#this isn't even the stupidest one so far

[dkettchen]

I stg everytime I see someone in the local queer community who I'm like "isn't that (x person)" and then talk myself out of that assumption, it ALWAYS ENDS UP BEING THE PERSON I THOUGHT IT WAS AAAAHH

[mostlysignssomeportents]

What the fuck is a PBM?

TOMORROW (Sept 24), I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Terminal-stage capitalism owes its long senescence to its many defensive mechanisms, and it's only by defeating these that we can put it out of its misery. "The Shield of Boringness" is one of the necrocapitalist's most effective defenses, so it behooves us to attack it head-on.

The Shield of Boringness is Dana Claire's extremely useful term for anything so dull that you simply can't hold any conception of it in your mind for any length of time. In the finance sector, they call this "MEGO," which stands for "My Eyes Glaze Over," a term of art for financial arrangements made so performatively complex that only the most exquisitely melted brain-geniuses can hope to unravel their spaghetti logic. The rest of us are meant to simply heft those thick, dense prospectuses in two hands, shrug, and assume, "a pile of shit this big must have a pony under it."

MEGO and its Shield of Boringness are key to all of terminal-stage capitalism's stupidest scams. Cloaking obvious swindles in a lot of complex language and Byzantine payment schemes can make them seem respectable just long enough for the scammers to relieve you of all your inconvenient cash and assets, though, eventually, you're bound to notice that something is missing.

If you spent the years leading up to the Great Financial Crisis baffled by "CDOs," "synthetic CDOs," "ARMs" and other swindler nonsense, you experienced the Shield of Boringness. If you bet your house and/or your retirement savings on these things, you experienced MEGO. If, after the bubble popped, you finally came to understand that these "exotic financial instruments" were just scams, you experienced Stein's Law ("anything that can't go forever eventually stops"). If today you no longer remember what a CDO is, you are once again experiencing the Shield of Boringness.

As bad as 2008 was, it wasn't even close to the end of terminal stage capitalism. The market has soldiered on, with complex swindles like carbon offset trading, metaverse, cryptocurrency, financialized solar installation, and (of course) AI. In addition to these new swindles, we're still playing the hits, finding new ways to make the worst scams of the 2000s even worse.

That brings me to the American health industry, and the absurdly complex, ridiculously corrupt Pharmacy Benefit Managers (PBMs), a pathology that has only metastasized since 2008.

On at least 20 separate occasions, I have taken it upon myself to figure out how the PBM swindle works, and nevertheless, every time they come up, I have to go back and figure it out again, because PBMs have the most powerful Shield of Boringness out of the whole Monster Manual of terminal-stage capitalism's trash mobs.

PBMs are back in the news because the FTC is now suing the largest of these for their role in ripping off diabetics with sky-high insulin prices. This has kicked off a fresh round of "what the fuck is a PBM, anyway?" explainers of extremely variable quality. Unsurprisingly, the best of these comes from Matt Stoller:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/monopoly-round-up-lina-khan-pharma

Stoller starts by pointing out that Americans have a proud tradition of getting phucked by pharma companies. As far back as the 1950s, Tennessee Senator Estes Kefauver was holding hearings on the scams that pharma companies were using to ensure that Americans paid more for their pills than virtually anyone else in the world.

But since the 2010s, Americans have found themselves paying eye-popping, sky-high, ridiculous drug prices. Eli Lilly's Humolog insulin sold for $21 in 1999; by 2017, the price was $274 – a 1,200% increase! This isn't your grampa's price gouging!

Where do these absurd prices come from? The story starts in the 2000s, when the GW Bush administration encouraged health insurers to create "high deductible" plans, where patients were expected to pay out of pocket for receiving care, until they hit a multi-thousand-dollar threshold, and then their insurance would kick in. Along with "co-pays" and other junk fees, these deductibles were called "cost sharing," and they were sold as a way to prevent the "abuse" of the health care system.

The economists who crafted terminal-stage capitalism's intellectual rationalizations claimed the reason Americans paid so much more for health care than their socialized-medicine using cousins in the rest of the world had nothing to do with the fact that America treats health as a source of profits, while the rest of the world treats health as a human right.

No, the actual root of America's health industry's problems was the moral defects of Americans. Because insured Americans could just go see the doctor whenever they felt like it, they had no incentive to minimize their use of the system. Any time one of these unhinged hypochondriacs got a little sniffle, they could treat themselves to a doctor's visit, enjoying those waiting-room magazines and the pleasure of arranging a sick day with HR, without bearing any of the true costs:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/27/the-doctrine-of-moral-hazard/

"Cost sharing" was supposed to create "skin in the game" for every insured American, creating a little pain-point that stung you every time you thought about treating yourself to a luxurious doctor's visit. Now, these payments bit hardest on the poorest workers, because if you're making minimum wage, at $10 co-pay hurts a lot more than it does if you're making six figures. What's more, VPs and the C-suite were offered "gold-plated" plans with low/no deductibles or co-pays, because executives understand the value of a dollar in the way that mere working slobs can't ever hope to comprehend. They can be trusted to only use the doctor when it's truly warranted.

So now you have these high-deductible plans creeping into every workplace. Then along comes Obama and the Affordable Care Act, a compromise that maintains health care as a for-profit enterprise (still not a human right!) but seeks to create universal coverage by requiring every American to buy a plan, requiring insurers to offer plans to every American, and uses public money to subsidize the for-profit health industry to glue it together.

Predictably, the cheapest insurance offered on the Obamacare exchanges – and ultimately, by employers – had sky-high deductibles and co-pays. That way, insurers could pocket a fat public subsidy, offer an "insurance" plan that was cheap enough for even the most marginally employed people to afford, but still offer no coverage until their customers had spent thousands of dollars out-of-pocket in a given year.

That's the background: GWB created high-deductible plans, Obama supercharged them. Keep that in your mind as we go through the MEGO procedures of the PBM sector.

Your insurer has a list of drugs they'll cover, called the "formulary." The formulary also specifies how much the insurance company is willing to pay your pharmacist for these drugs. Creating the formulary and paying pharmacies for dispensing drugs is a lot of tedious work, and insurance outsources this to third parties, called – wait for it – Pharmacy Benefits Managers.

The prices in the formulary the PBM prepares for your insurance company are called the "list prices." These are meant to represent the "sticker price" of the drug, what a pharmacist would charge you if you wandered in off the street with no insurance, but somehow in possession of a valid prescription.

But, as Stoller writes, these "list prices" aren't actually ever charged to anyone. The list price is like the "full price" on the pricetags at a discount furniture place where everything is always "on sale" at 50% off – and whose semi-disposable sofas and balsa-wood dining room chairs are never actually sold at full price.

One theoretical advantage of a PBM is that it can get lower prices because it bargains for all the people in a given insurer's plan. If you're the pharma giant Sanofi and you want your Lantus insulin to be available to any of the people who must use OptumRX's formulary, you have to convince OptumRX to include you in that formulary.

OptumRX – like all PBMs – demands "rebates" from pharma companies if they want to be included in the formulary. On its face, this is similar to the practices of, say, NICE – the UK agency that bargains for medicine on behalf of the NHS, which also bargains with pharma companies for access to everyone in the UK and gets very good deals as a result.

But OptumRX doesn't bargain for a lower list price. They bargain for a bigger rebate. That means that the "price" is still very high, but OptumRX ends up paying a tiny fraction of it, thanks to that rebate. In the OptumRX formulary, Lantus insulin lists for $403. But Sanofi, who make Lantus, rebate $339 of that to OptumRX, leaving just $64 for Lantus.

Here's where the scam hits. Your insurer charges you a deductible based on the list price – $404 – not on the $64 that OptumRX actually pays for your insulin. If you're in a high-deductible plan and you haven't met your cap yet, you're going to pay $404 for your insulin, even though the actual price for it is $64.

Now, you'd think that your insurer would put a stop to this. They chose the PBM, the PBM is ripping off their customers, so it's their job to smack the PBM around and make it cut this shit out. So why would the insurers tolerate this nonsense?

Here's why: the PBMs are divisions of the big health insurance companies. Unitedhealth owns OptumRx; Aetna owns Caremark, and Cigna owns Expressscripts. So it's not the PBM that's ripping you off, it's your own insurance company. They're not just making you pay for drugs that you're supposedly covered for – they're pocketing the deductible you pay for those drugs.

Now, there's one more entity with power over the PBM that you'd hope would step in on your behalf: your boss. After all, your employer is the entity that actually chooses the insurer and negotiates with them on your behalf. Your boss is in the driver's seat; you're just along for the ride.

It would be pretty funny if the answer to this was that the health insurance company bought your employer, too, and so your boss, the PBM and the insurer were all the same guy, busily swapping hats, paying for a call center full of tormented drones who each have three phones on their desks: one labeled "insurer"; the second, "PBM" and the final one "HR."

But no, the insurers haven't bought out the company you work for (yet). Rather, they've bought off your boss – they're sharing kickbacks with your employer for all the deductibles and co-pays you're being suckered into paying. There's so much money (your money) sloshing around in the PBM scamoverse that anytime someone might get in the way of you being ripped off, they just get cut in for a share of the loot.

That is how the PBM scam works: they're fronts for health insurers who exploit the existence of high-deductible plans in order to get huge kickbacks from pharma makers, and massive fees from you. They split the loot with your boss, whose payout goes up when you get screwed harder.

But wait, there's more! After all, Big Pharma isn't some kind of easily pushed-around weakling. They're big. Why don't they push back against these massive rebates? Because they can afford to pay bribes and smaller companies making cheaper drugs can't. Whether it's a little biotech upstart with a cheaper molecule, or a generics maker who's producing drugs at a fraction of the list price, they just don't have the giant cash reserves it takes to buy their way into the PBMs' formularies. Doubtless, the Big Pharma companies would prefer to pay smaller kickbacks, but from Big Pharma's perspective, the optimum amount of bribes extracted by a PBM isn't zero – far from it. For Big Pharma, the optimal number is one cent higher than "the maximum amount of bribes that a smaller company can afford."

The purpose of a system is what it does. The PBM system makes sure that Americans only have access to the most expensive drugs, and that they pay the highest possible prices for them, and this enriches both insurance companies and employers, while protecting the Big Pharma cartel from upstarts.

Which is why the FTC is suing the PBMs for price-fixing. As Stoller points out, they're using their powers under Section 5 of the FTC Act here, which allows them to shut down "unfair methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The case will be adjudicated by an administrative law judge, in a process that's much faster than a federal court case. Once the FTC proves that the PBM scam is illegal when applied to insulin, they'll have a much easier time attacking the scam when it comes to every other drug (the insulin scam has just about run its course, with federally mandated $35 insulin coming online, just as a generation of post-insulin diabetes treatments hit the market).

Obviously the PBMs aren't taking this lying down. Cigna/Expressscripts has actually sued the FTC for libel over the market study it conducted, in which the agency described in pitiless, factual detail how Cigna was ripping us all off. The case is being fought by a low-level Reagan-era monster named Rick Rule, whom Stoller characterizes as a guy who "hangs around in bars and picks up lonely multi-national corporations" (!!).

The libel claim is a nonstarter, but it's still wild. It's like one of those movies where they want to show you how bad the cockroaches are, so there's a bit where the exterminator shows up and the roaches form a chorus line and do a kind of Busby Berkeley number:

https://www.46brooklyn.com/news/2024-09-20-the-carlton-report

So here we are: the FTC has set out to euthanize some rentiers, ridding the world of a layer of useless economic middlemen whose sole reason for existing is to make pharmaceuticals as expensive as possible, by colluding with the pharma cartel, the insurance cartel and your boss. This conspiracy exists in plain sight, hidden by the Shield of Boringness. If I've done my job, you now understand how this MEGO scam works – and if you forget all that ten minutes later (as is likely, given the nature of MEGO), that's OK: just remember that this thing is a giant fucking scam, and if you ever need to refresh yourself on the details, you can always re-read this post.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[plaidos]

Sorry if this is going too far with turning your inbox into the children's cartoon complaint zone, but the stuff about Grenda in Gravity falls got me thinking.

I was a teenager when Gravity Falls was coming out, and it remains one of my favorite cartoons, but rewatching it recently made me uncomfortably aware of just how much mean-spirited and offensive comedy there is throughout. Grenda as a "comic relief" character is a huge one of course, but there's just a LOT of deriving comedy from people's bodies and appearances. Plus just straightforward man-in-a-dress jokes...

There's also the fact that Alex Hirsch seems to think AAVE (or like "slang" created to be a comically heightened imitation of AAVE) is the most hilarious thing ever, but also makes sure it's always coming from on-screen white characters, as if that unproblematizes the way it's mocked? It's a CONSTANT recurring thread throughout the series.

I ended up falling off a recent rewatch for a while after hitting the episode "Soos and the Real Girl." It really hit me there with the exact way they were characterizing Soos's social incompetence and "childish" interests, oh, he's straight up supposed to be autistic. He explicitly gets obsessed with the dating sim because he likes how social interactions have predictable rules in it, unlike real life. It's hammered home *multiple* times that one of his big stated social deficiencies is an inability to make eye contact, etc. Come the fuck on. And that's fine in a vacuum, the episode ends with everyone realizing he didn't need to change himself because he could still have value as a person as long as his awkwardness was charming to a quirky chubby woman.

But all the jokes in the episode are still about how funny it is that he's socially unaware and makes other people uncomfortable or frightened. And worse, it recontextualizes the way he's used as a joke throughout the rest of the series, the way he's portrayed as stupid, as a man-child, as being abused and taken advantage of by his employer while he's oblivious to it. It's just so gross. And that's not even getting into how he's also fat and Hispanic, and he's not just mocked but *dehumanized* for comedy CONSTANTLY.

Plus that episode throws in one of the show's transphobic jokes for good measure. Isn't it so funny that you can't tell if this person in alternative fashion is a man or a woman? Isn't it funny that Soos is so autistic-- I mean socially inept-- that he openly, in public, to their face, speculates on their gender? Not like for trans people that's a nightmare scenario that carries an implicit threat of violence or anything...

And all this is absolutely not to suggest that Gravity Falls is a uniquely harmful piece of media. I know for certain if you pick any network sitcom at random, before or even since Gravity Falls, you'd find way worse examples of all of this. But it's just a bummer to now be a grown-ass fat, autistic, trans woman who can recognize some of this stuff, and realize that even the media that's most special to me thinks it's funny to be hostile to people like me, that it's not really made for me. And to recognize that it's even worse for people who are marginalized in ways that I'm not.

Anon I’m in love with you — it’s like you went down a checklist in my brain of every complaint i’ve ever had about this show. i completely, completely agree with every note here — the jokes about AAVE specifically stood out to me, especially since there’s been at least one occasion where Hirsch went on a twitter rant about how (xyz aave) is the worst, stupidest thing to ever happen to the English language (meanwhile he thinks combining the words “Bill” and “Dipper” is funny enough to include as a joke despite it being just literally putting two names together. wooow how clever and funny white people are, thank god this caucasian braingenius is protecting the sanctity of the english language from black people who make up bad new words)

also dude can’t go five seconds without putting a white person in a “cowboys and indians” style native american costume. Hirsch has a fucking major problem with the way he treats his hispanic characters & how he portrays native american mythology & culture as basically this funny stupid thing to be used as set dressing for white people.

it feels a lot like he watched The Simpsons’ (sometimes effective, sometimes ineffective) satire on racism, bigotry, and the conservative tendencies in archetypical american towns and understood that it was funny but didn’t get why and just limply recreated the jokes without the structure for it to be a satire. not that the Simpsons doesn’t fall into these same problems with racism & body shaming, but i feel like they at least have a veneer of it being “isn’t it stupid how people like Homer think like this?” rather than just “haha different culture talk funny”

and the problem is, it sucks that it’s like this because it’s so good. it feels like every time i recommend it i have to be like “a lot of the jokes have aged like milk but it’s worth it”. like i love Gravity Falls. which is why it’s important to criticise it for its flaws.

[rogueddie]

Helpless T | 497 words Prompt for steddielovemonth: Love is watching them do the stupidest things and falling harder for them every time

Steve Harrington is smart.

It's a fact, something that Eddie is entirely unwilling to move an inch on. He knows Steve is smart, far smarter than he realizes himself, and especially smarter than any of the kids give him credit for.

But, quickly, he learns not to defend Steve on his intelligence. He quickly notices how often Steve uses their assumptions.

Sometimes he'll use their assumptions to get away with shit.

Usually he uses it to play the fool, playing a little into slapstick to make the group laugh. It's so easy for him to lighten the mood, knowing exactly what each person finds especially funny.

For some reason, when it's just him and Eddie, he doesn't play into the idiot role. He's calmer, relaxed... comfortable.

"One time I got Dustin to snort," Steve says, brushing past Eddie questions. "I've been trying to get him to do it again ever since. You shoulda seen his face. Priceless."

That was a day that Eddie tries his hardest to forget though.

He'd been so distracted when Steve lifted his shirt by the hem to wipe at his face that he'd walked straight into the sliding glass doors that lead to his backyard.

Steve had rushed over, panicked, and fussed over him, despite Eddie's mumbles assurance that he was fine.

"I've done it before," Steve says, patting him on the shoulder. "It's an easy mistake to make. But there's a trick, look, here, watch. This bit, here, is only visible when the door is open."

Other than filing the fact away, Eddie didn't think anything about that specific detail.

It wasn't until, two weeks later, when the kids were arguing over something small and starting to get heated that-

Steve walks straight into the glass door, bouncing off with a comical 'thump'.

The kids are immediately distracted from their argument, Max loudly cackling, Dustin yelling his teasing comments over the burst of noise.

"Hey, come on, how was I supposed to know?" Steve complains, rubbing at his head. "It's glass, man, you can't see it!"

"Oh my god," Mike groans, rolling his eyes. "It's so obvious!"

"Alright, genius, just because you've apparently got it all figured out-" Steve taunts, hands on hips.

"You don't have to be a genius, you just need eyes!"

"Not even," Max adds. "I can get through it fine."

Eddies attention is locked on Steve, who's defences only get progressively worse.

But, when he catches Eddie's eye, he shifts a little. Like he knows he's been caught, like he knows the gig is up.

He holds a finger to his lips for a moment, winking, before turning back to the kids.

"Colored glass doesn't really count as glass though, right? That's visible. Glass isn't."

Eddie shakes his head, biting back a laugh at how much louder the kids get.

He sends Steve a subtle thumbs up when he glances over again, resolutely ignoring the butterflies wiring around his stomach when Steve grins back, wide, eyes crinkling.

[ckret2]

Chapter 44 of human Bill Cipher wishing he was trapped in the Mystery Shack again:

The Eclipse: Part 2

Gravity is disappearing, and to find out why, Ford's inspecting the sites where the fabric of spacetime might have been damaged by Weirdmageddon. Dipper's glad to come along.

Bill really, really, really isn't.

"I am genuinely offering you helpful advice, that also happens to be self-serving because you idiots wouldn't trust me if I claimed I was being charitable anyway," Bill went on, as he'd been going on for the past five minutes. "This isn't a trick! I'm not running a con! I'm completely serious: being outside during an eclipse is the stupidest thing you could do. You don't want to watch it, I want to watch it even less, staying inside is mutually beneficial!"

"Do you think I should have brought my camera?" Dipper asked, determinedly ignoring Bill as he trailed behind them.

"What for?" Ford asked, also ignoring Bill.

"I've been trying to expand my Guide to the Unexplained series this summer—I've been doing longer episodes, a couple of them are ten minutes—but I wasn't sure if we'd see anything cool and my backpack was already heavy..."

"Hmm. I suspect either there won't be anything worth seeing—or, if there is, we'll be far too busy dealing with it to record footage."

"Yeah," Dipper sighed, "I guess you're right."

"This is why my journals have more illustrations than photographs."

Bill let out a loud groan of frustration before jogging to catch up with the humans. He checked the trail ahead to make sure he wasn't about to trip, then turned to walk sideways, facing Dipper and Ford as they walked. "Okay, fine, you win. So, just to be clear—the only reason you two are dragging me out here is to check a few locations for these imaginary 'micro-rips' you think are shredding the fabric of reality apart. Right? As soon as we've checked the three places you want, it's over, you admit you were wrong, and we go back to the shack?"

"Yes, Cipher," Ford sighed. "Once we've checked those locations, if we can't find evidence that any of the areas of most concern are near the one hundred thousand micro-rip danger threshold, we'll go home. Since dimensional rips could pop up anywhere around Gravity Falls, there's a possibility there could be clusters over the danger threshold away from the three areas of concern, but with no way to guess where they might be—"

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," Bill said. "Totality is in two days, if we're back home by tomorrow night we'll still avoid it. But if you try to drag me outside again after we get back, I'm hitting everyone with the Amnesia Limina curse and nobody's going outside."

With that threat delivered, Bill cartwheeled ahead of the humans, landed on his feet, and bounded ahead in long moonwalking lopes.

"Any idea why gravity's going down faster for him than the rest of town?" Dipper asked.

"Only that, if there are rips opening between us and the Nightmare Realm, perhaps they're giving Bill back some of his powers," Ford said. "Perhaps his powers are stored in the Nightmare Realm. Although I don't know how that would work." It was a better explanation than Bill's claim that he could just float better than humans, anyway.

The bracelet around Dipper's wrist momentarily tightened as Bill reached the far end of his invisible tether, then loosened as Dipper continue forward; and then tightened a second time, and a third time. From up the trail, Bill shouted, "Would you hurry up!" 

"You slow down! Some of us still have to walk!"

But even so, the slowly decreasing gravity was making the hike noticeably easier. Their backpacks sat lighter on their shoulders, and each stride seemed to carry them a little higher and farther than they expected. They startled a deer, and then the deer startled itself with how high it jumped.

"On second thought, it might not be a good idea to take him back to the shack while this is going on," Ford said. "Even if there aren't enough micro-rips in the basement, I'm not wholly convinced it won't end up the epicenter of whatever's about to happen. And if Bill wants so badly to be so close to it..."

From further up the trail, Bill shouted, "If you were any more paranoid, you'd be asking your own shadow why it's following you!"

"If you had access to any more of your powers, you'd be possessing my shadow!"

"Ha!" Bill had stopped to perch on a fallen tree that on any other day would have been far too slender to hold an adult's weight, balanced on it like a tightrope, and waited there for the others to catch up. "Fine, we don't need to go back to the shack, whatever makes you happy! As long as we get inside. Stanley's camper, a motel room, the old Corduroy cabin—hey, the Northwest place is pretty empty these days, isn't it? Is Specs renting out rooms, or...?"

"I am not taking you to Northwest Manor," Ford said. "Fiddleford's had enough trouble without letting you into his life again." Although that was only one of several reasons Ford wanted to keep them apart. For Fiddleford's safety, they couldn't risk Bill finding out that Fiddleford had been told his identity; and, now that Bill had confessed he could see through walls, they couldn't give him a chance to peer through the manor's walls and discover the ongoing paradox fuel synthesis project.

Bill laughed in disbelief. "Oh now you're concerned about somebody else's wellbeing, when it's his—fine! Fine, fine, fine! That's just fine! That's great! Terrific!" He hopped off his perch. "No evidence of self-preservation and let's not even think about respecting the triangle's wishes, but when the hillbilly might be in imaginary danger—!"

"That 'hillbilly' is one of the most brilliant men alive and the best friend I've ever known—"

"Ha!" Angrily, Bill yelled, "Some best friend, he erased you straight out of his head! You don't even know what a best friend is!"

Ford winced—he knew he'd never been much of a friend back to Fiddleford—but while he was gearing himself up to defend himself against whatever accusation Bill lobbed next, Bill turned away from the humans and stormed up the trail, leaving them behind as the weaving path took him behind several trees.

Every couple of steps, Dipper's bracelet twitched against his wrist as Bill tried to get even further ahead and was thwarted. He chuckled. "Do you think you touched a nerve?"

The corner of Ford's mouth quirked up; but he shook his head. "He's just mad he's not getting his way. As usual."

####

"I take it this is our first destination," Bill said, hands planted on his hips, looking around the forest. "This looks like the area where Shooting Star gave me the rift."

Dipper said, "You mean the place where you tricked—"

Bill shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes. "Anyway, that aside, all the glued-shut wormholes and this are a bigger hint." He tapped the tip of one dress shoe—dusty after a walk in the woods—at the start of a long crevasse in the ground weaving through the trees.

"Yes," Ford said distractedly, taking his micro-rip scanner out of his backpack and turning it on. "This is the place." He took an initial reading, frowned, and followed the crevasse deeper into the woods.

Bill trailed along after him, gesturing at the jagged lines of bending light hanging in the air. "You did a terrible repair job, by the way. Stretching the edges of the rips to meet like that puts more stress on the reality in between the rips. You should have sutured them and let them heal naturally," Bill said. "If there are a bunch of tiny rips in the area, your own shoddy work probably caused them."

"Mm-hm," Ford said, fully focused on the scanner.

Bill's shoulders slumped. He hopped to the other side of the crack in the earth from Ford and strode ahead purposefully, ignoring him.

He glanced at a wooden sign staked next to the crack, nearly passed it, and did a double take. The sign read "MABEL'S FAULT". Bill laughed in surprise. "Who did this?"

"What—?" Dipper caught up and saw the sign. "Oh."

####

2012

Mabel's smile faded as she entered the clearing. "Oh. I... think this is the place where—Bill tricked me in Blarblar's body."

"Guess that explains all the rips in this area," Dipper said. He patted Mabel's back.

She looked down—and spotted the new crack in the ground. She gasped, immediately latching on to the distraction. "Hey, what's that! That wasn't here before!" She knelt next to the crack and peered inside. "Whoa!"

"Huh. Maybe it opened up when the rift broke?"

"How deep do you think it goes?" Mabel hopped back up, straddled the gap, and yelled down into it, "Hello!"

"Careful," Dipper said. "What if it's unstable?"

"We should give it a name," Mabel said. "It's a new geographic feature! We can put it on maps and be famous! What'll we call it?"

"Huh." Dipper stroked his chin. "Well... it looks kind of like a miniature fault line... and you were here when it formed, so I guess that kinda means you discovered it... so maybe... 'Mabel's Fault'...?"

Mabel stared at him.

Dipper's eyes widened in horror. "Oh. Ohh no."

Mabel bit her lip.

"I didn't mean it that way! I swear I didn't mean it that way—"

"Dipper!" Mabel cracked up. "We're calling it that."

"No," Dipper said, mortified. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Please please don't—"

"Grunkle Staaan, Grunkle Fooord!" Mabel took off toward where they'd last seen their grunkles. "Did you hear what Dipper said—!"

"I'm sorryyy!"

####

2013

Dipper cringed. "Look, I didn't hear it until I said it out loud, okay—"

Bill burst out in shrill cackles.

"I didn't mean it!"

"Y-you're the worst brother ever!"

Dipper groaned, contemplated climbing down into the fault, and instead settled for pulling his hat down over his face again.

Ford passed by with the scanner, shot Bill a suspicious sideways look, and demanded, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, Bill gestured at the "MABEL'S FAULT" sign.

"Oh." Ford glanced at Dipper, fought not to smile at the poor kid's embarrassment—he'd gotten enough teasing last summer—and said, "Right." He moved on.

"Hey," Bill called, "What's the score?"

Ford paused, but didn't reply.

"Well?" Bill pressed. "You're already past where the rift broke! Don't you figure that's where the most rips would be?"

Ford said, "The scanner's detecting about fourteen thousand."

Bill whistled. He meandered back to Ford's side of the fault. "Sounds like a lot. I'm telling you, the wormholes in this place should've been sutured, that's what your problem is."

"It is a lot," Ford said brusquely. He hesitated. "But."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But... it's less than a fifth of what we'd expect to see if the fabric of reality were falling apart."

"Wow. Let me pretend to be surprised." Bill made zero effort to look surprised. "That's because the fabric of reality isn't falling apart. You idiot."

Ford glared at his scanner silently.

"You fool," Bill tried. "You buffoon."

Ford rounded furiously on him. "The more you say it's nothing, the more you just convince me that you're lying!"

"Which is stupid! If you always assume I'm lying, how do you know I'm not saying 'it's nothing' to trick you into thinking it's something when it isn't!"

"I don't know! There's no way to know with you! That's why I'm checking with a scanner!" Ford pointed aggressively at the scanner. "Because I'm a scientist!"

"You're a pretty pathetic scientist if you refuse to listen when the expert on a topic tells you what's—"

"—maybe if the self-proclaimed 'expert' weren't a mythomaniac—"

"Guys," Dipper said tiredly. "You've had this argument three times. Can we move on?"

Ford closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Right."

"No," Bill said. "Not until I win it."

"Can it, Bill." Ford glanced toward the sky to orient himself, looked around for the path through the trees, and started walking. "Come on. Next site—the place where the rift closed."

Bill clenched his jaw. Under his breath, he muttered, "As if I've ever done anything in my life to make me look untrustworthy..." He glanced up as well—and his gaze lingered on the sky much longer than Ford's.

####

"So I was thinking about what we could do after this," Dipper said, looking hopefully up at Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to drag himself out of his thoughts and look at Dipper. "Yes? You mean after..."

"After the ecl—" Dipper winced, "the... rips get sealed, or whatever's going on." He'd pulled out his journal and was holding it hopefully. "Maybe... I could show you the research I've been doing on the Fremont Nightwigglers? I think they've been stealing pants in town."

He gave Dipper a little more attention. "Is this one of their migration years?" 

"Yeah, I think so! One was caught on a security camera—or at least what looks like one. Here." Dipper flipped open to the two-page spread he was currently working on and held it up for Ford to inspect.

He studied the pictures, smiling slightly. "Would you look at that. Very impressive research. I only experienced one migration during my time in Gravity Falls, and they'd all but moved on by the time I caught wind of it. Never even saw one—I had to interview the townspeople to get a description of them."

"Really? I don't remember seeing them in your journals."

"Ah, they never made it in. I was focused on compiling magical spells and artifacts for Journal 2 at the time. I took some notes with the thought of putting them in Journal 1, but never felt like I'd collected enough information to write about them—especially when I hadn't witnessed one myself," Ford said. "You've already collected more here than I ever did. I wasn't even sure they were real!"

Dipper's face lit up. "Really? It's not that much—I still haven't found one yet either, it's mostly interviews about the crime spree."

"It's more real investigative work than I did on them. I only got as far as asking a couple of people at the diner to describe the local stories. You've got the dates and times they've been hitting the stores."

"I guess so." Dipper beamed proudly. "I haven't heard any 'local stories' about them, though. I only recognized them from a documentary I saw on Californian cryptids."

"That might be the Blind Eye's handiwork. Everyone recognized the name when I lived here. I'll see if I can dig up the notes I took, you might find the information valuable," Ford said. "I'm not sure where I left them, but they're probably still somewhere in my study."

"Scrapbook in your study on the top right corner of your desk," Bill said. "Under the box of glue bottles. You're welcome."

Ford threw him an irritated look. Bill had gotten ahead of them while Ford was looking at Dipper's journal, and now he was crouched beside a creek, scooping up handfuls of water, momentarily inspecting them, and letting them spill back out. The eye on the hood stared balefully up at Ford from Bill's back.

Ford asked, "What in the world are you doing."

"Communing with the dread harbingers of the coming eclipse," Bill said flatly. "You can't see them of course, they're invisible to you."

"Of course." Ford muttered, "I don't know why I bother to ask."

Under his breath, Bill mumbled, "Don't know why he bothered to ask."

Ford studied the creek and checked his map. They were hiking east toward the lake, with the town to their south and the cliff to the north; the creek ran north to south in front of them. On the other side of the creek, southeast of them, was a thicker, overgrown part of the woods, the shadows between the trees darker and quieter. "This seems like a safe place to wait," Ford said. "Dipper, you stay here while I scan the next site. Keep him out of trouble."

Dipper nodded. Bill cast Ford a sullen look, then rolled his eye and looked back at the water.

"After I've checked the next spot, we'll follow the cliffside to the lake," Ford said, pointing northeast, away from the dark area of the forest. "If there's still daylight, we can take a boat behind Trembley Falls and set up camp inside the cave."

"Sounds good." Dipper looked at Bill's tiny borrowed backpack. "You... didn't bring a tent, did you."

"Sorry, do you think I have a tent to bring?" Bill asked. "Do you expect me to slide an entire tipi out of my—"

Ford interrupted, "Dipper, you brought a tent, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then that's sufficient. You can share my tent and we'll set up Bill's as far from ours as possible. We'll be safer that way."

Bill ignored the implicit accusation with silent dignity.

Dipper nodded. "Good idea." 

"Now, let's see..." Ford studied the creek. It was much wider than he could usually jump, but under the current gravity conditions... He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times, testing how light he currently felt; then took a few steps back, got a running start, and with a "hup!" leaped across the creek. He cleared it by several feet and almost ran into a tree.

Dipper gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dipper! Just... don't know my own strength." How low was gravity now, he wondered? He could see grass swaying beneath the surface of the creek. It hadn't rained lately; without as much gravity, even water was being pulled down less, letting it rise higher and flood the creek's banks. He hoped they figured out how to reverse this before the lake flooded. When they made it into the cave, they'd have to camp on high ground. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dipper side-eyed Bill; but when he kept gazing into the water without a word, Dipper said suspiciously, "What, no complaints about camping?"

"What's there to complain about?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, you've complained about everything else so far."

"This is the only part of your expedition that isn't a terrible idea," Bill said. "I love camping! Hypothetically. The Nightmare Realm isn't known for picturesque campgrounds. But hey, I like being surrounded by trees. And a private tent? Deluxe accommodations! It's just too bad you'll be dragging the mood down."

"Hey."

Bill laughed. "You're too easy."

Dipper scowled. "You don't seem like the type to be into camping."

"Why not?"

Dipper thought about it. "Man, I dunno, you just—seem like a city person? You're always talking about how much you want to throw wild parties, that's basically the opposite of camping in the woods."

"Is it?" Bill asked. "Welcome to the cult of Dionysus."

Given what Dipper could remember about Dionysus from the book of Greek mythology he'd read in sixth grade, he supposed wild parties and hanging out in the woods weren't mutually exclusive. So what was it about Bill that made Dipper feel so strongly that he wouldn't be caught dead roughing it?

Finally, Dipper said, "I guess it's the top hat and bow tie."

"They're not a top hat and bow tie."

He gave Bill a perplexed look. "Really? What are they?"

"Did you ever read that horror story about the bride with a velvet ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, and when her new husband unties it, her head falls off her neck and bounces down the stairs—?"

Dipper shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

Bill laughed.

After a brief silence, he finally dragged his eyes away from the water and impressively flicked a couple of mosquitoes out of the air with a finger. (Dipper wished he could do that. His arms were coated in soothsquito bite messages. He wondered what "BURN TACK" was supposed to mean.) Bill took off his backpack, rummaged around in it, and muttered, "I should've brought a book." He looked around the bank of the creek for a patch of sunlight, pushed his sleeves and leggings up to expose as much skin as possible, and flopped down in the light, eyes shut and hands laced on his chest over the backpack.

Dipper supposed that meant he was being ignored. He took his journal back out and flipped to the section on the Nightwigglers. He'd need some empty space to add Ford's local folklore once they got home. Was there any open space in the next few pages?

"It really shouldn't be called 'Mabel's Fault,'" Bill said out of the blue. "It's not her fault. It should be called 'Bill's Fault.' I'm the one who made it, aren't I?"

Dipper lowered his journal. "Sorry, are you actually accepting blame for something? You're admitting you did something wrong?"

Bill didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not 'accepting blame,' I'm claiming credit. Weirdmageddon was great. Can't help that you're all too boring to see that."

"But you said 'Bill's Fault.' Not 'Bill's Triumph' or something."

"Sure, because we're talking about a geological fault. Don't read too deep into it, kid."

"Pff, no, you definitely said it was your fault. I can't believe Grunkle Ford missed that—"

Bill abruptly sat up. "Hey. What's the 'next site.'"

"What?"

Bill counted off on his fingers, "Six-Fingers said there are four sites you want to hit, right? The place where the rift formed, the place Weirdmageddon started, the place the rift was during Weirdmageddon, and the place Weirdmageddon ended. The rift formed at the portal—been there—Weirdmageddon started at the fault—been there—during Weirdmageddon it was in the sky—going there tomorrow—so where did Weirdmageddon end? Wasn't it in the sky too?"

"Oh," Dipper said. "It's just. Y'know. It's just a... place."

Bill gave him a sharp look.

Dipper swallowed hard. "No big deal. Just... trees and stuff."

Bill flipped up his eye patch, staring in the direction Ford had disappeared. Dipper could see the white of his eye turning red.

"Hey!" Dipper got in front of Bill, trying to block the view of the forest. "It's nothing important. You—you wouldn't even be interested. Really."

Bill just stared straight through Dipper. And then, before Dipper could react, Bill was on his feet and bolting past him. By the time Dipper turned around Bill was already across the creek, following the path Ford had taken.

"No no no, come back!" Dipper jumped the creek and sprinted after Bill, shouting, "Don't go that way, you can't go that way, Bill—"

There was a dark, quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest, as if no animals had dared visit the area for nearly a year, leaving it to choke itself on its own greenery. Bill was headed straight for the heart of it. He moved through the trees like a swimmer through underwater ruins, kicking off trunks to propel himself forward, grabbing branches to help twist his body around and between them without slowing down—more flying than running, gravity hardly seeming to touch him at all.

He barreled past Ford and his scanner without even acknowledging him. Ford gasped, "Wait—" He turned the direction Bill had come from.

Dipper was squeezing between two trees and tripped over a hidden root. "Grunkle Ford—!"

"Dipper! You still have the bracelet!" Ford pointed, "Run the other direction!"

"Right!" He turned around and squeezed back between the dense trees.

And Ford took off after Bill.

Wild brambles tore at Bill's skin and ripped at his hoodie; he ignored the pain, letting the prickles bite into him as he forced his way through the shrubs—

And then he stood in the clearing, gasping in unsteady breaths, his wide unblinking eyes staring.

In front of him, wide unblinking eye staring vacantly into the trees, was his corpse.

"Bill!" Ford fought against the brambles, trying to figure out how Bill had gotten through. "Don't touch it! We don't know what could happen—"

Bill lunged for the statue.

The bracelet snapped tight around his wrist. Bill's fingers were inches away from his corpse's outstretched hand.

Thirty feet away, Dipper's bracelet went tight while he was trying to scramble over an ancient log. He awkwardly tried to keep his balance on the log; rather than risk toppling back in Bill's direction, he flung his weight the other way, keeping the invisible thread between them taut by leaning so far over that if it weren't for the bracelet holding him up he'd fall to the forest floor.

Bill fell to his knees, clawing at the dirt and grass with his free hand and feet, desperate to drag himself closer in spite of the completely immovable bracelet.

It seemed impossible to Ford that the thin invisible thread wrenching Bill's arm back would hold him for long; Bill would sooner dislocate his own shoulder to gain those last few inches. Ford fell out of the brambles and seized one of Bill's legs. "Bill—"

Bill tried to kick Ford in the face. "You KNEW!" he shrieked. "You knew I was here this WHOLE TIME and you NEVER TOLD ME, you ANIMALS! I could have had my body back! I COULD BE HOME!"

That was exactly what Ford was afraid of. Gritting his teeth, Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's torso and the other around his neck, struggling to get enough purchase on the torn-up ground to move Bill.

Wheezing for breath, Bill tried to kick out one of Ford's knees. Ford took advantage of the split second one of Bill's feet wasn't dug in to drag him back; he only managed to move him a few inches.

But a few inches of slack on the invisible thread was enough to throw off Dipper's balance. He instinctively tried to flail back upright, overcorrected, and tumbled off the log the wrong way. "No—!"

Bill lunged out of Ford's hold, scrabbled across the last few inches to his corpse, and planted his hand on his stone face.

He froze.

Ford froze.

Nothing happened.

"N..." Bill grabbed his arm, grabbed his hand, as though trying to shake on a deal with his own body; nothing. "No." He sounded more confused than anything. "No, no, nonono..."

He hung off the statue by his grip, pressed his forehead against their joined hands. And then he let go and slowly put his trembling hand on the dead face. And then he sat there, breathing shakily, every few seconds sucking in a hitching gasp that made his shoulders jerk.

Ford gingerly got to his feet, brushed his clothes off, and looked at Bill. He didn't move for a moment; then reached for Bill's shoulder; then stopped, curled his hand into a ball, clasped it behind his back, and turned away. "Dipper," he called. "You can come back. It's..." He cast one last glance at Bill, then forced himself to look away. "It's safe."

By the time Dipper caught up, Ford had made his way back into the overgrowth, leaving Bill alone in the clearing. Dipper started, "What...?" but fell silent when he saw Ford's face. He looked past him at Bill and winced.

Ford shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "We should give him..." Dipper nodded.

Bill remained kneeling for less than a minute. Then he leaned forward, used his sleeve to wipe some of the moss off of his dead eye and the bird crap off his hat and hand, and unsteadily heaved himself back to his feet. He moved like he was very, very old. He glanced over his shoulder at Ford and Dipper. "What're you two staring at." His voice sounded like somebody was attempting to strangle him and his smile looked like a zombie had pulled its skin back on wrong. "You should've said you were waiting on me. I was just..." His eyes briefly unfocused. He shook his head. "Just taking a break." His cheeks were dry. He hadn't even cried.

They stepped back as Bill wove around the brambles. Dipper swallowed hard and asked, "Are you alr—"

"Of course I am." Bill plodded mechanically toward the path out of the dense dark woods. 

Ford asked, "Do you want t—"

"What I want is to get wherever we're pitching our tents before nightfall." Bill pulled his eyepatch back in place. "You're making us camp, right?"

They had no choice. If they wanted to get to the top of Trembley Falls, reach Gravity Peak, and get back down the same day, they had to be ready to ascend in the morning. They couldn't afford to go back to the shack tonight. "Are you s—"

"What were the readings like," Bill asked.

Ford hadn't even gotten as far as taking readings around the statue; he'd still been checking the perimeter of the overgrown zone when Bill ran past. He looked for where he'd dropped his scanner, picked it up, and checked. "215 micro-rips detected. Higher than baseline levels, but—not even as high as readings around the portal."

Voice thick with venom, Bill said, "What a surprise."

When the forest had brightened again and the creek was visible, Bill turned to travel upstream alongside it. Dipper pointed across the creek at Bill's backpack. "You forgot your..."

"Right," Bill said tiredly. He hopped across the creek. 

And gasped in shock when, instead of floating across as before, he landed heavily in the middle of the creek. He squeezed his eye shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, silent inhale; and then he climbed out and grabbed his backpack. This time, he put enough force behind his jump to make it back across the creek. 

Dipper and Ford exchanged a look. Ford said, "Do you need a minute to dry—?"

"No."

"You could catch a cold in those damp—"

"I knew how germ theory works on your planet when your gill-breathing ancestors were still swimming around in their own feces," Bill snapped. "When I say 'no,' it's not because I don't understand, it's because I don't care. Don't treat me like I'm ignorant and don't act like you care."

Ford's jaw tightened. No, he didn't care. Bill accepted basic human decency as easily as he offered it. "Fine. Catch pneumonia."

"Fine!"

Ford pushed past Bill to lead the way to the lake. He tried not to notice how Bill was trembling.

####

Maybe ten minutes passed in silence before Ford worked up the nerve to say, "You—know why we didn't tell you." It was the closest he'd get to an apology.

Bill was silent for a long moment. "Of course I do." It was the closest he'd get to accepting it. "When I get my power back, I'm going to invent a very clumsy, easily startled species of bird whose feathers are scalpel blades. And then I'm unleashing a million in the shack, barricading the doors, and blowing an air horn."

Dipper grimaced. Ford muttered, "Thanks for reminding us not to feel too bad for you."

Bill let out a raw, broken laugh.

It was a very quiet hike to the edge of the lake. 

####

After spending the first half of the expedition trying to hurry Ford and Dipper up, now Bill was the anchor slowing them down. He trudged so slowly that Dipper kept having to stop to give his bracelet a little slack; but Bill kept moving, and Ford and Dipper agreed without speaking not to say anything about it.

By the time they reached the lake, the sun was just touching the rim of the mountain curling west around Gravity Falls. The water had risen so far, it flooded the roots of the trees nearest the shore. Far down the shore, distant dark dots, locals were doing cannonballs off the submerged pier, reveling in how high they could jump, how slowly they fell, and how their splashes hung suspended in the air.

Under the unusual conditions and with night coming on, Ford decided that it wasn't safe to try to set out for the cave under the falls. They'd camp on shore and start in the morning.

This, unsurprisingly, started another fight with Bill. "If we were falling behind, you should have said so, I'd have picked it up—!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to imply you were too ignorant to tell the time—"

"The time isn't the issue, I just didn't think you'd give up for the night before it's even civil twilight—!"

Dipper just found a low hill to pitch his tent on.

When Bill noticed, he broke off the argument, flung his hands in the air in defeat, and crouched by the lake to sulk and study the water. He reflexively scratched his arm, pushed up his sleeve with a frown, and read the soothsquitos' message. "'Deeth in the mourning,'" he muttered. "What's deeth? That's not a word."

Maybe they'd been trying to spell teeth, Ford thought. Why would they warn Bill about teeth?

Ford pitched his tent, he and Dipper made a fire, and they attempted to reconstitute some of Ford's dehydrated astronaut food to mixed success. Bill stayed by the lake and tried to eat the cereal he'd brought, but gagged on the second handful and decided dinner wasn't worth the effort.

As Ford cleaned up after dinner, Dipper rummaged through his backpack. "Hey, Grunkle Ford. So..." He pulled out a portable chess kit. "I brought this to Gravity Falls back when I thought this would be a normal summer and I thought we might go camping? And, well, here we are, and I guess things are kiiinda weird, but, I mean... might as well...?"

Fiord smiled wanly. "I think that's just what we need to unwind."

They unrolled Dipper's canvas chess board and took several tries to set up the pieces on the uneven surface. Ford let Dipper take white; he figured the younger and less experienced player could use the advantage of going first.

Bill wandered over with a can of cider early in the match and crouched at the edge of the firelight to watch. He had rolled his sleeves back down, tied his bow tie, and flipped up his hood, and in the dimming flickering light he looked disconcertingly like his real self. He hadn't bothered to stuff his hair into his hood, and it gave the impression that some strange golden internal organs were spilling out of a gash beneath Bill's eye.

After watching for several minutes, Bill said, "Dibs on playing the winner."

Ford and Dipper said, "No."

"Why not!"

"Because we don't like you," Dipper said.

"Oh, come on." Bill ignored Dipper, turning toward Ford. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"

"I remember that you're an incorrigible cheat and made every game miserable," Ford said.

Bill reeled back. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood, yet somehow the shadow gave off the impression of fury. He chugged half his cider, unslung his backpack, and dug around inside it. "Who wants to play against humans anyway." He unscrewed a bottle of cold medicine, topped off his cider, and poured the concoction down his throat. "Ugh. You're not even any good. Black's got mate in three and I bet neither of you can see it."

Ford and Dipper stared at the board, trying to find the looming checkmate.

Bill stood. "I'm gonna go hallucinate, pass out, and hallucinate some more. More fun than hanging out with a couple of nerdy losers playing a stupid game of..." He trudged off toward his tent, muttering to himself.

Ford concluded that Bill was probably making up the mate in three—although not confidently—and returned to the game with a sigh. "It will be nice to drop him back in the shack," he muttered.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

Ford won—not in three moves—and they started a new game. Several minutes in, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford? Do you really think the micro-rip theory...?"

Ford pursed his lips, but admitted, "Out of all the locations of concern, you could argue that the spot in the sky where the rift spent a week floating has the highest probability of sustaining lasting damage, so we still need to check. But..." He shook his head. "Based on the empirical evidence—I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Dipper's shoulders relaxed; part of him had worried questioning the Acceptable Theory would be taken as disloyalty. "Then, what do you think about Bill's...?"

Ford snorted. "'Gravitational eclipse' explanation?" He propped his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'm only certain of two things: Bill knows exactly what's going on; and he's hiding something he doesn't want us to know. Everything he's told us so far is what he wants us to think is the truth, and because of that, any of it could be lies. He hasn't given us anything we can independently verify in any way—just vague claims he expects us to take his word for and refuses to elaborate on. Even if he is telling the truth, it doesn't matter. We have to act like... not like he's lying, per se; but like what he says has no correlation with whether it's true."

And thus had been the case with everything Bill had said and done since his capture. Every power he claimed he still had, and every power he acted like he'd lost. Every bit of magical, historical, or interdimensional trivia he spouted off to make himself sound smarter. Every sweet thing he'd said to Mabel, every favor he'd offered Stan—and every time he'd told Ford he wanted to be "friends."

Dipper nodded. "Mabel says that's just how Bill talks. He doesn't care about whether what he's saying is true, he just tells you what he thinks should be true."

Ford would have to keep that in mind when talking to Bill in the future. "That girl's a wizard with Bill. Maybe she's right." Still—he had a hard time believing that figuring out what Bill was really saying had actually been that simple all along. (Maybe he just didn't want it to be that simple, after all the time he'd wasted.)

Ford glanced down at the ring the Hand Witch had gifted him. The first time she'd given it to him in the eighties, she'd told him that if the ring ever turned black, he'd chosen the wrong friends and doomed himself. He couldn't tell if it was just the firelight, but as he looked in the deep blue cabochon now, he swore he saw a swirl of black spiraling beneath the surface. He wished he knew what that meant—was he supposed to trust Bill more, or had he already absentmindedly taken something Bill had said on faith that he shouldn't have? Had that swirl first appeared only now during the eclipse, or when Ford had started studying the miniature grimoire Bill had gifted him? Was it even due to Bill? Ford hadn't studied mood-ring-o-mancy.

Dipper snuck a rook onto Ford's back row. "Checkmate."

Ford huffed. "Well done." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed Dipper lining his rook up.

Dipper pushed Ford's king over. It dramatically fell in slow motion.

They packed up the chess board, put out the campfire, and slept uneasily.

####

In spite of the sedative cold medicine, Bill couldn't get any decent sleep. It wasn't even a good trip. Every time he shut his eyes for a few minutes, he hallucinated/dreamed that he was locked back in the shack staring at the high attic ceiling, or staring silently at Soos's bedroom—or watching over the town graveyard from high above; or locked like a hunting trophy in a glass display case in some local hick's darkened den; kidnapped and tied up beneath Gideon's bed; closed in a dark airless leather box; preserved like an ancient relic in the museum; hovering above Gravity Falls' valley and trees in the still night sky —

—or petrified in the middle of a quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest. 

Or still in the tent but with his head wrenched around wrong, unable to move or feel his limbs, staring out at an angle that should have been impossible—until he awoke with lungs heaving to find his body was right and he wasn't dead; only for the humanity of his shape to reassert itself and he envied the stone corpse.

He crawled out of his tent, threw up his ill-advised concoction of cider and cold medicine, and collapsed, slipping in and out of a delirious doze until morning.

####

(I have been so looking forward to inflicting this chapter on y'all. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, and if you thought that was bad then stay tuned for things getting even worse for Bill!! 🎉)

[khywren]

「 Prelude to Your Undoing 」

summary: “Why else would you come find me in the middle of the night?” She asks. “I'd be flattered if you just wanted to exchange pleasantries, but we both know that's not the case, is it?”

“Oh, come now,” Astarion says, his voice practically dripping with lust. “I can think of several reasons to seek out the pleasure of your company after dark,” he insists, his emphasis deliberate. He's deflecting again.

Tav meets him head on. “All right, then, why are you here?”

---

Tav has a way of making Astarion feel vulnerable in ways he's never felt before. He finds this new development rather disconcerting.

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader/f!Tav rating: 18+ MDNI status: complete tags/warnings: vaginal sex, blowjobs, blood drinking, porn with feelings, smut, soft Astarion, mild angst, reader-insert, unnamed reader/Tav word count: 5.5k spoiler warning: nothing outside of a small mention about Astarion's past.

a/n: written in the third person - reader is referred to as Tav but is otherwise generic and not described. crossposted from AO3.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The first time Astarion allows himself to feel vulnerable around Tav is the first night he drinks her blood.

When she suddenly awakens just before his fangs sink into her neck, Astarion jumps back in a panic, certain that she's going to drive a stake through his chest, or at the very least alert the others who will likely do the job themselves.

But she doesn't. Instead, she hears Astarion out, listens to him confide in her just how weak he is. He doesn't go into further detail about how ravenous he is for even a drop of her blood, lest it scare her off. 

He's used to feeling powerless, but that doesn't make the admission wound his pride any less.

When Tav accepts his proposition without a second thought, he cannot help but be surprised. It's an incredibly generous thing for her to do, and perhaps one of the stupidest. But Astarion knows that, fool or not, her blood will be the sweetest he has ever tasted.

He isn't disappointed. When his fangs pierce her throat and she cries out beneath him, it only makes the warm blood that rushes over his tongue all the more delicious.

When the deed is done, she smiles sweetly at him, her blood still welling up from the pinprick marks on her skin. Astarion swipes a finger across the wound and savors one final taste of her, fighting every urge within him to sate himself on every last drop of her delicious essence.

She doesn't judge him for being weak, for practically having to beg for her blood. Faintly, he considers that she might pity him for appearing so frail, that for her, this may be something akin to nurturing a dying animal back to health.

And he hates it.

————————————

It happens again several weeks later, at the tiefling party in their encampment. Astarion lingers alone outside his tent, watching the partygoers, nursing a bottle of the most disgusting wine he can ever recall pouring down his throat. But there are far too many people here for him to even consider staying sober.

A few of the tieflings catch his eye, hoping to entice him, but he pretends not to notice. There isn't much point in seducing someone who he's never going to see again, someone whose use doesn't extend beyond a few quick moments of pleasure.

His gaze flicks across the camp, searching, before at last he finds her. Tav is sitting just within her tent, legs crossed, hair tied back and the loose ends tucked behind her ears, sketchbook in hand. 

Astarion has seen her do this before, once or twice. It's how she documents their travels, as if they're all on some merry adventure and aren't infected with Illithid parasites that may detonate their brain matter at a moment's notice.

It would almost be endearing if it wasn't so delusional.

Tonight his boredom and his curiosity get the better of him, and he saunters over towards her, drawing her attention briefly as he cranes his neck to see what she's been up to as her fingers sketch out quick lines in charcoal.

She's created a remarkably accurate image of Wyll as he dances around the fire, hand-in-hand with a delighted tiefling girl who giggles shyly and leans into his touch.

“Ahh,” Astarion drawls, “So it's our darling Wyll who's captivated your attention. How cute. I'm sure he'd dance with you if you asked him.”

Tav is immediately flustered by Astarion's teasing, covering her drawing to stop him from jumping to any other conclusions. It's adorable, really, how easy it is to play with her like this. She's far more susceptible to his playful banter than any of their other companions, and he can't stop himself from having fun.

“Oh, no, it's nothing like that!” she insists adamantly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “He's just a very good subject, that's all.”

Astarion can almost feel the warmth of the blood that stains her cheeks as the tantalizing aroma caresses his senses. He wonders briefly if she'd let him taste her again tonight, once all the celebrations have died down. It's all he can do not to lick his lips, as if the taste of her blood somehow lingers from the last time she let him feed from her.

She's speaking to him again now, drawing him out of his reverie.

“... and anyway, it's not like he's the only one I've drawn. Would you...” She hesitates for a moment, gathering up the courage to continue. “Would you like to see the ones I've made of you?”

Astarion quirks a brow, suddenly far more interested in the conversation.

“Certainly, love. I just hope you've captured my good side. And in halfway decent lighting.”

Tav thumbs through the pages of her sketchbook, and Astarion catches quick glimpses of some of their other party members: Shadowheart performing her nightly meditations, Gale reading a particularly massive tome. Karlach playing fetch with Scratch.

Finally, she finds what she's looking for and hands the book to Astarion, who cradles the spine in the palm of his hand before studying what's on the pages Tav has selected for him.

She's drawn several portraits from various angles, each and every one a perfect encapsulation of Astarion's angular features. He hardly has time to process the fact that this is the closest thing he's seen to his own reflection in over 200 years before he notices it: in every drawing, his expression looks pensive, distant. There's more than a touch of sadness in the eyes that stare back accusingly at him.

He can't bear to look at the drawings any longer, not when they betray the emotions he has spent so long crafting the perfect mask to hide. It's so much easier to avoid prying questions if he can simply play the charmer; after all, it's what he knows best, it's how he knows how to protect himself. A few well-placed compliments have gotten him much further than a blade in most circumstances.

Astarion's brows knit together, and he grimaces reflexively. Tav chews her lip before snatching the sketchbook back and slams it shut. “I'm sorry, do you not like them?” She sounds disappointed.

“Do I always look like that?” Astarion asks instead, avoiding her question.

Tav hesitates, clearly sensing whatever internal turmoil Astarion is experiencing at this new revelation. She decides that it's best to be honest with him.

“I just draw what I see. But I still think you look rather handsome, if it's any consolation.”

Astarion smiles wryly at her and drains the rest of his wine. Leave it to Tav to try her best to soften the blow.

Earlier, he was contemplating what he might say to convince her to follow him into the woods behind their camp after everyone else fell asleep. A few honeyed words to loosen her clothes, and he'd have her wrapped around his finger like so many others before her. But now the thought of sleeping with her after she's all but exposed him for the fraud he is seems quite pathetic, and he casts the entire plot aside.

Instead, he thanks her dryly for the compliment and retires to his tent, left alone with nothing but his thoughts.

Tav knows too much.

————————————

Tonight, Astarion considers confronting Tav about what's been bothering him, to discover if her assumptions are merely innocent and baseless speculation or something deeper. The more she knows, the more difficult it will be to manipulate her into falling for his schemes of self-preservation.

He needs her to be malleable.

She's volunteered for the first watch of the evening, and as the sun sinks below the horizon, he spots her sitting at the top of the ruined tower that rises at the edge of their camp, her silhouette plainly visible against the backdrop of the stars that blanket the cloudless sky.

He climbs the winding staircase slowly, using the time to consider his course of action. He makes no effort to mask the sound of his footsteps as he typically does, and she hears him before he emerges onto the terrace, her expression questioning the reason for his sudden appearance.

“Feeling restless?” Tav asks, breaking the ice.

“Something like that,” Astarion confesses, settling himself a few paces away from her. She's found a few old cushions from somewhere around the ruins they've chosen to make camp in for the night, and they're far more comfortable to sit on than the dusty stonework that makes up most of the tower.

“I'm sure you must know how dreadful it is to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts rattling around inside your skull. If only this damned tadpole would feed on some of those, it might not be so bad.” He chuckles at the thought, but it's a hollow laugh devoid of any real mirth.

Tav mirrors Astarion's laugh and leans back, stretching her weary muscles. “Are you brooding, Astarion? How very unbecoming of you.”

“Oh, it's nothing that scandalous, I assure you,” he quips back, avoiding playing his hand too early. This is still not a conversation he wants to have, no matter how much avoiding it for so long has gotten under his skin like an itch he can't quite scratch.

“Hmm, I'm not so sure about that,” Tav replies coolly. “I think I know enough about you by now to know that nothing about you is as straightforward as you'd like everyone to think it is.”

She glances briefly at him and Astarion studies her expression, but he can find nothing to hint at her motivations in the casual look she throws his way.

“I'm curious, then,” he says after a few moments of tense silence lapse between them. “About what you think you know about me. Shall we test your clairvoyance?”

Tav tilts her head to the side and ponders the question.

“That's easy,” she says finally. “One, you have a flair for the dramatic. Two, you think heroics are for arrogant fools and those who are too delusional to know better.”

She isn't wrong, but these observations are barely more than surface level. Astarion feels the relief wash over him; it seems like he's been worrying for nothing.

“And three,” Tav continues, “... you wish you could open up to people, but you don't really know how. And I think that bothers you more than you'd like to admit.”

Astarion stares at her in disbelief, and he finds his jaw clenching before he swallows the lump that's suddenly in his throat. He forces his face back into a perfect, stoic mask before Tav says anything about it the lapse in his demeanor.

“I'll have to concede the first two points, but that last one? Darling, what ever gave you a silly little idea like that?” He slips back into his typical mischievous mannerisms, the tips of his fangs bared in a silent warning despite the smile he offers.

Tav does not heed the warning and presses on, her curiosity getting the better of her. This is the sincerest discussion she has ever had with Astarion, and it would be a shame to back out now before she's bothered to discover anything worthwhile.

“Why else would you come find me in the middle of the night?” She asks. “I'd be flattered if you just wanted to exchange pleasantries, but we both know that's not the case, is it?”

“Oh, come now,” Astarion says, his voice practically dripping with lust. “I can think of several reasons to seek out the pleasure of your company after dark,” he insists, his emphasis deliberate. He's deflecting again.

Tav meets him head on. “All right, then, why are you here?”

No going back now.

“That's what I like best about you, you know,” Astarion responds, the praise barely masking his growing anxiety. “Straight to business. Quick-witted and easy on the eyes. You're the whole package, darling.” The irony of his trying to prolong the inevitable is not lost on either of them.

“Astarion.”

“Fine,” he huffs, not unlike a petulant child. “It's not like this is an easy subject to broach. Frankly, I'd rather not do it at all, but every time I look at you, I feel... well, I don't know what it is I'm feeling, but I don't like it.” The frown on his face contorts his typically handsome features into something almost grotesque. “How do you handle it?”

“Handle what?” Tav asks.

“Being vulnerable. Weak.”

It's a backhanded remark, but Tav ignores the accusation that Astarion throws at her nonetheless. “I suppose I'm like you. I try to hide it. It's not like I enjoy feeling inadequate any more than you do.” She regards him sincerely, imploring him to hear her out.

“But for what it's worth, I don't think that having to rely on others is a sign of weakness. Other people can be your greatest strength, if you let them. Whoever - whatever - you were before the nautiloid, it doesn't have to define you any longer.”

Astarion laughs, the sound harsh and sharp. “You've seen right through me, haven't you? You know nothing, and yet somehow you know everything.”

Whatever discomfort Tav feels, she does her best to keep it at bay. Seeing Astarion in such a state is foreign, and she doesn't quite know what to make of it.

“It's not like you made it difficult,” she explains. “When you're with the others, you put on a smile and joke with them like you don't have a care in the world, but I've seen the way you look when you're on your own. How you are when you think no one else is looking.”

Astarion recalls the drawings Tav showed him once before and feels his skin crawl.

“It's okay if --”

“Don't. Don't say it,” Astarion bites the words out, his patience running thin. This whole ordeal has clearly been nothing short of a mistake on his part. “I don't need your pity.”

Tav recoils as though his words are a brand against her skin. She wasn't expecting her prying to cut him so deeply. When she looks at Astarion now, his expression is unreadable, masked both by the increasing darkness of the evening and the thoughts roiling around inside his mind.

“Then would you settle for my friendship?”

Tav reaches out to gently clasp his hand. Her warmth is comforting, and he finds his anger receding. The smile he finds himself giving her is genuine, perhaps the only truly authentic gesture he's ever offered her.

“Yes...” he says after some time. “A friend.” The word feels strange in his mouth, the entire idea of companionship without the obligation of sex something he hasn't had the clarity to consider before.

As Tav studies his face, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and the gentleness in the curve of his mouth, she feels her cheeks warming. Damn him. Even when he isn't trying, it's far too easy for Astarion to disarm her with nothing more than a simple glance.

If only she could still the rapid thundering of her heart.

“Well,” he laughs, “it's nice to know that I'm still as charming as ever. I was afraid that I was losing that particular talent, if you were any indication.”

“I never said you weren't,” Tav almost pouts, struggling to regain her composure. “I may be a lot of things, but I'm certainly not blind.”

“And you have impeccable taste, darling. Although, how could anyone blame you?” Tav is dismayed to find that he's put up the mask again. It's effortless, instinctual. No matter how much Astarion may want to open himself up, the reluctance to expose himself to further anguish is still there.

Maybe, after this is all over, he can allow himself to be completely vulnerable. But until then, he cannot silence the voice that tells himself that what he needs most for the time being is simply to survive by any means possible.

They've grown far too close in the interim and he can feel her warmth, the familiar scent of her blood drowning out every one of his other senses. It would be so easy to kiss her now, to pretend like none of this happened and let his instincts guide him.

And so he does. After all, his shameless flirting had never entirely been a ruse. Ever since he first drank her blood, he's been drawn to her in a way that no one else has compelled him before.

Tav's lips are remarkably soft when Astarion leans down to kiss her, his tongue slowly sliding over them to coax her deeper into the kiss. He half expects her to push him away, to scold him for being so thoughtless after their little heart-to-heart, but...

She doesn't.

Instead, she lets him continue, leaning into him when he cradles the back of her head to hold her steady. Astarion reaches for the buttons on her blouse, the touch featherlight.

“Wait.” Tav suddenly pulls back, face flushed and panting slightly.

“Is something wrong, love?” Astarion questions her. Perhaps he shouldn't have pressed his luck.

“No... yes... I just.” Tav stumbles over her words, the haze of her arousal clouding her mind. “Listen. It's not like I don't want this, but...”

Gods, if you only knew how much I want this.

“But not like this. I wouldn't feel right.” She averts her gaze. There is a twinge of guilt that builds within her; she doesn't want to take advantage of Astarion, not when he's clearly dealing with his own demons, and certainly not after everything that has transpired between them tonight. She doesn't want their nascent friendship to be consummated by something that will only complicate things between them.

“Of course I want you,” Tav explains. “The real you. Not whatever act you've been playing all this time.” The request is plain but hardly as simple as it sounds. She’s not even sure exactly what she’s asking of him, how much of it all has been a façade until now. She’s relying on nothing but intuition.

I don't know how to be what you want me to be, Astarion thinks, but he gives no voice to the thought, pushing it back down into the farthest recesses of his mind where it remains dormant.

She's doing it again, instinctively, reading too much into the way he furrows his brows and presses his lips together in contemplation. 

She reaches out to him and lays a calming hand on his arm. “But only if that's what you want too. After tonight, if it's easier for you, we can pretend that none of this ever happened and carry on as we have been. And when you're ready to talk, whenever that may be, I'll be ready to listen. About whatever it is you have to say. As your friend. And... if we happen to enjoy ourselves in other ways in the meantime,” she adds coyly, “it's not like I would be opposed to that. Far be it from me to squander what could be the final days of our lives.”

Astarion's expression softens as he regards what Tav has just said, the choice she has given him. If he says no, if he decides right then and there to leave, he knows she won't hold it against him. He's feeling vulnerable again, but the discomfort he feels now is less unsettling, almost as if he's grown accustomed to feeling this way around her.

In his own way, he does care for Tav - if he didn't, he doesn't think he'd be so bothered by the way she reads him like an open book - and he doesn't want to cause her any undue harm. For her, he will try. At the worst, tonight will be yet another welcome distraction. At best... well, he can't quite say, but none of the possibilities seem particularly unpleasant.

“All right,” he concedes, cupping her face in the palm of his hand and gazing thoughtfully into her eyes. He finds there's something irresistible about them like this, wide and full of wonder. She struggles not to look away, her heart racing like a caged bird beneath her ribcage. The effect he has on her is mesmerizing, and Tav almost forgets to breathe before Astarion kisses her again, slow and steady as he takes the time to savor it.

Tav opens her mouth as Astarion's tongue slides against her own in languid strokes, eliciting a few small sounds that die in the back of her throat. 

She never expected him to be so gentle.

An idea coalesces in the back of Tav's mind and she seizes on it, shifting her weight forward and pushing Astarion back. He yields to her surprisingly quickly, and Tav lays him into the cushions beneath them, straddling his hips.

He looks strangely at ease, his brow quirked as he implores her to continue. Tav is happy to oblige and leans over him, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. She can feel the pinprick points of his fangs as her tongue explores his mouth, eager as ever to taste him.

Astarion has never been a passive lover, and when his fingers slide beneath Tav's blouse and trace icy spiderwebs across her back, she shudders slightly at the sensation. Suddenly craving more contact between them, Tav rolls her hips against him, earning a soft moan from Astarion for her efforts.

She does it again to draw more of those delightful noises out of him; she can feel his growing hardness now, and she finds herself becoming impatient.

Breaking the kiss, Tav slides herself further down Astarion's body, pausing once she's hovering over his waistband. Astarion watches with bated breath as Tav fumbles with the ties there, before finally slipping her hand into his pants and freeing his cock, the tip already slick with precome. 

Tav flashes Astarion a sly smile and wastes no time indulging herself, swiping her tongue over the head of his cock, tasting him. Astarion bites back a groan and props himself up on his elbows to watch her, spellbound by the way Tav's mouth looks and feels wrapped around him. 

It feels even better as she slides more of him into her mouth, her tongue teasing him in all the right places. When she moans languidly against him, Astarion bucks his hips slightly, his mouth hung open as his breath hitches.

“Hells, if I had known you had been hiding this little talent, I would have sought you out much sooner.” There's humor in his voice, but Tav doesn't miss the low tone of need in his voice that sends a shiver down her spine.

He's bigger than she expected, and tears prick the corners of Tav's eyes as she bobs her head along the thick length of his cock, pushing him all the way to the back of her throat each time. She digs her fingers into his hips to hold him still, reveling in the feel and the taste of him.

“Nnngh... fuck,” Astarion groans, his eyes locked on Tav as she continues to pleasure him. When her gaze flicks up to meet his own through half-hooded eyes, he sucks in a breath, biting down on his lower lip.

If she keeps that up much longer, he knows he won't last.

He tells her as much through stuttered breaths, and Tav finally relents, sitting back on her calves and licking her lips. She looks extremely pleased with herself, Astarion notices.

“As much as I would love for you to continue,” Astarion says as he gets to his feet, beckoning Tav up with a hand, “It would be such a shame to not return the favor.” 

He makes quick work of his shirt and slides out of his pants, and Tav doesn't bother to hide her yearning for him as her eyes rake over every inch of sculpted muscle and smooth, pallid skin.

“Like what you see?”

He doesn't have to ask - he knows how beautiful he is.

“Of course,” Tav says, huffing a laugh. “But you already knew that.”

“Certainly,” Astarion responds, a wicked grin flashing across his face. “But I do love to hear you admit it anyway, darling.”

Even as she removes her own clothing and lets Astarion press her up against the cool stone wall, Tav shoots him a petulant yet playful look. “Prick.”

“For you, my love? Always.” He's teasing her again, but there's a fondness there she's never seen before, in the way he looks at her and how he runs his hands over the curves of her body, building her anticipation for whatever he has in mind. If she's not careful, she knows that she will fall hopelessly and irrecoverably in love with this man.

The thought is cut short as Astarion's hands glide over the swell of her ass, and she arches her back into him, feeling his cock pressed against her.

“Patience, patience,” he drawls, “I want you begging for my cock before I take you.”

Tav doesn't bother to muffle the lewd sounds that tumble from her mouth, her entire body alight with desire as his words alone nearly turn her feral.

Astarion rewards her by sliding his hand between her thighs, spreading her open and sinking two fingers inside her. Tav gasps at the sudden intrusion, his touch electric. She whines almost pitifully, writhing beneath him and desperate for more.

“A-Astarion...”

His name on her lips sounds divine in that breathy little tone, and he begins to pump his fingers inside of her, savoring how wet she is for him already. He leans in close, trailing soft kisses and bites down the curve of her neck and across her shoulders, amplifying the pleasure Tav feels over her entire body. 

But it's still not enough. She needs more of him, grinding her hips down to find the friction she so desperately needs. Astarion senses her intentions and slides his other arm around her waist, slipping a third finger between her legs and against her swollen, over-sensitive clit. 

Tav cries out and bucks her hips, chasing her pleasure as she grinds against him relentlessly, her arousal building higher and higher with each roll of her hips. Her legs feel weak and she's thankful for the wall, all but clinging to the worn stonework as she does her best not to lose her balance.

“Gods, yes, Astarion... fuck...” The words tumble out of her mouth, punctuated by breathy moans of pleasure. 

Astarion picks up his own pace, giving her exactly what she needs.

“Come for me, darling,” he purrs against the shell of Tav's ear, “show me how good it feels.” Tav is more than happy to oblige, pressing her face into the wall to stifle her wild moans as her climax washes over her in wave after intensive wave as she finally finds her release. 

When the intensity begins to subside, Tav finds herself breathing heavily, swallowing in great gulps of air to steady herself. Astarion places a final kiss to the nape of her neck, and Tav can feel his pleased smile against her skin.

Astarion slides his fingers out from between Tav's thighs, still slick with her wetness, and runs his tongue along both digits. “Exquisite,” he murmurs, his voice low and hungry.

“I do hope you aren't completely spent,” Astarion muses, his body sinfully cool against the burning heat Tav feels inside herself as he presses himself flush against her. “I haven't yet had my fill of you.”

Tav moans beneath him, revitalized and full of need merely by the promise of whatever else he might have planned for her. She is already so weary, but she cannot deny that she still wants - needs - more.

“Please,” she says softly.

“What was that?” Astarion responds wickedly, pressing his hips into her, his cock thick and heavy against her entrance. 

It's all too much.

“Please fuck me, Astarion,” Tav says more insistently, hardly embarrassed by her blatant desperation. “Gods, I need you inside me.”

“Much better,” he praises, lifting her leg just slightly to allow himself to slide into her with a few shallow thrusts of his hips, his cock stretching her out as he buries himself in her tight, wet heat.

She feels absolutely divine, her body molding to him perfectly as he finds himself seated fully inside her, his hands braced on either side of her hips.

“You're even more incredible than I could have imagined,” he admits out loud, partly to Tav but also to himself. Tav urges him to move, to fuck her, to do whatever will bring them both the most pleasure, and Astarion indulges her, pulling out of her almost completely before slamming back down, setting a steady pace as he finally gives her what she needs.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” she moans, bracing herself against the wall and marveling in the way Astarion feels inside her, each thrust bringing a string of oaths to her lips. After tonight, she will never think about anyone else again; he has completely ruined her.

Astarion buries his face against her neck and parts his lips, tongue tasting the sweat on her skin even as his fangs ask the single silent question. He wants to indulge himself in every part of her, and she would be loath to deny him anything when he's already made her feel so good, so complete.

“Go ahead,” she bids him between her mewls of pleasure, craning her head back to offer herself completely to him as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of her.

Tav expects the bite to be as it always is - a sudden, sharp sting, a mild pain that settles in as he drinks his fill.

Instead, Astarion is gentle again - or, at least as gentle as he can be for a vampire. His fangs puncture her neck, but the act is far less savage than it normally is, and he doesn't drink as deeply as Tav knows he typically prefers to. 

There is something different this time, almost as if he is enjoying her blood less to sate his gnawing hunger but more for the mere enjoyment of claiming everything her body has to offer him. He seems content to lap lazily at the blood that naturally raises to the surface of her skin, even as the thrusting of his hips picks up in its intensity.

Tav can no longer differentiate between the sensations overwhelming her body; between the bite at her neck, Astarion's body pressed against her, or the punishing thrust of his cock, she feels herself yield completely to him, her body losing control in more ways than one. She's never had anything like an out-of-body experience before, but she suspects that this might be the closest thing to it.

Every inch of her body is alight with ecstasy, and all that remains is her overwhelming desire, the need to be utterly and completely overcome by Astarion the only thing on her mind.

He murmurs something incoherent against her neck and wraps his arms around her body, embracing her almost tenderly as if he can sense the struggle Tav is having keeping herself upright. Enveloped in his arms and in his scent as completely as she is, she keens against him, finding her release for the second time with his name an exhausted cry on her lips.

Astarion continues to surge into her, riding Tav through her climax before finally finding his own pleasure, burying himself with one final thrust as he empties himself inside her with a low and sensual moan.

Instead of pulling out immediately, Astarion continues to hold Tav in place, even as his cock begins to soften inside her. He is content not to end the contact between them, their minds exchanging a few shared thoughts courtesy of their Illithid tadpoles.

Neither of them can express anything but satisfaction, even as Astarion finally pulls away from Tav and helps her retrieve her clothes.

“You should get some rest,” Astarion urges her. “I can take the rest of your watch. Can you make it back to your tent?”

Tav is surprised by his kindness but accepts it gracefully all the same.

“Yes, I think I'll manage. Thank you.” She dresses haphazardly, well enough to make the short trek back to her tent but not enough to be presentable should she happen to stumble across any of their (hopefully) slumbering companions.

They merely exchange glances, both of them content to enjoy the company of their own thoughts instead. And besides, they're both far too exhausted to bother with the effort. 

“Good night, Astarion,” Tav says softly, daring herself to place a single, tender kiss to the center of his brow. If Astarion is displeased by the gesture, he holds his tongue and doesn't protest her affections, which Tav is eternally grateful for.

As she turns to descend the stairs, she throws one more glance Astarion's way, burning the image of him into her mind to preserve the memory.

He stands there, almost basking in the moonlight, watching the stars shimmering overhead. And he’s smiling.

[yoyomomiko]

[ONE] — Ghosts = $$$

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, cartman being cartman.

(a/n): first chapter is out and honestly I don't really know where this is going!! also, I'm extremely sorry for the short length of this chapter :< --- usually, first chapters are always shorter! i'll try my best to make the other chapters longer :)

wc: 1932

★ m.list

★ series m.list

[NEXT] ->

The cafeteria was a chaotic mess as always. Muffled chatter, students fighting, and the occasional shout from the lunch staff scolding some kid for trying to sneak an extra carton of milk. You sat at the usual table in the far corner, picking at your food. Across from you, Stan and Kyle were arguing about some documentary they watched in History, while Clyde was halfway through his second slice of pizza.

"Alright, assholes, listen up!" Cartman's voice cut through the arguing boys. He slammed his tray onto the table for everyone's attention, the loud sound making Tweek flinch so hard he almost spilled his coffee.

"Oh, great, what now?" Stan groaned, leaning back in his chair.

"You're gonna thank me later, Stan." Cartman cleared his throat, glancing at everyone sitting at the table. "Because I just came up with the best idea of my life. No, of your lives, too, because you're all gonna be a part of it."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Let me guess, some new way to scam people out of their money?"

"Yeah, Kyle, because having ambition is such a crime." Cartman shot back, rolling his eyes dramatically. "But no, this isn't just a scam. It's a business opportunity. A gold mine. And all you losers have to do is stop being such whiny little bitches and listen to me for five seconds."

"Dude, just get to the point." Stan muttered, his hands resting on top of the table as his brows furrowed together.

Cartman smirked, leaning forward on the table as if he was about to deliver a secret. "Ghost hunting."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant crash of a tray hitting the floor somewhere across the cafeteria.

"Ghost hunting?" Clyde repeated with a mouthful of pizza.

"Yes, Clyde, try to keep up." Cartman snapped. "Think about it. Those dumbass ghost hunting shows on TV. People eat that crap up! We can charge idiots in this town hundreds of dollars to 'investigate' their haunted houses and get rid of their spooky little Casper problems!"

Kyle shook his head with a sigh. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Even for you, Cartman."

"It's not stupid!" Cartman shot back, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to make Tweek jump again.

"People are stupid, Kyle. They'll pay us to run around their creepy old houses with flashlights, pretending to find ghosts! And if there's no ghost? We'll just make one! Bang on some walls, throw some stuff around... Boom, paranormal activity."

"That's literally fraud." You pointed out, resting your chin on your hand. "You realize that, right?"

Cartman waved you off as if you mentioned something as unimportant as the weather. "Pfft, no one's gonna care. We'll make them sign waivers. Legal waivers make everything legit!"

Stan exchanged a doubtful look with you, then glanced back at Cartman. "This sounds like the kind of thing that gets us arrested. Or worse, sued."

"Oh my God, you guys are so dramatic." Cartman groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Look, do you want to spend the rest of high school broke and boring, or do you wanna be rich and badass?"

"Rich and badass does sound kinda nice..." Clyde admitted, earning a glare from Kyle.

"Clyde, seriously?"

"What? I need the money! My dad cut my allowance because I spent it all on skins in Fortnite."

"I can't believe I'm surrounded by morons." Kyle buried his face in his hands.

"Ghosts aren't even real!" Tweek blurted, his hands shaking as he gripped his cup. "What if we mess with something we don't understand? What if we summon a demon or-"

"Tweek, for the love of God." Craig interrupted, his voice flat and bored. "You're not summoning anything. It's fake."

Tweek's eyes darted to Craig, then back to Cartman. "B-But even if it's fake, what if- what if people find out?! What if we get exposed or something?!"

"Tweek, no one cares about your paranoia." Cartman rolled his eyes. "Besides, it's not like we're actually gonna run into any ghosts. We're just taking money from idiots who think their houses are haunted because their furniture makes weird noise."

"I dunno, dude." Kenny finally spoke up, voice muffled by his hood. "What's the cut? Like, how much are we each getting?"

"Ah! The voice of reason! Don't worry Kenny. We'll split it... Fairly."

"Fairly?" Kyle immediately narrowed his eyes. "That means you're going to take the biggest cut, doesn't it?"

"Uh, duh, because it's my idea." Cartman shot back. "But you'll still get plenty. Enough to buy whatever poor people stuff you need, Kenny."

"Works for me, I'm in." Kenny shrugged.

"Dude!" Kyle exclaimed, looking betrayed.

"What? I need money!"

You sighed, glancing around the table. "So let me get this straight." You started, mentally preparing yourself. "You want us to break into random people's houses, pretend to find ghosts, and charge them a fortune for it? Do you even have a plan for how this is supposed to work?"

"Of course I have a plan!" Cartman replied, puffing out his chest. "Step one, we make a website and some fake business cards. Step two, we spread the word around town. Step three, profit."

"That's not a plan." Stan muttered, leaning back in his chair again.

"It's a great plan." Cartman's brows furrowed together. "And you know what? If you don't want in, fine. But when I'm rolling in cash and you're stuck eating this nasty ass lunch food, don't come crying to me."

Stan groaned, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine. I'm in. Only to make sure you don't burn someone's house down."

Kyle threw his hands up with a groan and a roll of his eyes. "Oh my God. You're all insane."

"Come on, Kyle." You smirked, nudging him with your elbow. "It could be... Interesting."

Kyle stared at you as if you just suggested jumping off a bridge. But after a moment, he sighed heavily. "Fine. But if this ends in a disaster, I'm blaming all of you."

"Perfect!" Cartman grinned, looking around at his newly recruited 'team'.

"Welcome to the South Park Paranormal Crew, bitches. First job is tomorrow night. Bring flashlights and maybe some fake blood."

Craig glared at Cartman. "Tweek and I never said we were joining."

"I don't care about you losers, go sit on a dick or something." Cartman shot back.

Craig's eyes narrowed, his piercing gaze burning holes through Cartman. "You know what? I'm in, fatass." He spoke through gritted teeth, to which Cartman smirked.

"I-I guess I'm in too." Tweek stammered, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Amazing! What do you guys say we have a meeting at my house this night to prepare for tomorrow?" Cartman held a smug and confident look.

"Do we have a choice?" You sighed, already tired of this.

"No. Eight o'clock sharp!" He declared. "Don't forget that, fuckers!"

.

.

.

.

Later that night, the group crowded into Cartman's basement. The space was a mess, an old couch shoved against one wall, half empty soda cans all over a coffee table, and a mysterious stain on the carpet that no one wanted to investigate. You sat quietly between Kyle and Craig, who were both visibly annoyed.

Cartman stood at the front, a whiteboard behind him covered in messy scrambles of ideas that looked more like the ramblings of a lunatic than a business plan. He held a marker in his hands, which he twirled dramatically before slamming it against the board.

"Alright, assholes." He began, pacing in front of the group. "Step one of becoming the greatest ghost hunters South Park has ever seen: branding. We need a website, a killer name and a look that screams 'these guys are legit'."

Stan rolled his eyes from his spot on the couch. "It's hard to scream 'legit' when you're using your mom's basement as headquarters."

"Shut up, Stan!" Cartman snapped. "Do you have a basement we can use? No? Then sit your ass down and let the professionals handle this."

Craig crossed his arms, leaning a bit closer to you, his knee brushing yours. "You don't even know how to make a website, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Cartman lied, puffing out his chest. "It's easy. You just... Click some buttons and stuff. Besides, we have Kyle for that."

Kyle straightened, glaring at Cartman. "Excuse me? Since when did I agree to be your tech support?"

"Since you're the only one here who isn't a complete moron when it comes to computers!" Cartman replied, his tone annoyingly smug.

"Watch it fatass!" Stan snapped as Craig snickered.

Kyle opened his mouth to argue but stopped when you nudged him gently. "You might as well just do it." You whispered. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Kyle sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but I'm not doing this for free."

"Whatever, Jew." Cartman turned back to the whiteboard. "Now, let's talk names. We need something catchy. Something cool."

"How about we call ourselves 'Paranormal Posers'?" Craig deadpanned, earning a laugh from Kenny.

"I've got it!" Clyde exclaimed, clearly excited. "What about 'The Phantom Chasers'?"

"Lame." Cartman dismissed immediately, crossing it off the list. "We need something badass like 'South Park Paranormal Commandos'."

"Or we could just call it what it is." Stan muttered. "'Cartman's Latest Scam'."

"Do you want to get sued, Stan?" Cartman shot back. "No one's putting my name on this thing."

After another twenty minutes of ridiculous suggestions, and several rounds of arguing, you all finally settled on a name. Specter Squad.

"Simple, memorable, and cool as hell." Cartman declared, underlining it three times on the board.

.

.

While Cartman and the others brainstormed more ways to make themselves seem legit, Kyle sat at Cartman's ancient desktop computer, typing at it furiously.

The homepage was basic but effective.

A bold header reading "SPECTER SQUAD: South Park's Premier Ghost Hunting Team" in glowing green text, complete with a stock image of a haunted house in the background.

"This looks so fake." Kyle muttered to himself, shaking his head as he uploaded a photo of the group. It was a hurriedly taken selfie from earlier that night, with Cartman front and center, beaming like an idiot, while everyone else looked irritated.

"Fake is fine." Cartman said, leaning over Kyle's shoulder. "People don't care about professional. They care about scary. Make it spooky."

"Spooky costs extra." Kyle shot back.

The rest of the group gathered around as Kyle added more details to the site.

Services

- Full Paranormal Investigation

- Ghost Removal

- Cleansing Rituals

Reviews

Janet H. - "Specter Squad saved my family from a scary ghost! Worth every penny!"

Sal F. - "I thought my apartment was haunted and they proved me right. Highly recommend!"

"Who t-the hell is 'Janet H.'?" Tweek asked, pointing to one of the reviews.

"Some lady I made up." Cartman replied, completely unfazed.

.

.

With the website finished, you all moved on to advertising. Clyde and Kenny volunteered to print out flyers, which they plastered all over the school the next day. On lockers, bulletin boards, and even the bathroom stalls.

Cartman, meanwhile, moved to social media, creating an Instagram page and spamming hashtags like #HauntedSouthPark and #GhostBeware.

"You think anyone's actually going to believe this?" Craig asked as everyone watched Cartman upload a blurry photos of an attic claiming it was 'evidence' from a recent investigation.

"Of course they will." Cartman replied confidently. "People are dumb. Trust me, by this time tomorrow we'll have our first client."

★yoyomiko ★miko

[shiongenkai]

TD Captain Swap

I have crafted a captain swap so hilarious to me I need to talk about it so here's the stupidest thing ever.

Frostheim: Yuri

Vagastrom: Jin

Jabberwock: Ed

Sinostra: Alan

Hotarubi: Taiga

Obscuary: Haru

Mortkranken: Subaru

My insane ramblings below the cut.

My basic premise is that one day Darkwick is like. In order to promote harmony across the houses and establish rapport with one another we will be assigning captains to a new house for the next month. And then they do that. And it all falls apart immediately.

Frostheim

Yuri voice ill never go back. And then Darkwick is like okay you're too biased against them go make up!! And Yuri seethes so hard something in his body pops.

First off, nooo way he gets along with Tohma or feels comfortable in Jin's room. Secondly, Kaito? Kaito. Literally no way that guy won't scream every other day. It's not even that he dislikes Yuri, it's just that the rumors are too Big for Kaito not to freak out every single time. And Luca of course will not help this concern ever, and will ask for Yuri's history and why he seems so familiar with Frostheim stuff, and Yuri will have to decide how far morals can carry him.

Somehow someway everyone in this scenario comes out appreciating Jin just like. A smidge more. His Frostheim runs as smoothly as Yuri's Frostheim but there's something slightly more dignified about it.

Vagastrom

I really just need a Jin Leo bitch off. Leo trying to get info from Jin except he soundproofed his room again, Jin not giving a shit about what the two of them do which makes it considerably less fun despite neither Sho nor Leo being willing to admit that, Jin using his stigma when MC is around to force Leo to do things. It's technically functional, like Vagastrom doesn't fall to chaos after Jin asserts his dominance on day one, but it's like. Everyone misses Alan so bad. So bad. Sho and Leo would never admit it to his face but they prefer their captain over Jin even if most things haven't really changed.

Also I think the only reasons Jin would leave his room is if Leo was bothering him too much and even then it would take a bit. I think Sho's life wouldn't be changed a whole lot but he'd miss the sparring and also find Jin's philosophy like.... not strange or bad but too different???? Like yeah it's annoying to spar every day but it's also fun. That's his enrichment...

Jabberwock

This is what inspired it all. The exact sequence of events was that I thought to myself, wouldn't it be funny if Ed was in Jabberwock since it's usually pretty sunny and it requires a lot of work? And then I thought, and also Towa is there. And then I remembered Towa hates Ed and I laughed so hard I cried trying to envision Ed announcing that he's replacing Haru for the time being and Towa trying to electrocute him.

Ren and Ed would also be funny because as long as Ed leaves Ren alone I'm sure he'd be fine. And doubly so if he draws Towa's attention away from him. But I can't tell if after that it'd be funnier if Ren gets annoyed because Ed is actually high maintenance and if Towa isn't doing it then Ren definitely has to. And he'd hate that. OR Ed has seen all his movies and knows all his games and keeps trying to talk to him about it but in a way that pisses him off about it and he's like mad about that. Either way I can't imagine anyone in this house is happy about this arrangement and it's killing me to imagine.

Sinostra

You'll have to stick with me for this one because it's a very specific dynamic in my mind that I'm not very good at articulating but basically. Romeo is at first glad Taiga can't mess things up anymore (even though deep down he misses him) and glad Alan is capable of scaring people straight just by Looking but then Alan is like hey this operation isn't very honorable. It's a low blow to threaten and intimidate and cheat. And then they butt heads about it endlessly.

Which is why Ritsu has to come in and be the equalizer but Alan can't take him seriously because he's like you're way too skinny you have no muscle what is your diet what's your trianing like. Spar with me. And Ritsu, embarrassed and offended, is like ILL HAVE YOU KNOW IM WORKING ON IT. And Alan genuinely offers to help but Ritsu is too used to Taiga and lowkey assumes Alan is making fun of him. And Alan is sincere. So he keeps going.

Hotarubi

PLEASEEEE PICTURE IT. THINK ABOUT IT. Think about the Haku Taiga prologue dynamic and make that daily life. Now add in the fact that Hotarubi is meant to be traditional Japanese themes with grace and tranquility and then imagine Taiga is there and try to tell me that's not the funniest shit ever.

And then add in Zenji. We already know Taiga can see or sense more than others so I would bet everything he could probably sense Zenji in some way, which he honestly probably wouldn't care about but I think he'd care a lot about the doll or the biwa. Basically I think he'd try to eat it. I think he'd try to eat something and it would be chaos and hilarious and please just imagine the three of them together. Please. Please. Please.

Obscuary

House Simulator. This is the only truly fully functioning house with no problems outside of Lyca complaining about noise and annoyances and so on so forth. And that is because Rui and Haru are so used to doing like 100% of the work all the time that they both try to do it and end up finishing all the work in half the time since they've split it and now they randomly have free time??? And it's so strange??

Haru helps with breakfast and cleaning and taking care of the animals and chores and so forth and Rui helps with Peekaboo and relieving Haru's exhaustion and it's basically such a functioning pair that it's almost scary. Like Lyca is scared. But also Haru smells bad and is too high energy and LOUDDD so he's in his rebellious teenage phase atm.

Only downside is that Haru has too much bar access and has to be cut off but it's a small price to pay for a house that isn't up in flames by day one. Unfortunately it can't last bc Haru would miss his animals and Rui would feel too worried about hurting Haru so when they swap back both have made peace with it. And Lyca will still kick rocks they couldn't have Subaru.

Mortkranken

I think Subaru would become a legend very quickly but not because he's this secret medical genius but because he seems to have this uncanny ability to guess things. And the secret is that he is using his stigma fully on accident and seeing what they were up to and then Jiro is figuring it out from there. And he keeps trying to give Jiro credit but nobody will listen.

He's also squeamish. Like he can't handle blood so when Jiro is like 'Move that to the other table please' Subaru is happy to and moves this weird lump under a sheet and the sheet falls off and its a severed arm and Subaru faints. and Jiro laughs for a second before putting Subaru on the table and making sure he's like actually okay. And they are both very patient with one another and very cordial. But it's so so awkward. And Subaru honest to god does not know how to take care of Jiro and is constantly having to ask Yuri how to do things except Yuri is always occupied by Frostheim so Subaru has to follow Jiro's instructions and they are both praying Every Day.

And that's also why they're both happy when its over. Not because it was bad or they dislike each other but bc they're both glad Yuri will come back and it won't be Does Jiro Die Today Roulette. and then Subaru goes to Haku and grabs his shoulders and is likep lease do not start dying ill cry right in front of you forever. and Haku just nods slowly.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Drama abounds when you're attacked by monstrous bats after an argument with Eddie and Steve Harrington comes to your rescue...

Warnings: Complicated feelings, unrequited love, angst, mentions of blood.

❤️

This week had officially sucked.

Eddie was too busy following around his new girlfriend like a lovesick puppy to care what you were up to.

You wish it didn't bother you, but it did. All Eddie talked about was her and it drove you mad, jealously that began as small thing had grown and grown the last week or so. It was an awful feeling.

Shouldn't you be happy Eddie had found someone? Someone kind, pretty and who had so much in common with him. That's what a good friend should feel. Right now, this reaction made you feel guilty as hell.

"I don't know what your problem is. Why can't you just be happy that I'm happy! Maybe if you found someone yourself you wouldn't be like this?" Eddie had snapped at you earlier and the crushing feeling in your chest doubled.

It was dark now in Hawkins, Autumn was in full swing, the chilly wind nipping at you as you walked home.

Technically, you should be at Hellfire but after earlier you were in no mood tonight, you just wanted your bed and maybe a good binge of some of your favorite movies.

Anything that would help you forget about your feelings right now. Maybe scary movie, no romance whatsoever.

It was ironic you spoke about scary movies because the next minute you found yourself in one.

Hawkins was creepy after dark and you had heard enough tales from your relatives about the strange shit that went down here. At first you didn't believe it, Hawkins looked like any other picturesque small town... Well, until you looked closer and discovered the rot underneath the perfect facade.

Your friend Robin told you that spooky monsters roamed the woods, the rumours that freaky bat creatures hid in the shadows looking for prey. Not vampires, no actual bats that would rip you apart.

At first you thought it was some kind of old urban legend, that's until the bodies began the pile up and the legend grew and grew.

Now no one went into the woods, not even in groups. No one would risk it. Even walking past the woods to get home creeped you out, even if someone deep inside you were itching to know more about these bats.

Devil bats people called them. The side of you that was a big fan of mystery and investigating had researched as much as you could about these creatures but most of it was flimsy at best.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you miss the screeching sound the first time. The second time however chills you to the bone.

Screams fill the air, a man shouting for help and you freeze for a second before running to help. It's the stupidest thing you've done going straight into a frenzy of bats, but you can't just leave the guy to die.

When you reach the clearing into the woods you find your too late. The man is dead, blood seeping into the ground and bites on his neck.

Hawkins police station isn't far away. Maybe you could find Sheriff Hopper? You're about to run when you hear that screech again and one of the bats swoop down at you.

The tail is long and sharp and it lashes across your stomach before you can even move. Then the second bat is flying at you and you begin to run back out the forest and through the streets.

The bats are following you, four or them whipped up into a frenzy at the smell of your blood. They're smart to and dive down whipping their tails across your legs so you stumble and fall, your head smacks across the gravel on the road and dizziness makes your head spin.

You kick out at one of the bats and it hits the sucker right in the face, the other one uses its tail to wrap around your legs tightly, so hard that the sharpness of its tail cuts into you.

Two of them then work at ripping open your shirt and sinking their teeth into your side. The scream that leaves you is full of terror and pain, no fucking way are you dying now, theres still so much you want to do in life.

Wriggling around you try to throw one of the bats off you and it works but the second little bastard uses its wings and tiny, fierce claws to pierce into your skin to slow down your moments.

Just when it seems all hope is losr something slams into the bat and knocks it off you, you're so grateful for this and peer up to see Steve Harrington wielding a baseball bat covered in nails.

He slams it down on the bats head that has its tail wrapped around your leg and kills it instantly, freeing you. Dazed you stsnd up and Steve tosses you a crowbar.

"Take their heads off"

You don't have to be told twice and make quick work of the bats as more begin to fly your way. Pissed off, you swing the crowbar and tear off one of their tails.

Steve's hiss of pain captures your attention and you rush towards him and pull it away from Steve by its tail, Steve recovers and smashes the bat into its face.

His shirt is torn and you see a small trickle of blood seep through. The screeching stops as the last creature dies.

Tires squeal on the pavement and you hear your name being shouted. Eddie is running towards you, he looks as pale as a ghost when he reaches you and checks you for wounds.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" Steve steadies you as you stumble. Eddie is still terribly pale as he answers.

"I heard you screaming, I was out looking for you because you didn't turn up at Hellfire and I felt like shit about earlier and then I heard you scream... I couldn't find you and I was terrified"

He's shaking as he takes in your appearance, his eyes wild.

"What the fuck were those things? Sweetheart?" you smile faintly, the adrenaline from fighting the bats wears off and you wince in pain and your head feels like it's spinning.

"I'm fine Ed's... I, woah" you faint and strong arms catch you before you fall.

❤️

When you come to you're at your house and resting on the sofa. Eddie is beside you looking extremely anxious.

"Thank fuck you're awake" his eyes are red and it looks like he's been crying, he won't admit it but you wonder if he was.

"You could have died... Those bats, shit if Steve hadn't found you when he did" His voice trails off and you gently squeeze his hand.

"I'm okay Ed's. Sore as shit but fine" he nods and kisses your cheek gently, then goes to help Steve with the bandages and antiseptic cream.

Gingerly you lift up your shirt and wince, it's soaked in blood which makes you feel nauseated. Eddie gently cleans the blood away as Steve cuts the bandages.

"Shit, these bastards got you good princess" he whispers worriedly. His nickname makes you ache.

"Don't call me that Ed's. Stacy, she doesn't like it" you whisper and he freezes.

"You're my best friend" he murmurs and the tension in the air deepens.

"Another thing she doesn't like Eddie. Maybe you're right and I should find someone. Would stop all this drama with Stacy" Eddie swallows and Steve steps forward.

"Munson, can you get more bandages incase these get bloodied up quickly" Eddie nods and hurries away.

The tension disappears, Steve gives you a sympathetic smile. Yeah, you were sick of the drama with all of this.

Steve gently patches you up and you feel yourself calm down for the first time tonight as you watch him work.

"Let me do yours, just take your shirt off and I'll help" he looks hesitant but nods and slips off his shirt.

You might have complicated feelings for Eddie but that didn't stop you from admiring Steve, he was handsome and now he was here in your house half naked. Georgia would have a field day if she knew about this.

When did he get so hairy? The thought pops into your head unbidden and it flusters you so much that you almost drop the antiseptic cream.

The bites draw you in again, a fresh one from tonight but also old ones. Bites that have left scars, marks from the bats tails that haven't faded.

You reach out to touch one gently, Steve watches you intently, there's a lot of tension in the air and the fact you could have died has you feeling rattled and in need of comfort.

Steve must be feeling the same thing as he dips his head down and his lips hover over yours.

He hesitates then his lips meet yours before he pulls away again. "Shit, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done that" he mutters.

"It's okay. It was nice and kinda freeing not to think of Eddie every five minutes" he softens and you patch up the rest of him.

"Tell me about it. Felt the exact same with Nancy, it's better now but I still haven't found the right girl I want to be with, who isn't after me for just sex" you peer up at Steve, eager to say something comforting.

"You're awesome Steve, a badass monster fighter to boot. You'll find someone amazing"

Steve smiles and kisses your cheek, lingering just for a moment.

"Thank you sweetheart"

The door slams shut and you jump apart as Eddie comes in. He looks between the two of you with a blank expression on his face, eyes trailing to Steve who is shirtless and then your flustered look.

"Am I interrupting something here or..." Steve barely looks flustered as he shrugs on his shirt.

"Thanks for helping me patch up honey, call me if you need anything okay?" he smiles and squeezes your hand.

He leaves and your filled with a rush of jumbled feelings.

❤️

Could be an Eddie or Steve story :) Your choice.

❤️

[harzilla]

I keep thinking of dungeon monster AU, except the MC is an orphaned child with Grim as their "familiar" and the Twst cast are all some flavor of monster. The MC joins a group of people exploring the dungeons in hopes of earning enough money to put food in their and Grim's belly. They end up getting separated/lost/abandoned and whichever floor/level of the dungeon they are on, is which group of monsters they meet. 1st floor Heartslabyul, 2nd floor Savannaclaw, etc....

Tiny human child MC ends up on friendly terms with whichever group they meet until they end up bonding into a found family situation.

Some ideas floating around in my head.

Riddle is a plant based monster. Something like the Flora beasts from Disgaea. The entire dungeon floor is a rose labyrinth that are all connected by the same root system with Riddle being the source. Riddle root network allows him to keep eyes on all parts of his dungeon floor. You may also notice an odd assortment of creatures here, perhaps you could explore here, if you follow the rules that is.

Leona would be something like a manticore or a sphinx. He's massive and powerful, but he also likes a challenge. Whether it be hunting or through strategy. Perhaps he'll let you live if you can prove your wits? His floor is home to many beast type monsters with a hierarchy. Those who refuse to respect the pecking order will end up banished or killed. Survival of the fittest.

Azul would be on a much more massive scale(on kraken scale). A fully grown adult could easily be crushed in his palm or tentacles. His floor is a labyrinth of underwater tunnels, which means the majority of monsters on the floor are either fully or partially aquatic. It's incredibly hard to fully map out this floor. Only the bravest(or stupidest) explorers dare to make deals with him, often falling fate to his terms or the ravenous jaws of his subordinates. Hope you have something good to offer.

Kalim would be some kind of Naga. His species is the kind who live in a type of colony(have you ever seen a nest of garter snakes? kind of like that). Family units often living in multiple generation communities. While Kalim is warm and kind, Jamil however will not hesitate to dispose of a threat to the colony.

Vil is a type of Siren(the flying kind) his alluring face and abilities are a deadly combination that can leave even the strongest to ruin. Even one of his feathers could net you a profit. Not that anybody has ever managed to succeed in taking one, especially with the keen eye of Rook watching. Nobody knows when he first partnered with the harpy, and has yet to find out which of the two is the more dangerous.

Idia would be a drider(I saw this one from another Tumblr and I love it.) his floor is covered in a network of web traps. Idia isn't fond of dealing with others, especially explorers(too much energy). He uses his traps to loot the explorers of their gear. His species is often solitary, but it's not unusual for a drider to adopt a smaller creature as a type of companion(or to guard their nests) Idia used his abilities and the enchanted armor and weapons he's looted to build an army of Ortho golems. You may find a palm sized Ortho cleaning up somewhere in the dungeon while the primary Ortho keeps Idia company.

And of course Malleus would be a full on dragon. Nobody's actually made it that far down the dungeon, or if they did they never came back alive. It's been so long that people believe the dragon is a myth. The last time somebody actually made it out alive, they were left broken and babbling about "thousands of beady little red eyes" this floor is home to nocturnal creatures. Perhaps the next person who steps foot can confirm if the dragon still exists?

[ten-shi-fandoms]

Cute things they do:

Blue Lock addition pt 1

___________________

Cw: Characters x Reader, Gender neutral reader, mentions of nonsexual touching (Rin), bathing together (Rin) kissing, Bachira is a goof, praise, just pure fluff

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Isagi Yoichi, Rin Itoshi

______________________________________

Bachira Meguru 👾⚽:

Bachira does alot of cute things when you two are together, even the small things he does can make your heart swell with love.

He just isn't aware of how cute he really is-

He knows he's cute but not to the extent that you do.

He has a lot of little habits that are just too cute.

Things like giving you piggyback rides/or offering them no matter the circumstance.

Or holding your hand while your walking as he swings them humming along to whatever song he can think of.

Or when you two relax, you two can be cuddling and he'll rub shapes and words onto your skin and have you guess what he put.

He also likes to say the most random things with the stupidest but most adorable grin ever.

Like you guys can be talking about something and he'd suddenly blurt out how much he loves dolphins just to hear you giggle at his childishness.

Bachira is far from stupid but he makes himself extra childish just for you.

He knows how much you like to coddle him and he lives for it, so he'll act a bit more childish for you to coddle him more.

He does this alot especially when he's sick or injured.

He can be sick with a normal cold and act like he's dying just to hold you in his arms as he falls asleep. (bonus points if you get sick and his mom and Isagi have to take care of you both-)

He also gives you the goofiest nicknames.

It can range from normal ones like my deareat/my love to goofy ones like my dolphin, little pineapple and such-

Other than that, one of the cutest things he does is spin you around everytime you see each other.

It doesn't matter if you guys just saw each other, or if your talking to someone when he arrives, he will run to you and spin you.

It confuses the hell out of people around you, and sometimes he catches you off-guard (he loves when he catches you off guard) but its all out of love.

The sound of you laughing, and feeling you squirm around to get down makes his day.

When he puts you down he always ends the interaction with the sweetest kiss he muster before running off feeling fulfilled and already wanting to see you again♡

___________________________________________

Isagi Yoichi 🥇⚽:

Isagi is completely unaware of the cute things he does period.

He just wants to make you feel loved but he gets embarrassed with to much affection but he tries little things!

He's so soft with you, like a little marshmallow

He will hold you hand whenever you two go out together just to make sure you feel safe.

He holds doors open for you, pulls your sit out, helps you sit down he is a whole ass gentlemen ^^

When he feels stressed he'll follow you around with the cutest little pout on his lips and big puppy dog eyes just for you to pay attention to him.

He'll lay his head on your shoulder or your lap when he wants your attention and your busy.

He's shy when you kiss him, but when he kisses you his kisses are surprisingly bold.

He makes sure you can feel his love for you in his kisses, making sure to put in as much love as he can into each which usually leaves you breathless.

Its only when you have go back up to breath that he realizes how bold he had acted which leaves him with a cherry red face and constant apologies.

He also leaves you notes.

They're small but they show how much he cares.

They usual are small reminders to eat, and drink throughout the day or small compliments and praise about how good you've been.

If you confront him about it he'll apologize and promise to stop, you have to tell him your fine with it or he will stop.

He just loves you so much you know ^^

___________________________________________

Rin Itoshi 😑⚽:

Rin doesn't really do many cute things but when he does please treasure them because he's really trying to be a good boyfriend.

Other than him linking your pinkies together in public because he doesn't like holding hands when others can watch, he loves to kiss your wrist.

It's a small gesture that he does when your uncomfortable or disappointed with his lack of affection.

Rin doesn't like PDA or physical touch in general but he makes a little gestures like that.

However small they are it's sweet and he only does it for you.

Behind close doors he shows more affection to you though.

Holding your hand as you walk around the house, having his hand on your waist or the small of your back when he's getting something for you, even having his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his head on your shoulder as you cook or clean.

It makes him comfortable that you don't push him to say or do anything really affectionate with you which in turn sometimes makes him a bit embarrassed.

Embarrased Rin is the cutest thing you will ever witness in your relationship no doubt.

No matter all the hand holding, interlocked pinkies, or hands on your waist will never compare to Rin's stoic expression crack and turn into one of bashful irritation.

His cheeks a soft red the color travelling down his neck and the tips of his ears, his eyes unable to stay focused on you, his hands a bit fidgety, even his lip is quivering oh so lightly.

There are a one way to make Rin embarrassed and surprisingly its not that hard or special.

The easiest way is being gentle with him.

Kissing his knuckles or his ankles, kissing the back of his neck, compliment him (put his brother down, make him know he's better than his brother-), praise him, hold him.

Things like that makes him embarrassed (only in the comfort of your own home), and when he's embarrassed he gets a bit toucher.

He wants to hold your hand more and will even offer to take a bath with you.

The baths are soft, as you sit between his legs, his fingers gently washing your hair, your back leanes into his chest.

During these moments he'll run his fingers along your shoulders, your ears and the nap of your neck sometimes placing kisses there.

Who's embarrassed now?

[justagirlfr]

I’d Rather Be Studying the Physics of You

rotb!Mirage x f!reader

summary: reader is struggling with her physics homework and Mirage goes to comfort her. (fluff, comfort)

tw: physics 😔

a/n: this one is pretty self-indulgent, I’ll open requests soon for more one-shots! I’m currently obsessed with rotb- Mirage and Noah specifically.

——————————————————

Mirage is in your room and leaning against one of the walls next to your bed. He's fiddling with your rubix cube- still amazed at how someone came up with this torture device for entertainment. You're working at your desk, a dim lamp the only source of light. Tonight, it's physics that you're struggling with. 

"Physics is so stupid, I swear to god," you mumble while trying to work out problem 35 on the review packet your professor gave you. This homework really has you questioning your entire life. "This is so overly complicated and for what."

"Physics can be useful," Mirage says, still focused on the cube. "I mean you use it all the time to fix my parts." He winks at the end of that last sentence and you roll your eyes even though he can't see them, your chair facing away from him and your attention being at the disgusting problems at hand. 

"That's like, practical physics though," you sigh. "This is stupid Newton physics."

Mirage momentarily stops twisting the cube's sides. "Isn't all of physics based on Newton physics?"

"I mean, not really, but all of it is the same- stupid and dumb and overcomplicated." You give up on the problem and move on to the next one. Reading the new onslaught of numbers and words, you really feel like throwing up. "Literally what the FUCK is this."

Mirage can sense that you're getting angrier and more frustrated by the minute. Your hands are at the crown of your head, grasping manically at the edges of your hair. "Honey, why don't you give it a break for a second?" He urges. "I think it'd make you feel better."

But you're too far into trying to deduce the obscure answer on your paper. You ignore him angrily and start scribbling wildly on your paper, writing down everything and anything that might be useful in solving this one. "No no no, this won't work, this won't work- you need acceleration for this one, but you don't even have time or distance! Literally what the fuck!" you're getting louder by the minute and it's starting to scare Mirage. 

"Love, I know you really want to solve that, but come here for a second," he urges, setting the cube down for a moment and acting genuinely concerned. 

"I'm fucking focused just let me try again oh my god-" there are tears brimming your eyes and clouding your vision and you're trying so, so hard to mask your frustration with yourself with anger- but you can't see, everything is spinning and you're just mad, mad at yourself because this should be easy, and why are you so horrible at physics? You're a STEM major for christ sake, how the fuck are you going to make it thorugh the rest of your life if you can't master simple Newtonian physics??? You feel the tears falling now, cascading down your face as you grip your pencil with the most power you possibly can. All the fight immediately leaves you and you give into your sadness. "I swear Mirage, I can't do anything right." You're silently sobbing now, basking in your misery because you've lost it, and you're tired of trying to hold yourself together and combat your inevitable conclusion that you are the stupidest person on Earth. What gave you the confidence to pursue such a field? You couldn't even do basic math. The salty tears smell gross to you, and your face feels disgusting all over. You're so lost in your break-down you almost fail to notice your chair slowly being pulled back and the familiar metal servos circling your body. 

"Honey, look at me." Mirage pulls your hands away from your face and gently cradles your face in his hands. "You do a lot of things right."

"No I don't, I can't even do this stupid problem I'm so sick of it, I'm so sick of trying and failing over and over again and it makes me feel so stupid and I am stupid and-"

"No." His grip on your face is tighter and you're forced to shut up. "You are one of the most brilliant, courageous people I know my love. I don’t ever want you to think that you’re not enough, that you can’t do anything.” 

You sniffle, and he gently moves his hands to your waist, picking you up from the chair and placing you in his lap where he can properly hold you. He places you on your bed and kneels on the side, looking over at you. You can hear all of his gears shifting as he does so. He presses his left hand to your cheek, caressing it. “You are already perfect. I love you so much and I could not imagine me loving any other version of you that didn’t have the persistence you do. I know you really wanted to get that worksheet over with and done, but come on man, that shit is hard and it’s not your fault you can’t get it on the first try.” He tucks the covers over you. It’s 4AM, and it’s probably for the best that you call it a day. 

“I just feel like I suck so much at this, and everyone else is so much better, and I’ll never get a job and it’s just so hopeless.” Some more tears slip out of your eyes, and Mirage wipes them away with a swift caress. 

“Oh my love,” he sighs and kisses you gently on your forehead. His lips feel cool and smooth against your soft skin. “It’s going to be okay. All that matters is that you’re trying your best, alright? You’re my girl, remember?”

You nod silently, gazing into his light blue optics as they soften meeting your look. “Yeah,” you sniffle. 

“That’s my girl,” he says. He goes to lay down next to you off the bed, and you can hear all of his parts whirring, getting ready to shut down. 

“Mirage?” You ask tentatively. 


He gets up immediately to look at you. “Yes, love?”

You look away for a second before saying, “can I sleep on you?”

Mirage giggles and you immediately feel his arms lifting you to lay on top of him. He takes a a blanket in front of the bed and drapes it over you. You’re pressed against his chest and it feels oh so nice. The warmth of his spark makes what would seem to be an uncomfortable thing to lay against actually very cozy. You tilt your head up and kiss his cool lips. He reciprocates, and you can taste the warm metal of his bottom lip. When you pull away, he gives you the most adoring expression ever and you melt into him. “I love you,” he says, without breaking eye contact. 

“I love you too,” you give him a smile back. 

[mrcow101]

Just saw the stupidest take on this app, and I continue to question whether or not this fandom has actual reading comprehension skills when it comes to fuckery, that is Mapleshade's vengeance. And of course it is the self-diagnosed 13-year-olds in this app that want to bitch and whine when someone tells them otherwise. 

The River Issue.

1. No, she in fact did not have to use the river. There were multiple options, and none of them weren't said to be unavailable in the book. She was brooding and being angry after being exiled, which does not automatically mean "she was thinking and panicking." No, the book tells the exact opposite of this because she is straight up swearing and cursing the names of her fake ass clanmates. 

2. Frecklewish being followed was not reason enough for her to cross the river. Oakstar gave her until sundown to leave the territory; therefore, frecklewish does not have any grounds to rightfully attack her until she is caught trespassing after her given time. She wasn't even aware that Frceklewish was following her, and regardless, Mapleshade isn't weak; she is shown to be very capable of defending herself. And frecklewish is a fucking push anyway, so she obviously wasn't going to do anything. 

3. She had several options, being the bridge, another clan, and the two-leg place. There are several bridges in the canon map, and the one closest to her is the one near the tree cutters place. She also could've taken the path near the owl tree. It's the middle of the day and storming, so the owl wouldn't have even been out. Another clan would have been the safest option, as in the book, as far as we know Thunderclan is on decent terms and conditions with Shadowclan and Windclan. And besides that, she has kittens, and they cannot turn her away or else they'd be violating their code. Yes, she could've gone to the two-leg place. In canon, the kittypets become a problem during the events of Pinestar's choice and Goosefetaher's curse, which takes place several moons after she's died. 

The Blame for the children’s death

Yes, Mapleshade is infact at fault for her children's deaths, and to say that she isn't, but then turn around and say that Appledusk purposefully killed Birchface is insane and shows how stupid you people are. Both of those are cases of manslaughter. Mapleshade willfully took her children into a river that was already unsafe before the flood hit. Appledusk's situation was an act of self-defence, and honestly, the arguments on whether this is murder or not are very telling on people's intelligence skills. And obviously they both expressed guilt for their actions. Mapleshade feeling guilt that her kits died doesn't absolve her from blame. 

Who deserves blame?

The only cats that deserve blame at all in this story are fucking Oakstar, Frecklewish, and Mapleshade. The majority of blame falls on Freckle and Oak because the entire plot device of the fucking story is so that they can't get over their grief and are using whatever means possible (indoctrinating children supposedly related to them) to get revenge against someone who was simply defending them. Mapleshade takes the blame because she caused a big part in her own spiral by being incredibly reckless, naive, and foolish. And while definitely other characters have blame for their own actions. The majority of what happened to her was a result of her own selfishness or stupidity. 

The only thing I will absolutely not hold against her is the secret she went along with. Frecklewish and the other one literally pressured her into going along with their little fantasy. And that is not her fault. 

These are facts lmao. Get over it <3

[chaifootsteps]

I was trying to think how to recommend watching the show to someone who might have only seen s1 and figured recommending skipping some episodes of s2 might be the best way, but then I noticed something

when I was trying to pin down which episodes of s2 I think are genuinely good to still watch I kinda realized there isn't any?

like even the episodes I think are the 'best' written (as in they're the least frustrating, no Stolas in them obvs) are still rife with plot holes or jokes that don't land

like exes and ohs felt like the last gasp of the old show and even that episodes has Crimson's nonsense marriage plan that doesn't make a lick of sense. it underutilizes Millie to the point it feels like the writers are just being blatant about how little she matters now. it has the unfunny dildos in the wall joke.

and that's the best episode of s2 as far as I'm concerned. the only other one that's relatively not completely sucky is the midseason musical whatever and that's still pretty bland and has a Fizz who feels nothing like his s1 self in it.

even the shorts have plot holes and issues, despite being the closest to the show's original premise (and not featuring Stolas)

like taken as a whole the entire season is just garbage. Ghostfuckers I think is going to be more mid with a potentially very awful suicidality plot point. I think there's a chance the Millie bit is going to be secondary in awfulness to what they do with Blitzo if my hunch is right that they're going to make Tilla appear just as a means to give him catharsis so he can do the thing the show thinks will 'fix' him - get together with Stolas

I'm not sure how the last two are going to play out but there's near 100% going to be Via leaving Stolas for the stupidest reasons the show can conjure up so he can look like he's in the right, again.

the only thing that might be worthwhile from the remaining three episodes is if Stolas realizes he's done wrong and actually apologizes, and faces consequences for being the suckiest Goetia royal ever. but even then I expect the show to tie itself into a pretzel to find a way to minimize what he did or blame Blitzo for some of his misfortune, as if it was his fault Stolas never once said 'I can't talk about this right now, I'm spending time with my daughter/working/actually being a capable adult for once'

the only other thing I'd want from the season 2 finale is for IMP to feel like a family again and that vision of the show is so far in the rearview mirror I wouldn't even bother making it a prediction for the Sinsmas episode. that one should be about family and coming together, but apparently there are leaks suggesting it's the episode where Blitzo finally gives in and goes to play his role as Stolas' white knight, just like Stolas and Viv have been demanding from him all season long

Agreed, unfortunately. The best part of S2 so far has probably been the shorts...otherwise, it feels like a level of aimlessness, retcons, and plot holes that most series don't achieve until after they've run for years and exhausted all their good ideas.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello!! Recently found your page and when i tell you i binge read almost all of your lookism content i mean it.

That being said i would love to ask if you could do a scenario where y/n and Goo hate each other but fake date in order to make Gun jealous and of course annoyed (in Goo’s case), however in the end they both fall for each other.

Aww!! THANK YOU FOR READING!! Isn't this community great. Isn't Lookism great.

I LOVE fake date fics! Slight deviation to just trying to prove Gun wrong (the plot is thin, okay).

Goo Kim x Reader: Fake Dating

"Get your hands off me!"

"It's called acting, you bitch!"

"Dumb bastard!"

"Stupid hag!"

"Four eyed fuck!"

"Shit for brains!"

A door slams shut. You and Goo freeze for a brief moment before throwing yourselves at each other. Your lips smash painfully together, and hands wander. It's for authenticity, you see.

(And it works.)

Gun stops in his tracks, "What the fuck?"

.

.

You had been chit-chatting as you usually do during one of the lulls in your missions with Gun.

"-and winter weddings are sorta magical, y'know? I like the idea of getting married and having snow falling all around me. But summer with the weather, I-"

Gun has had enough of your mundane chatter. "How the hell do you find the stupidest shit to talk about. You can't even get anyone to date you."

You throw a punch at him, "We dated!"

He dodges your attack, "And we broke up."

"Fuck you, loads of people want to date me!"

Gun peers over his sunglasses at you, he knows you are bullshitting.

Ugh. You'll show this asshole.

.

.

"Hey, you big lump," you kick Goo's chair. Oops maybe a bit too hard. You cackle as he tumbles into a heap on the floor.

"AHH! What was that for, you dumb bitch!" Goo gives you the filthiest look.

(On paper you and him should get on like a house on fire. But the first time you met, he had opened his mouth and asked who brought along this pretty little bimbo. You tried to rip out his tongue for that. Well, the rest is history.)

"So..." You eye up the blonde dusting himself off and readjusting his glasses. Is this one of your worst ideas? Probably. "Wanna piss off Gun with me?"

"I don't need you to do that."

"But what if we can take it to new realms of irritation?"

"..."

"I'll pay you."

"Why didn't you say so, Princess! I'm all ears."

Goo had always thought you were a little weird. As if this doesn't prove his point exactly.

Whatever.

He's making money and irritating Gun. Two of his favourite things. Add in beating someone up in there, and it's his holy trinity.

Hmm, maybe he could beat you up after this. That would be fun. He gives you a sly glance as you're explaining the 'fake dating' and what it entails.

Seriously, what an oddball.

.

.

After Gun discovers you two all over each other, he turns around and swiftly exits.

He did not care for getting involved in your love life. That ship had long sailed.

The only concerns are with his own sanity.

Having you and Goo together is a dangerously irritating, annoying combination. It doesn't just increase his chance of getting a headache and into trouble two-fold, it increases it exponentially.

...And the fake dating begins.

.

.

"Sweetheart, this song reminds me of you!" Goo gives a mocking smile that only you could see.

Gun is sitting in the back while Goo drives and you occupy the passenger's seat. That's fine as far as Gun is concerned. The further he is away from the both of you while you have this little... thing going on the better.

He honestly could not care less. But even listening to you two flirting is like nails on a chalkboard. The headache is returning. He should really invest in some headphones.

"Aww~ You are so sweet!"

You run your hands along Goo's thigh then brutally dig your nails in as you pinch him. This fuck. Did he think you couldn't hear the lyrics? The woman in this song is a useless doormat.

Goo blows you a kiss in return.

.

.

"Cupcake!" Goo matches pace with you and goes to hold your hand. You hear Gun's unhappy grumblings from behind. "There's a new hot restaurant that opened up. We should go on a date!"

"I would love that," That really would be thoughtful if you guys were an actual couple.

"We can have a nice night out and walk along the Han river."

"Perfect."

Goo's grip on your hand tightens, he looks deviously at you. Oh no. You prepare yourself for whatever comes out of his mouth next.

"And afterwards we can go back to mine for dessert? You know what I mean? By dessert? That's how everyone phrases it right? To mean we will just fuck all night? With my big, huge, throbbing-"

You hear a stumble and cursing from Gun. You look at Goo and feel him mentally high five-ing you.

Heh. That'll teach Gun for being such a dick. This isn't such a terrible idea after all.

.

.

"Sweetheart! Don't I look handsome!"

Gun questioned his life choices.

You and Goo had insisted on running into a designer store for something quick. 'Something quick' had turned into an hour of Goo parading around in suits. And now Gun is waiting sullenly in the corner for you both to finish up whatever the fuck you are doing.

"Hurry the fuck up,"

"Gun, you sourpuss! It's for the HNH function tonight. Goo needs to look his best."

Goo definitely did look good, you'll give him that. The blonde has a great body and a keen eye for fashion.

"Honeybun?" you turn your attention towards your 'boyfriend' as he strides out the fitting room. The suit looks like it was tailored especially for him.

Oh. Has he always been this handsome? You start to think maybe he isn't so bad until-

"You said you'll treat me for showing you a good time last night?"

You must be a better actor than you thought. Your mouth doesn't drop open at his boldfaced lie and your face remains neutral.

This prick. No doubt he's going to rack up an absurd bill and make you pay.

"Let's have a closer look then," you walk over to him, playing the part of a sweet girlfriend. Your hand smooths out the lapel and shirt.

"Silly, your tie is all askew," you adjust the knot and tighten it until it almost chokes this idiot.

Goo doesn't say a word, just looks down at you with a smirk. You feel the urge to wipe it off.

"I do like this one," you say. Your hand reaches out to caress his face. He stills at your unusually tender touch, his next backhanded comment gets stuck in his throat.

You push yourself up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

As if on autopilot, Goo's arms moves to circles your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. Something about the way you fit with him feels natural.

You nip at his lower lip. Hmm, Goo really is a good kisser.

Gun closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. You two are getting on his fucking nerves. He really shouldn't kick your asses here. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten.

Scratch that, maybe one hundred.

.

.

Goo, with his arm around your shoulder, eyes your Uno cards.

He had already won a couple rounds ago, and now you and Gun are determining who between you is the loser.

"No cutie-pie, don't put the green one down. Gun will +2 you!"

"Don't help her out!" Gun growls at you both sitting across from him. He gets awfully testy even with silly games.

You hum and haw at whether to trust Goo as he studies your hand, trying to come up with a strategy.

"Put this one down," he ignores Gun and points at a particular card, "cross my heart babe!"

Fine. You follow his instructions.

Gun huffs and picks up a card from the pile. Guess he couldn't follow your colour or number.

Goo taps twice on his cheek. You giggle and reward him with a loud smooch.

.

.

"Like this,"

Goo comes up behind you, pressing himself fully into your back and helping you adjust the grip on the golf club.

You subtly elbow him.

"Watch it," you whisper.

"You're paying for my boyfriend services," he responds under his breath, a grin never leaving his face.

Your voice returns to its normal volume, "I thought I was doing it right?"

"Nooo Princess, your swing is all off!"

He rests his head on your shoulder, actually telling you about where your hands should be and correcting your stance.

If you were a weaker woman, you would be feeling butterflies, and your face would flush. You would think about how sweet Goo could be, and how fun he is in a relationship...

You see Gun from the corner of eye and quickly derail any straying thoughts. Instead, you turn and lightly graze your lips on Goo's cheek and shuffle your hips into his crotch playfully.

Goo, delighted at your movement, chuckles.

Off to the side, Gun facepalms.

.

.

You open your mouth obediently as Goo spoonfeeds you.

"Isn't it extra delicious when your Goo-bear is feeding you?" He flutters his eyelashes. God, this guy is so ridiculous you couldn't help but laugh.

"Do you have to fucking do that? I'm trying to eat here." Gun glares at the display.

"Don't be jealous just because you'll never know love like this!" Goo snaps before feeding you another mouthful.

Gun rolls his eyes. Why does Charles curse him with the most idiotic partners.

"Yeah I'll just pay for mine and the wifey's food," Goo smiles at the waitress, handing over some cash.

"Just pay for it all you cheap asshole!" Gun is exasperated. It's a goddamn hole-in-the-wall, not some fine dining establishment. The total is pocket change.

"Nope!"

"You fucking-"

The waitress clears her throat awkwardly.

"Pay for it yourself, you prick," Goo retorts as he nuzzles into your neck.

Gun angrily slams down some money.

.

.

"What's this?"

So much for doing work. Goo loudly makes an entrance into your office and wafts a piece of paper in front of your face. You snatch it irritably.

"My invoice!"

What? This wasn't the duration that was agreed.

You narrow your eyes at him, "But we're not done yet!"

"No, we're not."

"So?"

"So I thought I'll give you a 100% discount for the foreseeable, sweetheart."

Your eyebrows knit together. Does this mean what you think it means?

Goo is a picture of nonchalance, he perches on your desk as he examines his nails.

"You mean you actually want to...?"

"I'm having a good time. You look like you are too."

Hmm, you couldn't deny it. And you never thought kissing him could be so pleasant.

"So we're really...?"

Goo gives you a smile and a casual shrug. "If you want to, Princess."

How does nothing ruffle his feathers. How can he be so relaxed about this?

You mull it over. What's the worst that could happen? The last few weeks have been undeniably fun. You don't think you had ever laughed so much.

You school your expression and give him a nod.

Goo's easy smile turns into a toothy grin. He pulls you close and kisses you, like all the times he had before. But this one feels sweeter. Real.

Goo fucking Kim is actually your boyfriend. Who would have thought?

When you finally pull away, you both stay within touching distance, beaming at each other like morons.

"Bastard."

"Bimbo."

Goo suddenly frowns, and the magic breaks. "This doesn't change anything. You still need to pay the bill!"

[xxsycamore]

A Soulmate That Wasn’t Meant to Be

╰┈➤ 🩷 While rare, there are some instances of a soulmate clock appearing to be broken, showing a negative countdown or one that you cannot outlive. Or both. You were just born under an unlucky star. One that destined you to not only fail to experience such a major event of your life as knowing when you've met your soulmate, but also for Arthur Conan Doyle to find out about it when you've successfully kept it a secret from almost everyone so far.

Arthur Conan Doyle x Gender Neutral Reader • rating: G • tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - College/University; Alternate Universe - Reincarnation; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Soulmate-Identifying Timers; Denial of Feelings; Feelings Realization; Fake/Pretend Relationship; Pet Names; Drinking; Time Travel; First Kiss • wordcount: 2,641 • masterlist

a/n: This is my gift for @oigimi, for the Secret Santa event hosted by @lemeowade ! I saw your preferences for AUs and I couldn't help myself searching for a connection...then I remembered soulmate clock AU is a thing, and then I remembered ikevamp deals with timetravel and I went "hmmm this can turn into something interesting!" and it spiraled out of control after that point 😭 i sincerely hope this isn't too big of a mess and that it's your type of fic! Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun!! 🥺🥺❤❤ Namesake song by Jess Benko. Take a look at the end notes for clarification on some parts of this fic!

"Remind me again why do I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner. The party doesn't start until 10PM tonight!"

"Here you go, luv. Be careful, it's hot!" Arthur hands the freshly baked pastry to you, resuming your slow stroll in Jardin du Carrousel, the garden of the Louvre museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question. Of course it would be hot, he doesn't need to remind you - it only annoys you further, as he so obviously does it to look like a good boyfriend more than anything.

"Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too."

"No thank you."

You suppose it's partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene before their soulmate countdown turns to zero, or trying to rush in and see the countdown speeding up as they try to play with fate and meet with their designated soulmate faster, you're an outcast. An outcast with a broken soulmate clock on your wrist, condemning you to a lifetime of long sleeves and wide bracelets and false modesty to trick people's curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

But it crossed that of Arthur Conan Doyle. The college's infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the 'hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!' ideology. Now, you didn't want to have anything to do with a guy like him, but on one of those college parties you were dragged to, he decided to pick you for the lead role in his biggest, stupidest drunken decision yet. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Arthur, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.

Straightening the lapels of his grey coat, Arthur fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself.

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You've seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you're seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You've got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you'd get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones.

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Arthur's brilliant mind - not that you'd ever give him the credit for it - are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too.

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you'd be having fun now.

"Arthur, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other and answer each other's questions. At the very least."

"But you see, dear…" Arthur wraps his arm over your shoulder, gently nudging you into taking a turn away from the crowded path ahead and into a more secluded walk. "By asking that question out loud with people around us, you've already answered yourself. We clearly have more training to do, or we won't appear as a genuine couple."

Ah. He's right, damn it.

"I only lowered my guard because these people don't know us, stupid… Let's get inside already!"

Getting ahead of him, you think that as long as you appear excited to see the exponates, you can get away with keeping a few steps distance from Arthur. Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There's no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

The Louvre is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses, instantly changing your infatuation with the slow passage of time into wishes it would stop altogether. There's so much to see that you'd frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Arthur chose the perfect dating spot. You're not sure if it was based on your own preferences - surely not - but you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

"Picture!"

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Arthur presses his face closer to yours.

"Oh, this is a good one, I'm definitely posting it. You look so inlove."

"I'm in love with Da Vinci's work, that's it."

"Uh-uh. That works for me too." Arthur replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don't even bother looking.

"At least you're a natural, Arthur."

"What, in masking an expression? How are you so sure?"

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don't lose Arthur, looking for his hand to take hold of. You've already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, "There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do."

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Arthur, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. It's because you were instructed to watch them if you're having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. An advice from a writer no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it's too late telling your brain to forget what it's been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomach at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That's it, except for Arthur - who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you're alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside and realize you still feel hot. As Arthur turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbed your reaction to the touch of his warm hands.

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

"You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let's get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too."

"Wait, don't look!-"

With the distraction slowing down your reactions, you fail to stop Arthur on time before he can roll up your sleeve.

Your soulmate clock instantly makes him adopt an expression of perplexion, as the quick look he gave it was enough for him to notice the bizarre sight of one too many numbers aligned on the width of your wrist.

-46 750 days, 9 hours, 17 minutes, 35 seconds

"Your countdown is…"

"Screwed up. I'm one of those people."

While rare, there are some instances of a soulmate clock appearing to be broken, showing a negative countdown or one that you cannot outlive. Or both. You were just born under an unlucky star.

One that destined you to not only fail to experience such a major event of your life as knowing when you've met your soulmate, but also for Arthur Conan Doyle to find out about it when you've successfully kept it a secret from almost everyone so far.

It has to be some kind of irony, being here with him today for these reasons. He who made up this whole plan because he needs an escape from love, while you on the other hand-

"Now that I've seen yours, it would only be fair I showed you mine."

"It's nothing, you really don't have to-"

You try to avert your gaze as Arthur extends his hand and rolls up his sleeve, turning it so you can see the inside of his wrist.

-12 616 days, 9 hours, 16 minutes, 51 seconds

"Huh…" You freeze for a moment, not believing your eyes. The guy you secretly envied for having the privilege of being sure about meeting true love to the point he'd chase ephemeral trysts just to kill time. Turns out he also won't be able to…

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't think I'm all that sad, luv. I was never destined to have a soulmate, but that's fine by me. Maybe that's what I deserve."

Your head spins with emotion once more, and this time it's guilt. And it weighs down on you heavier than all else there is, and you suddenly want to disappear.

It's probably not wise to turn your back on Arthur without saying a word, but you'll be regretting this later. You start running, and he calls out your name but it never approaches you. He's not even chasing after you, but you're glad - you've already started thinking of the apology you're going to drop in his direct messages before blocking his number.

Just as you halt your step and check behind your back, you spot his tall frame amidst the crowd, trying to push his way toward you. Without much time to think, you open the nearest door and pray that he'll lose you from his sight and continue ahead on the corridor.

This section of the museum appears different somehow, ontop of being strangely devoid of visitors, with the exponates carrying an air of extra antiquity to them. The path ahead is quite narrower in contrast to the other hallways too, the lightning more sparse, and the feeling of unease tells you to wait out Arthur's chase attempt and then go back where you came from.

Except, he finds you.

You hate it that he read your mind about entering that door, and you hate that you're now practically given the privacy to talk. Not wanting to face him now, you simply continue ahead, hoping to blend with the crowd at the other side of that corridor and escape him then.

Arthur follows behind you, continuing to call out your name, and your mind becomes dizzy out of a sudden. You're ready to blame it on one too many things and you don't pay much attention, until something odd happens. A blinding light flashes before you, making you unable to advance further. Arthur catches up with you just in time to put his hand on your arm.

The light is gone in the next moment, and you slowly open your eyes to find yourself in a different hallway, together with Arthur.

Sinking to your knees, you try to make something out of the bizarre situation, and Arthur follows you on the ground to soothingly massage your back, simultaneously checking for injury. A tiny part of you remains sane and warm, and it's glad that he's here.

"A-Arthur! Look at my-"

Moving his gaze from your shocked expression to your outstretched hand, he gasps as he sees your soulmate clock suddenly speed up, losing years upon years, seemingly not planning on stopping anytime soon. Another portion of shock hits you as you notice his own clock doing the same, and you drag up his hand to get his attention to it.

At a pace slower than yours, Arthur's clock reduces its countdown. The two of you can only watch in alert silence, everything else becoming irrelevant in the face of the miracle happening to those who accepted their deprived-of-love fate long, long ago. In the lone hallway, two sets of eyes search for a third person who does not exist, as one might do when that moment approaches.

The days on the counters reduce to what at most adds up to a few years, then a few months, then finally they turn to zero; followed by the minutes, and at last, followed by the seconds as well.

The rows of zeros align on both of your wrists, signaling that…

"My soulmate is…"

"It's been you the whole time?"

***

After being found by the residents of what you came to know is the mansion of Comte de Saint-German, you were introduced to the lord of the house himself. His explanation eased some of your concerns while still being bizarre enough to be hardly believable.

Being trapped here for a month surely sounds like you'll have enough time on your hands to unpack everything that happened today. But you're glad you're not going through this on your own.

Once you find yourself alone in the company of Arthur again, the butterflies in your belly are revived, stubbornly refusing to let anything overshadow the realization you came to just awhile ago.

Arthur seems to be able to tell what's on your mind. His deep sea-blue eyes lock into yours, and you don't know what to say. Luckily, he takes the initiative.

"We traveled back in time. The clocks were never broken… we were meant to meet here."

An echo of his words reverberates in your head as you try and let them sink in, absurd as they sound…there's no other explanation.

He starts laughing, much to your dismay.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just…" He casually puts his hands in his pockets, admiring a painting hanging on the hallway's wall as he picks his words. "Seeing as we won't be showing up to that party… I guess we don't need the pretend couple lessons anymore."

It's a laugh you didn't know you needed. You aren't sure what is it about human nature that nudges you to seek the solace of a smile no matter how sobering and hostile a situation is, such as finding yourself in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar age. But you're thankful.

"It's a shame." Arthur turns to you. "I was looking forward to kissing you as our grand final lesson."

Your eyes widen, and Arthur has that stupid smirk plastered on his face. Without taking his hands out of his pockets, he leans into your frame and shortens the distance.

"It's a shame indeed…" is all you can muster before sealing those damned alluring smiling lips of Arthur with your own.

a/n: The soulmate clock AU normally uses the countdown for the couple's meeting but here they've clearly met before, so I wondered if I could instead make it count down to their first meeting in the place they're destined to fall in love at, Comte's mansion in 19th century Paris.

Arthur's countdown differs from that of the reader because his clock is synced with the timeline of his previous life - practically, he was born in 1859, lived through the year 1895 when they were destined to meet with the reader - but because it wasn't the right timeline, his clock began to run backwards. Arthur then dies in 1930 and gets reborn into 21st century Arthur, with a clock that still counts down to the year 1895, but the countdown picks up from the moment he died in his previous life - july 7th 1930 (his death day). This is why his and the reader's clocks aren't synced and they can't see it coming that they're each other's soulmate LMAO get doomed by the narrative

"mo are you alright why is this a 4 different AUs at once, 2600 word fic without any planned squeals" yes I think it's perfect as it and I had fun!

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