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ckret2 · 2 years ago

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Chapter 17 of Human Bill Causes Problems And Ruins Relationships On Purpose (title TBD), featuring: Mabel and Ford, not letting their relationship be ruined.

They're gonna be okay.

Also: weird donuts, cool crystals, and summer class.

(barely) updated 6/14/2025 for TBOB compatibility!

####

Mabel was out of sight by the time Ford exited the shop—stupid, why hadn't he chased her the second he saw her run? He knew Mabel was fast. He circled the block calling her name—there was nowhere she could have gone, this mixed-use building was surrounded by residential houses—and then he hurried back to the parking garage, worst case scenarios tumbling through his head.

When he spied her leaning against the trunk of Stan's car, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Mabel! You shouldn't run off like that in a strange city. Anything could have happened."

Mabel tightened her crossed arms, glaring at her shoes. "I'm better at taking care of myself than you think."

Ford's shoulders slumped. He stood there useless, the silence thick between them, grappling for something to say to cut through it.

He never did well with these thick, awkward, choking moments—the moment before Stan left home, the moment after Fiddleford left the portal project, all the moments on the phone with his parents or with Shermie when he couldn't think of anything they'd be truly interested to hear about his life or any questions he truly wanted them to answer. He'd lost a lot of relationships in those moments. "Mabel—you're not in trouble, and I'm... I'm not mad at you."

"Being disappointed isn't better."

"I'm not disappointed, either. Just... concerned."

Wrong word. Mabel looked up at Ford with a dark, furious look that reminded him unnervingly of a look Bill had given him a few days ago. (He still hadn't learned to identify this as the hallmark gaze of the defiant teenager.) Then she glared at the ground again. "I wanna go home."

If he took her home, it would be an agonizing hour and a half of silence—and what were the odds she'd just run to Bill and tell him he'd been "right," and he'd fill her head with more poison? It was far too late to forbid her from talking to him without exacerbating the situation. Ford could force her to stay right here in Portland until he'd talked to her—he had the keys, the driver's license, and almost fifty years' seniority—but if he did that, she'd tune out anything he said.

And she'd be right to. Who was he to her except the other uncle, the one who'd spent a year lavishing attention on her brother and only asked to spend time with her as a trap to give her a lecture?

He leaned on the car trunk next to her and looked down at the top of Mabel's head. She was wearing a headband studded with rhinestones and plastic ruby earrings. She'd dressed up for this. Ford swallowed hard. "Mabel, I'm an idiot."

She didn't say anything.

"I am. I'm a fool. I put all my skill points in intelligence and zero in charisma." He paused. "Which... that sentence probably makes self-evident." He cleared his throat. "I started out bad at socializing, and not interacting with humans for thirty years didn't make me any better. So I don't have any idea what I'm doing here. But... I asked you to come here with me because I really do want to spend more time with you; and because Bill hurt me, and I love you too much not to make sure you're protected against him doing the same to you."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn't tense up or pull away, he went on: "I think I tried to do too much in one trip, and it just made what should have been a fun time... awkward for you. But, if it helps, it's awkward for me, too. We can be awkward together. We're on the same side, I promise."

Mabel let out a loud, snotty sniff. "You... really do wanna hang out with me?" Quieter, she asked, "Not just Dipper?"

"Of course I do!" Ford said. "But I don't blame you for doubting me. I... know I've spent less time with you than with Dipper. I thought he needed me more. I'm sorry it took this to make me make time for you like I should have all along."

"Was... was there ever really a crystal store on the highway?"

"There was! I promise! I honestly don't know what happened to it! Maybe when I was coming from the airport Soos took a different exit than I thought? Or maybe today a truck got between us and the sign as we were passing it and we didn't realize, but—"

He was getting off topic. The mystery of the crystal store wasn't what was important here. Reel in the puzzled scientist for a moment and be an uncle. "But—I swear Mabel, I didn't make up a story just to get you out here. I truly wanted to go to a crystal shop with you, hand on my heart." He put his hand on his heart. "That's a full finger more sincere than normal."

Mabel let out a choked giggle. She finally looked up at Ford, eyes red, cheeks tear streaked, but fighting to smile through her tears. "Grunkle Ford, I—" She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his sweater. "I'm not trying to ruin summer again, I promise! All I'm talking to Bill about is preschool cartoons and arts & crafts! Sure, he's—he's been nice since I helped him out, but—that doesn't mean I've forgotten who he is or what he can do..."

"Mabel, you didn't ruin last summer." Ford knelt down and hugged her back. "Bill did. Never forget that. I'm just trying to prevent him from doing it again."

Mabel nodded, unconvinced. "He couldn't have ruined it by himself."

"You're right. He couldn't. Which is why I was so wrong to keep the rift secret from everyone in the house but Dipper. I was trying to keep you safe, but you never would have fallen for his lies if I'd armed you with all the information you needed."

He leaned back from Mabel, slid a knapsack strap off one shoulder so he could sling it around to his chest, and patted it. "That's why I'm doing things properly this time! I'm prepared to educate you on every trick Bill has ever borrowed from the books of con artists, cult leaders, and serial manipulators. If you're going to talk to him, you'll know the rules of every mind game he plays before he starts playing them." He unbuckled the top flap and pulled out some of the research materials he'd assembled to prepare for this conversation. "I'm afraid even that might not be enough to fully protect you against his devious tricks, but if you keep your guard up and regularly check in with the rest of the family, then—"

Mabel looked in Ford's knapsack and exploded in a peal of laughter. "Grunkle Ford, are you making me go to school in the summer?! Gross!"

Ford blinked. If this was Dipper, he'd have been delighted at the educational opportunity. This just went to show how much he still needed to learn about Mabel, too. "Come now, Mabel. There's no greater defense against the shadowy forces of deception than the light of knowledge!"

Mabel laughed again. "You nerd!" From anyone else, it might have stung; but she said the word so affectionately.

Ford grinned. "But, I'll try to make it fun, too."

"Okay, I'll take your psychology class. Bill-proof me! Arm me with knowledge!" She raised her arms like she was flexing her biceps.

"Great!" Ford rummaged through his knapsack. "I'll start with the broad strategies he uses to isolate his victims, then narrow in on specific tactics he uses to steer conversations his way. First we'll go over the B.I.T.E. model of authoritarian control, and—"

Mabel put a hand on his shoulder. "How about we start with lunch?"

Ford paused, then let out a huff. "Yes, of course. We should eat."

They got in the car and went looking for a restaurant.

####

They had lunch at a burger place, and Ford told Mabel everything he could think of about how Bill operated—all guided by copious research notes.

To his relief, Mabel never got bored. Instead, she immediately related his lesson back to things she'd already seen Bill do: how easily he'd gotten her, Dipper, and Soos to do his job for him inside Stan's mind, or how he'd tried to turn Mabel and Dipper against each other during Mabel's puppet show. When she admitted what Bill had said to make her worry about talking to Ford, he confessed how Bill had turned him against Fiddleford—and how he'd done it with only a couple of sly comments. All he'd had to say was that Fiddleford might not be committed enough to the portal project, might not be bold enough to finish, and Ford's mind had done the rest.

Ford hadn't even told Dipper about that part—instead, he'd just let Dipper read it in his journal. Ford had yet to so much as talk to Fiddleford himself about it. It was shameful to admit out loud; but less so when he knew he was talking to someone else who'd very nearly been fooled the same way—and that sharing his story might save her from repeating it.

They wrapped up lunch, moved to a nearby shop called Druid Donuts for dessert, and continued their conversation on one of the picnic tables outside. Mabel got a donut wizard with a pretzel stick wand and purple cream filling, and Ford tried out a donut with jelly beans on top. The jelly beans were kinda stale. He plucked them off and ate them anyway.

Mabel sighed, "Grunkle Ford, I'm so sorry I let Bill make me doubt you."

"Bill has that effect on people. When I had this same talk with Dipper, he tried to shoot me with the memory gun in case Bill was possessing me."

"Dipper never mentioned that!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out as she remembered who had ultimately gotten memory gunned over Bill.

She gazed thoughtfully down at her wizard. (She'd eaten off one of his arms, half his robe, and licked out the purple cream filling.) "What made Bill so awful?"

"I sorely wish I knew," Ford said. "I spent half my life trying to find out where he came from, along with how to defeat him. All I ever learned is that he's from a two-dimensional realm—and he destroyed his dimension, friends and family included, for power."

Mabel's eyes widened.

"But... why? I still don't know. He told me his home 'held him back'—but I imagine any limitations would feel restrictive to someone who's seeking omnipotence, so I have no idea what that truly means." Ford looked down at his donut. He'd plucked off all the jelly beans and sorted them into two piles on a napkin, one of regular beans and a smaller one with a few deformed ones. He popped a couple of beans in his mouth.

"It's weird," Mabel said. "It's like... I'm trying to hate him, but it's hard. It was easy last year! And I know who he is, and I know that all this"—she pointed at Ford's bag full of notes—"is going on in his head, but—when I talk to him, he just seems like... not a different person than he was, but a—a normal person. I don't want to not give that person a chance just because he's Bill. You know? Does that make sense?" Mabel grimaced. "Or is that just how good he is at acting?"

Softly, Ford said, "I think it does make sense. Actually, even after everything he's done to me... since he's been locked up with us, I've—had a moment or two where I felt the same. I don't think he's doing it on purpose. I think it's a natural side effect of being in such close proximity to him."

Ford had been thinking a lot about his bizarre burst of compassion on the night Bill burned off his hair. He'd wondered if, maybe, putting a human face over Bill had made Ford see him as a new person. But that wasn't right. Like Mabel had said: Ford didn't see this human Bill as a different person, but rather...

Ford had obsessed over Bill for thirty years. He'd combed the multiverse for information about Bill's history, his state of existence, his potential weaknesses. But in all that time—in all that time, he hadn't once spoken with Bill.

He'd spent half a lifetime moving amongst people who saw Bill as a symbol, a legend, a cosmic force. He'd come to see Bill the same way. A threat, a target, an idea. He'd spent so many years picking a scant few hours of conversation with Bill to shreds that—he was now beginning to realize—he'd half convinced himself that Bill didn't actually have an identity beneath his lies.

It wasn't that seeing a human face made Ford forget that this person was Bill. It was that seeing a human face made Ford remember that Bill was a person. Ford had gotten so used to hating Bill the symbol; had he ever learned how to hate Bill the person? Or had he just let himself believe Bill wasn't a person at all?

Treating Bill like an idea rather than a person was useful enough when Bill was some distant foe. But now Bill was here. Ford couldn't let himself go soft just because Bill was capable of filling space in a window seat and tripping on the furniture and waking screaming from nightmares and regretting a stupid haircut.

Bill had been a person every other time Ford had tried to kill him, too. And that didn't change the fact that he needed to die.

And Mabel—who had so much less practice with hatred than Ford had—was struggling with the same thing.

"You want him to make sense," Ford said. "I understand that completely. Once we see somebody as a person, it's hard to see them as a monster, even if that's what they are. Our minds think monsters want to destroy the world, not play weird chess games. It would be safer for us to see him as just a monster—but, as long as he's imprisoned and powerless, all he can do is be a person."

Mabel thought that over. "Yeah," she said. "You can hate somebody or you can get to know them, but you can't do both."

Ford could think of a few people he'd only hated more the better he got to know them, but he supposed Mabel was kinder than him. "More or less."

"How do you deal with it?"

"By avoiding him."

Mabel's gaze dropped back to her donut wizard. She ate his wand and other arm.

Ford took a deep breath. "Mabel... knowing everything you know now, do you still want to keep talking to him?"

Her neck sank down into her turtleneck. "Do I fail your class if I say yeah?"

Ford smiled sadly. Was she too kind for her own good, or—like Ford—too curious? "I thought you might say that," he said. "Follow-up question: are you prepared to be disappointed when he doesn't live up to your hopes? And I do mean 'when,' not 'if.' You're offering him a charity I don't think he's capable of reciprocating."

If she'd gotten angry, if she'd gotten defensive, he would have worried more. But she laughed and said, "Grunkle Ford, last summer I got my heart broken by like, sixteen boys. After that, I can handle finding out the evil demon triangle I'm helping is still an evil demon. I'll be impressed if he gets a chance to kill one of us and doesn't take it."

Ford chuckled, relieved. "I think you deserve to hang out with people you can hold to higher standards than that."

"I do! But the other people I hang out with don't wanna watch the same shows as me. I don't think I can make you understand how important that is."

On the one hand, that struck Ford as a very thirteen-year-old priority. On the other hand... He winced. "Actually... for a while, he was the only person that would play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with me."

"WHAT! What kind of character did he play!"

"None. He always wanted to be the dungeon master," Ford said. "He ran very strange campaigns. And had a weird fascination with princesses with eyeballs for heads. And, in retrospect, it was probably a red flag when he decided to portray the God of Long Odds as a one-eyed golden triangle."

Mabel at least had the good grace to bite her lip instead of laughing at Ford.

"Well. I don't think you should want to talk to him. But, if you do... then you have a rare opportunity. Perhaps the first in multiversal history. Bill's our captive, he seems to trust you, he's motivated to make you trust him... I think if anyone's ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Perhaps you'll get your question answered."

"Grunkle Ford..." Mabel grinned slyly. "Are you saying that you want me to talk to him? Like, as a spy?"

Ford grimaced. "If I said that, that would make me a terrible uncle. I should be doing everything in my power to steer you away from him. I know that would be safer for everyone and healthier for you." He paused. "But. I can't control you. And as long as you've decided to talk to him anyway—I want to know everything you learn."

Mabel laughed. "You got it!"

"Final advice: don't trust anything he says, assume everything he does has an ulterior motive, and never agree to do anything he asks without twenty-four hours away from him to consider it. And keep talking to us—to me, to Dipper, to Stanley. He might fool one of us, but he can't fool all of us."

"Yeah!" Mabel raised a hand. "Pines power!"

"Pines power." Ford high-sixed her, then finished up his donut. "Well, I think this was very educational for both of us." He stood. "You've still got your $50. Want to go back to the crystal shop?"

####

They grabbed a big green box of donuts for the family and headed back to Lunar Blessings. While Mabel was agonizing over several fun-colored crystals, Ford wandered back toward the statue of Bill. He had to do something about this. "Excuse me." He waved down the shopkeeper. "Do you happen to know where this sculpture came from? The name of the artist, or...?"

She came over to study it. "I think we get all of these from a studio in the Bahamas, but I don't remember the artist off the top of my head. Why?"

He tried to think of a lie that sounded more realistic than the truth—maybe if he said he thought he recognized the art style and wanted to know if an old friend had made it, she'd be willing to dig up the artist's name?

He decided to go with a story that might get this thing off the shelf faster. "Because that particular depiction of the Eye of Providence is associated with a dangerous cult."

Her brows went up. "You're sure? Lots of small religious movements use it. It's a common symbol."

He wasn't about to tell her the reason for that. "Giving it eyelashes and a bow tie isn't. Trust me: either the artist is a cultist, or they got the design from somebody who is."

She studied the symbol. "Cult's a... pretty loaded word." (Ford grudgingly respected her for her wariness. She probably dealt with somebody calling something-or-other in this shop "cultish" on a daily basis.) "How do you know they're that bad?"

"Because once I got in, it took me thirty years to get out."

The shopkeeper's demeanor changed immediately. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. We get these in bulk with a lot of other sculptures, I didn't think they'd be... Are they dangerous, or...?"

"Not as much as they used to be, I don't think. Their founder's—incarcerated. But... the kind of people who'd be eager to buy this probably aren't the people you want to sell to."

As she eyed the sculpture skeptically—probably deciding whether she found this stranger's story credible enough to warrant taking merch off her shelves—Ford asked, "Do you think you could find the artist? With the founder gone, I... I've been wondering how other recovering Cipherholics are faring."

She squinted. "Ciphertologists? I thought they'd disbanded."

That wasn't what he'd said, but close enough. "Er—an—offshoot of them?" He actually didn't know what Ciphertologists were. He could guess from the context they were another of his cults—who else would use that name?—but he'd only had a few scant sleep-deprived weeks to try to dig up everything he could about Bill's other activities through history before Ford had been shoved through the portal.

There wasn't much point in pushing further to remove the item. He'd given the shopkeeper enough to think about, and he doubted one more statue on one more shelf would really do any harm while Bill couldn't use its eye.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I'll check our records. If we don't have it, you can give me your contact info and I'll let you know when I find out."

"Thank you." What would Ford say if he did meet another of Bill's victims? He'd made the acquaintance of a few, very distantly, thirty years ago; Bill had told him who he could go to to get art of Bill, much like the sculpture in this store. Back then, he'd felt like he was in a secret society—a real secret society with real secrets, not like the corny social club styling itself a "secret society" he'd joined in college—with the double secret that none of the other members knew that Ford was the society president's favorite. In retrospect, they'd probably thought they were Bill's favorites, too.

He supposed he'd find out if he ever met the artist.

####

Mabel found a little pink cat figurine, a string of small nazar eye beads she thought would be great for crafts, an extremely small crystal naturally colored like a watermelon slice, a handful of tiny moonstone beads (which Mabel was disappointed to be told came from Sri Lanka, not the moon), and a bracelet made out of tiny colorful rock chips arranged in a rainbow. The shopkeeper wasn't able to find the artist's name before they left; but Ford left his name, address, and the shack's number on a piece of receipt paper so she could contact him if she found out more.

As they were leaving, Ford said to Mabel, "You know... if you still like those glass pyramids, I think there's a couple in my study that escaped the purge. You could have one."

"Really? You're sure? You don't have to..."

"I'm sure. They're not magical or dangerous—and I think I'd like for one of them to get new, better associations. Just, keep it in a room where Bill can't get his hands on it," Ford said. "But if he does see it... make up a story about it that will drive him crazy."

Mabel considered that. And then a wicked smile twisted up her face.

####

"Okay, your turn," Mabel said. She was slouched down in her seat with her feet up on the car's dashboard, which would drive Stan nuts, but Stan wasn't here. "Befriend, betray, or betroth: Carl Sagan, the Queen of England, and... a wizard."

Ford sucked in a breath. "Ooh, that's tough." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Describe the wizard."

"Greatest wizard of all time! And his beard is like, ten feet long."

Ford pursed his lips as he thought. "Marry the wizard," he said. "As much as I admire Carl's mind, he freely shares his knowledge with the public. Wizards are far more reclusive. Marriage may be my only way to learn his secrets."

"The queen isn't even on the table?"

"I've been a king before, Mabel. Too many social obligations for me," Ford said. "I suppose I'll have to befriend the queen. I can't afford to make any more powerful enemies. Anyway, it could give me an opportunity to ask about some of the legends surrounding Buckingham Palace."

"So you'd betray...?"

Ford frowned deeply. "This game is vicious."

Mabel laughed. "I won't tell him!"

"I appreciate it," Ford said. "All right, your turn. Befriend, betray, or betroth: a president, a movie star, and an astronaut."

Mabel paused. Mabel thought about the guy on the $10 bill—who, she was sure, was definitely a president, or else they wouldn't have put him on a bill. Mabel said, "Which president?"

He'd meant the concept of a president, but. "Uh..."

Mabel gasped and sat up straight. "Grunkle Ford, look!" She pointed out the driver's side window.

"Wh—?" Ford gaped as they drove past a tall pole topped with a gray sign. The sign read, "OCCULTED CRYSTALS". Beneath the words was a glass window shaped like a cut diamond.

"Is that—?"

"That's it!" Ford swerved into the exit lane. "You're not getting away this time, you sonofagun!"

"I've still got like two dollars! Let's do this!"

They celebrated and congratulated each other as they descended onto the frontage road and made a U-turn under the highway.

On the other side, there was no trace of the sign. All they found was a strip of five nondescript whitewashed storefronts, all out of business, with a narrow weed-filled parking lot in front.

Mabel and Ford exchanged a baffled look.

Ford pulled into the empty parking lot and stepped out of the car. "It was here, wasn't it?" he asked. "It can't have been farther back than this." He squinted to the west, shielding his eyes with his hand. No signs that way, and no trees or buildings tall enough to be hiding one.

"Maybe it's a time travel thing! Maybe the crystal store is in the past!" Mabel jumped out of the car and ran to the abandoned stores, peering through the windows one at a time to see if any looked like a former crystal shop.

Ford glanced warily at a concrete block along the edge of the parking lot that looked like it might once have supported a pole. "Hmm."

Eventually, when they couldn't find anything, they slunk back into the car, got on the frontage road, took the next U-turn, and got back on the highway.

The diamond-windowed Occulted Crystals sign taunted them from the horizon.

They stared dumbly at it.

Mabel pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

"What are you?" Ford asked the sign. "Is it invisible on its other side?"

Mabel turned in her seat and peered through the back window as they passed it. "Still visible!"

"Then can it only be seen if you're traveling east on the highway?" Ford mused. "But you'd have to be westbound to take an exit that reaches that location. It's impossible to access."

"What if you're traveling west but you drive the car backwards!"

Ford mulled over that. "For starters, we'd probably get pulled over." Ford glanced down at the car's clock. "It's getting late, too. We can't procrastinate anymore if we want to be home in time for dinner."

The sign had disappeared behind them. Mabel turned back around and settled in her seat. "I think this calls for a follow-up investigation later, don't you?"

Ford grinned. "I had the exact same thought."

####

"... And that's how we realized it wasn't Louisa who had slashed Sarah's tires," Abuelita said, "it was Arthur! Can you believe it? Arthur!" She turned away from the stove to look at Bill, eyebrows raised, making sure he fully appreciated this twist.

Sitting backwards on one of the kitchen chairs, he shrugged. "I can't blame him. Every man has his limit. And Sarah's been pushing his for weeks." He took a swig from a bottle of spoiled grape juice.

"Stop drinking my cooking wine," Abuelita said. "Sure, but Arthur's so passive! I thought he'd have a nervous breakdown long before he ever took action! Anyway, things just haven't been the same since he was arrested."

Bill shook his head sympathetically. "I tell you. This town's bingo hall is really going to the dogs."

The front door swung open, and Mabel's voice drifted in: "Betroth the vampire, of course. And—is it possible to betray a zombie? Do they understand loyalty? When Soos got turned..."

Bill perked up. He stood and set the juice bottle on the kitchen table, immediately drawn to a more rewarding distraction. "I'll get out of your hair," he told Abuelita, and switched to English. "Hey, Shooting Star and Sixer!" He leaned in the kitchen doorway. "How were the crystals?"

"Great! I got a watermelon rock and a cat and some beads and the coolest bracelet!" She raised her hand and twisted it back and forth, making the rock chips click together. "And donuts!" She shoved a big green open box in Bill's face. "You're allowed to take one. Only one."

He grabbed the yellowest one he saw and bit in. "Huh. Piña colada. Weird." He took another bite and leaned around the open box lid to look at Mabel. "So. Did you two have fun?"

"Yes! It was a blast!" Mabel gushed. "We got lunch in Portland, and we talked foreverrr, and we've got more in common than I ever imagined, and we're gonna make more trips to Portland soon! I think it really brought us closer together."

"Huh." Bill's gaze flicked up to Ford. "How about that." Ford's face betrayed nothing. Bill looked back at Mabel and grinned wider. "Glad he's less of a killjoy than I thought."

"Pffft! You know he knows how to have fun," Mabel said. "Mr. God of Long Odds."

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

Mabel squeezed past Bill into the kitchen. "Abuelita, if you want a donut, I'm putting them in the bottom left cabinet with the pots."

"Thank you, Mabel."

"I'm taking Ford to the record store to introduce him to late 80's music," Mabel went on. "And we saw a crystal shop that isn't there depending on which way you're driving! Whaaat! Crazy, right!"

"Oh, you found Occulted Crystals?" Now Bill's grin was aimed at Ford. "I know you didn't get that bracelet there. Didn't figure out how to get in?" He winked. "Do you want to?"

Ford's expression darkened; but before he could say anything, Mabel darted back into the entryway. "No! No spoilers! You'll ruin the fun of figuring it out!"

Bill laughed. "Okay, fine! Just one safety tip: never go looking for it on an empty stomach."

Mabel gave him a distrustful look. "Will that help us get in?"

"It'll help you get back out."

She nodded slowly. "Good to know." She hugged Ford. "I'll be right back! I haven't been to the bathroom since lunch." She bounded upstairs.

Leaving Ford with Bill.

Bill simply smiled. "You talked about DD&MD? That takes me back."

"I know what you're up to, you snake," Ford said. "And it's not going to work. At least leave her out of it."

"Hey, you can't blame me for worrying about her," Bill said. "She's such a caring little thing. And you don't have a strong history of family loyalty."

Ford's hands curled into fists; but he forced himself to turn away from Bill without acknowledging him and headed for his and Stan's guest room.

"But hey," Bill called after him. "I really am thrilled to see you two getting along so well."

Nothing in Bill's tone sounded sarcastic. Ford paused and glanced back at him suspiciously; but then he shook his head and kept going.

Bill's smile faded. He made a rude gesture at Ford's back; then returned to his post at the kitchen table to listen to Abuelita's gossip and make sure she didn't touch the poison.

####

(Thank y'all for not pulling out the pitchforks at the end of last chapter lol. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog! Thanks! 💕

EDIT 6/14/2025: TBOB changes! Last chapter and this, I changed Ford's bag to "knapsack" from I think it was "briefcase," because that's the term he uses in the letter at the start of TBOB; I changed "He told me he found his home 'restrictive'" to "He told me his home 'held him back'" to copy the quote in the missing journal pages; changed the line about Ford wondering how other former cultists are doing to wondering about "Cipherholics" & added the next couple paragraphs about Ciphertology. I think that's it. All the cult talk and the talk about Bill's history & manipulation strategy was written pre-TBOB.

As always, I still appreciate comments & reblogs!)

#mabel pines #grunkle ford #(for the art)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

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pilkypills · 11 months ago

Note

Do you have any favorite headcanons for the RI brothers?

Oooh good question! As a matter of fact, I do!

Dori-

-I think he’s the kind of guy whose word is his bond. If he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it.

-He redoes his braids as often as he can, even out on the road. He hates having them be messy. Nori’s hair gets on his nerves because it’s never in its proper place and Nori won’t sit still long enough for him to fix it. Also, he can put up and take down his braids extremely fast due to years of having the same hairstyle.

-Also also, about his hair: I think he and Nori tie for having the longest hair in the company, and before his hair turned silver (which I think it did very quickly due to the stress of raising his brothers and providing for them) it was titian, as red and dark as a garnet.

-He keeps a spotless house and holds a grudge forever, even by dwarf standards.

-And of course I love the popular headcanon (half-canon?? I’m not sure) that he has a passion for tailoring and brewing tea, and if he didn’t have to worry about making a living in the Blue Mountains he would’ve made a career out of either of them.

-(I read somewhere that Dori and Gloin don’t get along) Part of his dislike for Gloin is a leftover rivalry from Ori and Gimli’s school days over who’s kid was smarter/cuter/etc. PTA night was like a war zone. Another part of his dislike is from what he sees as Gloin trying to be a big brother to Nori, maybe taking his place a little bit. (According to Chronicles, Gloin is trying to get Nori to care about dwarf history and culture)

Nori

-He's actually kind of rubbish at pickpocketing. BUT he’s an excellent survivalist and a great tracker. He also has a great head for subterfuge.

-He's just as much of a dandy as his brother. He likes expensive things, especially nice clothes. And he would never admit it to Dori’s face, but thinks his brother’s skill at sewing and tailoring are unmatched.

-Out of all of the members of the company, he’s changed his hairstyle the most over the years. He knows perfectly well his current style is impossible to upkeep but he’s too stubborn to admit it.

-Since he’s canonically had dealings with elves, I think he knows a little Sindarin. When Ori learns it himself later, it’s something they get to bond over. (I don’t think Ori knew Sindarin at the time of the quest bc nobody asked him to read the names of Thorin and Gandalf’s swords)

-Has a very, very hard time being sincere. He’s incredibly used to interacting with people who are only out for themselves.

-Nori didn’t really trust or respect Thorin as a leader until pretty late in the quest. After Bofur, he's perhaps the one who gets along with him the least. Nori isn’t the kind of guy to yield to authority and I don't think he'd have a lot in common with him to begin with.

-He often avoided Ori out of guilt when he came back home. He has a hard time connecting with him at first on the quest.

-He started smoking as an adolescent just because he knew Dori wouldn’t approve. Dori still forbids smoking in the house and he still does it anyway. He let Ori try some at one point during the quest and Dori was furious.

Ori

-Taking a little inspiration from some of the very cute bts clips I’ve seen, I think Ori is very snarky and deadpan when he isn’t being polite and mannerly. Fíli, Kíli, and Gimli (and later, Bilbo) have seen just how dry his sense of humor is. He’s a witty guy, just kind of nervous around his elders.

-He was an absolute schemer as a little kid. Rarely got in trouble because he was just so darn cute and angelic looking that no one would believe Fili and Kili when they’d say he helped them with something.

-Has exceptional eyesight for a dwarf, similar to Kili. This one might just be canon, seeing as he was able to hit a warg square in the head with his slingshot. Not his fault the rock was too small to do any damage lol.

-I know opinions on this vary quite a lot, but I’d really like to think he’s got a lot of natural body strength, similar to Dori. He just doesn’t have the self-assuredness to utilize it properly. I don’t know if I’d say he’s as strong as his brother, but I do think if he punched you you’d be in for a nasty surprise.

-Once Dori stops meddling with his hair, Ori lets it grow long. He never really takes to elaborate hairstyles, keeping just enough braids for it to stay out of his eyes while he works.

In general

-If Bilbo had stayed in Erebor, they really would have tried to adopt him officially. And if Bilbo had stayed, he would’ve probably let them.

-Ori’s death shakes Nori and Dori very badly. Dori cuts his beard, becomes withdrawn, and dies a few short years later. Nori takes a turn for the worse and becomes prone to reckless behavior. Ori was the glue that held them together. They blamed themselves for letting him go to Moria.

-They may be dysfunctional, but the love they have for each other is real and unshakeable. Deep down, Nori and Ori are just as protective of the big brother that raised them. Definitely not as mother hen-ish, but protective all the same.

-And of course, I GOTTA go with the popular one: The Ri brothers are absolutely gorgeous by dwarf standards. It’s an oldie but a goodie and you can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.

Thanks for the question!

#this was fun! I have a lot of thoughts about the Ri brothers. maybe some stuff I'd like to draw eventually.#the hobbit #dori the dwarf #nori the dwarf #ori the dwarf #asks

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biillys · 25 days ago

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wanna think about the idea of billy doing his best from a young age to like. not have friends over at his house. cos he's embarrassed of his dad and their family and the fact that his mom walked out etc so like. he does his best to make sure all playdates and hangouts and parties are somewhere else. god forbid neil or susan meet the people he hangs out with.

then the idea of him almost making it out of high school and having barely any close calls, neil crashing his little league and basketball games aside. his dad never offers up their house for birthday celebrations, and susan only ever tries to organise sleepovers for max, never really asking him if he wants anyone over.

and billy's like. fuck yeah. four more months to go then i'm free, i'm out of here, and no one's had to suffer through my shitshow family home life.

then. Then. the idea of susan getting it in her head that billy's turning eighteen, and he needs a party.

maybe susan works a few hours a week at some office, and maybe mrs. henderson works there too, and maybe claudia, as chatty as ever, starts asking questions. she heard from dustin who heard from lucas who heard from max that billy was about to finally turn eighteen, and so she asks, well intended obviously, what big celebration plans they have for him.

but like. susan barely even remembered her step-son's birthday was coming up. how is she getting reminded by mrs. henderson–of all people–about it at 2pm on a tuesday.

claudia continues on, asking if there's gonna be a party. going on about how it's a big year, eighteen, then reminises for the rest of their shift about her own eighteenth birthday party.

susan feeling guilty as hell, thinking back to her own birthday at that age. how her mom made her her favourite dinner and homebaked her favourite cake. how her two best friends at the time came over. how it was one of the last times she remembers being truly happy, before the real world took hold of her.

her going home and deciding on the drive there that there needs to be a celebration. catching billy as he walks in the door later that evening and trying to ask him what he'd like.

billy being like. nothing. i want nothing from you. no party, no presents, no balloons. it's just another day. don't worry about it. looking at her weirdly when she keeps trying.

susan hearing him, but still being like. well we need to do something. realising a full on party probably isn't the way to go, with the neil of it all, and who would she even invite anyway, but. maybe just a dinner. a simple dinner, with a few of his friends, and her and max and neil. maybe that could be nice.

enlisting max's help like. can you please invite his friends over for dinner, you know who he hangs out with, right? i don't even know his friends names.

"you realise he's gonna hate it, right? like, he said he didn't want a party," max points out.

"it'll just be a small dinner, just a few of his closest friends," susan tries, already writing a list in her head of food to prepare. realises she doesn't even know billy's favourite meal. his favourite cake flavour. that she has no idea what he could possibly want.

max stares at her and raises an eyebrow. knows the reason billy doesn't have people over, cos she doesn't have friends or sleepovers here anymore for the same reasons. dinners are awkward, neil's either in your face or standoff-ish, and her mom tries too hard to keep the conversation going. it's a nightmare.

but, her mom seems stuck on it, so eventually, she caves. nods her head and wonders how she's gonna get to heather and chrissy and carol without billy realising. without tommy fucking blabbing.

she somehow pulls it off, making a groupchat with the girls and getting them on board, then letting them handle the rest. she supllied the date and time and place, they can make sure everyone gets the information and shows up.

billy walks in the door after school on march 29th, doing his best just to get the day over and done with. knows he has to be home for dinner, cos neil's controlling that way, but has big plans to sneak out once it's lights out and go party it up at the trailer park with everyone later.

sitting down at the table, he realises there's extra place settings. that his dad's brought in extra chairs from the garage. looks around and realises how fucking weird the vibe is, more so than usual. susan's cooked up enough to feed the entire street and max looks guilty as shit. he feels dread start to take over just as someone knocks on the front door.

"you fucking didn't," he hisses at max, just as his dad walks out of the kitchen and answers, inviting people in.

"mom asked–" max starts, glaring right back, trying to plead her case.

chrissy walks in first, followed by eddie and tommy and carol, heather coming in side by side with his dad, and billy actually wants to die. can't actually think of a worse birthday.

susan welcomes everyone, pulling out seats and telling everyone to make themselves at home, his dad glaring at eddie and carol the entire time.

heather quickly snags the seat beside him, with chrissy and eddie squishing in on either side of max, and carol pulls up the chair next to neil, a smirk sitting comfortable on her face. tommy takes the last seat left next to susan, and suddenly they're all digging in.

the whole night's a complete and utter mindfuck.

neil seems to be endeared towards chrissy, probably thinking she's the picture of perfection, and is civil enough to heather, cos he knows who her parents are. spends most of dinner looking down on eddie and carol and treating them like shit, having a comment to say about everything from their appearence, all the way down to every small town rumour he's heard; eddie being a trailer trash high school ungraduate, and carol being raised by a young single mom who's been known to walk on the wild side.

being neutral towards tommy, but billy know's it just cos he's on the basketball team, and for some reason, that's a pro in his dad's book. he's also dating carol, though, and that's apparently a major fucking con.

the night drags on and billy wants the ground to swallow him whole. heather knocks her shoulder with his everytime neil says something stupid, though, and chrissy sends him the most gentle and sympathetic smiles across the table every time neil makes a shitty comment, and maybe he might just fucking cry.

tommy sits back, not really giving a fuck about most of the drama, and instead, has the time of his life. like, yeah. he gives neil the stink eye when he brings up carol's deadbeat dad and critisises her mom's parenting skills, and kind of wants to punch him when he bitches about billy's lack of commitement and direction in life becos he quit the basketball team, but like. it's a fun time. it's nice to see billy's family and finally understand why billy's–billy. he thinks he might finally get him.

heather and carol are ruthless every time neil opens his mouth, not letting him live a single second without giving it right back. susan tries to keep the peace whenever a passive aggressive arguement starts, but then max joins in, teaming up with heather about a debate on whether report card grades are true indicators of someones skills and smarts or just shit required by a system thats in shambles, and suddenly susan has no control over the table.

billy actually kinda starts to unclench slightly, watching max and heather and eddie go in on how the grading from certain teachers was bullshit, then catches how his dads face has turned redder and redder, and knows he's gonna get a stern talking to later, about the people he surrounds himself with and the influences he brings into max's life.

dinner finally ends and max, eddie, and chrissy clear the table so susan can bring out the cake.

neil sits at the head of the table, and billy can feel the storm brewing even with two people sitting between them. watches as susan walks over, plate balanced between her hands, then places an honest-to-god actual birthday cake down in front of him, eighteen candles and everything. thinks, maybe this is how he goes out.

listens as his friends and family sing him happy birthday and doesn't know what to do, or where to look. stares intently at the flames and wishes for the night to end as he blows.

the cake getting cut and shared around, and then finally, it's done. susan's shooing them all away as they push their chairs back, saying she'll clean up as neil grumbles about the leftovers and washing up.

chrissy and heather thanking her for her hospitality as they head for the door, carol dragging billy by his elbow.

"hope you don't mind, we planned a little get together before we heard about your dinner. is it okay if we steal billy for an hour or so?" heather asks, her manners and smile perfect.

susan tripping over herself to tell them it's completely fine. to take him as long as they want.

"be home by ten," neil corrects, eyes only on his son. susan tries to inerject, trying to push it to at least eleven, but neil doesn't budge. just stares at billy harder.

"yes, sir," billy nods, face hot, not even trying to fight him. can feel everyone watching the exchange and wishes they could just go.

this is why he doesn't have people over.

they leave, and make it out the front door, and suddenly–he can breathe again.

no one talks as they get into their various cars, and billy turns the music up loud the second heather sits passanger seat in his camaro.

they make it all the way to eddie's trailer before the tension finally breaks.

okay and then everyone being like. damn ur family sucks. specifically ur dad. we get why ur so weird about us coming over. this explains So much. and billy being like Bitch i've Told you all before ur never invited over. what the Fuck.

heather and tommy being like bro it's ur Birthday!!!! of Course we were gonna go. fuck ur dad!!!!!

billy being like. u suffered through the most insufferable birthday dinner party on earth just cos it was my birthday?

them all being like yeah bitch!!!!! and we'd do it again!!!!

#this snowballed i'm sorry but i just wanted to think of all his friends coming for dinner and billy being like.#this is actually the worst thing to ever happen to me. ever.#and then i was like. well in what world would that actually happen.#ANYWAY.#the idea of billy going over to tommy's like once a week for dinner with his bigass family and carol and like. being part of it #cos tommy's mum loves him and his younger siblings love him!!!#and he's always like. damn this is Nothing like dinner at my house. cwazy.#and like. the idea of billy being a standard fixture at carols place #her mum loving him. thinking if she had a son she'd want one just like him.#and billy thinkin carols mum kinda reminds him of his own.#except instead of bailing on carol; she kicked her shitass husband out and decided she'd raise carol by herself. fuck what everyone thinks.#and carol and her are Close.#and billy. again. is just like. damn? this is what family means to you??? you all are NEver coming to mine.#and then like. he doesn't go to chrissy's often cos. kinda same situation as his own.#chrissy not loving having her Real Friends over cos her parents are Judgy as Fuck.#but occasionally billys been by to pick her up or drop her off and he's met her dad and attempted to sweet talk her mum #and everytime he just looks at chrissy like. I get It.#i got you.#and sometimes when they're both high they get super emotional and touchy over it and end up cuddled up on the couch #like what if we cried over it. what Then.#and like. eddie doesn't rly remember his parents. but. he's got uncle wayne #uncle wayne who went from who the Fuck is in my kitchen everytime billy was over. to buying his favourite cereal every grocery shop #cos billy crashed at their place every time he thought he could get away with it #and everytime billys like. ohhh so this is what it's like to not feel sick at breakfast. huh.#heathers parents LOVING billy. thinking he's such a nice young gentleman for their only daughter to bring home #billy and heather just playing along cos it's easier than explaining the We Tried. We're NOT Compatible That Way. of it all #but they're still gonna be each others ride or dies yknow!!!!#and just. the idea of billy being apart of all their home lives but being such a brick wall about them becoming apart of his #and them vaguely Knowing. some more than others. about why #but then. they finally do come over for dinner and it's like!!!!!!!!! ohhhhhhhhhh this is Not Right. this is like.

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toons-inkwell · 7 months ago

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Misery Loves Company chapter: 6

Warnings:

Words: 1,204

"Lucky" ding "Rabbit" ding "That lucky Oswald rabbit" dink dink "nicest rab–" Oswald suddenly stopped, looking down at his banjo with a raised eyebrow "it shouldn't sound like that, Right?"

"Nope" Felix responded blankly, flipping a page of a book he held "that thing ain't tuned"

"Mmm... Thought so" the buck grumbled, tuning his banjo "this thing never is..."

The cat and rabbit duo rested in the basement beneath the floorboards of a quaint unfinished house in the countryside. Times like these were a rare opportunity for the two, Felix's company forbidding communication with other acting toons and Oswald's not allowing a lot of free time. It didn't matter what obstacle was in their way though, both managed to make their friendship work. The rabbit had cleverly planned out a weekend retreat for the two under the guise of having the cat "help him build his retirement home", Felix of course left out the specifics of who he was helping. If his company knew it was one of his competitors they never would have let him go, but the feline was used to lying to get out of sticky situations. It had become second nature to him, lying just came easy when his entire career was built on hiding who he really was. Which is why currently it felt so strange to him.

It had been a month since he revealed what he really looked and sounded like and while he couldn't take off his mask because of the fuss his manager made about it "slipping off"—as he told him—before, Felix still spoke in his natural voice. The raspy, hoarse, almost smokerish voice that would scare anyone else. It didn't scare Oswald though, in fact the rabbit's ears always perked up cutely each time he spoke. The cat found it strange, a deep bubbling within his chest always rising when the buck listened, but it was the good type of strange. The type of strange he'd never want to give up.

"Say Oz" Felix started, his eyes unmoving from his book "How did ya process me showing off all that I am? I remember you looked like a kid in a candy shop when staring at my face, but there had to be some fear... Right?"

"Hmm?" As usual Oswald's ears twitched, his attention immediately snapping to the cat "uhh... That's a strange question to randomly ask, don'tcha think?"

"I mean, sure it's weird to bring up, I'm just curious is all"

"Well you know what they say Tommy" he leaned in and booped the cat on his faux nose "curiosity is what killed the cat"

Felix wiggled the nose of his mask and shook his head "buuuutttt–" he leaned over, grabbing a hold of Oswald's "satisfaction brought it back"

With a firm tug Felix popped Oswald's nose right off, an empty black hole remaining where it once was.

"HAY!" Oswald shouted all nasally "gimme that back!"

Felix reeled backwards seeing Oswald try and grab his nose back "If you want it back–" he jumped to his feet, holding it above his head "go ahead and take it!"

Oswald followed the cat's lead, dropping his banjo and standing up "you're on Tommy!"

Felix was soon tackled to the ground, the buck grabbing onto him and trying to wrestle his nose away. This was fairly common for the two, a little playful game of keep away involving body parts that could harmlessly detach. Felix only had the power to do it to his tail so he took every chance he could to try and pop something off his friend, finding it cute the way the rabbit's tail always wagged. Even when rolling around on the floor, scraping themselves against the stone and against a few boxes filled with items they were using for the construction, they remained unphased by anything else. Instead it was just the two of them, having fun and giggling while they fought without actually hurting each other. Just like every other time they did it it ended when both physically weren't capable of going on anymore. They huffed and panted, staring up at the ceiling struggling to breath while they continued to giggle.

"Ha-hay Felix?" Oswald gasped "You... You okay?"

"I'm fine" he dismissed with a wave "You good?

Oswald didn't respond. He was still struggling to breath and instead just gave a weak thumbs up for an answer. Honestly that response alone was a sort of a lie since he was more than "just good", he felt alive. Distinct loud beats of his heart was audible in his ears, his pulse much more rapid than what it should have been. It seemed to always get like that when around Felix, whether it was just talking or goofing around and wrestling, it always seemed to race. The little black cotton ball tail of his wagged back and forth dusting off the floor beneath him, another sign of his excitement that was impossible to ignore.

"... Felix?" Oswald finally spoke with his still ragged breaths "do you know what I actually felt when you showed me your face?"

Felix's ears twitched and he looked over to face the buck, a glimmer in Oswald's eyes making it hard to form thoughts "wha... What did you feel Oz?"

"I was happy" Oswald grabbed Felix's hand and squeezed, reassuring the cat there was not for a second any fear "I was happy that you cared enough about me to open up, I don't think I could ask for a better friend"

Felix tensed up, his claws emerging from his fingertips for a split second. The sudden hand holding was... odd. Him and Oswald were very touchy with each other but they never held hands casually so it startled him which made no sense? Oswald would kiss him on the nose and he would return the gesture whenever they had to say goodbye and were in private, so why did the handholding feel so different? Like a fluttering butterfly that strange sensation rumbled through his chest, something like anxiety but... Nice? He couldn't quite put a finger on it but it wasn't the same anxiety he felt whenever his manager spoke to him but rather like something was gently purring.

Oh god—it was Oswald!

Felix had looked up at the ceiling for a second and in that time Oswald had crawled over and rested himself upon the cat's chest. Gentle purrs from the tired buck rumbled throughout Felix's body. His eyes were closed so he didn't doubt that his friend was probably exhausted from all the roughhousing, but this? This was new. All this was new. That fluttering within him, the touching, the constant compliments, none of this was in his life before Oswald came into it. Before he spent the few seconds of free time he had with his faux face crammed in a book to dissociate for a bit. With Oswald though he didn't need to do that. Instead he could actually enjoy this. He could enjoy the feeling of someone who actually cared for him purring on his chest, no doubt probably already asleep.

He could enjoy the fact that as long as he had Oz, he wasn't alone.

#fanfic #fanfiction #toon's aus #toon's fanfiction #oswald the lucky rabbit #felix the cat #felix the wonderful cat #oswald x felix #osix #Misery Loves Company AU

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dazedantics · 1 year ago

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8 - Goodnight

"Why do we have so many houses?"

"Because we're traveling."

"Why do we travel?"

"Because we have to."

"But why? I'm tired of going everywhere, Mom. I want to go home Mom."

"... we're going to a home, Lucas."

"... are we traveling to Dad's house?"

"Uh, sure."

"Yay! I want to see Dad! I want him to see how strong I am! And we're gonna play swords and catch and he's going to teach me all kinds of things! I can't wait to hear about his travels! And I'm going to tell him how mean he is for not writing to us ever or getting me presents!"

"... he'll still be ... busy when we get there. We probably won't see him at all."

"What! No! I'm going to see Dad! And if I don't I'll track him down like those guys the wagon guy told us about. Dad's going to see us and we won't have to worry about anything anymore, I promise, Mom!"

A bittersweet smile formed as you remembered the conversation you and Lucas had once on your way to Briar Valley.

Lucas was a mostly active kid but he'd was still a kid. He got bored and tired and grumpy and asked questions when he didn't want to do something anymore.

But you didn't have a clear way to answer him for those types of questions. You still thought he was too young to know. So you did your best to satisfy his distracted mind before he decided to jump off the cart and run off to find something more fun to do.

It had worked but now he was expecting to see a father he no longer had.

And because of these expectations, he associated the first man he saw with being his Dad. It didn't help that the man visited you often and didn't reprimand Lucas for calling him such.

You sat front if the cool pond out back, gazing at the stars through the still, clear water, twirling a yellow dandelion between your fingers.

Crickets chirped merrily somewhere in the grass, filling the silence surrounding you. There wasn't a breeze blowing, but the night didn't feel too hot either. Everything felt pretty relaxed.

You pondered what you should do about the "father" situation.

On the one hand, you could leave things as they were and Lucas wouldn't have a fuss. But who knows what would happen if the people started to think it was the truth.

They'd know you didn't live together and no one knows about your visits in your little cabin. The worst ideas of you would come to mind and they'd be repulsed by your supppsed vulgarity.

They probably wouldn't do anything to Malleus since they revered him. But you and Lucas? They might shun you and talk behind your backs. Now, you could handle the talking and it'd likely go over Lucas' head, but if they refused to acknowledge you?

You'd have to find an efficient way to get/make materials and items you required to live a little comfortably. You could learn how to do many things as you've had to in order to get to this point, but it'd take time and Lucas was a growing boy with a short attention span. It'd cause you more difficulty than you believed you could handle.

Not to mention Lucas would feel hurt if anyone didn't respond to him and God forbid someone ruff him up cause they scorned you.

On the other hand, you could reveal everything to Lucas: your past, his real father, the reason you had to leave and kept traveling until you reached Briar Valley, tell him all the dangers it took to get here and how bad it'd have been to stay in Rourinville.

But if that happened?

You believed he'd probably try to refuse to believe you, would lash out and run away in a mad dash of tears because you'd made him believe he still had a father, made him constantly be on the move when he could have been living a cushy life and made friends like the people in all of the stories he's heard.

He might get upset with Malleus for not being his Dad and offend him in some way that may result in a terrible backlash.

If Lucas calmed down, from that point onward things wouldn't be the same between you. He might resent you. He might run off when you were sleeping and disappear from you forever.

You buried your face in your knees and sighed.

Maybe you were jumping to conclusions, but you really didn't want to experience either circumstance.

So ... what do you do?

"Are you alright?" A familiar voice asked.

You looked over you shoulder. "Hey, Draconia."

"Dangers often come out in the night, staying inside is the safest option." The fae looked at you quizzically, head slightly tilted to the side. "Why are you out so late?"

You couldn't help but crack a small smile before looking back at the pond. "Just thinking."

Malleus stepped forward and sat down beside you, not seeming to mind getting mud on him. "About what?"

"... Nothing. Lucas is sleeping."

"I'm aware. I checked the house before I spotted you here."

You looked at him.

He wore slim pants, knee-length boots, leather gloves, and a frilled, long sleeved button up - all black of course. A small amount of green makeup decorated his eyelids, making you drawn to look at his eyes. The moonlight glinted off his dark horns making them look sharper than they were.

He really was quite the sight.

"What are you doing here?"

"I finally had a moment to spare and thought I'd check if you were still awake."

You chuckled. "What if me and Lucas were both asleep? It is normally the time we're in bed."

"Then I would have simply went for a stroll in the woods as I used to do."

"Good. I would've had a problem if you just stood there watching us."

He hummed and you turned your attention back to the pond.

It was silent between you for a moment before Malleus looked over at you. His gaze landed at the flower in your hands and his eyes seemed to glint as an idea came to mind.

"Are you tired?"

"Not really. Ha, you wouldn't happened to know a sleeping spell to help me with that, would you?" You joked.

You knew full well that he did, the stories made sure to always point that out. It wasn't as pleasant as it sounded, so you really weren't sure why you decided it'd be appropriate to joke about. You shivered as you imagined all the years that would pass if he cast one such spell on you and began to pray that he didn't take your words seriously.

"I do."

Your face fell and you resisted the urge to scoot away from him.

"But I have a better idea. I think you may enjoy it. Do you like flowers, Y/N?"

"Uhh, yeah. Why do you ask?"

He smiled and stood up, offering a hand to you. "Perfect. I can assure that you'll be back in time before your son wakes from his slumber."

You frowned and looked back and forth from his close-eyed grin to his hand.

"... where are we going?"

"Someplace nice."

You looked back at the house for a moment. Was it safe to leave Lucas alone?

Malleus opened his eyes then followed your gaze. "He has not been harmed a moment since you've arrived, has he? I promise to keep it that way."

You hesitated before nodding.

"Okay. I'll trust you."

You let go of the dandelion to grab his hand.

As he helped you onto your feet, you were transported to someplace new.

You held your spinning head for a moment before taking a look around.

You appeared to be in dilapidated ruins.

The cobbled floor was cracked and coated with dust, large stone walls that once formed many pathways were crumbling and decorated by vines and a few spiderwebs. What you think were street lights lined the pathway and large tree roots snaked their way between the cracks in the floors.

"Where are we?"

Malleus began to lead you down the worn down paths. "A place I like to go for silence. Come, we're not too far from what I want to show you."

You followed behind him slowly, not wanting to trip over anything.

"No offense, but don't you have thousands of rooms in your castle to take solitude in? Why here?"

"I do. But I rather enjoy being out, especially touring ruins like this. Just around the corner now."

"Dr-Draconia, wait up! You're walking too fast."

Malleus stopped in front of a curtain of green vines and pushed them aside, waiting for you to walk past them first.

His smile hadn't left his lips and it was making you a little wary. Just what was going on?

"I'm sure you'll enjoy this. Go on."

"Draconia? What...?"

"You said you trust me, did you not?"

"Yeah, but not for-" You cut yourself off, not wanting to offend him, and simply did as he wanted.

You didn't know what you expected to see past the vines, but it certainly wasn't a garden.

Large brundles of flowers in every color decorated the floors and walls. They sat proudly among rows of black thorns, filling the area with their sweet aroma.

A few fireflies floated along them making the sight seem more surreal. A crumbling well sat in the center of it all, providing the plants the drink they needed in order to thrive properly.

You held your mouth agape as you looked around.

"Draconia? Did you grow all of these?"

"I'm afraid not. They grew on their own." He walked up beside you. "Strange, isn't it? How something so lively can live among desolate expanses."

"It's ... beautiful." You walked through the flowers, a smile growing on your lips, a hand hovering over the petals as you went.

Malleus sat on the edge of the well and watched you. "Yes. I think I was very fortunate to come across this place."

"I've had a flower garden before. They made sure it had every flower out there and always kept it pristine," You mused.

Malleus quirked a brow but didn't comment on your words.

You held up your hands for a firefly to land on.

"I think I like this much better. It's more free."

"Indeed."

None of the fireflies wanted to land on you so you dropped your hands and turned to Malleus.

"Are you sure you didn't do anything to start this?"

"Nothing at all."

You hummed and went to sit beside him.

"Ruins always appear unsightly at first glance, but the closer you get, the more you start to see the beauty in them. It's usually not as apparent as it is right here, but it's still there. That's what I believe."

You looked over at the dragon.

The small smile was still present but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He had spoken forlornly just now and was looking at the flowers with a strange glaze over his eyes.

You nudged him with your elbow. "Well, I'm glad you brought me here."

He nodded.

For a long moment, the both of you sat there silently, taking in the view and enjoying the tranquility. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward at all which was a little strange, but neither of you minded.

Then, Malleus stood. "Well, we best get going now. You need your rest."

"Yeah, it is very late isn't it."

Malleus picked a rose from the flowers and brought it to his nose for a whiff.

"Draconia?"

"Yes?"

"Do you need sleep?"

He chuckled. "Would you like to find out?"

You blushed and began to stammer.

He laughed and extended you the rose. "I kid. I do sleep, though I don't need it as much as a human does."

"O-oh . . . Ow!"

As you reached to grab the flower, your finger pricked against one of its thorns and you pulled back, bringing your finger to your mouth.

"Oh? I should remove those."

As Malleus said that, the thorns vanished from the stem and he tucked the flower behind your ear. He then took a hold of your hand and grazed his thumb gently over your hurt finger. The pain went away and it was like nothing had happened at all.

"Odd how even beautiful things can be dangerous...."

"... thank you...."

Malleus nodded then took a better hold of your hand.

"Now then,"

In a flash, you were standing in the living room of the cabin.

"Have a good night, Y/N."

Malleus left in the blink of an eye, as per usual, and you uttered a quiet, "Goodnight," back. Barely noticing the pink blanket shrouding your skin and the quick beating sounding inside you.

Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst malleus #x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #“In Ruins”

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empressofthewind · 1 year ago

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14 + 18 for meronia and 10 + 12 for mattlight pleeeeeeease <3 ^_^

Thank you for these!!

14. Do they enjoy PDA, or are they more private with affection? (Meronia)

My God. Neither of these two have any concept of boundaries. The only saving grace for the public is that Near rarely leaves the house, so the opportunities are limited for him to be a menace outside of his own headquarters/in front of his own staff; but god forbid Mello decides to bring him out for the day, everyone around them is going to bear witness to the most horrifying display of PDA and general bizarreness. Imo Mello has a constant, crippling need to show the world that Near is His, and Near would not be bothered enough about social norms to stop him. If Mello had agreed to work with Near in the first place, I’m convinced they would’ve made out in the president’s office.

18. How do they care for each other when one of them is wounded/sick? (Meronia)

I'll do this one in two parts!

Wounded - given how gentle Near is, I imagine he'd actually be very good at treating an injury, minor or major, without causing Mello too much additional pain. Post-Kira case, Mello would likely have acquired some decent first aid skills from his various serious injuries incurred over the years, so he'd also know what to do in a situation like that. I think they're both be pretty concerned when the other is wounded, and would express this in different ways - Near by checking in on him and asking standard medical questions about his level of pain and other details regarding his injury, and Mello most likely by berating him for ending up in whatever situation got him hurt.

Sick - in my (slightly deranged) opinion, I feel like they are so co-dependent that they wouldn’t be able to stay apart even when if of them has a highly contagious illness. So if one of them gets sick, they both get sick. I think Mello would be better at caring for Near given that he'd be looking after Near even when he's healthy, so he would make him warm soup and buy him the relevant medications if necessary. In the same vein, he'd be fairly self-sufficient when he himself gets sick, and I also think he'd be pretty resistant to help even if he needs it. He'd encourage Near to stay away from him and insist that he can look after himself. If he's especially unwell, I imagine Near would enlist the help of an independent third party. The idea of him inviting over Rester or Gevanni to take care of Mello is very amusing to me hgdhgsjd as I do NOT think anyone involved (other than Near) would be even remotely pleased about this arrangement.

10. Do they share any hobbies or interests? How do these things bring them together? (Mattlight)

Canonically they are both into video games to some extent - Light plays Mario Golf with Ryuk, and I’m sure I do not need to cite references for Matt’s interest. I could see them both getting pretty competitive, even with casual games, and I can imagine Light getting somewhat worked up over this, but I think Matt would be pretty effective at calming him down. I am also convinced that Matt would rope Light into some minor delinquency - in my mind, they would only get together in a non-Kira AU, and I think the version we see of Light at the beginning of Death Note could be swayed to get up to a little mischief. The shared experience of committing a crime together and getting away undetected would, in an odd way, bring them much closer. Also they would smoke weed together. SORRY.

12. Do they have a difficult time when separated from each other, or are they fairly independent? (Mattlight)

I honestly can’t imagine these two being particularly clingy? They’re both pretty independent and I feel like they’re the kind of couple who want each other rather than need each other, if that makes sense. They’d for sure think about each other when they’re apart, but I can’t imagine either of them struggling to function at all.

For this ask game :-)

#asks #ask game

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phoenixnewton · 2 years ago

Text

First Encounter

Ponyboy Curtis

When my big brother Dally decided it was time to leave New York for good- I didn't question it.

I’d always hated it with a passion. Sure there was everything you could ask for in the city and it was one hell of a sight for sore eyes, but me and Dally never lived the high life. We could never walk the streets alone without the fear of being jumped by some hoodlums, and especially because I was a girl I faced an even greater risk even venturing outside our house. If you weren't in a gang- you were vulnerable. Dally realised that pretty quickly, but any sense of safety came with risks.

He never told me why we had to leave so suddenly. I never asked either.

But when the vast fields of the country came into view as we left the city in a stolen Mustang- man, I sure was grateful. Dally never told me why he picked Tulsa, Oklahoma for our new home either. For all I knew he threw a dart at a map and let wherever it stuck decide our fate. It was something he'd do.

Whether it was fate or pure luck, what we found in Tulsa changed my life forever. I never believed in God before I stepped out of that car onto the sun-kissed tarmac of Tulsa. I never believed in miracles or that anything good could ever happen to me. But it did. And I sure am thankful, because without it I'm not sure I'd still be alive.

Dally and I had been in Tulsa for only a day before I first laid my eyes on Ponyboy Curtis. We were outside Buck’s Bar when two guys stumbled out of the door. One was older and more broad, and he was lugging a younger guy who seemed intoxicated. I soon learned their names were Darry and Sodapop.

Dally, in a rare display of compassion, offered to help the big guy carry his brother. And with nowhere else to go I had to follow. This Soadpop sure was a funny guy. But his brother Darry seemed far too uptight to even laugh at his jokes. I didn't know what his problem was at the time, but now I know that he had a lot of responsibilities on such young shoulders and carrying his drunken brother home wasn't one he needed.

Their house was quaint and homey. It looked lived in. I was envious of it at first, for the apartment me and Dally had in New York was a dump compared to this place. It never truly felt like home.

I stood on the porch as Dally helped the pair inside. The sky was beautiful that night, the stars were bright in the sky and I stared at them in awe. I'd never seen them before- the bright lights in New York forbid me from doing so. It wasn't long before I heard the door open behind me, thinking it was Dally I didn't bother to turn around.

The porch floor creaked as footsteps made their way to me. I felt the warm presence of a person next to me, and I could feel their eyes on me. Suddenly I was shaking all over. To this day I still don't know why. “The stars are beautiful, aren't they?” I said aloud.

“I prefer sunsets myself.”

#ponyboy curtis #the outsiders #the outsiders ponyboy #first meeting #stars #the outsiders dally #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #dallas winston

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notladylikesa · 2 years ago

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"i know you're not a big fan of going out but..."

she starts, kicking her feet as she lays down on her bed. madelaine feels like she's been cooped up with this sinus infection for far too long and the girl is desperate for some kind of fresh air.

"let me buy you dinner please."

grabbing a strand of hair, the brunette begins to twirl it around her finger.

"i feel like i'm going frickin' stir-crazy, dude. seriously. just....meet me at six. i'll text you the address."

not giving him a chance to deny her once more, she promptly hangs up the phone and presses it against her chest, a feeling of a 'job well done' starting to simmer throughout her. her brother wasn't often the 'go out to eat' type - save for the diner and bakery in order to get quick meals, but he deserves not to have to cook after dealing with the whole 'getting beaten up' fiasco.

his bruises are fading and that should be a sign that he needs interaction with more than just mrs. o'leary's cat on the second floor.

she glances through reviews on yelp before sending the address for 'ruffinos : italian eatery' to her brother, and hopping up in order to head for a shower so that she can start to get ready. it takes her a little over an hour and is nearing five in the afternoon by the time she emerges from the warm cavernous space of her bathroom, so she promptly begins to do hair and makeup, a rare occasion when she chooses to doll herself up for the night.

madelaine is just as much of a homebody as her brother, but she still has the random urge to get up and leave the house every once in a while. she thinks that brother's genes must have skipped gathering that one.

when she arrives, she notices him already sitting at a table and she inadvertently squeals as she wanders over, wrapping him up in a big hug and pressing a kiss against his cheek. when she sits down, they make small talk - that is until a familiar face is pressed up against the glass window.

miranda.

jake's back is to her, but she's facing madelaine, and the brunette feels a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins at the opportunity. she knows that inevitably, miranda is going to come inside, and she's going to be able to give her a piece of her mind.

taking a bite of the pasta that was brought out, she nearly gags upon hearing the crooning of miranda's voice calling out to jake. of course she'd want to be seated somewhere near him.

"ah, if it isn't the wicked witch of the east." madelaine says, her tone taking on a hint of ice layered with poison.

"how'd you sucker someone into coming out to eat with you, are you payin' em?"

she asks, a tilt of the head.

at this point miranda has forgone all attempts to talk to madelaine, but that doesn't stop maddie from chiming in every once in a while, especially when she starts referencing jake.

and she knows her brother won't say anything, he's more of the 'ignore it until it goes away' type since his recent accident, but madelaine's never one to shy away from a confrontation - a trait of her fathers.

"listen, you bonafide twatwaffle, i don't know how you managed to get out of your cage, but you should understand what a 'protection order' means. or are ya that fuckin' daft?"

madelaine turns herself slightly, now speaking to the man in question who followed along with miranda for the evening.

"sir, i don't know you, but i sure as shit feel the need to tell you to high tale it the fuck on out of 'ere. ya'see, that woman's a fucking menace. she sent my brother to prison for something he'd never do in a million years, all 'cause she got a wild hair up her ass and decided that she was too good to be divorced and god forbid her catholic heart be burdened by such."

there is no time for breaths taken in between her words, she continues speaking in a ramble.

"i'd say you best go on and get goin' before she plasters your face all over the evenin' news, crying wolf about something you probably wouldn't do."

kindly and calmly, madelaine stands and finds her way over towards the hostess' station. she explains the situation at hand, in a calm and courteous manner, and when she returns to the table, no sooner than she sits down, there is a policeman ( thank god he'd been waiting in the wings to get a seat while off duty ) who has currently taken charge of the situation. miranda is escorted from the table, and the meal is on the house for tonight.

on their walk home, madelaine places her arm through her brother's and nudges him before resting her head on his shoulder.

"told you i always got your back."

#mus. madelaine leigh flynn.#dyn. jake flynn.#drabbles.

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tartt9 · 2 years ago

Text

"Okay, I get that part. Not that I agree, I fucking love the fame, but... I know it can be a lot for some people." Roy, in his later years, was one of those people. The thing about being a footballer, especially in England, was that you essentially gave up your right to privacy as soon as the Sun or the Daily Mail or some other trash publication like that decided it was interested in you. It is a lot. On some days, it's overwhelming. There are times that Jamie doesn't want to leave his house for fear of facing down someone with a camera and questions he doesn't want to answer. Nevertheless, he wouldn't trade his life in the Prem for the world. God forbid he goes to fucking America, where he could play footy all he'd like and the public'd leave him the fuck alone. "Why don't you play in America?" he asks then. "I mean - I don't mean it like, an insult or nowt. The women there are, like, significantly better'n the men, if I told fucking - any of the lads that, it'd be an insult..." He's pretty sure he told Roy to fuck off across the ocean at one point during his loan year, but back then, Jamie said a lot of things he didn't mean. "But for you it wouldn't be all that bad. Less fame, still getting t'play for your country if the call were t'come... but y'came t'England. Fucking... shit reporters central." Again, Jamie loves his job, and doesn't want to do it anywhere else. He just doesn't understand what could draw someone with Katrina's attitude here of all places.

Jamie gives a shrug. Nobody had really brought up the option of him going to therapy before Dr. Sharon joined the club. His therapy, per se, with City, had been laying on Paddy's couch at night with his head in his lap, watching match footage on tv, talking through how things - how Jamie - could get better, be better. Or letting Pep tell him how well he'd played, how he could be a star, how he was an important part of his team, so very different from the way Mannion used to tell him he was a star on his own. But, when Dr. Sharon came around during their Championship season, and Keeley practically dragged him into her office, and he realised it was really just sitting down and blabbering on and on about himself, he didn't actually mind it. He didn't even mind talking about the harder stuff, even if it took him time to get there, time to talk through it. Even if he hadn't shared everything. "Might be good for you. Just think about it, I ain't gonna force you into it. I mean - I still go. Every other Tuesday, after training, before dinner." That's Jamie offering his own vulnerability to her. He's not ashamed, but he doesn't know how many people - how many footballers - have been that open with her. "Why don't y'think it'd be successful, then?"

“I mean, I’m fine with being known, but I don’t wanna be super famous or anything.” It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the fans and kind words. But that many prying eyes constantly watching? Recipe for a living nightmare, if you ask her. Honestly, sometimes she thinks if she could play the game anonymously, she would. She shrugs before answering. “Because this is what I’m good at. And it’s what I love doing.” It’s a simple answer, but it’s true. What would she be doing if she wasn’t doing this? Working some stupid dead-end job? Back picking up retail shifts? She never went to university, doesn’t have any training in any special skills, only barely managed to finish school after running away from home - the list of options for that sort of resume isn’t exactly glowing. If she can make a living playing the game she loves, she’ll take it.

Again, she almost smiles. “You’re not the first person to tell me that either.” Therapy had been suggested to her a number of times before. But she’d never tried it, never thought she would be good at it - just look at how this conversation was going. As much as she stayed guarded, there was a part of her that wished sometimes she could stop. That trying to say something real wasn’t like trying to coax a feral cat out of a fucking storm drain. Maybe there was a world where things were easier. Where certain things hadn’t happened, or she had been able to handle things better. Softer. But she was here, built upon years of rage and mistrust. “I know you are.” Brown eyes stare down at the floor. Somewhere in the back of her head, her mom’s voice - maybe some people can’t be saved. “I don’t know how successful that help would be.”

#mcmorare #replies !#verse: season iv !

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pacificwaternymph · 2 years ago

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"When's the last time you slept?" With witchcraft Scott being asked that by Joey? Or Cleo, whatever gets your brain juice flowing

"God, you look awful." Joey was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Scott felt irritation curl in his gut at the casual way which the other witch just waltzed into his home like he owned the place. His fists clenched as he fought to keep from snapping at the intruder. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," he sneered. Truce or not, he and Joey certainly weren't on friendly terms, and he didn't appreciate his space being invaded with such little notice. He'd been in the middle of brewing potions, a very delicate process that required exact measurements.

He was already on his fifth try thanks to the way his hands shook and his vision seemed to blur and double. He didn't need additional distractions.

"Did you need something?"

"Come to think of it, do you even have a bed?" Joey bulldozed right over him, as if he hadn't heard Scott at all. "I've been through almost your entire house and I haven't found a single pillow."

Scott bristled. Did this man not have any respect for privacy?

"Why do you want to know? Trying to get a taglock?" Technically, the terms and conditions of their truce forbid Joey from practicing curses or voodoo, or any of the magic that Scott practiced. But he wouldn't put it past Joey to try and find a work around anyway.

"Oh yes, because that went so well for me the first time." The firefrost witch snorted, rolling his eyes. "As if. I know better than to try to mess with you by now."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Scott rested his hands on the table behind him. "What do you want?"

Joey sighed, long and dramatic, as if it pained him to reveal his purpose here. Scott just scowled at him, refusing to say anything else until his rival spoke first.

"Fine, fine. Since you're just so insistent." Joey smiled amusedly and reached into his bag. Scott tensed, hand already straying towards his wand, but the other didn't move to attack him. Instead, his hand emerged holding a small poppet. "As per our agreement, I need someone cursed. I still have to get back at Pris for the whole demonic alter thing. I even saved you the trouble of having to make one of these creepy little dolls. You're welcome."

He tossed the poppet over to Scott, who held up a hand to catch it. Unfortunately, he was a bit too slow, and the doll bounced off of his hand and fell to the floor before he could curl his fingers around it. He stared at it in defeat for a few moments, as if he could will it back to him with the force of his disappointment, before giving up and bending over to pick it up.

When he looked back over at Joey, the firefrost witch's grin had dropped. His brow was slightly creased, lips twisted downward in what could almost be considered concern, if Scott were stupid.

"What?" He snapped. Joey hesitated, for once devoid of any mocking remark, his usual condescension completely gone.

"Are... you okay? Like I know I was joking about it but seriously... have you been getting any sleep at all?"

Scott grit his teeth and glared, but Joey's expression didn't change. He wasn't falling for it. It didn't matter that the last person to ask that question in a similar context was... him, he wouldn't give away any weakness.

"I don't need sleep," he informed Joey. "I did away with my bed after you and Pris attempted to get my taglock."

Joey's eyes widened, posture loosening. "...Oh." His gaze flicked from side to side, looking mildly uncomfortable. "I... sorry, I guess."

"Don't be. If anything, I should be thanking you. After all, you brought to my attention a glaring vulnerability that my enemies could easily use against me. Thanks to you, I was able to get rid of it" Scott turned back to his brewing stand. "Now, what kind of curse were you thinking of?"

Joey didn't say anything, which was again, strange. After a few seconds, Scott glanced behind him to make sure he was still there. The other witch's mouth was pinched, his eyes welling up with pity. It made Scott's skin crawl.

"...It can wait. You should get some rest."

Scott barked out a laugh.

"I thought you were done with underestimating me. Do you really think I would listen to you of all people?"

Joey's shoulders rose, expression turning sour. "Well forgive me for being concerned."

Scott snorted. "You. Concerned about me?" He shook his head. "Alright, very funny. Who are you really? Is that you, El? Shelby? Tiff?"

"I-I am not any one of those pathetic excuses for witches!" Joey cried out indignantly. "How dare you! Is it so impossible to believe that maybe it is really me?"

"Yes," Scott deadpanned.

Joey turned bright red. "W-well- you-" He screamed in frustration. "Just listen to me, would you? You're of no use to me if you can't even think straight."

"I never do anything straight."

"Me neither, but that is besides the point. Look, you can't curse someone if you can barely keep your eyes open. For all I know you could accidentally grab the wrong taglock and then boom, I'm being lit on fire every time I step out in the sun again." He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just... get some sleep. You look like you're about to fall over."

Scott bit back a traitorous yawn, as if summoned by the very thought. He couldn't go to sleep now- he just couldn't. There was too much that could happen to him while he was asleep. He wouldn't be able to defend himself if someone attacked him. Or tried to steal from him. Or cursed him. Joey was crazy if he thought that Scott would really trust his word.

"I'll call Cleo if you don't."

Scott froze.

"As if she'd pick up for you," he shot back. Joey smirked.

"She would if I was calling from your landline."

...Damnit.

"Alright, fine. Geez." Joey's face turned triumphant. Scott let out a low growl. "I'll go to bed. Now leave me alone."

Joey laughed. "I don't believe you. I'm staying right here until I see for myself you that you fell asleep."

"That is so creepy."

"I don't care. If you're going to insist on making yourself my only option for curses, then I'm going to make sure that I'm getting the best quality possible out of it. Now move, chop chop. Before you actually keel over." Joey gestured behind him to the empty hallway.

Scott grumbled and set down the poppet, but shuffled over to the door anyways. Joey led him down into the living room and over to one of the couches, before immediately sashaying off to the nearest closet and throwing it open.

The inside had extra blankets and linens that Scott never actually used, but Joey didn't even seem to see the dust that had piled up on top of them before he was pulling at one of the blankets and shaking it out.

Scott remained on edge as he watched Joey flit around the room, trying to look for something that could suffice as a pillow. He still didn't trust it. He couldn't believe a single thing that the firefrost witch said (no matter the small part of his brain that tried to convince him otherwise).

Joey definitely observed this, and rolled his eyes again. Scott remembered vaguely his mother telling him that if he did that too many times, they'd get stuck back there. He hoped that didn't happen. It would be a shame if Joey's eyes got stuck. They were quite pretty to look at, despite the aggravating personality of the person they were attached to.

The firefrost witch set a hand on his shoulder that burned, which Scott brushed off as his magic, and pushed him into lying down, propping his head with a cushion he'd pried off the other couch and throwing the blanket over him.

"I'll keep watch, or whatever. Nothing will happen while you're out."

"And how am I supposed to trust that?" Scott muttered, although his exhaustion was already sinking into his bones.

"Relax. Killing you in your sleep is hardly beneficial to me right now." Joey's grin was still the same arrogant, self-satisfied thing it always was. But the edges seemed... softer. Or maybe Scott really was just sleep deprived.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care so much?" Scott turned onto his side. He saw Joey turn his head quickly so that his face was hidden, but he could have sworn he saw a flash of red across his cheeks.

"I don't," Joey said, voice sounding slightly strained. "It's like I said. I want only the best of the best. I can't have the quality of your curses be affected by your terrible self care habits, now can I?"

Scott hummed. He was sure there was a flaw in that logic somewhere, but he was too tired to figure it out. His eyes slipped closed, and he finally let himself fall into the depths of unconsciousness.

#my writing #i'll post this to ao3 later #witchcraft smp #wcsmp #ask game #writing prompt #smajor1995 #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #joey graceffa #Soulfire

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sharklights · 3 years ago

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The night after the ranch burns down is quiet. Jimmy curls up into his soulmate's warm arms, trying to stave off the cold from the draft in the still-smoldering house. Neither of them are asleep, and neither are bothering to pretend that they are.

"Are you alright?" is the question Jimmy asks, softly, but deafening in the silence.

"I will be," Tango replies, and there's no heat in his voice when he does. It's just defeat. There is none of the violent, desperate anger that seemed to take over him only hours before. Jimmy hadn't known what to do, frantically trying to thank the helpers and calm Tango down at the same time. Tango had shouted to Etho first, which didn't sting (didn’t sting like seeing Scott make cottages with Cleo, didn’t sting like Grian and Martyn forbidding the server to reply to his horn, didn’t sting like loneliness at all), and Etho had laughed. Egged him on, even, and Joel joined in immediately. Tango reveled in it, or he seemed to, but his red eyes looked panicked as Jimmy stared into them, his pupils shrunk down to pinpricks and darting around, looking for a way to escape.

Jimmy had recognized the look. He'd seen it on his own face enough, after he did something stupid and had to worm his way out of consequences, or when he watched someone he cared about die by his hand, directly or otherwise. He tried calming Tango down with words first, and he felt terror that wasn't his flatten into a simmer of panic. He held Tango's arm tightly, squeezing his wrist in an attempt to ground him, and he felt the panic die down to a delirious exhaustion. He blew his horn, unique to the ranch, right in Tango's face, and when Tango pulled his own horn out to reply, it was with enough intention that Jimmy almost went limp with relief.

Jimmy repositions himself so that he can look at Tango's eyes. They look tired. Jimmy knows he looks the same. "What happened back there?" he asks.

"I think it was... mob instincts, maybe. I don't know. It's only happened once before, back in last life, when Bdubs killed me. I sort of... lost control of myself, I guess. And it happened again when Scar burned down the ranch. Stupid, I know," Tango laughs. He sounds embarrassed to admit it.

"Is that why you called out to Etho?" Jimmy asks.

Tango nods, rustling the sheets near his flaming head. The flames never burn anything unless Tango wants them to. They'd been burning blue-hot that afternoon.

"Well, I don't blame you. I'm not an expert or anything, but I feel like you were basically having a panic attack, right?" Jimmy says. Tango nods again.

"I'll try to remember that. I know how to bring you back now, at least. If that had happened in combat, or if we'd been red at the time, I don't know what would have happened," Jimmy elaborates.

"Sorry," Tango mumbles, like he's ready to fall asleep. "It's sort of annoying to deal with."

"Let's call it even. I do have a death curse, after all," Jimmy quips, coaxing a rumbly laugh from his soulmate. If he didn't know better, he'd almost call it a purr.

"'Night, Canary," Tango murmurs.

"Goodnight, Coal Mine," Jimmy replies.

And once again, the night is quiet.

#dlsmp fanfic #double life smp #double life tango #double life jimmy #trafficshipping #if you squint i guess but its shippy enough that its better to be safe than sorry #this shark can write!#shark talk #double life spoilers

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koishua · 4 years ago

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─────── 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

taglist one : @shekllls @eternallyhyucks @yjwfav @beyondthesheets @speckled-sunshine @luvningkai @youreverydayzebra @ilandsghost @jensrose @yongmins @nikis-mum @w3bqrl @candysofthours @moontines @rielleluvs @heefused @squiishymeow @just-uaau @catecita @namjoo-jay @shrutiajit @baekhyunstruly @changmin-wrlds @changminurheart @chewychubchuu @taegicarus @marknaeroni @enhacolor @heelariously @chaebb @nshitae @clarakyunisageek @i-m4rk @tarosaurus @aeonghaseyo @hotgirlsunoo @misah0e @ily-cuz-i @jungwoniics @enha-hwajinna @todorokiskitten @notcamilla

─────── 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

they are so cute so you don't mind the mess 😔

he would be ecstatic to spend some time with your little toddler of a cousin that your aunt had left you to take care of while she was away to run some errands but would soon come to realize that.... taking care of a child was so much more difficult than he thought 😶

god he had amazing stamina given that he is an idol and danced a lot but nothing could have ever prepared him for the tornado that was your cousin 😭💔

literally would be running left and right on your little cousin's tail to catch him before he'd break anything else while you try to tidy up the mess they had created along the way lmao

↘ rest of the members are under the cut!

─────── 𝐉𝐀𝐘

supposedly "not an expert"

he is so damn knowledgeable it's crazy like?? he would absolutely be such a helpful person to have around like omg he would even know how to pass a baby's gas 🧍

though his patience might get tested quite a bit with rambunctious children, he could never get mad. like, ever 💔

he thinks that children are just adorable. he would be so whipped and would let your niece hold his finger with her tiny little chubby hands 😭😭

─────── 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

tries his best and that's all that matters

honestly you don't even know if you should even call him bc jake and children do not mix well with each other. not much anyways 💀

i mean, he would be ready to help you out in any way possible but nothing would quite work out the way you hope it would pfft—

if anything, you'd have to console him at times, because he would be that stressed out and maybe even intimidated by the kids 😭🤚

─────── 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

it's something worse than a disaster 😐

you would have expected a better performance than what he would display tbh like dude it's such a mess 😭

he would try. he really would‼️but the odds are simply always against him. you would attempt to bake some simple chocolate chip cookies with them, but before you could even blink, the kitchen would blow up

figuratively ofc but it might've as well just been literally 💀

you'd literally have to forbid sunghoon and your nephew from ever entering the kitchen ever again and would have to scold both of them like a mom istg

─────── 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

more useful than what you had initially thought

never in a million years would you have thought that sunoo would be this good with kids?? my man is an absolute lifesaver omg 🥴

literally is so entertaining and always keeps your two little siblings' attention on him and the game they'd be playing.

the kids are totally hooked on him too y'all no one can resist him and his cute clownery. he would clap one time and one time only and all eyes would be on him, waiting for anything he'd have to say

it's like they loved him more than they did you 💔💔

─────── 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

bless his helpful soul ;-; it hurts to see how adorable he is with your twin nieces :')

you'd each hold one of the sisters in your arms and play with them for a while, acting out little funny skits with jungwon to make them burst into laughter

he'd ask lots of questions just to make sure he wasn't doing anything wrong >:(

chaos would pretty much never ensue unlike with jakehoon 🥱 and things would always be just the perfect mix of calm and lighthearted

the only time the house would shake with the nieces' protesting screams would be when he'd accidentally mix up one of their favourite character's name and the two little girls would get so offended lmao

tsk tsk 😔

─────── 𝐍𝐈-𝐊𝐈

a guaranteed headache package

he would somehow convince your younger brother to join forces with him and tease you every two damn seconds. they'd blow raspberries at you too ew 😭🤚

absolute menaces and their favourite pastime while you did some small chores around the house would be pranking you 😐

god sometimes you'd wonder who the actual toddler was lmao

it's take every ounce and drop of patience in you not to dropkick the two into the stratosphere but somehow you manage to hold out just enough till your parents arrive back home again with the groceries 🧍

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read-weep-repeat · 3 years ago

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Hi!! I’m a new reader of yours and I love your stories. 🫶 I especially love the bts yandere hybrids idea. (I’m a whore for yandere and hybrid!BTS but together is *chef’s kiss*) I don’t know if you answered this question before (I’m sorry if you did 😭) but I wanted to know what’s BTS yandere hybrids affections for baby MC? (I read Yoongi biting baby MC’s on the back of her neck, that’s all I remember 💀) but I’m wondering what else is there?

Hiii!! Thank you!! and no I don't think I talked about any other than yoongis!

So i don't know if jimin should be a penguin or a house tabby cat, but if he's a penguin he definitely tries to sit on top of her and put her under his legs like an egg :(( and house tabby him would love to groom her.

Hoseok herds mc away from danger and sits with her all of the time as he thinks he's protecting his puppy.

Taehyung would demonstrate red fox affectionate traits, which are a mix of cats and dogs. he would purr and wag his tail when he's near her, and also lick her ears :(( parent foxes clean their baby's ears and other areas when they're young and can't do it themselves. God forbid baby has an ear infection- because he'd be licking and whining at her ears all the time.

Jin has to be very careful with his affection! Bears rub themselves on things often to scent them, so he'd have to be careful not to push onto her too much when she's little! Parent bears also constantly touch their children, so his big paws would constantly be on his cub.

Jungkook definitely headbutts and lays down with mc! He headbutts and sniffs her alot- before he feels safe enough in rabbit form to stretch out with her on her playmat :(( he'd be so happy when she's gently rubbing his fur and whispering "pretty bunny" and he'd be holding her in human form later asking if she likes her pretty bunny :((

Namjoon is also likely to hurt mc, unfortunately :( Wolves tend to nibble on each other's snouts and faces, whether to groom each other or just to show affection. So if he saw a little mess on his baby's face, he might try to nibble it off, which could end up in a bite. So the others would have to keep him from doing that. Otherwise, though he would howl happily when he sees her!! or try and groom her with his tongue, which the other boys wouldn't have to keep him from doing.

#rich mc

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trashyreptilian · 4 years ago

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Lurking Danger, September 12th 1992 (Part 1)

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Author's Note: Before you read this, keep in mind that a lot of the events from TMC are changed in my AU. Gotta make it work somehow.

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Next Parts:

Lurking Danger, September 15th 1992 (Part 2)

Lurking Danger, September 15th 1992 (Part 3)

Lurking Danger, September 16th 1992 (Final Part)

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Characters: Cesar Torres (he/him) and Mark Heathcliff (he/him).

Summary: Meeting up with his now graduated friend, Cesar invites Mark over to his house since his parents were out for work. Everything seems to be going well but there's this lurking presence he keeps feeling. Like someone is watching him. Is he imagining things or is he being followed? (Word count: ~2 500)

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The ringing of school bells echoed throughout the halls. Cesar didn't notice until people around him started packing their stuff. Oh god, is it over already? Did I even listen to anything? Normally, he always looked forward to the drama club after classes, but he had his mind on something else. One of the club members noticed his unusual silent demeanor.

"Hey..." Putting their hand on his shoulder. "You were nowhere near as dramatic when we did those warm-up exercises" Cesar let out a chuckle at the remark. They faintly smiled. "Wanted to make sure you're okay, you looked totally out of it today. Quite unlike you, if I'm being honest." Cesar sighed. "I'm okay, thanks for asking though. It's just that, uh..." He paused, scratching his head. "This is going to sound weird but do you remember Mark?" There was a minute silence before they answered. "Oh! Mark Heathcliff, right? I don't remember much about him besides that he only hung around you. Did something happen to him?" He shook his head. "Well, no. He just graduated early and..." Looking down on the ground, scratching his head again. "Ah." Sounded like they understood what was going on. "I see. Getting used to him not being around anymore, huh?"

"Yeah... We'd always talk during recess and our lunch breaks. He would try to convince me to skip my classes for no damn reason and other stupid shit like that." They started patting his back. "Aww, you two must be very close."

All of a sudden, both of them heard a name being called out by other students by the door. "Ah shit, my friends are here. I don't think they can wait for me anymore." Swiftly grabbing their bag and giving a couple more pats on Cesar's back before leaving. "Sorry but I gotta run, I'll see you tomorrow! If you see Mark, tell him that I hope he's doing well!" They ran off and waved goodbye. Waving back as he got up from his chair. Left alone with his thoughts.

He looked over at the clock hanging on the wall. 4:30 p.m., better get going. Rushing out the door, nearly forgetting his own bag and leaving the lights on, he headed to the school's parking lot to meet up with Mark. As Cesar walked down the crowded hallways, he kept thinking about what the club member had said. "You two must be very close." Are we really? Bumping into other students by accident, he couldn't help himself from questioning his friendship. While he did see Mark as a close friend, it was never clear if he felt the same way about him. Whenever he'd open up about his struggles and family problems, Mark listened and tried to help but if Cesar ever asked what was going on with his life, he completely avoided answering the question and changed the subject matter. God forbid if he even dared pushing him to answer because he'd get pissed off. Come to think of it... When I asked him why he was graduating early, he gave me some dodgy excuse... But who am I to judge, I guess. Although, I wish he was a bit more honest with me and-

As he was getting closer to the exit, Cesar accidently bumped into someone and knocked over the stuff they were carrying. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! Here let me just pick this up for you." He wasted no time grabbing everything off the floor and handing it over to the person. "Again, really sorry about that!" Letting out a nervous laugh, he continued to walk towards the exit. His gaze shifted downward. Dammit, can I PLEASE go outside without embarrassing myself? Finally reaching for the door handle, he made his way to the parking lot.

A gentle autumn breeze blew across Cesar's face, molten-red leaves scattered across the ground. He started to look for Mark's car. Could have taken the bus as usual but this was one of the few ways of maintaining contact with his friend. While wandering around and aimlessly searching, his name was shouted, followed by a loud whistle.

Looking over to where the voice came from, he saw Mark waving a bit further away. With a smile on his face, Cesar ran up to him. "Well, you took your sweet time." Mark complained as he finished smoking his cigarette. "And you still overdress for school, never change man." He pulled out a pack of cigs, opened it up and offered to Cesar. "Want one before we drive off?" Cesar snickered. "Look who's talking, you're still wearing the same get up! A dirty hoodie and worn-out jeans. Also, no thank you. You know I don't smoke." Mark shrugged and put the pack back in his pockets. "Then get in, I have a night shift in a few hours."

Both of them settled themselves inside the car, and soon they drove away. Cesar enjoyed watching the view from the window, the trees had a nice warm glow under the sunlight. "Hey uh, by the way, I saw you earlier outside but when I called out, you ran off. What was that all about?" There was an awkward silence before Cesar answered. "Uh... I don't think that was me because I didn't leave school until you know, I finished all my classes."

"Huh..." Mark pondered. "Maybe I'm just imagining things. This job got me fucked up." Taking a brief gander at his face. "Yeah, those bags under your eyes are getting worse. I know you're not much of a sleeper anyway but holy shit, who thought it could get worse."

"I'm lucky if I get 5 hours sleep." Both mockingly chuckled. After half an hour, they found themselves in one of the richer neighborhoods. No mansions but the houses were definitely bigger and nicer than your average home. "Here we are." Mark said as he pulled up in front of Cesar's house. "Now get out." Jokingly patting at his shoulder. Cesar got out but didn't leave just yet. "Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it, it's better than riding those overcrowded buses."

"Don't mention it. I'll give you a call when I'm free for another ride." Mark started the engine but Cesar interrupted. "Hey listen, I don't know when we'll be able to meet up again with your busy schedule. My parents are out of town for a while, why don't you come over? I'm sure you have some time to kill before your shift!" Mark silently groaned and tilted his head down. "Man, I'm a little too tired..."

"Oh, come on, I'll cook dinner! It beats eating the shit that you make." Insisting, Mark stroke his chin. "Tempting...Very tempting." Cesar rolled his eyes and sighed. "Do I have to bribe you with alcohol for you to hang out with me?" With a cheeky grin on his face, he responded. "Perhaps..."

"FINE. One drink from my dad's liquor cabinet. But only one, okay?" He hated doing this but one drink shouldn't hurt if it means spending more time with him. "You got yourself a deal." Getting out of his car and heading towards the house. "Come on now, I don't have all day!"

Cesar caught up to him and pulled out his keys as they approached near the door. While unlocking it and letting Mark in first, the nearby trash cans violently got knocked over. Startled but dismissed it to some large rodent causing that. Locking the door behind him, he went to his bedroom to change his attire then headed to the kitchen where his friend was waiting with a drink in his hand. Already got to the alcohol, of course... He put on an apron, preparing himself to cook.

Some time passed, he managed to whip up something good in the little time that he had. They ate stuffed peppers, while Cesar thought that he could have made them tastier, Mark scoffed it all down like he hadn't eaten for days. "Shit man, I sometimes forget how good your cooking is. This is amazing." About to thank him, but the unexpected sound of what seemed like someone throwing a pebble at the window caught him off guard. "Wait, did you hear that?" He got up from the dining table and went to check it out. As Cesar opened up the window, loud rustling came from the bushes near the house. His heart pounded faster. What the hell...? Before he could call over Mark to take a look, the rustling stopped. I swear to God, if someone is actually messing with me...

"Something wrong?" Asking with a worried tone. "No... Just admiring the view." Cesar laughed it off nervously. Mark frowned, didn't look like he believed him. Cesar crossed his arms; eyes began to shift. "Oh hey, would you look at the time! Isn't your shift starting soon?" He pointed at the grandfather clock across the room. "Ah shit, you're right." Mark swiftly finished the last few bites of his dinner before getting his jacket. "Thanks for the dinner and alcohol, it's nice to not have to starve yourself again. I'll see you soon, it was good catching up with you!" Both of them headed for the door, Mark ran to his car. Waving goodbye before he was gone.

Back inside, he noticed that it was getting late rather fast. I should probably call it a day. Cesar yawned and went upstairs to his bedroom for some well-deserved shut-eye. Cleaning himself up, changing into his pajamas, and despite all the odd little occurrences, he managed to fall asleep. However, his sleep was disturbed by a startling sound.

Cesar felt his heart drop, this time it certainly wasn't his imagination playing tricks on him. Shattering glass echoed outside his room. Quickly getting up from his bed, he locked the door and put his ear against it to listen more closely. He could make out distant footsteps somewhere. SHIT. Okay, okay, don't panic. Think this through... Clearly, he needs to call 911 but there were only two phones available. One in the kitchen and the other in the security room, as his parents called it. Wait... What if it's an alternate? I need to check the cameras then... He hoped for it to be human but there was no way of telling unless he confronted the person himself. His heart was beating out of his chest as he thought about precisely in which direction he needs to run to.

Cold sweat poured down his face as he unlocked the door and peeked through it. The house, pretty much plunged in darkness besides a few areas lighted by the moonlight. Hands shaking profusely; he took a deep breath before making a run for it. Luckily, he didn't have to run far, but he nearly tripped along the way. Nothing chased him but once he got inside the security room, he had to take a breather. Beginning to calm down a bit, he frantically searched for the remote to the TV monitor. Aha! There you are. Having found it, he turned on the TV and switched on to live feed. Checking each camera, nothing out of the ordinary appeared until he examined the kitchen. An unnaturally tall figure was standing in the corner. Shit, I can barely see him. In the shadows, there was a pair of white glowing dots. Are those his eyes...?

The mysterious figure slowly crept up towards the camera. Cesar's eyes widened, a sudden urge to vomit overwhelmed him. It's an alternate... The thing had a shockingly wide smile, its teeth were elongated. The torso looked like it was on the verge of breaking in half. Those glowing dots were its pupils, the rest of the eyes were completely black. He turned off the monitor when he heard it laughing. Deranged cackling filled the kitchen, their voice was unstable. Cesar dropped to the ground, his heart was racing, his vision slowly got blurry. He was on the verge of tears.

Dear god... What the fuck do I do now...? Almost impossible for him to concentrate under all the sudden pressure. Wait, the T.H.I.N.K principle... I'll be fine, just have to stay calm and focus. What were the steps again? Pulling himself together, taking deep breaths. First is to tell an authority figure. Immediately dialing 911, his sweaty hand made it hard to hold the phone properly. It rang once, twice, three times, he had become certain that he'd be ignored when the fourth ring was interrupted by a click.

"911, what's your emergency?" An operator answered.

"An... An alternate is in my house... I locked myself in a room and I think it's still in my kitchen." Cesar felt the shakiness in his voice, breathing became heavier.

"Okay, have you followed the rest of the T.H.I.N.K principle? Did you identify what type it is?" They asked.

"I- I think it's a type 3, it looked like me but it had a lot of uncanny features." Cesar recalled how Mark said that he had seen him earlier. Was it stalking me the entire time? His body, shaking from the adrenaline.

"A flawed impersonator. If safe to do so, try to neutralize it with a fire arm. I have already traced your address from this call and help will be sent over to you. Please stay where you are until the police arrive." With that, the line went dead.

He held the phone up to his ear, listening to the beeping. Expected the operator to stay on the line longer. Assuming that they must have their hands full with other emergencies, he put the receiver away.

Slightly relieved, he continued to follow the procedure. Okay, next, what the operator said. Neutralize... That was out of the question, even if he had a gun with him, he wouldn't muster up the courage to face that creature. Shit, okay well I can't fight back. That leaves me with the final step. Know your place in reality... Cesar touched around his face and body. Well... I'm here and alive, for now... Looking at his surroundings. Stuck in here... With no food... Or water... But it's FINE. Help is on the way. I'll be fine, right...?

The room had one single window, his only view of outside. He could try to escape from there but the height was too dangerous. He could scream for help but it might agitate the alternate. I'm stuck, ha-ha... I'm really fucking stuck in here... SHIT... His mind kept shifting from calm to terrified. He sat in the corner, far away from the door.

Deafening silence filled the house but Cesar knew it was still inside his home. Him and his impersonator alone together.

#old writing style #the mandela catalogue #mandela catalogue #best friend au #cesar torres #mark heathcliff #fanfiction #my writing

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