#i was so confused allll this time why brushes always look different for me than what they're supposed to

[lunarharp]

pretty & cute witch men

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty One | It's Showtime! (Part 2 of 3 | His POV)

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Alternate Chapter Title(s):

Saint Behind the Glass** (Song Referenced)

or

The Extra Corny One With A Second Song Title Reference, Part 2½**

• • •

**This basically reveals Part 2 and 3 were meant to be Chapter Twenty-Two at one point (similar to how various chapters from the old version of FaiCom have been merged together here), buuut each chapter has essentially took place on different days in this version, so...

Let's keep that format, shall we?

• • •

Something's wrong.

That single sentence continues to repeat itself over and over as he makes it from Ruins to Hotland with the human, who remains quiet and distant during the entirety of the walk.

They're obligated to take off their jacket and reveal a sweaty tank top midway through, leaving their arms bare, these they try to hide from his line of sight by crossing them and glancing aside. He wonders why they do that at first, until he witnesses how hefty and soft-looking their arms are, a noticeable difference compared to the toned muscles he often saw from those who worked at the Royal Guard. Whether the human felt unconfident of their appearance or vulnerable as a cause of the nightmare he assumed to be related to, Sans wasn't completely sure of. Either way, he's aware it's best not to bring that up currently. The ups and downs to their health and body had shown greatly through these past few months, and though they were recovering little by little, they seemed to be facing some more frequent downs, as of late. Their call from a few days ago and the weak state they were in as they climbed into the back seat of Papyrus's car were just enough to make him fear there's something bigger going on.

"Shoulda worn shorts or somethin'," he comments, noticing they already seem to be affected by the heat. Frisk ventured through a variety of climates with no trouble at all, yet their parent was showing signs of fatigue in their body within a few minutes into their walk through Hotland. The place had grown about twice as hot since he last visited, though he doubts the human will believe him if he were to say that out of nowhere. They could likely take it as him trying to console them for their inability to be stronger than him; or their own child, for that matter -- someone meant to see them as a role model rather than a frail and dependent person. "Wanna borrow some of mine?"

The human stares at him like he's made the most absurd suggestion there is, similar to that of mixing water with cereal or cooking steak in a toaster. "I swear, you test your luck with me a little too hard sometimes."

"I mean it, though."

"...We're not even dating yet."

"Yet," he says, mirth in his tone. "As in, there's still a possibility for us to become official?"

"Oh, stop it." They frown and fumble with the keys hanging from their satchel; he notices their nails are stubby, and bits of dried blood can be seen at the corners of plenty. "I… I don't know when you're being serious with me or not anymore."

"I meant that, too," he states, chuckling. "Would it be late if I told you I got that punch at the bar, 'cuz I had my head way in the clouds -- thinkin' about you?"

Sans receives no comment or reaction other than (Y/N) looking elsewhere and moving aside to walk a bit further from where he's at.

As a consequence, he takes a step closer, catches them with a 'hey', and reaches for their cheek when they look down at him. "...What's the matter? Your face's burnin'."

"We're in Hotland," they retort, rolling their eyes and brushing his hand away. "Ice's frozen. Water's wet. The sun's scorching-"

"-Just like you."

They walk off again, albeit with some struggle now that the heat of Hotland has combined with their embarrassment.

"And I'm not gonna wear your shorts. It would be a waste of time for me to take a break just because of some heat -- I'm not weak."

"Not sayin' you are. Just sayin' I don't want you to die from a heatstroke."

"Either way, I overlooked my situation, and I failed to prepare for it." A solemn look falls on their face, coupled with a firm posture. "I should've kept in mind my health, so it wouldn't be right for you to try redeeming my lack of preparedness. I should've asked Frisk or you more about this." They take in a breath and sigh it out. "...even if you can adapt to it just fine, and even if Frisk didn't have as much trouble to adjust as me."

Hot-headed and fiery might just be the finest ways to describe the human's current attitude, yet he very well knows making another joke about their temper -- combined with their hotness and the place they're currently at -- would be far too much. It wouldn't surprise him if they decided to call off the tour halfway through. Patience wasn't quite their main trait, though they practiced a sufficient amount of tolerance when it came to confronting his constant coquetry for the duration of those two months one of their coworkers mentioned in the chat; he can hardly believe it's been that long, and even less how close he was to kiss them that one time on the couch. More than sixty days of dealing with his presence had to be considered an achievement of some sort, even if their feelings were mutual. The monster's completely aware of how tiring and exasperating he can be on the often occasion, so he finds it best to start rationing how much he can be at once; too much of something's rarely ever good or effective, after all.

"But... Alright. Risking it would only make it worse, either way." Their gaze turns soft and they concede with a quiet huff. "Wouldn't we have to go allll the way back, though?"

"Not exactly," he replies, winking.

Sans proceeds to unzip his jacket and reveal a folded bundle of clothing underneath it.

"I know you can be stubborn sometimes, so I came prepared." He turns it over and adds, "There's a full set of clothes there, in case ya wanna freshen up at Met's old hotel before we keep goin'." His hands brush with theirs as they take the clothing from him. "It's been abandoned for a short while now, but I'm pretty sure the water's still runnin' well, for the most part." His gaze falls on their belongings again, and he gives into a cheekier grin as he continues with, "I've noticed somethin' about you, by the way."

"And what would that be?" they ask, mouth straight and tone wary.

He observes the satchel again -- the more-heavy-than-it-looks bag they almost always seemed to carry along with them, be it for something as typical as their job to something as simple as going out for a walk. What made it odd was knowing what contents could be found inside, these he has a vague recollection from when he had no other choice but to organize their bag after having gone through it when they fainted at the bus. Sans can still remember having rummaged through layers of Frisk's clothing, school supplies, and even a few monster-aimed medicines before setting the first aid kit back to its rightful place. The only things he could recall to be truly theirs were their cellphone, wallet, keys, and eyeglasses case. Going back to that memory makes him wonder -- were their priorities in the format of a list -- what number they would label themself with.

"You usually carry stuff in that bag meant for other people -- not you." He eyes the pocket with a few contents poking out from it. "...Or am I Ied to believe that bright pink Husky hairpin's yours?"

The human looks confused for a moment, until their eyes cast down at their bag and assess the pocket his gaze is most focused on. Then, they come across one of the smaller ones, where the mentioned accessory stays clipped to. "It- It's not! That's just in case Frisk needs it." They take it and hide it away in one of the bigger, emptier pockets. "It's their favourite hairpin, and they use it more often now that their hair's getting longer."

"But they ain't here right now."

"Yes, but what if they need it later -- when I go pick them up?"

He can barely contain the joy their overly defensive expression brings upon his face.

Perhaps it's pure projection or coincidence, but they appear to resemble the same dog he mentioned with the stance they hold, not threatening in the slightest and charming at best, but still ready to attack -- figuratively, of course. Hearty laughter escapes him, though he covers it up with a harrumph. "I'm surprised you don't carry the whole house with you, at this point."

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared."

"If only you applied that thought for you, too."

They swat his skull with their hand and let out a chuckle. "Don't nag me, teddy bear." Nonetheless, a more serious look overcomes them as they sigh. "You're right, though." With how quiet it gets and how long that pause lasts, it appears as if they've become lost in their thoughts. "Not only did the social worker suggest it, but it's not fair for me to keep bothering you or anyone else because of my..." They scratch their throat and grin. "...consistently questionable life choices."

"Is that a promise I'm hearin'?"

"A big and definite one."

• • •

Half-open windows help bring some clear air into the stuffy room, as does the air conditioner set to the coldest temperature possible by lessening the dryness and heat of the wind. It's all paired up with the scents of the fresh cinnabunnies and iced coffee he carries in some paper bags, food he bought at Snowdin while the human showered. Sans sets the meal by the nightstand, covers it up with some aluminum foil, and -- finally -- wipes a layer of dirt away from the mirrored dresser before assembling some toiletries on it. Then, he sits down in bed, closes his eye sockets, and waits. The sounds of his soul beating, the breeze blowing the curtains, and the shower running are the only melodies to take over the quiet of the hotel. Turning on the radio by the nightstand further assists those noises and aids in transforming the room into a more welcoming and cozy spot, overall. The last thing on his mental to-do list is to wait some more by checking his phone and updating himself on any new messages, some few from (Y/N)'s coworkers wishing him luck. A grin's inevitable as he reads through these a second time.

The shower turning off and a door unlocking are the next changes he notices, along with the radio switching from music to news.

Sans feels his breath tremble when the human steps out. They're dressed to the nines despite their attire being composed of the simplest clothing possible: a new pair of his below-the-knee shorts, these fitting slightly above theirs as a result of their taller height; plus one of his baggiest shirts, now almost at belly button length for the same reason as the first piece. What makes such a common attire seem so complex and thought-out is how well they've adjusted it to their figure; it's either that, or he has his head in the clouds again. Regardless, they knew how to fix an outfit, and it wasn't that of much surprise if he compared it to the time they pulled the same trick when borrowing some sleepwear from Toriel's wardrobe.

Or, then again…

He was slowly becoming infatuated with them and couldn't avoid finding them attractive -- no matter the clothing worn.

At the sight of (Y/N) having their back turned to him while they perform their finishing touches by the dresser, he approaches them as quietly as he can, yet he lets himself be seen halfway with the reminder of the nightmare they had and how startled they could likely be if he tried anything extreme. He goes to hug them from behind when they catch him getting closer, though they say and do nothing in response. Still, his expectations of no retaliation are promptly shattered as they turn around, grab his hands, and twirl him once, preventing the hug.

"Nice try, teddy bear," they comment, smiling. "Do try again next time." They wink.

It's a knockout when the radio decides to switch back to music, inspiring in them what he assumes is an urge to take their current hold on him to lead him into an impromptu dance.

"So… You want to get flirty with me again?" they ask, grabbing his hands tight as they sway him left and right at a rhythmic but easy motion. "Then you've got to handle me flirting back." One hand holds his left one up while the other places his right one on their waist. Theirs then falls on his shoulder when he keeps his where they placed it at, this one he has trouble keeping still with how close he is to touch their skin, part of their waist now more exposed with their movements, showing the “love handles” he'd teased them about since he first flirted with them. A subtle but no less playful smile stretches their lips; their eyes soften, though mischief flares in their gaze. "I've made the decision to trust you," they comment, twirling him around once more. "So if you'd like us to be official, we can, but…" Their steps slow down as they trail off in their thoughts.

He treads in with, "You need to wait until the CPS thing's over with, right?"

They nod. "Unfortunately."

Their sorrow stays brief and their playfulness returns, replacing their momentary frown for yet another smile. "My memory might be a bit bad though, as I've never heard you say you like me before." To further increment the effects of their teasing, their lips fall close to his teeth but end up lower, kissing his jaw instead. "...In other words," they add, hands locking firm around his neck and bringing him closer to them. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Sans feels his face turn about as warm as theirs felt, and he can tell they've noticed, based on the way their face lingers close to his -- waiting.

"...I like you," he says, far too quiet to be labeled anything but a murmur; even a thought could be considered louder than his words.

They land another kiss, much closer to his teeth. "Couldn't hear you."

"I like you, puddin'," he repeats, stronger this time. "Can you, uh… do that again, though? It felt nice."

They nod, lean in further, and press yet another kiss to his face. "Gladly."

With that, the human carries on with the dance. They sway him left and right and perform small circles across the hotel room, adding a twirl every few seconds -- sometimes with them taking the lead, and vice versa. "I like you, too, Serif." Despite the meaning and weight of their words, a frown arrives on their face. "But…" They hesitate. "I still have some doubts, and I think that dream I had confirmed that."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

A few seconds of silence remain and the song ends, dropping tension in the room.

"Not now, but… But maybe later?" They let him go. "If possible, I'd like to talk at the Judgment Hall -- where you last worked before leaving the Underground."

Despite his best efforts, the skeleton can't avoid commenting, "Want me to judge how good you look right now?"

The human sighs, loud and long. "...Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop."

He lets out a resounding, jovial laugh at that.

Their tone's genuinely sad, as so's their expression.

They look a hundred and ten percent done with him, though they still push forward with a, "Be serious for a moment, please. I… I really mean it, and that dream I had…" Demurral returns to their words. "It involved one of my fears about Frisk's safety, and well…" They take a deep, shaky breath. "A- And my own safety when I'm around you."

The severity of their statement dawns on him, and his view distorts itself from an attractive human to a vulnerable one standing in front of him, weak and poorly prepared -- completely alone with him in a large, abandoned, and dilapidated hotel. They were easy prey from the viewpoint of an Underground Sentry. He could easily take them captive with their current state of health and their lack of knowledge in combat. Were he still assigned to that job, had (Y/N) fallen in Frisk's stead, and were finding that seventh soul still a priority, he could just as easily inform every other member of the Royal Guard to bring the human down to the Monster King's bidding. Unlike Frisk, they had little to no determination left in their soul; a quick and direct intervention meant danger for them.

And had he still that same mindset to this day, his agreement with Asgore to serve and protect (Y/N) would be something he could break -- something simple to deal with if he framed the blame on someone else. He could just as likely tolerate some jail time for failing to fulfill his part of that job with no protest. The only real obstacle would be (Y/N)'s child themself, knowing they were likely going to guard and care for their parent unconditionally. But even then, they were still alone with him presently; in other words, he could cover up any potential evidence of him being a culprit with time to spare. Perhaps Frisk was the hero of the story, but (Y/N) was still an NPC -- someone easy to get rid of with the right amount of caution and preparedness.

"You mentioned something about Karma before, and well…" They break the silence and snap him out of those thoughts. "I've made a lot of bad choices and awful mistakes, so that makes me wonder if, m- maybe…" Tears form in their eyes as they breathe in -- once, then twice. "If maybe I don't deserve any of this kindness or forgiveness that I've been getting recently, and… And that maybe I don't belong in this story, y'know? Frisk has done all the work here so far, and they've overcome plenty of obstacles, too. Meanwhile, I- I'm a weak, ill person with a dead-end job -- trying to keep a holey row boat afloat with napkins." They let out a shaky sigh and fail at a smile. "I get that you like me, and I can't deny or ignore my own feelings for you, but I'm… I'm an unworthy, ungrateful person. We've known each other for barely half a year. Th- There's stuff you don't know about me yet -- just as I don't know about you."

Their face shines with tears, these they can't bring themself to stop with how many pour down, and how fast these are. "I've already troubled and hurt Frisk enough as it is, and I've... I've troubled well-meaning family like Brenda just as much with my mistakes." They cover their face as they sit down in bed, trying to contain their sorrow. "...And then I have these awful, intrusive thoughts that seep in whenever I think I'm doing better. I don't want to bring trouble to you or any other monsters, either, but reminding myself of my past worsens these feelings, kn- knowing I might screw up again and again and again."

Feeling the situation's getting too rough not to establish some control over it, Sans sits down with them and grabs their wrists, tugging at these for them to look down at him.

Fear reaches their gaze as they stare at his irises, completely overcoming their bright and cheerful attitude from earlier.

"Breathe," he says, voice low as he loosens his grip on their wrists -- at the feeling of them shaking almost violently under his hold. "We'll go to the Hall in a few. But, first... I'm gonna need you to calm down a lil' more." He lets go.

They nod, close their eyes, and let a few more tears drift down before he dries the rest of these off with the sleeve of his jacket. "...Alright."

When they shudder, sniffle, and recover some sense of tranquility, they look at him again and smile. "And thank you for showing me patience."

He smiles back and brings them in for a hug -- long, tight, and strong. "That I've got plenty of, puddin'."

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• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

[roseamongroses]

Antithesis: “what do you have? “ I have a kNIFE” “NO”

[Specific-Summary]: They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn't mean it'll always hurt, nor does it mean they can't have fun along the way. It's senior year. Everything may be different. It won't be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking,

[Tags/mood:] highschool au,  fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously)

(8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

(16) (17) (18) 

L: I May Have Lost Roman

V: nice

P: not nice :)

V: i feel vaguely threatened

Rem:@L how the fuck did you manage that Rem: nvm i know how just give me details

L:I don’t know ? One second we were at check out L: Next minute he was Gone and Nieve is looking suspicious

L:Hold on lemme ask Dmitri

V: why is he there

L: I mean he’s actually pretty chill L: But he dropped Roman off and Nieve got attached L:I’m...not sure if she’s planning on letting him go?

V:logan, my friend, my buddy, V:the only person in this chat with basic reading comprehension

Rem: that’s pretty fair

P: it really is tbh

V: Send. Pictures.

L: Okay L: Slight Issue

V: you lost the snake too

L: I lost Dmitri too and Nieve is not spilling

Rem: oh they’re defeinately fucking

L:...Where? The bathroom?

Rem: Don’t knock it till you try it ;)

V: not to be that guy but im vetoing this discussion V: cause thats a Yikes even for you Remy

L: Alright time to find them

Rem: check ;))) the;))) bathrooms ;;))))

L: Remy.

Rem: alrighlright too far ill stop

L: Thank you.

V: keep me updated V: i only have silence and physics homework as company

L:Huh L:Found them

L: Roman….found a katanna…

V: im sorry WHAT V: Why The Fuck Does He Have A Sword

Rem: drop the location of that store man

L: 1) It’s a Katanna L: 2)I will certainly Not. L: 3) He’s trying to convince Dmitri why he should have it

L…..and Dmitri looks more amused then concerned

V: if I can't have a tarantula he sure as hell cant have a sword

L:I told him it was probably fake/ poorly made and that he should take the time to invest the proper skill in money in a real one

V: goddamit logan you cant logic roman.

L: It worked. He put it back. L: So I say I can do what I want with roman

Rem: some spicy takes from the chats only brain cell ;)

---

“So you’re turning eighteen, in a few months. ” His aunt said, dabbing her cheeks with a napkin. She still managed to hold an air of prestige despite getting utterly shitfaced the night before. Her appointments have been going well.

Dmitri looked up, masking his surprise and holding his tongue.

Dr. Montag looked over, quieting the running water and placing the dish was he was cleaning down, “Really?” he said, brushing his hands, “You got any plans?” he asked, Dmitri.

“Oh we usually do something small,” His aunt interjected, “But seeing as he’s my father’s favorite grandchild,” Only grandchild, “He’s is flying from Paris to join us. And he was never a man of modesty so I’ve been thinking about doing something special for the occasion.”

Oh.

Dmitri fought the smile creeping on his face, ducking his head. He shouldn’t be surprised that she remembered after all if his grandfather was visiting. It’s how he got his phone, laptop, his car.

It’s probably why she puts up with him, to begin with. Cause it wasn’t guilt.

“--We should get your hair cut,” She continued, and Dmitri snapped out of his thoughts, “Maybe invite Diana--he’d like her,” she murmured.

“Diana and I a-” He closed his mouth, and his aunt’s eyes shot over.

“You broke up?” She narrowed her eyes, examining her nails, “Huh, makes sense seeing as...” she gestured at him vaguely, “So who have you been sneaking around with?”

“I’m not sneaking around with anyone,” Dmitri said, meeting her gaze. And technically he was right, it’s not sneaking if she just hasn’t been asking. And he’s given up on telling.

Dr. Montag’s eyebrows knitted together confused,” Well that isn’t true,”

Dmitri’s eyes went wide, stomach sinking.

His Aunt’s grin spread, “Oh really?”

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck--

“He’s been helping me out, hon,” Dr. Montag set down a glass of water and pills beside her plate, “You’ve been so stressed lately,” he looked guilty and produced some tickets, “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Her face softened and like that the tension left the room. Those two got to linger in whatever lovey-dovey spell had taken hold of them in the last few months, but Dmitri was still on edge.

She still kept him on edge, but he could get her back. Even the playing field. Anytime he could leave this—Anytime he could flip this switch and put her on edge and make her—

He stopped eating, setting his plate aside.

He felt sick.

---

R:helllloooo R:anyone up R: sigh R: allll by mySELLLLF

L: Roman?

R: the one and lonely yes hello human contact???

L: Are you alright? It’s 3 am why are you still awake?

R: why are YOU up mm????

L: My parents have newborn twins. What’s your excuse?

R: well fuck got me there

R: i was texting dee but he was rlly tired and i stILL can’t sleep

L: Any particular reason?

R: u m

L: Private chat?

R: please

- [TheTruthAboutTheMoon]

TheWalkingMouth: Okay shoot

Cowboy:it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: I’ll tell you if it's stupid or not just say it

Cowboy: i just….like Cowboy: it's all kinda….hitting me a ll at once and i Really don’t like thinking about it but i cant bottle shit up either like you bastards so i feel like the human equivelent og a washing machine with too much laundry in it

TheWalkingMouth: Then don’t? TheWalkingMouth: Even if it's too ‘stupid’ for me I’m sure Dmitri wouldn’t mind

Cowboy: yeah but i feel like im going to say something shitty to him i Cowboy: like we should talk about it Cowboy: and i will Cowboy: but not now--later when it's not too stressful for either of us

TheWalkingMouth: Why would you say something shitty?

Cowboy: idk id jst get frustrated trying to explain it Cowboy: like hes smart as hell and probbaly get it without me saying anything but like Cowboy: I have neither the patience nor articulation right now to explain like a civil person and he doesnt need me being shitty about it

Cowboy:like,,,,,for example,,,,, if he fucks up in school, he’ll get recommended a tutor and teachers would assume hes doing his best and hes such a sweet and quiet boy

Cowboy: like he is sweet!!but hes a little shit too!! And gets away with it!!! Half those pranks he pulled on virgil, as Iconic as they were he never got in trouble for them!!!

Cowboy: when i fuck up i

Cowboy: god it's stupid

TheWalkingMouth: Might not get a second chance? Yeah I get it.

TheWalkingMouth:Remember when I first transferred here? None of the teachers would take me seriously bc of my accent and if they did, they were afraid of me. I could repeat something another kid said word for word and still be told I had an attitude.

Cowboy: god i remembered that Cowboy: you answered his yes or no questions in a fuckin montone, quiet ass voice and he legit called in the office cause he got scared of a goddamn freshman

Cowboy: But ye when i fuck up Cowboy: im suddenly the lazy ass brown kid who should spend less time corrupting youth with my feminine hips and curls Cowboy: like it's not like a lot of them say it outright but it feels like if im not perfect im fufilling all the stereotypes

TheWalkingMouth: Ah okay, rant away

Cowboy: OK like like like im not like virgil right?? in a lot of ways and it fuckin shows

Cowboy: he’s been planning on going into engineering since sixth grade meanwhile i only got my shit together in highschool

Cowboy: and like now that im here/???what now??? My mother expects me to have my shit together meanwhile im over here freaking the fuck out over whether not it's worth it to even try Cowboy: like yes mother i want to go to an art/or librel arts school that may or may not accept me that we may or may not afford to find a career in who the hell knows because if i have to sit in a healthcare class or a applied mathmatics class like you did i miight actually shank the professor????

Cowboy: that i dread the thought of not trying to explore my options outside of this fucking state but i dread the thought of going bc i cant stand the thought of being away from home but i cant fucking find a reason to stay cause everyone i love is leaving or planning their own life anyway???

Cowboy: like remys gunna fuck off to who knows where regardless of whether or not he has a plans or money, pattons gunna take care of his grandmother whereever the fuck a canada ,moms moving in with tia, virgils already mentally flipping me off ready to fuck nasa , and i only fucking hope dmitri even getss the chance to choose where he goes but hes g o n e and i die from yearning behind a screen like the gay victorian i am , and you….i actually dont know

TheWalkingMouth: Teaching for either biology or physics

Cowboy: huh it fits but what about chemistry??

TheWalkingMouth: Fuck chemistry.

Cowboy: oh thank god we’re on the same page

TheWalkingMouth: Anyway, I assume you’re more worried about whether you should apply rather then if you could get in?

Cowboy: i think so

TheWalkingMouth: Well if my opinion means anything to you

Cowboy: more than you’re assuming but yeah continue

TheWalkinMouth: Wait

Cowboy: nothing nothing continue

TheWalkingMouth: Okay-- I think you should go for it but you don’t need to dive head first into it and commit to everything 100% like virgil did.

TheWalkingMouth: You’re allowed to keep your options open, to have backup plans for back up plans

TheWalkingMouth: It doesn’t mean you’re not passionate about your art. Doesn’t mean you’re inevitably going to get a office job and abandon all your dreams. It means you’re being smart and not backing yourself into a corner

TheWalkingMouth:It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay not to have it all figured out

TheWalkingMouth: Nobody does.

TheWalkingMouth: Even if no one else gives you a second chance at least give yourself a second chance.

TheWalkingMouth: It’s perfectly normal to be afraid to fuck up and get fucked over TheWalkingMouth: That doesn’t mean you will everytime TheWalkingMouth: And it certainly doesn’t mean it's the end

Cowboy:

Cowboy:

Cowboy:

[...Cowboy is typing…]

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

[iluvmyogblog]

Roommates, Routines and Best Friends

A/N: So to be completely honest with you guys, i have written several versions of this part and am still so conflicted. I hope this comes out great, and i hope u guys love it n fall apart n ALLLL that good stuff. btw doesnt sebby look like a fuckinggggggg dream.........

Summary: (AU) being roommates with the infamous womanizer Bucky Barnes is tough, especially when all he does is bring home different girls every night and complain about you and your choice of men. masterlist.

Words: 2768

Warning(s): language, always!!!

Roommates, Routines and Best Friends : Today A Month Ago

Today marks exactly a month since you met Steve. A month since that stupidly amazing party Bucky dragged you to. You and Steve decided to be cheesy and celebrate today. Bucky protested, saying that it was so annoying when new couples did that. But you and Steve weren’t a couple. Not yet. It’s only been a month! You’re not one to jump into a relationship so quickly, especially after the whole Sam thing. You were still a little scared to put yourself out there. You would always have long talks about that with Bucky. Always. And he’d always know exactly what to say. Always.

You were walking to the kitchen when you see Bucky also walking out of his room. You flash him a quick smile. That smile was enough to make Bucky’s heart jump out of his chest. “Good morning, doll.”

“Good morning, Buck,” you nearly whispered. You were so tired. Your energy was drained from you, your hair was a mess and you had bags under your eyes. You were excited about seeing Steve today but the part of you that wants to climb back into bed hopes that he gets busy all of a sudden. 

“Woah, don’t you look dapper this morning,” Bucky chuckles and pours you a glass of orange juice as he watches you slump into a chair. You don’t say anything, you just put your head down and groan. Bucky sighs softly and walks over to you, sliding the orange juice into your hand. The tip of his fingers brush against the palm of your hand. You feel him start to ruffle your hair, tangling it even more. You groan again, ignoring how good it felt. 

Bucky continues to look at you. He continues to play with your hair. He starts to imagine what it would be like if you two were more than friends. If you two were more than just roommates. If you two shared the same bed. “Hey Buck, can you carry me to my bed. I’m too tired to be awake right now, I don’t even know why I got up,” you mumble. Bucky nods and you feel his arms swoop you up. You wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on his chest as he carries you back to your room. You soon feel yourself being put down on fluffy comforters that smell like Bucky. 

“My bed is more comfortable than yours,” you hear Bucky whisper as he tucked you in. He wasn’t wrong. His sheets were always washed and switched out- because of you know, his special lady guests. You nod and snuggle deeper into the sheets, grabbing a pillow and snuggling up to that as well. You open one eye and watch Bucky walk across his room and close the curtains. You smiled softly at that notion. Before you two began to even stand each other, you had always complained about how dark his room was. ‘And for crying out loud, open your curtains. Don’t be so depressing all the damn time, Bucky.’ you would say. 

“Hey, (y/n). Can I ask you something,” Bucky questioned. Sitting up, you watch the dark haired man look at you shyly. You knit your eyebrows in concern, partly confused as well. He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly sits at the edge of his bed. To the both of you, it felt like the room was closing in. You weren’t sure what it could be nor were you sure how you would answer the question. 

“Of course, Buck,” you gently say as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

“What did you mean by what you said a while back? About the party? And me going with you... like on a date? What did you mean?”

The redness on your cheeks start to show, your stomach tangling in knots. You should’ve seen this coming. You should’ve known he’d bring it up. You just shouldn’t have said anything. You gulp and look at your hands. “I just- I.. I don’t know Bucky. For some strange reason I just thought for a second that you had asked me out on a date. You know? I mean I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, I’m not confessing any feelings... cause there’s none. I just thought it was a date. You know how weird I get when guys ask me to hang out with them.”

“But it’s us, doll. What’s there to be weird about? You know I wouldn’t be grossed out or anything.. I mean, maybe a little,” he teased, brightening the mood. He sees how tense your shoulders are. He needed to lighten the mood. He just put you on the spot. You weren’t used to that. The remark worked, and you laughed. Relaxing yourself a bit more.

“You’re the worst, James.” He chuckles and playfully nudges you. You nudge him back, which just causes him to just push you a little harder. The two of you were laughing, honestly kind of forgetting how thick the air was a few seconds ago. You let yourself fall back onto his sheets, staring up at the ceiling as you cross your hands on your stomach. Bucky shifts and props himself up on his elbow, looking at you. You tug on your bottom lip, thinking about the party again. You hated that you read signs wrong. You weren’t too dapper about social cues. “So, quick question. Did you take that blonde chick home?”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, staring at you. Watching your smirk disappear once you notice he’s been quiet for far too long. He watches you turn your head to him, eyes meeting his. He shakes his head, “no. Honestly, I just said I got laid. I don’t know why. I lied to you.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him. His brown hair a beautiful mess on top of his head. His stupid eyes burning holes through you with that dumb twinkle he always has in them. His perfectly sculpted arms that complimented every shirt he wore. “Why,” you whisper, completely confused. You truthfully didn’t know that he was even capable of lying to you. He also thought you’d see right through him when he lied. And honestly, you would’ve if it hadn’t been for Steve. Steve, the charming guy you met at the party. Steve who left his friends to drink a glass of champagne with you. 

“Do you know what happened? When I left to get you a drink?” You shake your head and wait for him to continue. He breaks eye contact and looks at his hands. He starts to fiddle with them. He did that when he was nervous. You would always grab his hands when he did that, just in case he needed comfort. Which he always did. He was a baby, in a way. He loved affection. Probably why he couldn’t sleep more than three nights alone. “As soon as I left your side, I got a text from a friend. Well, from Steve.” Pause. Looks up at you, then quickly back to his hands. “Steve says, ‘tell me she said yes’. Steve was the one who persuaded me to ask a certain girl out.”

“Wait, who?” Your heart was racing. You began to think that he actually did ask you out. And you had totally ditched him for Steve.

“Um, I- I never told you about her. But I worked with her. She’s really badass, you know? Plus she’s really really h-”

“I get the picture.”

Bucky nods, “right. Well she said she was busy. So obviously that’s a no. I wasn’t gonna go. But Mr. Stark insisted that I do.”

He pauses and watches you. You were trying to piece the puzzle together while staring at your feet.  “So.. I was a back up plan?” You tried to hide the obvious sting with a slight nudge and a smirk. Bucky saw right through that.

“No, doll. Don’t say that. I had a good time,” he says. You nod, feeling his fingers tug the hemline of your shirt. “I text Steve back. Told him I was at the party with someone better, cooler. And prettier, way prettier.” You laugh and shake your head, ignoring his attempts to win you back. “And Steve wanted to meet up. He was with a friend also. His friend was meeting up with his girlfriend and Steve wanted to drink a beer with me. He didn’t wanna be alone, you know? But I told him I was here with someone. He said alright, went on his own, I went to get you that drink you wanted. Then that girl-”

“The blonde bimbo that was basically undressing you with her eye-”

“She had a boyfriend, (y/n). He was standing right next to her. They wanted to know what drink I ordered. Said it looked fancy,” Bucky interrupts. You felt dumb. You felt embarrassed. Shocked.

You let out a breathless laugh, staring at the ceiling now. “It’s the cherries and olives. Always pick the right garnishes,” you whisper. 

“Then I saw you with Steve..,” he trails off, causing you to look at him. “You looked good. Standing next to him. Like you two were made for each other. Then you laughed, and I swear, I knew right there... I knew that it wasn’t a date.”

“Bucky, what are you trying to say?”

You’re now sitting up, staring straight into his eyes. Heart pounding out of his chest. The truth was that when you walked out of your room wearing nice jeans and a really complimenting blouse, with your hair falling perfectly down your back and your eyelashes coated with the perfect amount of mascara- he knew that he was glad that he got rejected that night. The way the dim lights brightened your smile, and the way a champagne glass looked in your hand. It was driving him crazy. The fact that he walked into a party like that with you by his side made everything that much better. He didn’t expect Steve to be there. He didn’t care. That was until he saw the look in your eyes when they’d meet Steve’s blue ones. “I’m trying to say that... it was the best unintentional date I have ever had. Even if it was just for a few minutes,” he says, adding a faint smile at the end. He knew you were happy. He knew this would make you feel bad, but he had to just clear the air. You suck in a quick dose of air, blinking away those stupid butterflies and smile lightly, nodding. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Sure, Bucky.” 

“If you thought it was a date, you said yes. Why?”

Now it was your turn to get flustered. You felt your palms start to sweat. You shrugged. “I don’t know, Buck. It’s you. For a second, I saw you as the Bucky who brings home girls at two in the morning,” you nervously laugh. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what Bucky wanted to hear. You didn’t want to say the wrong things.

“Oh, okay. Makes sense.” He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. You don’t either. “You wanted to come home with me?” he asks. You can hear his words drenched in that smirk of his.

“Oh my god, Bucky.”

“Kidding. In the end, you come home to me anyways.”

You felt those dumb butterflies. You changed the subject to the first thing that pops into your head. “By the way, who was the girl that rejected you?”

His cheeks turn red and he laughs, looking down. “Really, doll? We’re gonna talk about this?”

“Well of course. I gotta know who turned down your charm!”

He groans and throws himself back onto his bed, covering his face with his hands. He lets out a huff and slides his hands down his face. “ Way to change the subject,” he sighs, “she’s Starks’ Secretary, or maybe she got promoted? Not sure anymore. Her names Natalia- Natasha, actually. That’s what everyone calls her.”

“Natasha?”

He nods. “Yeah, she has this crazy, re-”

“Red hair.”

Bucky nods again and looks at you. “Yeah! You know her?”

You stare blankly ahead of you and smile, nodding. You chuckle softly, shaking your head now. “Yeah,” you croak, “I mean, kind of?”

Bucky whispers your name, breaking you out of whatever trance you were in. He’s sitting right next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a look of sympathy. A look of hurt equaled to yours. “She’s the one?” 

You nod again. “She’s always the one, Buck.”

“You never told me her name. (Y/n), there’s nothing going on betwe-”

“Bucky, it’s completely okay if you like her. I truly don’t mind- that’s, if you like her that’s okay.”

He repeats your name, stopping you from rambling on. “Shut up, doll. I’m not interested.. anymore. Like at all.” You smile and look up at him, scanning his face. Of course Bucky would like her. Of course she’d catch his attention. She catches everyone’s attention. “Hey, Sam’s an asshole. Don’t think about him. You’re going out with Steve. Steve’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. I promise. He won’t hurt you, doll. Especially not on my watch.”

“You always know what to say, James. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he gives you that stupid look again. The one where it looks like his chest is hurting, like his heart is crying. Like he regrets something, misses, longs for something. But you don’t know what. “Go get ready. You got that cheesy date with Steve. Remember? Or did laying in my bed make you wanna stay here forever?”

“Bucky, shut up,” you playfully push him as you get off his bed. You had honestly completely forgot about the date with Steve. It felt like a hundred hours that you were there with Bucky, which it was only two. You threw a pillow that was on the floor at him and he catches it, of course. He had quick reflexes. Too quick. Nothing went past him. And you liked that.

“Tell your boyfriend to text me back. He left me on read,” Bucky shouts as you walk out his door, “bestest best friend ever,” he mumbles. You giggle and take a mental note. ‘Tell Steve to text his boyfriend’.

Bucky got up and shut his door. Like he always is before you go out with Steve, Bucky was sad. He was bummed again. If he had just been upfront and asked you out on a real date, or if he had went up to you and Steve instead of darting out of there as soon as possible. He started to think about the party again. He started thinking about what you had told him before you even knew Steve existed.

“Okay. I’ll set it up right now, doll. Any guy you want, you’ll get.”

“You want me to choose?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“And you’ll get them to come talk to me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Bucky, I don’t wanna play.”

“Oh, come on. Look at that guy. He has a beard. You like beards.”

“Too long. Plus, I don’t even know him. Besides, you have a beard too.”

“How about my ex boss?”

“Tony? He’s married!”

“Him?”

“No.” This went on for a few minutes. You crossing off guys, making faces every time Bucky would point someone out.

“What ab-”

“No, I’m absolutely a hundred and ten percent serious, Bucky. Out of every one in this expensive ass house party, I’d still choose to go home with you.”

“Like you have a choice,” he chuckles, leaning in to you as he tries to speak over all the other conversations. 

“Choice or not, I’d still go home with you, James.” Your words made him weak. They made him weaker than he’s ever been. His legs felt like jello when he saw the look in your eyes. It wasn’t alcohol, he hadn’t got you a drink yet. It was happiness. True happiness. Him making you get this look. He wanted to kiss you right there. He really did. But like he always does, he got scared. He got scared, so instead of kissing you, he asked if you wanted a drink.

A stupid drink. ‘What the hell was wrong with me’ Bucky thought to himself. He knew that if it wasn’t Steve, he would be fighting for you. He would be wrapping his arms around you right now, making you want to stay in bed with him. But it’s Steve. And Steve always gets what he wants.

•••

again, if i 4got tags, lmk ❗️❗️

this was a tough 1, it gets better I PROMISE. but aside from that, i wanted to know if you guys would be interested in like.... writing a chapter?? like any kind of chapter you guys want. I JUST REALLY WANNA SEE WHAT KIND OF DIRECTION YOU GUYS WANNA TAKE IT IN!!!!

so we kind of got a sense as to what happened with Sammy boy... hmm.. ❗️

tags : @coal000 @goldenstateof@cherrywinedarling@justahappylilblog@faakelanadelrey@juicyqueenlme @ourdreamsrealized@boyzines@bornfortherainydays @fightmeandmy100fandoms@deadpoolgirl23@bethanyv10 @ilovethings-somuch @spidey-linquentimagines@lilypalmer1987 @gravity-9-8@vivianbabz@imeannooffensebabybut @queendade  @irepeldirt@petals-overdaisies @warishaadnan @sweetmockingbird@loki7ms@chickennacho1 @dakotacheyennee@starkxpotts@sighscassidyy @jellzu @krockszz@lowkeysebbychuckennuggets1213 @wowbarnes @eccentric-impulsesdugan365 @frackinawesomeninja @cosmetologynerd@straight–on-til-morning @sophiealiice @barnes-and-noble-girl@satans-knitting-club @grosskyjaja @xunicornwhovianx@evetheplum@cravingmustard @raventt5-bb @dedicated-fangirl-forever@sarahp879 @fandomlover03 @bands-and-shietz@wintersoldierbarnes @keepyoureyesopenwide @i-am-moody-yes-i-am @fandoms-will-collide @xcyber-queenx​ @ly--canthrope​ @kimskew​ @mala-firebringer​ @crazyjam-pot

[codylabs]

Chapter 25: The End of Fate

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Wendy strained one last time at the webs holding her to the wall. She thought she felt a few strands breaking near her legs, but their failure did nothing to weaken the rest of the material. In fact, the more she wiggled around and tried to loose herself, the more the webs just stuck and mashed together, the more they bonded to her skin, and the more her muscles yielded to fatigue. After a minute or so she gave up, no closer to freedom and feeling significantly more like a cocooned insect.

She could move her fingers. She could move her toes. She could move her neck and her eyes, but that was the limit of her. Her arms, legs, torso, all her body… It no longer obeyed her. All she could do was stare at the monster, as it stared back.

The Shapeshifter’s mother. Some kind of time-traveling mystery character, who’d seen thousands of years of history, who’d killed people throughout them, who seemed to know everything, and who most likely ate people. Wendy could feel the eyes probing and inspecting, as indifferently as one might regard a museum piece, or a slab of meat.

The beast took a step toward her.

She could kill me. Wendy knew. She could kill me if she wanted, and I can’t even move.

…Wait, was she an ‘it’? Or was it a ‘she’? Wendy briefly wondered to herself. A person or a thing? How do you refer to intelligent creatures which act like this? Are they still rational beings? Or can you really be so evil and twisted that you forsake your own soul?

Wendy was quite too mad to really care.

“Let me down.” She told her, as she came closer. “Come on, you grimy old sack of phlegm! Let me down or I’ll beat the living daylights out of you! Come on!”

She stopped about 3 feet from Wendy, and peered down at her face. “I thought I gagged you.” She replied calmly, as she inspected the stray scraps of webbing around Wendy’s mouth.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should use more than weird spider webs next time.” Wendy growled. “Something I can’t just chew up and spit out.”

“Probably good advice.” Her head widened slightly, and her teeth shapeshifted into some kind of slobbering, many-tendrilled orifice, which then secreted a stringy mass of webbing. She rolled the material into a tight ball with her hands.

“Well, it’s just common sense.” Wendy tried to shrug. “I mean, if I had some alien tied up in my basement, you can bet I’d make darn su—” She squeezed Wendy’s cheeks, forced her mouth open, shoved the ball in between her teeth, and pasted it in place with another web across her face.

Wendy took a deep breath in through her nose, as she silently glared.

The creature calmly wiped the excess gunk off her hands, then eased to a seated position on the floor. They were both silent for a moment, one by necessity, one for thought.

“I know lots of things.” The shifter finally remarked. “From lots of times, from lots of places.”

“Mmf mf.” Wendy retorted.

“Some of them happen to be about you.” She said. Her body rearranged into the form of Mr. Sherman, her PE coach from grade school. “Wendy Blerble Corduroy…” Mr. Sherman’s voice hummed with perfect clarity. “You did pretty well on the football and wrestling teams during elementary and middle school… And word on the street is, you ‘kind of ruled’ in the annual lumberjack games…”

“Rgf mmf.” The gag made it easy to hide her confusion. Wait a minute, was Mr. Sherman the shapeshifter all along? How does THAT make sense? What the heck?

The shifter’s form changed again, this time solidifying as a short, intense Asian man: Mr. Chiu, her science teacher from just last year… “Although both your grades and extra-scholastic endeavors declined steadily through your teen years.” Mr. Chiu’s voice told her. Wait a minute! Wendy thought. Mr. Chiu has a human daughter. He couldn’t have been her all along… She must have… Wait, what? “Perhaps.” The image of Mr. Chiu continued. “Was it because you discovered friends in lower circles? Or as you became increasingly disillusioned with the world…?” She transformed into Toot-Toot McBumbersnazzle, aka Blind Ivan. “Or perhaps as the late Blind Eye Society trimmed back your working knowledge whenever you happened across something you ought not see…” Okay, there’s no WAY that HE was her this entire time… So how DOES she know so much…? It morphed again, and she was looking at and listening to her own dad… “However it worked, you got it through yer noggin’ that everything ya did was just useless and pointless… Guess ya figured on how easy it was to sit on your butt and do nothing at all. So ya threw yer life away, and turned inta the lazy one…”

Wendy glared.

The mimic of her father leaned in a little closer. “Yeah, that’s it, ain’t it? The Wendy that allll them school records show. Always so darn chill, always calm, level, and cool… But as far as the world’s concerned, less than useless…” It sounded and felt like her own dad talking. Gruff as ever. Candid as ever. Right as ever…

The shape changed again, to Stanley Pines. “No…” Her former employer scratched his chin skeptically, and adjusted his glasses. “No it’s not. That’s ain’t you, not anymore. Now I hear yer doing better in school, ya had a hand in eliminating the Blind Eye, in that rascal Bill’s defeat, and now in even deeper, stranger matters…”

She took the form of Robbie, which set off some alarm in Wendy’s mind, as she remembered that Robbie was probably dead… “You, like, don’t fear anything at all…” Robbie’s voice told her. “You fight robots on Tuesday, Aliens on Wednesday, ghosts on Thursday… All sorts of crazy adventures, you’re probably real close to a lot of things you really shouldn’t see…” And now the shifter looked like Tambry. “People don’t ever change.” Tambry told her. “They get changed. So why are you different all of a sudden? What changed you? Your job at the tourist trap selling junk? Mr. Pines, that old jerk you worked for?” Tambry put her hands on her hips. “Or something else, like your new friends?”

Now the shifter shrunk down to the size of a child. A very familiar size. A very familiar shape… Before Wendy had a chance to mentally prepare herself to look at this, she found her eyes locked with those of Dipper. “Was it me?” It was his voice again, his old, familiar, youthful voice. The voice tore into the weird corners of Wendy’s mind, upsetting everything, confusing everything; she was defenseless against it. Dipper. She blinked. DIPPER! She tried to shake her head. Dipper’s dead… Dipper! “…Was it Dipper…?” Dipper asked.

Wendy couldn’t quite find words.

“Sorry.” The Dipper mimic smiled awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I guess… I guess what I really want to get down to is the cause of things. Why are you the way that you are? What happened, where, when… What made you? If it was Dipper, then what made him who he was? Who guided you? Trained you? Inspired you, knighted you, blessed you? What force of fate, chance or choice placed this destiny in your lap, and bid you go and become a hero?”

What a strange thing to ask.

“You do know.” The Dipper mimic insisted. “I know you’re not stupid, I know you know what I’m asking… Just c’mon, please Wendy?” The intonation of his voice matched Dipper’s so perfectly for a moment that she couldn’t help but recoil. Dipper’s hands reached up and peeled the gag off her mouth. “Like, c’mon, I can tell there’s something you’re not saying. Maybe many things? …No, just one thing… Yeah, there’s one secret you swore to always keep from me, and what’s that? C’mon, you can tell me… I mean, why not at this point, huh? Ha ha… Yeah…”

Wendy flexed her jaw, enjoying the ability to once again breath freely. Dipper’s hand reached up and brushed gently across her cheek. The thin, cold little fingers felt just exactly like his… Cognitive dissonance hit like another wet slap, as half her brain believed for a moment that it was him.

But of course, it wasn’t. And she didn’t believe it. “Go die in a hole, you PSYCHO!” She screamed.

“Whaaaat, c’mon Wendy!”

“You—”

“Hey now, you don’t want me to use the tentacles.”

“The? Wait, tenta—”

“I guess I wouldn’t mind though.” Two of the fingers on Dipper’s hand grew and expanded into a pair of stiff, thin, sharp little appendages, which he then shoved up Wendy’s nostrils.

It hurt.

Wendy thrashed around, tried to pull away, tried to turn and hide her face, tried to reach her hands in to help, but nothing worked; they were working their way deeper into her skull. Wendy’s furious struggling managed to break some of the webs holding her head in place, but the extra movement just made the probes hurt a hundred times worse.

IT HURT.

“You.” Dipper said. “Who were you? Who are you? And why?”

Wendy emitted a furious cry; a guttural, feral sound she didn’t know she had in her, and arched up to try to bite the hand. Her teeth clacked in the empty air.

Dipper’s voice burst out laughing. “An animal!” He said, as he drug Wendy’s head back down to face forward. “An animal pretending to be a person! A person priding in its ingenuity, modesty, fair judgement, rationality; the kinda things that set it above the beast. But deep, deep down, beyond the walls of faith and friendship, only nature remains. Now that you have lost these things, you’re getting the point where you cross the line. Maybe you already crossed it?”

“Die! In! A! Hole!” She managed.

“How can you say that? Look at your body, sick, weak, helpless, invaded, bound… It’s not your body, it’s mine now, and I see it as nothing but so much meat… So what do you hang on to? How can you spit in my face, when you dangle precariously at the end of yourself? Why aren’t you afraid? Do you believe yourself to be strong? Indestructible? Or is this fleshy body nothing but meat to you as well? What made you into this thing, this thing that thinks itself fearsome?”

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!”

“Remember everything you still have left to lose! Your sanity! Your honor! Your dignity! Your soul! How long until there is nothing left of Ms. Corduroy for me to speak to? How long until there’s nothing on this wall but a wild, snarling dog?!?”

“YOU SHUT UP!” Wendy screamed.

The lights flicked off in the room, leaving Wendy with no perception of the world except the sloppy sounds of creature’s movement, the taste of her own blood, and the pain…

She felt the fingers curling inside her nose, pulling her forward. Then they pushed, and slammed her head against the metal wall behind her. Then they pulled again, and they slammed again, and again, and now her entire head hurt and she could barely concentrate, and she could feel something inside her head splitting and stinging, as if with every blow was drilling the dreaded things deeper, closer to her brain.

Tiny, sharp, incredible pains shot through her arms and legs now too, and she guessed the shapeshifter must have put other limbs to work as well, poking and prodding and crawling over her like the probing limbs of some spidery thing, drilling and cutting and who knows what else. And all through it, there was just this darkness, hiding whatever else may be in store…

Why is this even happening? Why does it have to hurt? And why do I care whether this THING knows or not anyway? It’s not like it’s super important, or even true… What’s the point in keeping secrets? What’s the point in screaming threats? What’s the point in even trying? Just kill me! KILL ME!

All alone, in great pain, at the end of everything, Wendy finally panicked.

“11:03 THIS MORNING!” She gasped.

The pounding ceased. The poking and the stabbing paused.

“What was that, red?” Dipper’s voice asked.

“Eleven…” Wendy screwed her eyes shut, and felt tears trickle down her face. “Eleven-oh-three this morning… This morning… You’ll see… My secret…”

Slowly and painfully, the fingers pulled out of Wendy’s nose.

She sneezed up blood.

“Broken at last.” The creature remarked in its natural voice.

The gag was crammed back in her mouth, the loosened webs were reinforced, and then the monster retreated. She must have had a second time machine besides the one she gifted her son, because she promptly disappeared in a flash of blue light, leaving Wendy alone.

All seemed suddenly quiet and still… But not empty. All around her, she could feel the evil standing; threatening, near, haunting… It was danger, it was fear, this malignant force that watched and taunted and worked deeper, searching out those corners of her brain that hadn’t yet been violated. And one by one, as hopeful thoughts stood, up, it crushed them down, reminding her that she was broken, and helpless, and small. Nothing but a tiny, squealing animal, hanging on the wall.

She blinked.

I need to escape…

Wendy knew she couldn’t escape.

I need to bust loose…

How on Earth could she ever bust loose?

I need to stay conscious. Alert…

That was looking difficult…

I need to think…

Wendy couldn’t think.

I need to think…!

She wasn’t good at thinking.

I NEED TO THINK!

She never had been the thinking one. She was just the athletic one. The fighting one. The level one. The calm one. Dipper was the thinking one. Dipper was the creative one. Dipper was the hero, and I was just his crush. Just his sidekick. Just there to make sure he didn’t get hurt…

Dipper…

I knew you.

Know you.

I was your crush. I was your protection. And I was your calm.

Now I guess I’ve failed all three.

She sneezed again. Her chest heaved painfully, and more blood dribbled over her lips and down her chin. Dipper… She could barely breath, past her flooded nose and the gag in her mouth, so she gasped and wheezed every breath, as she croaked, and coughed, and cried, and bled. I’m sorry… I never told you that you were a great guy…. I never told you how much you meant to me… I let you die, left you for others to bury, I just stormed off and got myself here… And now I panicked… And now I played the fool with a monster who doesn’t even know you… I gave up my secret… I gave up OUR secret… She cried and she bled. I’m sorry…

He wasn’t who the shifter pretended to be. He wasn’t that. He wouldn’t say or do those things, wouldn’t taunt her for not being as indestructible as she seemed…

What would he say if he were here?

If Dipper were here…

Well. First of all, he’d probably be all like: ‘Wait, what secret? What’s so special about 11:03?’ He was a curious guy; always did have a hard time knowing when to mind his own business.

Wendy scraped her cheek against her shoulder as hard as she could, and managed to loosen some of the webs holding the gag in place. After a minute or so, she was able to get her tongue past the edges of it, and break the rest of the strings. Then she spat the ball to the ground, and was able to breathe easily again. The oxygen was little reconciliation for the rest of her suffering, and she may have swallowed some of the sticky gunk by accident.

If Dipper were here…

‘At 11:03 this morning…’ She would have muttered to him. ‘I… Kinda let Stan in on my secret… If creepy-face warps back to then, she’ll know too… Ha ha… I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going crazy, that’s why I told Stan… But I guess I’m still not sure… Guess I’ll never know…’

He would’ve been quick to deny her angst. ‘You’re not crazy… Y’know the stuff she said about being an animal isn’t true. You… You’re not. You’re not crazy. You’re not.’

‘… I guess everyone reaches a point, dude… Guess it just takes one bad day…’

He wouldn’t be quite sure how to counter that. ‘So… I dunno. So what’s the secret?’ He would’ve changed the subject.

Yeah, I never did tell him that one. Real shame, because I guess it was his secret as well as mine… If he were here, if things were looking this bad, I guess I probably would have admitted it to him. If we’re both to die, he deserves to know. She would have told him. ‘…I met myself last fall.’ She would’ve blurted reluctantly. ‘My future self. She came time-traveling back from maybe a decade down the road, and she talked to me… So she’s a big part of the reason I’m working harder in school, going on these adventures, and doing better with things in general… Like Momma Shifter said, I got changed…  Didn’t want her to know, because… I don’t know. It’s private. It’s cool… And after everything I lost, I didn’t want to lose that too…’

‘Woah… What was she like?’ Wendy turned her head to the left in the darkness. If Dipper had been here with her, he would have been captured too. He would’ve been webbed up in the empty spot next to her… She imagined him there now, and wondered again if she really was going crazy.

‘Uh… Real chill… Real chill.’ Wendy recalled. ‘Totally decked out in futurey gear though, like some kinda time-cop. She was wearing this big robotic suit of armor, she had weapons, and a time machine…’

‘…Did she say anything about me?’ Dipper would have asked. Well, no, actually he wouldn’t say that. He’d just think that. Out loud, he’d just nervously mumble something lame like… ‘Huh, wow. Robot suit, huh?’

‘Heck yes she mentioned you.’ Wendy would have replied. ‘Yeah… She said you were a great guy. An example to learn from, even… In fact!’ Wendy crossed the point of no return, and spat it out. ‘She said! She said that you end up being my husband for some reason! We’re married! How ‘bout that?’

That would have taken a couple seconds to sink into his brain. And then he would have freaked out for a several minutes at least.

‘Yeah, c’mon, see? See why I never told you?’ She would’ve scoffed, tried to downplay it. ‘You make this whole relationship weird and awkward enough without me dropping the “oh-hey-it’s-destiny-or-something!” bomb in the middle of things.’

‘WELL! BUT! I! UGH! AH! WHAT?!’

‘Look… Just calm down, it doesn’t matter, all right? I mean… It’s not even true. You’re dead. And now I’ll be dead. Somehow it wasn’t real… And now I don’t even know what’s happening! Everything’s falling apart and dying so fast; you, my friends, my dad… And to top it off, I sang like a canary after a measly 5 minutes of torture! I lost my calm! She got to me…! Like, what’s the point in even trying? I’m not strong any more… Dipper, if I’m not the strong one, then who am I?’

He would’ve forced his mind back on-topic; he was good at that. He would’ve thought about it all for a minute, trying to think of something wise to say. Then he’d finally say it, and it wouldn’t be very wise at all; just sweet and simple and caring… Something like, ‘Don’t you remember? You’re a flippin’ Corduroy!’

‘A flippin’ Corduroy…’ She sighed. ‘…Why did you idolize me so much, dude? Everything meaningful I ever did was just because I had to or because I was bored…’

‘Well—’

‘You know you could’ve done better than me… Guy like you could’ve set your sights higher; fallen in love with somebody beautiful and talented… A genius, or a super hero, or a princess…’

‘UH…!’ He would’ve hurried to interject ‘W-w-would it, like, be too cheesy to say you’re a princess to me?’

‘Oh my friggin’…’ She tried not to roll her eyes. ‘You…! Oh… Geez, okay, focus. C’mon Dipper. C’mon, help me out here, look at this rationally, what do I DO? How do I get out of this? I can’t fight time-traveling monsters, can I? Time traveling monsters that can be anyone, do anything…’

‘Well… I don’t… Uh…’

‘You have to know! I got myself into this mess, and now you have to get me out of it! Come on… You always know! You’re the smart one! You’re always able to ad-lib some kinda plan! Always!’

‘Umm… I don’t know… Oh man, I wish I could reach my journal…’

Wendy’s eyes drifted across the darkened room to the place where it was lying among her other confiscated stuff. ‘I can’t reach it either… But well, hey, I have been reading it the last couple nights since you died, so I remember a lot of it… Why?’

‘It’s got my notes on time travel…’

‘Uh… Oh, wait wait, yeah, I read those! I read them… What about ‘em?’

‘Well… Okay, think. Think about it: When did you see your future self?’

‘Huh?’

‘When did you see her? Before I died, or after?’

‘Before! Duh… I tried to write down a time and date to bring her back AFTER you died… But she didn’t show…’

‘Okay… Okay… Okayokayokay… Okay, So! Why wouldn’t she show up after Sam killed me?’

‘Umm…’ Wendy thought about that. Up to now, she’d just blindly accepted that something changed; that for some reason, it didn’t work anymore. But why? She tried to put it together. ‘Maybe… Maybe when he killed you, he changed the future? Yeah, so in this reality, I die right now instead of later, so she isn’t able to come back for me…’

‘But if you die right now, then how would she have been able to come back in the first place? If this is the way the future goes, then how could she ever have existed?’

‘The future changed…’

‘No no no! Remember my notes! What did I say?’

‘Uh…’ Wendy racked her brain. ‘I don’t… There wasn’t anything in there about this. Just one part about you trying to fix a mistake and then something about a baby and some gladiator battle…’

‘The first one. The mistake. Do you remember what happened?’

‘Well… I remember you were pretty vague; what was the mistake again?’

‘Doesn’t matter. All that matters is what happened! What happened? Remember!’

‘Uh… Well… Didn’t you say it didn’t work for some reason? Right? Yeah… You said it didn’t work…’

‘Right!’

‘And then…’

‘Then?’

‘Then one time… You said you tried really really hard, and actually did change it… But even then, circumstances forced you to go back in time by your own free will, and change it back…’

‘Exactly. No matter what I did, no matter WHAT, fate intervened to set history on its proper course… Even when I succeeded in one place, another place failed. Eventually even I gave up.’

‘Okay… So what does that mean?’ Wendy forced herself to think. ‘What does that mean, how does it all connect?!? Does that mean no matter what I do, I’m gonna die here?’

‘No! It just means that there’s only one reality, Wendy. You can’t change the future more than an inch, and even if you do, it’ll iron out the wrinkles itself. It’ll stabilize… And… And now this is great! This is great! Because remember, you’ve seen the future!’

‘…The future where I become… Like, a time-travely warrior thing?’

‘Yeah! Where we’re mar—’

‘Shut up.’

‘Ah! Sorry. I mean…! …I mean that future-you must have come from a time after all this… After the wrinkles get ironed out. After reality stabilizes. Which means that after today, after whatever happens next, somehow that’s the reality that’ll remain. And that’s probably why she couldn’t come back to today! Because this time is fated to get decay out and disappear. Get replaced…’

‘But…’

‘But what?’

‘…But how? What do I do to do that?’

‘Umm…’ Dipper came up short. This was as far as his optimistic reasoning took him, and he really didn’t know what to say next. ‘Well… I… I dunno. Time logic says something has to happen… I think… I guess you might outsmart her, or you might outfight her, or outfox her or out-time her… Uh… Heck, it might not be you; maybe somebody else entirely will find a way to change things. But I’m pretty sure something has to happen sometime, and if you’re the last one left, then… It’s pretty much up to you… It’s like destiny or something.’

‘But… Are you sure? What if… I mean, you don’t know everything. Your journal doesn’t know everything. What if this is all just… Stupid wishful thinking…?’

‘…You tell me; are you sure that it was you last fall? The time traveler?’

‘…Yes.’

‘And…’ His voice would have faltered just slightly. ‘Are you sure that that future is something you want?’

‘Well…’ Wendy thought for a minute.

If he were here, he would be trying not to stare at her, but still hanging on her every word, waiting for her reply. He’d said all he could say, and now he wanted to know if she would fight to the bitter end. Whether or not she could still keep her faith, even when everything seemed to be standing in the way, even after everyone who could ever help was gone, even if unspeakably twisted beasts tried to cut their way into her mind. He wanted to know if she would be willing to fight to the death to save him. He wanted to know if she loved him.

Wendy almost laughed when she realized what was being said. ‘Well, duh! Come on dude, of course!’

He would have nodded nervously; he was still a little stressed, a little overwhelmed, a little frightened. But now, he knew how she felt. He knew her secret. He wished he didn’t know it, because yeah: it did make everything weird. But still, he knew that this weak and hopeless prisoner would one day be his wife.

He believed it.

So he would have found a way to smile, and ask. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Wendy awoke with a start.

Just a dream.

…Just a dream? Naw… Naw, wait a minute, why would I have been sleeping anyway? Blood loss? Shock? General weirdness? No, that’s no reason to sleep… And that wasn’t a normal dream either… I dunno, that must’ve been Dipper’s ghost or some crap! …Or a wizard. Or some kinda time-traveling pseudo-memories from a timeline that never happened. Or the Shifter using psychic powers to deceive me… Or maybe it was just some kinda weird, prophetic dream that happens because… Reasons…

Oh, who am I kidding? It was nothing! Nothing at all… Everyone knows dreams never mean anything at all.

Of course they don’t.

But meaning or not, it made sense. It actually made a whole gob of sense.

She believed it.

Wendy shook her head to clear the last of her confusion, then took a deep breath to prepare herself. Her nose was still totally clogged up, but at least the bleeding had stopped, and she’d gotten that blasted gag loose.

Please God. She thought to pray. Make it all true. Help this all turn out alright.

She began to breath really heavily and quickly. She’d heard of scuba divers doing this before a deep dive; it’s to flood the body with oxygen and give you more energy.

When she felt fully riled up, she threw her entire weight to the left, curled with her left arm and pulled on her right, trying with every ounce of strength to pull it loose. When the webs digging into her wrist became too excruciating to bear, she threw herself to the right and tried to pull her left arm loose. That didn’t work either.

Dang it.

She relaxed after a moment, defeated yet again.

But when she wiggled her shoulders, she found the bands to be loosened at least partially. Maybe if she tried again in a couple minutes, after her muscles stopped hurting, and then another couple minutes after that, and again after that… Maybe she could eventually get free? It all depended on how long the shifter would take to get back… What was taking so long, anyway?

“Thought I gagged you.” The voice interrupted.

Wendy jumped. The voice unnerved her, startled her, reminded her of the pain that was still so near, and filled her imagination with pain to come… Before Wendy had time to fear, she reminded herself that she angry.

Bitterly, furiously angry.

Wendy Corduroy. Angry Corduroy. Flippin’ Corduroy.

There was gonna be payment. There was gonna be pain.

“You do realize I was able to just reappear the split second I left, don’t you?” The monster asked, with a tone like a smirk.

Wendy’s voice came out rather calm. Surprisingly calm, even to her. “…Oh yeah, I knew that.” She nodded smoothly. “Simple time logic, that’s what that is… So hey, I guess you know my secret now? How you like it? Bet you’re pretty surprised to find out you’ve got a time traveler locked in your basement, huh?”

“No… Not really. I get all types…” The lights in the room flicked back on. They weren’t very bright all considering, but after perfect blackness, Wendy still felt like blinking. The monster gestured to one of the skeletons on the wall. The body was human; and seemed to have some kind of cybernetic thing hanging from one eye socket. Its torso was plated in dusty, dark grey armor. “That one was a time traveler too.” She said, as she wiped a bit of dust off the hourglass insignia on the breastplate. “Lieutenant something-or-another. Very brave old man, very proud. Wouldn’t speak a word besides his name and rank… At least at first. But he cried out for his mother days later, and now I know all that he knew.” She pointed to another human cyborg skeleton. “That one, also a time traveler. He was head of his class at the time-academy, but applied all that knowledge just three and a half seconds too late.” She pointed again, this time to the lanky, squid-like skeleton of one of the ship’s crewmembers. “And the clever nuclear engineer. He knew every single bolt and beam of this vessel, and yet he failed to hide from me. That one? Top security officer of the whole place. He didn’t want to surrender the drone control codes, but such is the way of things… That one? A most prestigious scientist, master of everything from nanobiology to embryotic mutation decay. One of the smartest men I’ve ever talked too, he almost convinced me not to eat him. And her? Ex-convict. Stowed away on the ship to escape a death sentence on her homeworld. She devised all kinds of clever ways to escape from me too, but you can see how they ended. That one?” The shifter pointed to a metal skeleton, with clawed hands, a mouthful of saws, and dead aluminum eyeballs that had never quite rotted. “You know him; maybe even met him… Yes? Last survivor of a colony of intelligent machines. He was a truly great man in his life. Intelligent. Determined. Prepared. And an entirely good and noble man as well, stood for nothing but truth, honor, and the safety and preservation of loved ones… But he’s gone like the rest… Such a shame.”

“Yeah.” Wendy shrugged. “Nice collection… But, uh… None of them were destined to kick your butt though.”

The shifter turned to her. “So.” Her voice grated menacingly, like the tearing of cloth. “You claim a future version of yourself came into your life and directed you to become who you are… I’m sure it was a strong and powerful woman that came striding forward, reaching out to you as if out of your imagination, out of a dream, a wish, a vision, and made itself come true… Except it didn’t. Over time, this hard life beat you right back down from the lofty heights it raised you to, until it has proven to be just a wish after all, just a fancy, a youthful dream…” She chuckled. “Really, the only surprising part of your story is that you would even consider your secret a secret. The only surprising thing was how defeated and dejected you acted when I extracted a piece of trivia so petty and meaningless…”

“Yeah, well…”

“Oh, wait… Hold on a moment; you still think it’s true, don’t you? Really! What a wild idea; that a thing could give rise to itself. And not just some twisted, random, chaotic thing, but a thing of beauty, pride, heroism… It must have a cause, but what? Who sent it? Who sent it to you, that you might send it to yourself? And if nobody sent it, then how and why would fate choose a wild, rebellious animal like a Corduroy? Didn’t it ever dawn on you that somebody’s been lying to you all along? Did it ever even cross your mind?”

The shifter’s voice broke and changed now. Wendy couldn’t quite place it; it sounded familiar from somewhere… But then her body began to shift and morph. Four legs became two. White mucus hardened into flesh. Hard, dark plates formed together, rose up, and interlocked into armor. Little bioluminescent lights began to glow in high-tech patterns, and features solidified on the face.

The eyes… The hair… The suit of futuristic robotic armor… Wendy stared.

“Look familiar?” The monster ran a gloved hand through her long red hair, smiled her freckled, adult face, and twirled a futuristic axe. “You get good enough at shapeshifting, you can start inventing forms. How do you like this one? All I had to go on was your own appearance, and a little imagination…”

Wendy stared, and blinked, and stared again. She found herself at a loss for words.

“Perhaps I’ll head back to last Fall with this, and say some nice things to you. To make you do all the helpful things you’ve done since… What do you think of that?”

Wendy didn’t speak.

“…Or…” A smile twitched at the corners of the mimic’s mouth. “Or do you still believe you know the future?”

Wendy thought about this, as she stared at the perfect image of her dream. The image rested a hand on its hip, and stood in that characteristically powerful, proud, relaxed way… It really, truly was exactly how she remembered it.

My future self.

The promises. The mission. The hope. The vision.

It was all lies…

No…

No.

“No…” Wendy said.

The mimic cocked its head.

“No…” Wendy repeated. “Wait… You’ve seen her.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve seen her! Seen me! That’s how you know what she looks like; you’ve met her… You’ve probably fought her, that’s it!” Wendy flexed her fingers, preparing to assault her bindings again. “You knew it all along! You’re trying to get in my head, trying to probe me and hurt me and BREAK me to prevent me from becoming who I AM, but you KNOW! You know the reason she didn’t show up this morning! It’s ‘Cause I’m gonna escape! This… This is destiny or something! I’m gonna fight my way across time and space to save my friends and my family, save the day, be the HERO! And then we’re gonna take what’s left of you, feed half to the pig and use the rest as VEGETABLE OIL!”

“YOU?” It scoffed, and gestured again to the skeletons. “When I’ve hunted and killed and eaten all who came before? Time travelers! Warriors! Scientists! Inventors! Heroes…! And now you! Hanging among the remains of better people, tell me:” Her voice rose to a screeching, furious, monstrous pitch as she raised her arm. The hand flattened itself, and sharpened into the fine edge of a large blade. Then she leapt at Wendy, lashing the deadly blade directly for her torso. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!?”

Wendy didn’t blink.

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! *

The computer console in a corner of the room chimed loudly.

By some unforeseeable, freak act of fortune, the alarm seemed to distract the shifter for a fraction of a second.

The blade missed Wendy’s body.

“WARNING!” The console chimed, in a language that was most certainly not English. “INTRUDERS DETECTED INCONCLUSIVE REFERENCE CODE RETURN THREAT LEVEL UPGRADED TO JELLY ROLL ONE: ERROR 443\]kl;/oij#JE’~~3Dde~~~”

The Shifter spun toward the computers and began to head toward them, outraged at the improbable, incredible, inconceivable timing of the interruption.

Wendy realized that the blade had actually severed most of the webs.

She threw herself forward, and her left arm ripped free. Her right arm followed it. Then she grabbed a sharp scrap of metal, and with one long slice tore through the material on her legs.

With a final push, her boots landed on the ground with a dull thud.

She stood up.

The Shifter glanced back at the human. She saw the tangled, matted hair, the faded blue hat, the clenched fists, the blood-stained lip, the furious little scowl, and the dark, murderous thoughts behind those green eyes. She thought that this was getting a little too complicated and improbable for a standard hostage situation; she should probably time-travel back by about 5 minutes, to find out the source of the alarm ahead of time, and undo her accidental severing of the human’s bonds.

Quickly though, before something worse happened.

But she was too late, because something worse was already happening.

There was a brilliant blue flash of light,

a tiny yellow machine was suddenly flying through the air,

And Wendy caught it.

“Who do I think I am? Funny you should ask that…” Wendy smiled, as she ad-libbed a plan.

“I’m a flippin’ Pines.”