

(3) “I’d burn the world to have you.”

(4) “Don't pretend you didn't want this.”

(5) “I came back for you.”

(6) “This isn't the first time we've met.”

(7) “It’s okay, I'm here now.”

(8) “We shouldn't. But we always do.”

(9) “What if we ran away?”

(10) “I’ve been by your side for centuries, I won't stop now.”

(11) “If I get a taste… I won't stop.”

(12) “Your heartbeat is louder when you're lying.”

(13) “Your soul was never yours to begin with.”

(14) “You saved me…”

(15) “It’s just one night… sharing a bed won't kill us.”

✡ The Enchanted Corner Rules:

Before making a long queue at the counter, make sure all the items are in your bundle in the way you want! Also, check out the house rules so you don't bore the Vampire's Lover!

— To build a bundle, send an ask with your choices like this:

Your Crystal; Your Tarot Card; Your Potion; Your Book; Your Spell; Extra details (if needed);

Note: All readers are assumed to be human if not otherwise mentioned. Only if you choose the milk + rose petals potion, in that case, the reader is a witch! - If you choose the potion milk + rose petals (familiar that can shift to human), you must say what animal you want! If not mentioned, I will choose for you! - You can add a few details if you want to! - The book and spell are optional, or you can let me choose them for you! - If you don't want a tarot card (it is optional), you must add at least a Book or a Spell! - If your request doesn't respect any of these rules, it will be ignored! In case of some item missing, I will try to warn you about it!

— Shop Rules:

(1) Be gentle with the owner of the shop, The Vampire’s Lover, because magic takes time ;)

(2) Reblogs > likes to share the magic.

(3) One ask per traveler at a time (or as many as the spirits allow).

(4) All stories will be around 1k words in order to keep up with everyone!

(5) The event runs from [30/04/2025] to [05/05/2025].

(6) There will be a public waiting list where you can check how many requests are before yours!

Waiting List;

Thank you for choosing to visit the Enchanted Corner. Have fun choosing your items to build your bundle! And remember, The Vampire's Lover is the only one who knows your fate ;)

✡ The Enchanted Corner is now open and waiting for travellers!

A/N: This event was inspired by this amazing writer @tobiosbbyghorl. She made a very cute one, too! I'm so excited for this! I hope you guys have fun mixing and matching all the different options! As always, reblogs are needed and veryyy appreciated, thank you so much! <3

Taglist: @mrsjjongstby @kawaiichu32 @maewphoria @tunafishyfishylike @deluluscenarios

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[anyon-else]

"Oh, baby..."

The man kneeling at your feet let out a quiet, involuntary whimper at your cooed words, and you had to fight back a smile. He truly was a sight to behold when he was on his knees.

You were sitting in a plush, cushioned chair above him, stroking the cheek that he had pressed against your thigh. His bruising grip around your ankle was the only sign of tension in his otherwise relaxed body. And the adoration in his gaze—the need—almost made you want to hold out on him a little bit longer.

"Please," he choked, leaving light, fluttering kisses anywhere he could reach. You buried a hand in his hair and gave the strands a firm tug when he scraped the tips of his fangs against your skin. The effort to lift his eyes to yours and retract his them looked painful, but he was nothing if not patient.

"Did you wait to eat the whole time I was gone?" you asked, releasing your grip when you were sure he wouldn't be tempted to bite again and stroking your fingers through the messy strands of his hair. He nodded, squeezing your ankle tighter as if in an attempt to convey his hunger and desperation. "My love, you didn't need to."

You both knew it was a lie. He needed this—the torture, the teasing, and the satisfaction when he finally sank his teeth into your soft, fragile flesh. When you finally let him have a taste...he wanted to starve himself each and every day just to hold on to the euphoria.

But this was the hardest part...having you here, so close that he could practically taste your blood, but being told to wait.

And he would. Of course he would. He would do anything you said, and you knew it.

"Poor thing. You must be hungry," you muttered, releasing his hair and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes, turning his face into the touch and kissing your palm, "or maybe...we should rest a while before dinner."

"N-no," he croaked, eyes widening the moment the word left his lips. "I mean, I-"

"So desperate," you said, clicking your tongue and grasping his chin between your fingers, "fine. Just a taste for now."

He nodded, eager and needy and so, so hungry.

"Just a taste," he repeated, gaze falling to where you held your wrist in front of him. He glanced up at you one more time, and at your nod, sunk his teeth eagerly into your arm. You gasped when his fangs broke the thin layer of skin and added two wounds to a growing collection of small scars dotting your wrist. He moaned, eyes rolling back as he finally got to eat—finally got to taste you. It had been days since you'd left, and he wasn't sure what he would have done if you'd returned any later.

Just a taste, he reminded himself. He gripped your arm, squeezing tight enough to bruise as a groan slipped from his throat. He didn't register the feeling of tears building in the corners of his eyes until one slipped down his cheek. There was no use trying to fight them back—not when he was finally getting to sink his teeth into your flesh and feast like a man starved.

"That's enough for now," you said lightly when the salty drop of water hit your skin. Immediately, he relaxed his mouth and extracted his fangs. You brushed your thumb over the trail that his tear had left behind as he swiped his tongue over the spots of blood that bloomed from the pair of fresh wounds on your wrist, leaving no drop wasted.

"You were so patient for me," you said quietly as he left delicate kisses over his bite marks. "So good. And you stopped when I asked."

He nodded—he had been patient, but even if his hunger had gotten unbearable while you were away, the thought of drinking someone else's blood made him feel sick. You'd ruined him—if he ever lost you, he'd likely starve before ever finding blood that satiated this all-consuming need that you roused within him.

"Thank you..." he muttered, still insatiably hungry, but what you'd given him was more than enough to quell the painful pangs of hunger he'd felt only moments earlier.

"You can have more soon, my love. Once we've both rested."

He assented with an unintelligible murmur as you led him to the bedroom, knowing that he'd be well taken care of before the sun rose.

CHOSO KAMO, gojo satoru, diluc ragnvindr, childe, kakashi hatake, SHIN-AH + anyone i missed!

[very-merry-birthday]

Wrong Side of the Bed ⋆Second Part⋆

Part One

Summary: When Dean and the reader get hit by a curse that stops them from sleeping, they start dreaming instead. (A bit of plot as an excuse for a bunch of different smut. First part- Shower sex, Impala sex, Bed sex. This part- Demon Dean, Sweet Dean).

Warning: Smut. Unprotected sex. (Dream) Demon Dean -> dirty talk + rough sex.

~~~

The rest of the morning was spent in a tired haze. Sam tapped away at his laptop, you and Dean took turns between the bed and the couch. After a while he gave up, eventually letting you lay with your head on his lap, stroking your hair with comforting hands, hoping that even if he couldn't sleep he could help you to.

You felt time passing, a bubble around you, and the need for sleep growing. But more than that was your need for Dean. Every time you closed your eyes images filled you head, you wanted so desperately to reach out to him, to grab him, to feel the contours of his body.

At midday Sam finally got both of your attention to show you what he'd found. He spun his laptop around triumphantly, and met with blank faces, began to explain.

"I couldn't find much. It looks like it's- it's sort of an odd curse. To some it's a blessing, but-"

Dean cut in, already short tempered, "Can you just explain what's going on?"

"I think it's a curse that makes you see your true desires. It's stopping you from sleeping until you get them, so it's basically making you think about them non stop. You've been having weird dreams right- almost out of body?"

You both nodded, listening.

"Right so those would be your true desires."

You paused for a moment considering his words, "Is it possible we're thinking of the same thing?"

"It very well could be- I'm not sure how this curse works being shared across two people, there's a good chance you're connected in some way. Dean what are you thinking about? What's it that you really want?"

Dean looked over at you and swallowed hard before speaking, his face ragged with exhaustion, "Beer?"

Sam looked doubtful.

"Beer and strippers." He repeated himself, slightly more sure.

Sams doubt didn't let up. "Right. And you, Y/N? What is it you want?"

You paused again, "Well all I really want right now is a decent night sleep- how do we get it?"

"That's a little more tricky." He spun the laptop back to himself, looking down at the screen, "It doesn't really say. There's a chance you just need to get the thing you really want? Other than that, maybe you're right, maybe you just need to wait it out until sleep becomes the most important thing to you?"

You and Dean exchanged worried looks, cautious about how unsure he sounded. Dean spoke up again, "How long is that supposed to take?"

"Like I said, I really don't know anything here. My advice would be to exhaust yourselves, stop trying to sleep and go on a run."

You rolled your eyes, the idea of trying to run while feeling like this impossible.

Dean stood up quickly, "He's right- not about running- but we need to do something." He pulled you to your feet, "We train. This shouldn't have happened in the first place, and if the only way we get past it is to wear ourselves out- so be it."

You nodded cautiously, going along with his ideas, "I'll only agree if you can get me a room by myself tonight."

-

Dean shoved his body against yours, hard, pain reverberating through you as you slammed into the motel wall. You let out a pained exclamation.

"Come on Y/N you have to focus, we've gone through this twice already."

You slumped down in front of him in a crouch, your head pounding, desperate to take a break. "Just give me a second, yeah?"

"We need keep going, just a bit more and then we can try and sleep again."

You stood up cautiously, balancing yourself against the wall, "I'm fucking exhausted Dean, I just need a second."

He grabbed your shoulder roughly, keeping you stood up, speaking more gently, "Me too, come on let's run it once more and then we can try and sleep again, it's almost dark anyway."

You nodded.

He grabbed your wrists tight above your head, pressing his body against you, eyes level with your own. "Okay, get out."

You struggled against him, the heat of his body flowing though you. All you could focus on was his fingers wrapped around your skin, his lips inches from your own. Time seemed to slow, you watched deep breaths escaping from his lips, his breath hot against your skin. Your heart began to pound in your chest, your own breath hitching.

He tightened his grip on your wrists, looking down at you with a dark expression, "Come on, you need to try harder than that."

You wanted to stay like this forever, his hands on you, your bodies pressed against each other. You could barely will yourself to struggle against him, a mixture of exhaustion and neediness for him to stay touching you combining. You lifted your body back from the wall, pushing against him, trying to find some traction. He used his own hip to push you back, his crotch now pressed against you, your whole body unwinding at the feeling. It took everything in you to not let out a moan, tightening your jaw to keep yourself quiet. Dean looked down at you again, his eyes flicking over your body, before he pulled back, letting go and causing your arms to go slack down next to you.

"Right I-" he caught his breath, "I think that's probably- maybe we should try to sleep again-"

Your body ached. Ached for the bed. Ached for him. You wanted to reach out, to touch him-

He grabbed your arm, looking you in the eye as he spoke steadily, "We've got this, give it ten minutes and you'll be fast asleep, and if not come knock at my door and we'll keep training?"

You nodded, too exhausted to speak. He brought you into a hug, and you breathed him in deeply.

He slunk off out the room, leaving you by yourself. You stripped off your clothes, once again finding yourself in your underwear desperately climbing under the covers, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep.

Dean pushed his body against yours, hands tightening around your wrists above your head. You blinked hard adjusting to the situation. His knuckles went white as he gripped onto you, letting out a low growl, "Ohhh baby, you have to try harder than that."

"Dean I-" you pulled against his wrists, desperate to wriggle free, his tight grip unrelenting. This wasn't training, this was something different. He grinned at you, his eyes flashing black, sending a chill through you, before turning back to their usual green. "-Dean please."

He loosened his grip on you, but kept you there, his lips inches from your own, his eyes flicking over your face, "Come on, you love this, don't act like this isn't turning you on."

You let out a low whine, you couldn't deny his words. He pressed his body against yours and pressed his lips to your ear, whispering, "You want this don't you?"

You let out another whine, his lips lazily finding your jaw, kissing along it heavily. He let go of your wrists, his hands immediately flying to grab your hips, keeping you pressed against the wall. His mouth found your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin, a deep vibration stuck in his throat. "I'm not gonna do anything unless you tell me you want it."

Your hands combed through the back of his hair, pressing him into you, the feeling of his lips on your skin flowing through you. "I want it- I want you."

He dug his fingers deep into your hip, "You're so fucking needy aren't you?"

You moaned as his mouth found your collarbone. He stepped back as he tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion, his hands back on you in an instant. You sunk into the feeling, your desperation growing, the strange mix of dream and reality overtaking your body, desperate to cum, for him to make you. "Dean-"

He smiled into your skin, a sinister grin at his own name, "You have to tell me what you want, go on sweetheart."

"Please, touch me-"

He let out a slight chuckle, tugging at your pants, as you, in turn, pulled his shirt over his head. His hand dove into your underwear, already soaked, his fingers roughly thrusting into you, "God you're such a slut."

This wasn't your Dean, the way he spoke, the things he said, you knew that, but you also knew in this dream world you couldn't care less. You let out another moan at his words, spreading your legs slightly to give him better access to your pussy.

His face turned darker at the sight of you undone below him, his jaw clenched. He circled your clit with his fingers, and smiled as you let out another desperate moan. You felt your orgasm rising and bit your lip to hold back even more sounds, your hips bucking against him.

He used his other hand to grab you forcefully, bruising your skin. He added another finger to your pussy, filling you with his long digits. He watched you carefully, pushing you to the edge. Just as you felt yourself about to become undone, he pulled his fingers out, causing you to desperately whine for him.

He let out another laugh at the sight, "I said I wasn't going to give you anything unless you tell me you want it. So darlin' what do you want?"

"Fuck me, please- I need you-!"

He unbuckled his pants and pulled his cock out, pumping it in his hand as he watched you beg for him.

"Please-"

He pushed himself into you, slamming his body against yours. You let out a sharp gasp, the sudden feeling of him inside you sending a jolt through your whole body. He stretched you out, a low hum of pain as you adjusted to his size. His hand found your neck, wrapping around your throat as you let out another moan. He began to thrust into you harder, desperate to fill you, to feel every inch of you.

"You're so fucking tight-" he pushed himself deeper, "Such a dirty fucking bitch-"

You whined into him as he began to push harder, both of your orgasms beginning to rise.

"What is it you want? You want to cum for me like the filthy slut you are?"

"Please I-"

He pounded hard into you, "Tell me what you want."

"I want to cum, please Dean I need to-"

He kept thrusting, harder and harder, pounding into you. Pounding. Pounding.

Pounding at the motel door brought you back to reality, your sheets covered in sweat, your body still exhausted. In your half dream state you arose, making your way towards the door and opening it to find Dean on the other side. His shirtless body was glistening with sweat, his face ragged with tiredness.

"It's not beer or whatever I said- my dreams- it's been you-"

You looked back, dumbfounded.

"It's been you- us- the whole time. We were in the shower, I was fucking you I-"

You blinked hard, still not able to speak.

"-and then we were in the car-"

"and then it was in the bed together, last night." Now it was his turn to be dumbfounded. He stopped talking as you took over. "And then, just now- you were you but not you -"

"We've been having the same dreams- I- fuck-" he crashed his lips into yours, desperate to taste you, the real you. It felt like fireworks filling you, your exhaustion melting off your body. Your hands found his face, holding him close to you, combing through his hair, holding his cheek. His own hands found your neck, then your shoulder, then your thigh, needy hands grabbing at your body. Finally he settled on your hip, holding you close against him. This was nothing like the dream version of him had just been, no toughness, just gentle, firm hands, his thumb lightly rubbing at your hip. He was soft, and comforting, warm.

"Dean I-" you didn't know what you wanted to say as you separated his lips from his, perhaps you wanted confirmation that your dreams had truly been alike, but he cut you off, his lips back on yours. He couldn't stand the idea of not kissing you, the thoughts of his own dreams filling his mind, your hands on him, on his cock, of it inside you.

He lowered his mouth to your neck, kissing you, breathing you in. One of his hands came up to your chest, tugging at your bra, lightly grabbing your tit, your nipple pinched between his fingers. You let out another gasp at the feeling, electricity filling your body.

He let himself pull back slightly for a moment, catching his breath, needy and wanting ,"Please Y/N I- I need you, please-"

You pulled him towards the bed, both of you collapsing in a pile, his body above you, skin against skin. You both messily tugged at each others clothes, Dean letting out a careful chuckle as he tried to untangle himself from his own underwear. He aligned himself back above you, his cock in his hand as he glided his tip through your wet folds. You let out a moan and he let out a gutteral hum at the feeling.

"Are you sure?" He murmured as he dipped his mouth back against your neck.

You nodded into him, letting out another moan as a response. He pulled back to you look at you, "Seriously, is this okay? Is this-"

You cut him off, one hand cupping his cheek, the other finding his back, "Yes Dean- yes."

He pushed into you, quickly but carefully, watching your expression to make sure you were okay. You sighed into him, the feeling of him finally inside you almost too much to bare, your hands finding purchase on his back, pulling him closer. He began to thrust into you, slowly pushing himself deeper, his hot breath against your skin. You moaned at the feeling, both of your gasps filling the silence in the room.

"God you feel," he thrusted with the words, "so good."

"Dean-" you cooed into him.

He began to speed up, grabbing your hips tightly as he pulled you into him, desperate now for you. "Sweetheart I need- god I need to cum so bad."

You held on for a moment, focusing on your own pleasure, letting it rise in you as he continued to thrust. He clenched his jaw hard as he tried to stave off his own orgasm, watching you carefully. Right when you felt like you were about to break you let out a desperate gasp, pulling him close to you, "I'm ready-"

He let out a loud groan as he came, your own orgasm rolling through you at the same time. He held you tightly, both your bodies on fire as his thrusting slowed, finally getting the release you'd both been desperately seeking. You let out a loud moan at the feeling, your aching muscles unwinding, your head clearing. He pulled out carefully, rolling next to you on the bed.

Both of you sighed deeply, the feeling of the sheets soft against your skin, panting filling the air. He pulled himself up on the bed, letting your head rest on his chest as you both composed yourself. His hand gently stroked through your hair as he kissed your forehead lightly.

You lay like that for only moments before you both drifted off, finally content.

[doortotomorrow]

polin - the first kiss

[latin-dr-robotnik]

20 years ago, Sonic X gave us the definition of love. Happy anniversary, episode 52!

[torchickentacos]

WE HAVE ACCURATE AG FANSUBS!!!!!! NOT A DRILL!!!!!!!!! Much like the few subs we do have, you'll need VLC media player and to download the files and run them through vlc but they're here. Bless.

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

AT LAST

[lemotmo]

Genuinely don't understand how these people get these ideas.

Q. Theorizing stuff when we have no idea if he's even still on the show is insane behavior because he's not filming.

A. How do you know he's not filming? You're basing that entirely off of the bts of the calls the show intentionally wanted people to see and be distracted by. Eddie is in El Paso for that episode, duh he wouldn't have been in those BTS videos. You know who else we've barely seen? Jennifer, and none of you are predicting her exit as a result of that. None of you predicted Peter's exit when Bobby retired. Eddie is the only one you do this over. And most of you are following the lead of people who want him to leave, and even they don't genuinely believe he's gone. If he was leaving we would know by now. The show would have allowed that information to have been leaked. Then the cliffhanger would be rather or not his exit would be open ended or if they would kill him off. That's where the speculation would be. Neither the show, or ABC, would allow the show's entire promotional campaign to be built around a duo if one half of that duo was leaving. No one has ever or will ever do that because that's asking your audience to invest in something they can no longer deliver. This show is not stupid. Also Tim basically told you he wasn't leaving. He said the Buck and Eddie story would show both sides of the story. Meaning we will see Buck's side of the story as well as Eddie's side of the story. If Ryan was leaving there would be no Eddie side to tell. The show wouldn't care because he wasn't on the show anymore therefore Buck's did of the story would be the only side that mattered. Be serious for one moment.

Theorizing is part of fandom. You develop theories until you get new information and then you adjust your theories. Guess what? After the TVLine write up, I no longer think my earlier speculation is correct. That's part of the fun. It's part of the point. You all don't see him in clips he should absolutely not be in because his character is in an entirely different city and you immediately conclude Eddie is permanently leaving and he and Buck will call themselves bros for life as he drives off into the oblivion. Your freakouts make absolutely no sense and are invented from absolutely nothing.

Thank you Nonny!

🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I cannot.

How many times do we have to repeat ourselves? This topic has been discussed over and over again.

NO! Ryan is NOT leaving! Eddie is not leaving!

Let it go already.

Oh... and you know what?

YES! Buddie is happening! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[miyuka1709]

There's only an hour or two left.

This will be interesting, I wonder who we'll be up against in the first round.

Well then... May the hottest Cold prevail.

((MY GIRLLL IS DRESSED UP AND READY!! she really doesn't care much about winning, but dress up is quite fun. It's different. She likes different.)

@voice-of-the-sexyman

[kamiraaah]

SILVER FINALLY GOT HIS DADDY'S LAST NAME!! OUR BOY IS FINALLY SILVER VANROUGE

THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE FINALLY!!!!!!!!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️💘💘💘 Silver Vanrouge......

✨️S I L V E R ✨️

✨️V A N R O U G E ✨️

IT SOUNDS PERFECT OOOOOOOOOOAAAAAUGH MY HEART!!!!!!!!

[feroluce]

For reasons to be expanded upon at a later date (because I love the little bits about Boothill and possible paranoia/betrayal canon gives us so very dearly HNGH) I think Boothill like... He won't let himself fall into disrepair or anything of course, but he reeeeeeeeeeally does not like letting other people poke around at his body. It's a necessary evil to him. He does whatever maintenance and repairs he can himself. He started out with a massive knowledge deficit, simply because he didn't really have any exposure to that kind of technology until he left Aeragan-Epharshal, but he's taught himself a lot since then, he worked really hard at it!

Anyway, the point being, Boothill generally isn't super trusting of people.

But I think he would come to make an exception for Himeko, since he trusts Dan Heng a lot, and Himeko is one of Dan Heng's once-in-a-lifetime dearly beloved companions.

Himeko is so unflappable, I don't think she would even bat an eye about anything he throws at her, either. Like she enters the Parlor Car one morning (she's always the first one up) and Boothill is already there, waiting for her.

"Mornin', Madam Navigator."

"Good morning, Mr. Boothill."

And despite the fact that he blatantly broke into the Express (Pom-Pom is NOT happy about this JDKSAJDSKL), Boothill tips his hat, greets her politely, and is nothing but respectful when he says he has a favor to ask of her. Except it won't stay a favor long, of course- he has every intention of paying it back.

Himeko never agrees to things blindly, but she does bring up that all the knowledge Boothill contributed during the Charmony Festival was essential to preventing the universe from being pulled into Ena's Dream. And they were able to hold onto the Jade Abacus because Boothill used Tiernan's burial relic to summon the Galaxy Rangers instead. The Astral Express owes him a debt of gratitude, and besides, he's a friend of Dan Heng's. Of course she'll try to help him.

Boothill fidgets a bit, quickly brushes off the thanks, and tells Himeko he's having a problem with error codes. He keeps getting the same one, seemingly at random times, but the darn thing has no obvious cause. Dan Heng mentioned Himeko had been the one to rebuild the Astral Express. He knows it ain't the same, but it's not like he's askin' for any major repairs or nothin'. He was wonderin' if she could just take a look, maybe offer him some insight, since she seems to be somethin' of a mechanical wonder.

So Himeko walks him back to a another car, where she goes to tinker with machines without them crowding her bedroom. It's all neatly laid out and organized, and it only takes a second for Himeko to locate some specific device with a long cord. Instead of plugging it in herself, she holds the end of it out to him, like an offer rather than a demand, and Boothill visibly relaxes a bit. He still eyes it just a little warily for a second, but he accepts and plugs it into the port on his side.

Himeko pulls up the list of all recent errors, and they really are all the same. Boothill has had multiple temperature alarms over the past couple of weeks since the Charmony Festival, and they know it's not the environment, because Penacony is mostly dreamscape and kept mild year-round. The long-forgotten natural deserts are too far away.

Boothill is staring from the corner of his one good eye, so Himeko turns the hologram to let him see what she's doing easier. They don't appear to be false alarms. His internal temperature spikes and then slowly lowers again, high enough that if it lasted it would eventually cause damage.

One option is for her to start rooting through personal data, figuring out what he was doing at the time of each code, and tracing cause and correlation.

Instead, Himeko reads out the timestamps, and asks Boothill if he minds sharing what was happening around him when it occured.

Two weeks ago: He and Dan Heng went to explore Dreamflux Reef and found a bar- nice place, good atmosphere. Woman runnin’ it was a doll. Boothill left fer not even two minutes to get them drinks (Dan Heng knows like nothin’ about liquor, Madam Navigator, can you believe this guy) and when he came back, someone had already stolen his seat and was hittin’ on Dan Heng! Dan Heng didn't even care, just shooed ‘em off. Boothill laughed and said not to let him get in his way if he wanted to meet someone. Dan Heng looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why would he want to leave with someone else, when he came here to be with Boothill?

Twelve days ago: While laying low- er, just rustlin’ up some grub- in the Moment of Blue, Boothill passed Dan Heng with March and Caelus playin’ on the beach, buildin’ sandcastles and the like. When he passed by again almost two hours later, they were still out there, with Dan Heng pullin’ March through the water on her inner tube and Caelus hangin’ off the back of it. He swam so fast! You'd think he was part water snake or somethin’. He looked happier ‘n a cat in a sunbeam… He has a nice smile, doesn't he?

Eleven days ago: Boothill was killin’ time in Dreamflux Reef when he turned the corner down a shady alley and saw Dan Heng, surrounded by three men demandin’ “protection money.” None of ‘em stood a chance, they were all on the ground before Boothill even blinked! So cool! Boothill wants to see that spear of his closeup- Anyway, Dan Heng stepped on one of ‘em on his way out, hahaha! Boothill stepped on the same guy a second time as he hurried to catch up.

Eight days ago: Here on the Express, actually. Boothill had mentioned bein’ curious about the archives, and Dan Heng personally invited him.

(“I remember that day, I saw you in the hall.” “Was there any problem with the heating that day?” “No, none. I don't think the temperature has anything to do with these error codes. I have a different theory, keep going.” “If ya say so.”)

Boothill was fascinated by an entry on aeons, and from a single question he asked about Lan, the two of ‘em ended up talkin’ fer hours. About aeons and Paths and Emanators, Acheron and Self-Annihilators, the Sea of Nihility, Tiernan, the Nameless and the Galaxy Rangers, their burial relics and their customs. Dan Heng finally just started writin’ and editin’ the entries in real time, with Boothill pointin’ things out and tellin’ him what to add in. They were at it so late that Boothill ended up sleepin' on a couch in one of the cars.

He'd figured there had to be something to make Dan Heng chatty- he'd caught just a glimpse of it that first night they met, sittin’ at the bar in the Reverie together. He'll have to ask about the archives more often, if it gets him all revved up like that.

One week ago: After that night of energetic discussion, Dan Heng was apparently hyped up, because after he'd downed some of Himeko's coffee (“You had some too, right? What did you think of it?” “It was great, even better'n chewin’ bullets!” "Thank you! That was my newest brew, I can't wait for everyone else to try it.") he actually asked Boothill to go hunting with him. Boothill asked who their target was, and was surprised when Dan Heng pulled out photos that looked like they were from March's camera, of all things, instead of a bounty or wanted poster.

And as he sat there, studying these pictures, Dan Heng explained that he wanted to hunt down these specific memory zone memes to record them into the archives. Planets with so much memoria are a rarity, especially with the Stellaron's activity thrown into the mix, which has surely affected the local “wildlife.” He might not get another opportunity like this for a long time. And Boothill had talked last night about his extensive expertise in tracking and hunting, so he should have plenty to offer here, Dan Heng would like to learn from his experience and see how he does things!

And oh, Madam Navigator, by the time Dan Heng was done speakin', his eyes were practically sparklin'! Just lit up like the sun! Boothill could scarcely believe it! The two of them couldn't even wait another day, they set out that very morning. It had been a long, long while since Boothill had tracked someone- er, somethin’- without the intent to capture or kill. It was…actually really nice. Nostalgic, but in a good way. It might even have been his favorite day on Penacony…so…far…

Boothill trails off as a couple of realizations crash into him. All the temperature alarms he's spoken about thus far- they've all happened in the company of Dan Heng. And now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure even the ones he hasn't yet talked about were with him, too. Dan Heng has been responsible for all of his error codes, every. single. one.

The screen in front of Himeko suddenly refreshes to the top of the list, displaying a new notification for the current time. Alert! Core temperature above normal range.

Himeko's knowing smile is sly as a snake.

Wwwwwelp, would ya look at the time, Boothill has some errands to meet, people to run, y’know how it is, he should really get goin'-

“Oh, Mr. Boothill? About that favor.” And Boothill jolts to a stop in the doorway because fudge, he can't just leave without hearing her out. He'd given his word. He has no problem running out on someone he thinks deserves it, but Himeko really had been kind to him to try and help him out. Her voice is just as knowing as her smile, Boothill can't turn around to look at her, or else he knows he won't be able to disguise the sound of his cooling fans kicking on.

“Don't make Dan Heng wait too long, ok~?”

“Y-Yes, ma'am.”

[blairdii]

i just watched an edit of lando's win in miami and it really brought back the memories omggg. i remember how i wasn't able to watch the race since i was doing some online conference, but my friend texted me 'LANDO'S LEADING THE RACE!!!!!!' with a fuckton of keyboard smashes, and my heart fucking dropped then soared like i was on crack and suddenly pumped full of adrenaline. of course i ended up watching the last few laps of the race (whilst doing the meeting 😭), literally buzzing in my seat on the verge of tears. i still have a very frantic video of me recording the podium and vividly remember how i was freaking out over text to my boyfriend at the time. you really had to experience that win first hand to understand the utter exhilaration i felt and i hope its 100x better next season when lando wins that championship

[chifuya]

!!!!!!!!!