#passed) and she's always been staunchly against having kids

[yutadori]

it's so crazy and isolating hearing my friends talk about how they want kids u__u

[mcntsee]

— ★ aim

↳ Summary: Spencer’s nerves are on edge as he anticipates his upcoming firearms qualification exam, yet he remains staunchly resistant to seeking assistance from the one individual who likely holds the key to his success.

↳ Warnings: Self-doubt, anxiety, like one cuss word, firearms, shooting, not proof read and i think that’s it?

↳ Note: This is a reader insert, but, as requested, they call reader “zero” (and “y/n” once.)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You could always ask her.”

His eyes trailed Rossi’s hand movement. With a precision akin to a hawk’s hunt, his gaze darted from one point to another until it alighted upon the focal point of Rossi’s gesture: her, standing ethereal and captivating amidst the ordinary backdrop of the office.

“Absolutely not.”

“Kid—“

“—No, Rossi. I’m not asking her to train me as if I were a child.”

With a sigh, Rossi’s hand fell from its previous position, surrender evident in the way both hands rose shortly after in the universal gesture of concession. Under his breath, he muttered something that seemed to insinuate Spencer's immaturity and something else about a crush.

As Rossi turned to leave, Spencer’s gaze instinctively gravitated back to her form, lingering just a beat longer than intended. He seemed ensnared in a trance, only snapping out of it when she turned, locking eyes with him. Her hand lifted in a gentle wave, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Flushed with embarrassment at being caught, his cheeks tinted crimson as he too lifted his hand in a shy wave, mirroring her gesture with a smile of his own.

Days had slipped by since his latest, unsuccessful venture at the shooting range. The higher-ups had been incessantly pressing him to pass the test, but despite their relentless prodding, his aim simply refused to cooperate.

He had spent weeks down at the shooting range, seeking assistance from anyone willing to help him hone his shooting skills. However, conspicuously absent from the list of helpers was her because, of course, Spencer refused to ask.

Lost in his own thoughts, his head snapped up at the sound of heels clicking against the ground, drawing nearer in his direction. “Brainiac!”

“Zero.”

"What's troubling that pretty little head of yours?" she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity as she finally reached him.

He quickly shook his head, feigning ignorance, and assured her that he had no idea what she was talking about. She stood there, her eyebrow raised in a questioning look, before releasing a sigh and uncrossing her arms. “Well—“

She swiftly turned, her hands reaching behind to grip the edge of his desk as she lowered herself onto its edge, mindful not to disturb any of his files. With a graceful movement, she crossed one leg over the other, settling comfortably into her impromptu perch. “Morgan and I are planning to hit the shooting range that’s like forty minutes away. Would you be interested in joining us?”

“Why the sudden trip to the shooting range?”

“Morgan’s been boasting about his shooting skills for too long. I thought I’d humble him a bit, but having an impartial referee there wouldn’t hurt.”

Of course Morgan is. With a sigh, he quickly scanned his desk, searching in vain for an excuse to decline her invitation. “Come on, genius. Don’t you want to witness Derek getting humbled?” she teased, a playful glint in her eye.

And that’s precisely how all three of them wound up at the shooting range, forty minutes away from the safety of his desk back at work.

"Boom!" Derek exclaimed, prompting an eye-roll from her– a gesture that seemed to have become a routine in the past hour.

“Beat that.”

“You know I will, Derek.”

Derek extended his arm in a challenging gesture, a silent “go ahead” for her. She carefully placed her sniper rifle on the ground before assuming a prone position, her left side facing the target. She gripped the rifle with her left hand on the grip, supporting its weight. “All talk and no show, zero?”

She then adjusted the stock against her left shoulder, while her eye was brought close to the scope for a clear view. Simultaneously, she positioned her right hand on the fore end for additional support.

With her cheek firmly against the stock, she started taking controlled breaths, aligning the scope.

“You take too long.”

"Shut it, Morgan," Spencer’s voice sliced through the air from behind them, a reminder of his reluctant presence. Though he harbored some regret for being there at all, he also recognized the potential to glean valuable insights from this impromptu activity their coworkers had decided to partake in.

A collective silence fell as they observed her, noting the deliberate inhalation and gradual exhale. In the stillness, she squeezed the trigger smoothly with her left index finger, the controlled precision of the motion echoing through the shooting range.

“Smashed it, didn’t I, Morgan?”

Before Derek could respond, the buzz of their phones reverberated in their pockets. Spencer, being the only one without anything in his hands, swiftly retrieved his phone to check the notification.

"We have to go," he declared, a pleased yet discreet smile adorning his face, evident since the moment her shot hit the target. "New case in Richmond," he announced, quickly displaying the screen of his phone to them before returning it to his pocket.

Spencer watched as Derek’s hand extended downward to help her up, but just as she reached for it, Derek swiftly withdrew his hand, laughing as he started to walk away.

With a shake of his head, Spencer swiftly extended his hand to help her up from the prone position on the ground where she had been lying to take the shot. Unlike Derek, he actually helped her up. “He is such a sore loser,” she began, dusting herself off. “That he is,” Spencer agreed, chuckling at her remark. With a smile, they joined Derek as he made his way to the car.

Once they reached the SUV, they quickly stowed their equipment in the trunk, with Derek and Spencer settling into the front seats while she climbed into the back, flopping down with an audible sigh of exhaustion. “At least it’s not a long drive.”

They spent most of the drive engaged in lively discussion about the case, brainstorming various motives for the murders and playfully wagering on the most absurd profiles they could concoct with the limited information available.

As they settled into a lull, the car filled with the melody of music and the occasional navigation directive to Morgan. Suddenly, she sat up, her annoyance evident as she glanced at her phone, emitting a frustrated huff that didn't escape Spencer's notice through the rearview mirror. “What is it?”

He waited in silence as she tapped away on her phone, observing as she eventually locked it and tossed it onto the seat beside her. "I have to take the firearms qualification exam," she announced, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m the best sniper the BAU has. They shouldn’t need to keep testing me every year.”

“Well, it does make sense. The exam is essential for maintaining proficiency, ensuring safety, compliance with standards, adapting to changes in technology and tactics, and mitigating legal liabilities.”

With a sigh, she leaned back in her seat, letting out a drawn-out“I know.” and Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at her melodramatic response. “When are you guys taking yours?”

“Oh, I already did, sweetheart.”

“What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. I went with Hotch.”

Spencer remained silent, anxiety tightening its grip on him as the weight of the impending exam settled on him. “Spence?”

Her voice jolted him back to the present, and Spencer swiveled his upper body to meet her gaze. "I'm scheduled for next Wednesday.” And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, she dropped the bombshell that she would schedule hers for the same day.

“That way we can take it together!”

His only response was a tight-lipped smile and quick nod before he turned back around to face the road. Anxiety crepping back in, but now, he not only had to worry about passing the exam but also about not embarrassing himself in front of her.

The car lingered in silence for a while longer following their conversation. Usually, Spencer enjoyed the peace and quiet, but now it felt suffocating, as the only sound permeating the air was the cacophony of insecure voices echoing in his mind.

“Y/n?”

“Spencer.”

“Why Zero?”

Despite knowing the answer, Spencer couldn't bear the silence any longer. He posed a seemingly trivial question, hoping it would prompt her to continue talking for the remainder of the drive and drown out the incessant voices in his head.

“It was my call sign back in the military.”

Well, that wasn't the type of answer he was hoping for. He had anticipated a more elaborate narrative, maybe a glimpse into her military days—something that would keep her talking for longer. Instead, all he got was a generic response. Great.

“I know, but why “zero”?”

“Guess.”

"Well," he began, contemplating why ‘Zero’ might have become her call sign, “I know the term “zero” originated from the idea that a sniper’s goal is to achieve “zero error” when taking a shot, meaning they aim to hit the target precisely.”

His gaze darted to the rearview mirror, meeting her eyes that were already fixed on him, nodding along encouragingly for him to continue. "Uhm, 'zero' could also signify a sniper's ability to effectively neutralize threats, reducing them to 'zero' or nothing," he added, his voice gaining confidence as he elaborated on his observation.

“Go on.”

“Snipers often operate clandestinely behind enemy lines, gathering intelligence and surveilling enemy movements,” he continued, noting the little chuckle that escaped her lips, a bright smile illuminating her face as she gestured with her hands in encouragement for him to continue. “In that context, ‘Zero’ could signify the ability to remain undetected or ‘zeroed’ in on the targets without being noticed.”

As he finished, she leaned forward, her hands gently patting his shoulders. "Those were really good guesses," she praised, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “but, no.”

Now he was genuinely curious. The voices in his head having long since quieted, as his intrigue grew with each passing second. “Then why?”

“Do you know what “zeroing in” means for snipers?”

His gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer before he lowered it to think about the term. “Yes,” he began, “it’s the process of adjusting the scope to ensure that the bullet’s point of impact aligns precisely with the crosshairs or reticle at a given distance.”

“Yup.”

“Is that it then?”

As he allowed his gaze to return to hers, he couldn’t help but notice the faint blush that now colored her cheeks. “Kind of,” she replied softly.

His eyebrow rose in question, his expression expectant as he silently urged her to elaborate on what she meant by that statement.

"When I first joined the military, I struggled with my aim and had a tough time adjusting my scope properly," she explained, her voice quieter than usual, the blush on her cheeks now more prominent than before she started speaking. "My friends started calling me 'Zero' as a playful way to tease me about it."

Before Spencer had a chance to respond, Morgan voiced the same question that had formed on his mind. “You had bad aim?”

“Terrible.”

Morgan and her continued their conversation, their voices fading into the background as Spencer's attention turned inward. The voices in his head, once a source of anxiety, now offered reassurance. Perhaps reaching out to her for assistance before his exam might not be as absurd as he had initially imagined.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

The case had been straightforward—a series of disappearances in a small town stemming from a feud between two families. Innocent civilians becoming collateral damage in a game of power and revenge.

It had taken the team longer than expected but not long enough for Spencer to have to reschedule his test. He had two days to somehow improve his aim and despite his efforts, he still struggled to grasp what he was doing wrong.

“Brainiac!”

His head, which had been previously buried against his desk in frustration, snapped up as her voice reached his ears.

“Are you alright?”

He swiftly smoothed down his hair, which he had been tugging at in desperation, before turning around to face the direction from which the voice had come, meeting her gaze head-on. “Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, her eyes scanning his features as if trying to decipher his thoughts before ultimately relenting. “Want to come down to the shooting range with me?” she asked, extending the invitation with a faint smile.

“Why?”

“I would like to practice before the test.”

Might as well, he thought. With a nod, he swiftly gathered his belongings, stowing them away in his satchel before trailing after her as she made her way to the elevator.

Once there, she unlocked the door, retrieving two sets of earmuffs and handing one to him before heading towards one of the multiple shooting stalls.

He watched as she reached for the gun securely nestled in the holster on her hip. With deliberate movements, she brought it in front of her, assuming a steady stance with her feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and weight evenly distributed between both feet.

As her upper body gradually relaxed, her grip tightened on the gun. With precision, she aimed at the paper target, taking a couple of steady breaths before firing. Each shot rang out, hitting the target with unerring accuracy.

After firing her last shot, she swiftly engaged the safety on the firearm and ejected the empty magazine from the gun. She deftly retrieved a fresh magazine from the shelf behind them and smoothly inserted it into the magazine well, the satisfying click signaling its secure placement as she turned around to face him. “Your turn.”

He shook his head in denial, but before he could voice his objections, she placed the gun in his hand and gently nudged him forward, stepping back to give him space.

He felt his shoulders drop in defeat as he slowly reached up to unhook the strap of his satchel from across his body, pulling it over his head with a heavy sigh before letting the bag drop to the ground.

He shook his shoulders and arms, attempting to release the tension that had built up within them as he made his way towards the stall. Once there, he brought the gun up in front of him, closing one eye as he took careful aim at the target.

After a couple of deep breaths, he steadied himself, his index finger applying pressure to the trigger. His eyes closed for a brief moment as the shot rang out, causing his arms to instinctively rise slightly from the recoil of the bullet being fired.

As he lowered the gun, his eyes quickly sought out the hole he had created on the target, knowing all too well that, as usual, it was the only hole that had not landed inside the outline of the man.

With a frustrated groan, he took the earmuffs off and re-engaged the safety before turning towards her, extending the gun for her to take. "I'm going to fail," he admitted with a heavy sigh, his frustration evident in his tone.

Her eyes followed his movements as her hand came up to remove her own earmuffs. With a gentle smile, she reached out and pushed his extended hand back towards him. “You won’t,” she assured him.

Hearing her words only fueled his frustration, igniting a spark of anger within him. “I am. I keep missing the target.” he retorted, his tone laced with frustration. She shook her head and gently placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing his body to turn back around to face the target.

“Get into position again.”

He attempted to move away from her, but her grip tightened on his shoulders, anchoring him in place. Her hand gently lifted his chin, guiding his gaze to meet hers. In her eyes, he saw a pleading expression, coupled with an encouraging nod, urging him not to give up. “Don’t shoot, just get back into position.”

Reluctantly, he brought the gun back up in front of him as soon as she released his face and waited for further instruction.

Slowly, she shifted from her previous position after instructing him to hold his stance. Moving behind him, she asked for permission to touch him and adjust his posture. With a nod of assent from him, he felt her hands grasp his hips, gently guiding the right side forward. “Your hips should be parallel to each other,” she explained, her voice calm and reassuring, “not twisted or turned to one side.”

Then, he felt her foot tap his. "For your feet," she began as she gently nudged his left foot with hers, "you want to stand with them about shoulder-width apart." Once she positioned his left foot, she tapped his other foot, silently prompting him to adjust it. "This width provides a stable base for shooting."

After he correctly positioned his right foot, she moved to a spot where he could see her without having to adjust his stance. "How's your balance?" she inquired, and he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. "Not very good.”

With a nod, she returned to her position behind him. "Try placing more weight on your heels rather than the balls of your feet," she advised. He followed her instruction, adjusting slightly until he felt stable enough in his stance.

After a moment of silence, he felt her cold hand press against the sides of his neck, gently massaging the tension away. "You want your neck to be relaxed and comfortable," she explained softly, her touch soothing, "not strained or tense." Her thumbs applied a bit more pressure to a tense spot just below his skull. "Keep it in a natural position, not too stiff or leaning forward too much."

His eyes closed at the sensation, feeling his neck gradually relax under her skilled touch. "This way, you can move head freely to aim at the target," she explained, her hands ceasing their movement and slowly trailing down to his shoulders, "without any discomfort or restriction."

Her hand gently tightened on his shoulders before releasing, adjusting them slightly so they were aligned straight ahead towards where he was aiming. "You want them to be squared with the target.”

He felt her move to his side, her hands leaving his shoulders behind as they came up to grasp his arm. "Don't completely lock out your arms," she instructed gently. Without moving his body, he shifted his gaze to find her figure, scanning her face before lowering his eyes to where her hands were adjusting his arms. "Keep a slight bend in the elbows to absorb recoil and maintain control over the firearm."

His eyes returned to her face, watching intently as she looked him up and down, analyzing his new stance with a thoughtful expression.

After a couple of seconds, her eyes found his, and she smiled, giving him a reassuring nod. Stepping forward, she continued, "Your grip on the gun should be firm but not overly tight." She then picked up the earmuffs that rested on his shoulders and placed them over his ears before doing the same with hers.

With one last reassuring smile, she stepped back behind him, close enough for him to hear her but far enough to not disturb him, allowing him to focus on his shooting.

“Safety.” His thumb moved sideways on the gun, sliding the safety lever into the “off” position with a satisfying click.

“Clear your mind. Breath.” He mimicked the same breathing technique he had seen her do countless times before. With each inhale through his nose and exhale through his mouth, he felt the tension slowly dissipate, clearing his mind of distractions until he finally felt ready.

“Lock in on the target.” His eyes fixated on the target, his gaze penetrating through the sights of the firearm as he visualized the desired point of impact, mentally mapping the trajectory of the shot. “And remember to follow through, Spence.”

With those last words, she stepped back, giving him more room as his index finger rested lightly on the trigger. With one last exhale, he applied pressure to the trigger, the shot ringing out once more as he focused on his aim and followed through with precision.

He remained in position for a moment longer, his focus unwavering as he resisted the urge to shift his gaze to find where the bullet hit. Instead, he concentrated on the target, determined not to let his attention waver. It was only when he heard cheers from behind him that he allowed himself to relax slightly as he engaged the safety.

“You did it, Spencer!” Before he could fully turn around, he felt arms engulf him in a tight hug. Returning the embrace, he craned his neck to look at the target, finding the new bullet hole dead center in the paper man’s forehead.

Happiness filled his chest, bubbling up until a giddy laugh escaped his lips. Feeling proud of himself, he tightened his arms around her, holding the hug for a moment longer before reluctantly letting go, a sense of contentment washing over him.

“That was so good!”

“Thank you.”

She started to shake her head, her lips parting as if to speak, but before she could utter a word, his hand came up to gently cup her cheek, stilling her head. "I mean it.“ he said, his eyes meeting hers with gratitude, “Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course.“ Her hand came up to hold his that was still resting on her cheek,“I would’ve helped sooner but you never asked.” She smiled, but then her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why didn't you want me to help you?"

His shoulders dropped slightly, his hand still pressed against her cheek. “I-” he began, but cut himself off, his own eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdy.”

“A little birdy?”

“Couple little birdies.”

With a groan, he lowered his head, attempting to hide the blush that had begun to spread across his cheeks. However, when he heard her laughter, his head snapped back up to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her head tilted backward slightly, her laughter infectious and filling the air with warmth.

A smile grew on his lips as he continued to gaze at her, her happiness radiating through him and warming his heart. “I should thank them.”

Soon her laughter quieted down, and her eyes met his. They stayed in that position for a while, enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence before he spoke again. “How did you do that?”

At that, her brows furrowed once more. "Do what?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by his cryptic statement.

"That," he said, twisting his body to gesture towards the target behind him, "I've been coming down here every week for what feels like an eternity." His hand slowly lowered as his gaze returned to hers, his expression earnest. "Everyone has tried to help me improve, but none of them succeeded."

“You don’t have bad aim, Spencer.”

He snorted, his playful smile faltering into a look of confusion as he saw the sincerity in her eyes. “No?”

“No.”

“Then… What?”

“Your stance.”

His confusion deepened even further, his hand leaving her cheek as she dropped hers. No one else on the team had mentioned anything about his stance before. They had all focused on giving suggestions about his aim, but never mentioning his stance.

"Try again," she urged gently, pointing back at the gun that had been discarded on the stall with her now free hand. "Just remember what I told you," she added, her tone encouraging and supportive.

He felt the nerves creeping back into his body as he picked up the gun, his shoulders and neck tensing for a moment before he remembered her instructions. Taking a deep breath, he focused on relaxing his muscles and recalling the guidance she had given him.

He slowly positioned his body, meticulous in following every single step she had given him. With each movement, he focused on maintaining the correct stance and grip, feeling the tension ease from his muscles. Soon, he found himself taking deep breaths, clearing his head and finding his target with renewed clarity before pressing the trigger multiple times.

When the gun clicked to signal the magazine was empty, he engaged the safety and lower the gun. As he took his earmuffs off, he heard her voice from behind him, “Not bad aim at all.”

He had been too scared to look at the target at first, afraid that his first successful shot had been a one-time thing. However, after hearing her words, he forced himself to look up, his eyes quickly finding the much bigger hole the bullets had made on the paper after repeatedly hitting the same spot.

A smile crept onto his face again as he turned towards her excitedly, meeting her proud smile with one of his own. “I think you’re going to pass.”

With a laugh, he approached her again, opening his arms as she walked right into his embrace, giving him a quick reassuring squeeze before backing up.

As he looked at her, his brain started rushing with thoughts, and before he could back out, he forced the words he’d been meaning to ask for a while to come out of his lips, his heart pounding with anticipation. “Do you want to get dinner?”

“Are you paying?”

“Yes.”

With a laugh, she mumbled a quick “yes” before taking his arm and pulling him out of the shooting range. The warmth of her touch and the excitement in her voice filling him with joy, as he eagerly let her lead the way.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

His steps quickened as he walked from the elevator to the office, eager to share his exam results with her. The anticipation bubbled inside him, and he couldn't wait to see her reaction once he told her the news.

As soon as he walked in, a loud “pop” came from somewhere on his right, and confetti rained down on him, sticking to his hair and clothes. A chorus of voices yelled “congratulations!” as he looked around in surprise, confusion written all over his face, while multiple excited claps reached his ears. The unexpected celebration left him momentarily stunned, but as he took in the scene, a wide grin spread across his face, before he was pulled into a tight hug.

After some more hugs and congratulations, he looked around, a puzzled expression on his face. “What—” he began, but then paused, noticing the smiles on his colleagues’ faces. “Why are you guys so positive I passed? I haven’t told anyone my results.”

“We don’t know the results but miss zero over there was very insistan that you were going to pass.”

As Morgan pointed in her direction, his eyes followed, finding her standing there with a nervous smile on her face. Before he could respond, she awkwardly asked, “Well, did you?”

He quickly glanced down at the floor, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his head nervously as he searched for the right words. “Well…” he began slowly, the weight of the silence in the office pressing down on him. His colleagues waited expectantly to hear his result, their earlier celebration now tinged with uncertainty.

“Oh shit, Spencer I’m so—“

Before she could finish her sentence, he threw his arms up in the air, his face breaking into a wide grin. With excitement bubbling in his voice, he announced, “I passed!” The tension in the room instantly lifted, replaced by cheers and applause as his colleagues erupted in celebration once again.

He suddenly felt a sting on his arm, and as he looked over to where the hit came from, he found her looking at him angrily. “You asshole,” she exclaimed, her tone half-joking and half-serious, “I thought you were going to say that you failed. I felt so bad.” Her words were laced with both relief and frustration, and he couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction.

With a warm smile, he extended his arms towards her and pulled her into a tight hug, his mouth close to her ear as he whispered, “Thank you.”

[theartistknownaslymond]

Whumptober 2022 day 21

Coughing up Blood | “You’re safe now.” | “Take me instead.”

This is admittedly light on the whump, and more about the threat of whump. But there is a toddler with an ouchy head and Philippa with a Bad Feeling About This. Set simultaneous to the collapse of the Whump Room (see days 5, 12 + 13).

CW for the kind of miserable life the ashram kids have (separated from parents, given a bare minimum of enrichment/education/care). I should emphasise that I don’t believe this was common for the under-fives in Rajneeshee ashrams (same goes for a lot of what GRM is up to!). Generally there weren’t many kids this age at ashrams because of the below-mentioned devotion to the adults’ spiritual journeys.

Lambhika = Hamal/Kúzum

Kailam = Cai/Khaireddin

Ma Dānti = Madame Donati

---

Rain hammered down on the roof of the tiny wooden building that passed for a nursery on the ashram. Philippa stood in the doorway with a small blond boy growing heavy with sleep in her arms. She hummed the tune of a song that always gave her courage, making a kind of lullaby out of the Blackleg Miner, and she jogged little Lambhika until he slept with his head resting against her.

As usual, there had been squabbling at playtime. One of the children, a sturdy toddler called Kailam, was accustomed to getting his own way. He pulled hair, he kicked, he bit and he pushed over any other child that got in his way. As far as Philippa had seen, this behaviour was never provoked. And though she repeated time and again that it was unacceptable, she had received nothing but violence and disobedience in return.

She couldn't understand it. She'd grown up around breeding animals of all sorts and she'd never once met an creature that could be called evil from birth. The behaviour was learned, though she couldn't fathom how.

On top of that, if it wasn't so ridiculous, Philippa would have said that Kailam was eating something different to the other kids. He was strong and his colour was robust, while the other children tended towards a dull pallor she attributed to the miserable conditions of their lives on the ashram.

They weren't exactly neglected. They received food and water, toys and a rudimentary education, but they never saw their parents. They were deemed to be a distraction from the spiritual journey of the adults, who were not encouraged to view parenthood as something compatible with the development of their higher selves. The other, underlying assumption of the system being - one supposed - that these confused, needy bairns would have a head start on their own journey to enlightenment.

It made Philippa, the only child of two very hands-on, very caring parents, boil with rage.

"You're safe now, pet," she murmured to Lambhika, and wished it was true.

He was a small child, and she couldn't guess his age relative to Kailam's. His big blue eyes were so full of sadness, and his silence always made Philippa more eager to talk to him then the others. He seemed to need help in a way none of the other children did - even before Kailam had shoved him over and he hit his head on the hard wooden floor.

So she watched the rain drench the arid land, gnawing little paths and runnels out of the desert as the water raced to get away from this place. Philippa imagined walking out there and following it wherever it went, hoping it would bring her and the blond, blue-eyed boy in her arms to a highway, and thence to Vegas. Maybe the man she believed was Lambhika's father would even be the one to pick her up on the highway.

She knew he was looking for her and for the children, along with the rest of the motley band she'd joined on arriving in this country. She knew that Mr Crawford was a man of his word, and that he'd sworn he would get vengeance on the leader of this ashram. She believed, with all her staunchly assertive common sense and her conviction in a specific, logical definition of goodness, that Mr Crawford also intended to save his son.

Philippa watched a vehicle approach, swathed in grey clouds of dust and steam. It was soothing to imagine that it might be Mr Crawford, although she knew better than to expect that. Mikál, the boy she'd met on the bus here, had promised he would keep a look out and let her know if anyone matching Mr Crawford's description came on site. And Philippa hadn't seen Mikál in days.

Rather, she supposed Ma Dānti had been sent down to check on them. In this weather, the landscape could be treacherous, and the children were in an isolated spot, far from the rest of the buildings. Sannyasins were assigned to work there based on a rota, but since Philippa had arrived the adults had been given less time with the children. She was older than the other teenagers on site, and had not hesitated to step into the role of mother hen, so whoever compiled the rota - Ma Dānti, Philippa suspected - had allowed her to take on the burden of the work.

Even so, in weather this bad, spiritual progress must surely be allowed to take a back seat to the physical well-being of the ashram's most vulnerable members, Philippa mused with uncharacteristic cynicism.

She leaned against the door post and hefted Lambhika on her hip. He had his dirty thumb tucked in his mouth, and one fist knotted tightly in her long, plain hair.

On its approach Philippa saw that the vehicle, as it turned out, was not familiar. It was a new-looking people-carrier, painted in a metallic taupe, its chrome grille glistening even under a new coating of muck and grit.

Ma Dānti was one of a number of people who stepped out of it. Her long red robe was pristine and her hands were clasped before her as she approached Philippa. Beside her, carrying an umbrella above her tall frame, came one of a handful of men in sandy brown camouflage gear.

With a chill, Philippa thought that they matched the vehicle perfectly, like a little military playset.

"Ma Bhakta Tarā," the older woman said warmly, stepping beneath the eaves of the building.

The man who had been accompanying her put the umbrella down and stood at ease, and Philippa boggled at him, wondering why on earth he didn't use the brolly for himself. Rain spattered off his khaki cap and he stared impassively back at her.

"Ma Tarā?" Philippa's visitor repeated, seeking her attention. "I take it all is in order in the nursery today?"

Philippa blinked. She'd never really grown accustomed to the sannyas name Mikál and the other bus passengers had helped her pick. It meant something about...devotion? A song of pearls? She had felt uncomfortable plucking terms from a dictionary for a language she didn't know and trying to fit them to her identity like a new set of clothes. It seemed like an inappropriate party costume somehow, the meaning of an ancient language turned into something egotistical and shallow.

"Yes, we're all fine here," Philippa smiled. "A bit of a bruised head," she jogged Lambhika's snoozing body in her arms. "But otherwise fine and dry."

Ma Dānti sighed and stepped up into the building. Her blank professionalism often slipped around Lambhika, as though she sensed the vulnerability Philippa had identified too. Philippa often wondered what Ma Dānti might know about the origins of these children - had she met Lambhika's mother? He was one of the youngest there, had he even been born on-site?

Dānti tilted her head and looked down at the boy.

"He must learn to defend himself," she said.

Philippa sniffed. "I'd like to see Kailam learn to restrain himself, first."

Ma Dānti's brows lowered and she stood up, tall rigid and formal. "Not all are as in tune with their needs as young Swami Kailam. There are high hopes for that boy."

This was the kind of statement that made Philippa suspect the child was somehow related to Graham Reid Malett. Why would everyone be so positively adoring of the little bully, while poor Lambhika - doubtless the child of Francis Crawford, and daily being punished for it - suffered?

"Gather the children, Tarā," Ma Dānti instructed Philippa, gazing around the cabin with distaste. "They are to be moved to more secure lodgings."

"Oh," Philippa frowned, following after Dānti as she went into the room where the youngest were having their afternoon nap. "But we're ok here, like I said - not even a leak!"

Dānti shot her a steely look over one shoulder. "I am talking about a different kind of security. Gather them up and the men outside will see to it they're settled in the van."

"I don't understand," Philippa watched Ma Dānti rouse the sleeping toddlers.

"You are not being asked to understand," Dānti told her. "Swami Geetesh has ordered it."

That was not promising at all. "But why?" Philippa demanded, trotting after Dānti again and trying to come between her and the door, Lambhika still held in her arms.

Dānti looked down at her in astonishment, and Philippa noticed fear in her expression, not simply the stern haughtiness she tried to convey. "Because they are not safe here. There has been...been a breach, Tarā. Not all the world sees the good in what Swami Geetesh does, and he suspects these trespassers think they can help the children by freeing them. But here they are loved - out there, in the state care system? No one will be on their side."

A breach? Trespassers? Philippa's heart pounded with hope. It had to be Mr Crawford. He was coming, she knew he would come!

"Where, though? Where will they be safe?" She had to find out so she could tell Francis and the others.

Ma Dānti frowned at her. "Swami Geetesh has made preparations for such an eventuality. They will be fine. Thank you for your work, Ma Tarā."

Philippa watched the children go two at a time beneath the umbrella carried by one of the security guards. She had a bad feeling about all of this, and she wouldn't let herself be separated from the bairns so soon after finding them.

"Oh no, Ma Dānti, take me too - they'll need a familiar face, wherever they go!"

The older woman studied Philippa. She looked at Lambhika, and her thin lips worked together for a moment. Then she instructed a guard to make a call on his walkie-talkie, and Philippa hovered in the doorway, frustrated as he walked away, and the conversation over the staticky channel was obscured by the endless drumming of the rain.

When he came back, there was a wary look in his eyes. He gestured to Ma Dānti and murmured something in her ear that made her blanch and put a hand to her mouth.

"Are you sure?"

Philippa caught a couple of words: "alive", "treatment", "the caves".

"Then it is better to bring her," Dānti said shakily. She did not seem concerned that Philippa could hear this part of her discussion, and she merely gestured to her.

The guard grabbed Philippa by her arm, pinching far tighter than he needed to, and he dragged her out into the rain without an umbrella, so that by the time she had been bustled into the van she and Lambhika were soaking through and the boy was crying.

"Where are we going, Ma Tarā?" one of the other children asked her.

Philippa swallowed. She would have to work out what she could do when she got there, but at least they weren't going to be without her. She tried to sound reassuring, but she was shivering from the soaking she'd just had. "Somewhere safe, they say..."

It was the best she could offer.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Title: Irreverent Pt. 60 - Epilogue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~2K

Status: Complete

A/N: That’s all folks. Chapters 59 and 60 coming out together today.

For J - For being the reason I finish this. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Aaron's been seated in his new office for the past hour, going over the new certification and training requirements for the BAU with Dave. Technically, it should've been Prentiss he was meeting with, but she'd happily passed along that piece of her new responsibilities, stating that the grouchy old men would do a much better job at it than she ever could.

From across the way, he can see through the glass walls into his old office which Prentiss now occupies. Both Garcia and JJ are sat across from her, no doubt convening there before they all fly out for your bachelorette party. It was a bit unbelievable to think he was only a week away from officially marrying you.

That is, if you survived this weekend, as you'd commented apprehensively earlier that morning. You've been terrified about what Emily had planned, especially given how his bachelor party had gone a few weeks prior. Dave had lured him away with the promise of good steaks and cigars, and then ambushed him with private dancers. He'd even gone out of his way to find one that held an uncanny resemblance to you. John had been sure to give that one a wide berth, making a beeline for the other corner of the room and staunchly avoiding any sort of eye contact with Aaron, much to his amusement. The night had culminated in a panicked text from Aaron to you, begging to be rescued. You'd arrived – his knight in shining armor – and taken him, a terrified Reid who'd been on the phone texting his girlfriend half the night, and a reluctant John who had finally relaxed enough to enjoy the company of the other dancer when you'd arrived and fixed him with an unamused regard that had the poor guy following the rest of you out with quick goodbyes to Dave and Morgan.

"You talk to Morgan recently?" Dave asks idly, sifting through the files in search of the old requirements documentation.

"Yes, he seems to be liking the transition to the academy," Aaron remarks, flipping through the file in front of him in search of the same. "We grabbed lunch last week when I did the Profiling and Prosecution seminar."

Dave smiles with a contemplative nod, and Aaron can only imagine what was going through his friend's head. Things were changing around them slowly – you'd left the team and had built your own, Prentiss was running the BAU, Morgan had retired to spend more time with his wife and soon to arrive son. Aaron himself had taken on the mantle of Section Chief, a role to which he was taking to far better than previously anticipated. Though, he supposed it helped that this time, he was only doing the Section Chief job and not also running the BAU.

It had been the right decision – for him, for you, for Jack. Both of you were home for dinner more nights than not. The three of you had settled into a routine that felt comfortable, and while he missed being directly in the field, he could see the change in him, his body. At his last doctor's visit, Dr. Robbins had commented that his stress levels appeared to be lowered and having a job that wasn't quite so hard on his body was a great help in that.

John was over every few weekends, very much a part of that routine you'd created, and the three of you had flown to New York a handful of times as well, taking Jack to a Yankees game (which he enjoyed thoroughly) and taking him on the subway (which he didn't care for). Dave had asked him half a dozen times, how he felt about John's presence in your lives. Aaron was incredibly alright with it – he hadn't been the only one who thought he'd lost you.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he was far more comfortable with John than he'd ever allowed himself to be around anyone that wasn't you or Haley. He's had time to think about it, about why that was the case. He figures it's because John is possibly the only other person in the world who understands the importance of you, the impact of you. For Aaron, in many ways, John also felt like an extension of you. The same biting humor, the forced humbleness – the way neither one of you could see anything wrong with spoiling Jack entirely.

Aaron could still easily recall the day he'd made an offhand remark about him not wanting Jack to grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth. John had grown quiet, eyes fixed towards where you were finishing making lunch. Jack was sat on the countertop, mixing together a bowl of cookie dough for you, to be baked for after lunch. Aaron had followed his gaze, his heart warming gently at the sight. It was so familiar, Jack always loved helping you in the kitchen. Aaron's mouth involuntarily turns into a smile as you laugh at something Jack had said, your head falling back easily, the musical notes of your laughter making the room feel brighter.

When John had turned back, he had a far away look in his eyes. "You're right," he'd said, clearing his throat, his voice a little heavier than before. "At the end of the day you want to be sure of only one thing – that he feels immensely loved. Because kids who aren't fed love by a silver spoon, they tend to lick it off of knives."

Aaron knew, without being told, that John was referring to Julian. He found himself incredibly grateful that his son got to be fed by you, wielding a platinum spoon. With John in your lives, that love in Jack's life only increased.

*------------*

You stood at the door of Aaron's office, having walked down from your own, on the way to Emily's so that you and the girls could fly off to a weekend of controlled (hopefully) fun. Who were you kidding? Emily Prentiss was in charge of your bachelorette party. You'd be lucky if you made it back in time to meet Aaron at the altar.

It takes a few seconds for them to notice your presence. A few seconds during which you get to admire the late afternoon sun hitting Aaron's frame just right, the golden hues turning his hair a lighter brown – it made him seem younger than his age, and the white flecks (which he blamed almost entirely on you and your disappearance) would suggest. The pronounced furrowed brow that seemed to be a permanent fixture for him while he was in the office, the warm eyes turned seriously down towards the papers in front of him, the pink lips that had spent a fair amount of time between your legs the night prior, causing you to shatter around him. That had resulted in John making a few crude remarks at breakfast that morning, which thankfully flew over Jack's head. Your son was far too excited to have an entire weekend with just his dad and favorite Uncle for a "Boys Only Weekend" to make up for you missing his soccer game on Saturday.

Aaron shifts, noticing your presence, head tilting up and eyes meeting your own. At the sight of you, they imbue warmth and familiarity, sparkling against the reflected sunlight. You're struck for a moment. Your husband-to-be was remarkably beautiful.

"Hey, how's it going?" You smile at both Aaron and Dave, entering quickly to meet Aaron on his side of the desk. Both of them turn to look at you.

"You still have no idea where Emily is taking you?" Rossi's face betrays his glee at your misfortune. He's been cross with you ever since you kidnapped Aaron from his own bachelor party. In your defense, the man had practically begged you to.

"No, she won't tell me." You sigh, your voice coming out almost in a whine.

Rossi's lip twitches, though he does a good enough job at not laughing outright.

You perched on the arm of Aaron's chair, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Harvey sent these over," you tell him, placing the envelope you had been carrying on his desk, your hand returning to play with the ring on your finger around as you were prone to do nowadays. "Would you please sign them and make sure they get to his office before Monday? He wants them finalized before the wedding."

Aaron nods, noting how your delicate fingers caress the stone of the ring that's sat on your hand and made him – quite literally – the luckiest man alive.

He's been expecting some paperwork coming his way in light of your upcoming ceremony. He'd lightly brought up the idea of a pre-nuptial agreement with you early on – for your sake – and had been laughed out of the room. You did however, feel it necessary to make him aware of exactly what assets he'd have access to, and thus your lawyer had been busy creating a summary for him to look over and acknowledge. Apparently, it had taken a full staff to do the entire work up, over the course of a month. If the thud the envelope had made when you'd set on his desk was any indication, he was in for a long night of reading.

"Alright, I should go." You heave off of his chair and the two of you look at each other and then Rossi, who takes a hint and looks away, leaving you to bend down and capture his lips against yours. You feel his arm winding around your waist and tightening into your side briefly, before you withdraw, your tongue peaking out to lick your lips. Aaron looks just barely flushed as Rossi turns back, his lips twitching in amusement as you fix yourself and take your leave.

*------------*

The door closes behind you, Aaron's eyes following your walk across the floor towards Emily's office.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dave asks, drawing his attention back to the envelope you'd dropped off for him. There's something oddly familiar about this – the two of them in his office, an envelope related to you dropped off at his desk. Though this time, under far less confusing and much happier conditions.

Aaron nods, doing his best to hide the smile threatening to break through at his friend's curiosity. Ever since New York, Dave had been very interested in learning exactly how much richer than him you were.

Reaching for the envelope, Aaron opens it up and withdraws the large stack of papers, and flips to the first page. Disclosure of Assets – the name of the document hardly did justice to the summary that followed. Properties across the U.S., Europe, South America, and the Caymans. A plethora of divided up Swiss bank accounts, each with a balance more staggering than the last. A stock portfolio rivaling Buffets. The number at the bottom of the page takes his breath away entirely.

Aaron turns once more to look towards his old office – he can see you gathered there with the rest of the girls, laughing about something. Given the piece of paper in his hand, he has to hand it to you in that moment. You lived far below your means. To think that someone your age had access to that kind of money – that kind of freedom – and still chose to do what you did. He didn't think there were many others who would.

Before Aaron can react, Dave has reached across the table and yanked the piece of paper right out of his hands.

The noise of complete shock that leaves his friend's body was not one that Aaron was likely to forget anytime soon. He watches as Dave reads the same summary he just had, his eyebrows moving further and further into his hairline as he goes down the page.

When he finally looks back at Aaron it's with a look that couldn't quite be described – surprise, awe, a hint of envy. Aaron can viscerally see the same thought he had moments ago regarding you and your work at the Bureau flit through Dave's head as he too turns to assess you across the floor.

Quietly, he hands the documents back to Aaron. Shifting in his chair, Dave clears his throat. "You do know that you're going to be picking up the tab every time now, right?"

Aaron chuckles, nodding. He'd assumed as much.

He turns back to you, only to catch you looking towards him as well through the glass walls. Your mouth turns up into a smile as your eyes meet his. Eyes like the sunrise colliding with his, causing his stomach to flip in that torturously delicious manner that only you seem to invoke. Eyes that meet his and stay. Eyes that have followed him, mirrored his, since the moment the two of you met. Eyes that betrayed you both when you looked at one another, the sheer intensity of the emotion behind them giving you away entirely. It didn't matter what distance, what time, what circumstance separated you from one another – somehow his eyes knew to always find their companion in yours.

Aaron might have fallen first, but he is forever grateful that you'd followed.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Worthy”

Happy Saturday, everyone! I mean that seriously for once. Regardless of what I have to say about this episode — and as always, there's a lot — I want it on the record that "Worthy" was leagues ahead of... pretty much everything else we've gotten lately. For all of RWBY's continuing problems, there's a level of effort here that I really do appreciate. Especially for the penultimate episode.

Our title, "Worthy," immediately conjures thoughts of Watts' speech about Cinder needing to be "worthy" of the power she craves and, what do you know, our villains work hard to prove their worth this episode. Hallelujah! We start with the heroes though and do you recall how last week I said that our opening may as well be a summary of the whole series since Volume 6, what with the grimm conveniently avoiding the team's airship and them just looking vaguely sad that the people around them are perishing? Well, same here. Or rather, same problems, different flavor. Oscar opens with the question, "What do we do now?" and no sooner has he asked that then the magic portal appears to give him the answer. Useful!

More seriously though, I've been intensely side-eyeing the group's wish since last week. Not (just) because of the awful decision to turn Penny human, but simply because the story emphasized how "smart" the group was, heavily insisting that their portal plan is a masterpiece of well thought out strategy... and I really don't think it is. There was a lot of confusion last episode about how exactly the group was using the vault, with my own interpretation — that they were funneling everyone to Vacuo's vault — proven wrong today, but one of the problems brought up was how Ambrosius could possibly create portals across a kingdom precisely where the group needs them. Yang asks him,

"Can you make a bunch of doorways in Atlas that open at a single spot in Vacuo?"

To which, simply, Ambrosius says no. He'd need, among other things, "coordinates and specs for each door" and "an explanation for bending space and time."

This is why, prior to the very end of "Creation" where we saw portals appearing everywhere, I thought using both vaults was the solution. Ambrosius knows (or can easily receive) the coordinates for his own vault and the one in Vacuo. As weird, alternate dimensions, they're potentially capable of bending space and time as necessary. If you put the portal in Atlas' vault and open it up in Vacuo's vault, you're golden. The only challenge now is getting everyone in the kingdom to the Winter Maiden's vault.

But then... that didn't happen. Apparently the vault just becomes the in-between place for everyone to pass through and the portals appear all over the kingdom, even though the group didn't provide those "coordinates and specs." What they did was show Ambrosius a schematic of the cities. That's not the same thing as telling him precisely where each portal needs to appear — which is what he asked for. I bring this long-winded explanation up not merely to emphasize "RWBY's wish isn't as smart as the story wants you to believe it is" but because this wreaks havoc on who is getting a portal. How did the group tell Ambrosius precisely where to put a portal for Jaune's group? Why didn't they try to make one appear for Qrow and Robyn? Or Winter? Or Pietro and Maria? They had to have been somewhat specific in terms of saying where these portals appeared because if they just wished for everyone to get one, Jacques and Ironwood would have gotten one too. Basically, the portals do appear for characters whose “Worthy” plot now takes place in this in-between space and the portals do not appear for those whose plot is still taking place in Atlas. That's a mess. To say nothing of how it implies that our heroes just don't give a damn about all their other allies — including an uncle (Ruby, Yang) and a father (Penny) — and that, ultimately, Ambrosius did the very thing he initially said wouldn't work. He put a bunch of doors around Atlas that opened on a single point in Vacuo without making the group meet these requirements first. The rest is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo to distract the viewer from the fact that none of this actually makes sense.

But that's a tangent. To get back on track, Jaune's group decides to "spread the word on foot" since they can't contact anyone via their scrolls anymore. What this translates to is Jaune going to one spot and Nora doing the rest of the work because she can suddenly ride her hammer like a broomstick. 

You know what? I'm fine with it. Have we ever seen Nora do this before? Not that I recall. Is it a cute image that feeds my witch-loving brain? Yeeeeeaah.

They're not sure if the portals are safe though and everyone turns to Jaune as the joke test subject. Except everyone else is right behind him when the go through? Even the jokes in this show aren't consistent.

What I do like though is that we get another interesting team split: Oscar, Emerald, and Ren heading to Vacuo while Jaune and Nora help with the evacuation — even though Nora and Jaune aren't actually doing anything together. Still, I can see that (for this volume at least) RT has taken the duo criticisms to heart. It would have been incredibly easy to attach Nora and Ren at the hip again, despite her desire for space, so I'm glad that they're still striving to mix things up a bit.

Nora says that Shade is "armed to the teeth with huntsmen and huntresses." It is? I mean sure, it has its school, but so did Vale. So did Atlas. In fact, we've spent the last two volumes emphasizing that Atlas is really the only armed kingdom remaining. Remember the plan for them to protect the world after knowledge of Salem's existence threw everything into disarray? Well, the people know about Salem now. And Salem herself is attacking. And they're about to slam an entire kingdom into another one. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Nora ends her observations with the assertation that Vacuo will need as much help as they can get, but that worry feels far, far too late. Where were these concerns when Ruby made her announcement to the world in the first place? The fact that the group never went, "Hey, is it really worth telling people about Salem now when we can no longer provide the protection against the grimm that this announcement will necessitate? Yeah, we need backup, but can they even get here in time? I don't think so. Maybe we should hold off and try to find a way to solve this ourselves. Or, at the very least, just tell them Atlas is facing a massive grimm attack. That won't create quite the same panic as 'Magic immortal lady eager to kill you all' will."

Our heroes only acknowledge these problems when they're already neck deep in them. Forethought is not their strong suit.

For our obligatory humor, the people of Atlas are hiding behind the staircase after the evil portal appeared (weren't there, like, twenty of them in the last episode?) and a brave dude trying to toss a rock through accidentally hits Jaune. He — I kid you not — uses the Atlas huntsmen license gifted to him by Ironwood to gain authority over the group.

Talk about the story being tone deaf.

We segue to a shot of Penny who flies herself through the portal using the Maiden powers, precisely as she would have with her boots. Okay, I try not to pull many "I told you so"s because that's rude, petty, and all around just shit behavior... but boy is it tempting at times. Because RWBY's fandom is so staunchly against criticism that even the most polite pushbacks boil down to an equally rude "Just wait" mentality. Readers of these recaps know we were told to "just wait" for the group to talk to Ozpin. Or "just wait" for them to be punished for their crimes. "Just wait" for the complex forgiveness arc the group is sure to undergo with Emerald. "Just wait" is the go-to response when someone doesn't entirely disagree with our problems with the show, but still believes we're not giving RT enough credit. Most recently, I was told to "just wait" in regards to Penny. We don't actually know that her body is human. We don't actually know that her Maiden powers will still be the same. We don't actually know that this won't be the start of a long journey wherein she has to figure out how to use this new body, both on the battlefield and off. And the issue of RWBY failing to answer any of these questions isn’t valid criticism either because the only point being made here is that we’re not patient and supportive enough. Just wait. RT will prove you wrong. 

Well... Penny's body still appears entirely human, her Maiden powers still work just fine, and now they've given her the ability to create all her old weapons out of aura, meaning she fights exactly the same as she did before.

The only thing making Penny human did was force her to fight barefoot. Oh, and erase her journey of accepting herself as an android. 

Again, I don't want to be that asshole, especially when so many people want the show to be better — just like I do. By all means, hold out hope with me. But before slamming into someone's inbox to explain why they're being too negative because things are bound to be taken seriously down the road, keep in mind the staggering number of times we've decided to "just wait" and nothing ever came of it. Keep in mind that RWBY should be tackling these questions and expectations from the start. Now here we are, disappointed again. We're not pessimistic because we want to be, we're pessimistic because there's a clearly established pattern at play.

So Penny's change is, at this point, meaningless for her development and, at this point, we've lost the chance to introduce challenges later. If RT does, we're forever going to wonder why Penny didn't express any doubts upon waking up in a human body, or why she didn't face any problems while fighting another Maiden. Like Emerald getting the group to laugh and immediately being trusted with important duties, it's too late to suddenly backtrack and insist that there's still work to be done here. RT missed their chance.

That fight is a few minutes off though. For now, Oscar and the others arrive in Vacuo to discover that there's a sandstorm going on. Who could have ever expected that?

Seriously though, this is just one of the many reasons why our heroes come across as stupid. They deliberately chose to send everyone "outside the city limits of Vacuo," in a desert kingdom, after Ruby got the entire world panicked about Salem, and they somehow didn't think that a) weather might be a problem or b) grimm were going to show up? These characters have been though enough shit that they should be planning for the worst and hoping for the best, not planning for the best and assuming the worst just won't happen to them. Why wouldn't they have everyone appear inside the kingdom if they (against Ambrosius' rules) got to choose where everyone ended up? Why in the world would they rely on communications being up when CCT has been spotty since Volume 3 and Watts just took out Atlas’ entire system? Our characters don't think anything through — despite Ambrosius’ claims otherwise — and it makes for some pretty awful characterization. Because RWBY isn't trying to be a story about teenagers seriously messing up their attempts at heroics, it's trying to be a story about True Heroes... and we're just supposed to ignore the endless number of times the group doesn't think the most basic problems through. So now, Oscar and the other stand there doing nothing for the rest of the episode because a sandstorm in the desert threw a wrench in their plans. 

The only reason I didn’t bring this up last week is because I had no idea they had chosen to dump everyone outside of the city. I thought they were going to the vault, or at the very least appearing inside the border. Why wouldn’t you send everyone to the city??

It’s so stupid, but then Cinder arrives and blows a whole bunch of people off the edge of the pathways. HELL YEAH.

I mean, obviously not hell yeah for the poor civilians who just took a tumble, but yay the villain causing some damage. It's small potatoes compared to what we were promised at the end of last volume — Salem decimating a whole kingdom in The Fall of Atlas — but at least it's more than we were getting last week.

So Cinder is having her evil fun when the entire group leaves Penny to go after her. Again, stupid. You're going to leave the girl who (at this point) may not have been in a position to fight with her new body and stands vulnerable with a Relic? Not a single member stays behind to guard her? It would have served Team RWBY right if Neo had shown up and just clocked Penny, taking a second Relic for herself.

Cinder taunts the group with information she shouldn't have: “Your little friend Oscar was right, but the easy part ends here" then mimics them with the question "How’d you know about that?” at their shocked looks. This starts a flashback where we return to Cinder, Neo, and Watts in the alleyway. 

Again Cinder is given more development than a supposed hero like Emerald, apologizing to Neo for not upholding her end of their bargain. In fact, Cinder displays more growth here than our entire title characters combined, it's just that her growth turns her into a better villain. She apologizes to Neo, compliments Watts as a means of acknowledging the work he's accomplished — “You tore this kingdom apart with nothing but your intellect. How about we finish what you started?” — and tells the heroes that she did learn something from them: “Sometimes, if you want to win, you simply can’t do it alone.” 

I quite like all of this. Again, not that Cinder should be our biggest threat with Salem on the scene, but if you remove that context this is a great moment for her. She's actually learned something, but instead of following in the rather abrupt and, in Hazel's case, nonsensical footsteps of her peers, what she's learned has made her more dangerous, not a sudden, convenient ally. Since Volume 7 RWBY has hammered home the idea that only friends can truly be a good team and now, well, Cinder is kind of making friends. She's apologizing to Neo. She seems glad that Watts is happy. RWBY took the concept of working together and applied it to our villains with devastating effect. Team RWBY has been skating by on the idea that power comes from friendship, so what happens if your enemies become weird friends too?

To be clear, this doesn't erase the staggering number of other problems with Cinder's character, or the villains as a unit, or the volume as a whole... but it is an interesting step in the right direction. Props for that.

Granted, outside of the fight itself, the villains don't really win because they're smart, the heroes are just — again — staggeringly stupid. Cinder promises to get Ruby for Neo if she can ask Jinn a question... which she does! 

This moment could have been avoided if our heroes had just put the Lamp in the vault. Or not had Oscar carrying it around. Or used up the wish after they'd already summoned Jinn. Cinder's victory here rests entirely on her own enemies' ineptitude. At least she has the smarts to exploit it. She asks Jinn what the group's plan is and our three villains are shown the revelation outside after saving Penny and the discussions that took place in the dining room. They learn everything they need to inflict maximum chaos.

And it’s great. 

Three other details of note:

Cinder spots Emerald with the heroes during Jinn's vision, but doesn't have much of a reaction beyond her expression tightening.

Jinn looks sad when she reveals the group's plan, reinforcing the idea that she's biased towards our heroes. I'd be more on board with that characterization if a) she weren't created by Light whose own Good Guy persona is dubious at best, and b) she wasn't so cruel towards Ozpin. Again, it's just this strange insistence that everyone adore Ruby Rose.

Neo reveals the Relic by pulling it out of Roman's hat. Uh... is that how hats work? They contain objects twice their height? While resting on someone's head? This wasn't one of Neo's illusions, she literally just pulled it out like a real world magician. That's weird. Showy, but weird.

Anyway, the flashback continues as the villains infiltration the Atlas military headquarters. I really enjoyed the music and cinematography here. It's a strangely uplifting tune — rather Cinderella-esque — which doesn't appear to work until you remember that these moments are through Cinder's perspective. Of course this is a Happy Ending for her — even if it's not for the audience. The quick cut between her summoning some fire and the whole room alight, bodies everywhere, was an excellent touch.

The happiness of this moment is then emphasized by Neo skipping as she beats people and Watts admitting that this is "everything I’ve ever wanted." I'm really digging the contrast between this scene's celebratory nature and the knowledge that the story is celebrating the wrong characters. It creates an enjoyably uncomfortable feeling for us and helps flesh out the villains more. From their perspective, life is good.

There's even a shot of that #1 Dad mug. Sometimes, RWBY gets it right.

Watts in particular is enjoying himself. He snags a discarded apple — no fairy tale symbolism there, I'm sure — and casually rubs the blood off it before taking a bite. This guy has style! 

Watts watches Jaune try to send out his message to the kingdom and cuts communication at the worst possible moment. But then, we knew that already.

Elsewhere in the facility, Robyn and Qrow are trying to round up the Ace Ops. They all feel Atlas shake, realizing that the group has used the Relic, and Elm is appropriately horrified. "They'll destroy the kingdom!" Robyn says some self-righteous words about how a kingdom is made up of its people, not the land it exists on, which, while ignoring the importance of land to so many cultures, completely ignores that right now the majority of people are still on Atlas, or below it, including them. "They set the house alight!" someone cries. "Who cares about a stupid house," Robyn says, uncaring that the entire family still resides inside and she's starting to inhale smoke.

As Robyn tries to paint herself as a hero, Watts hacks one of the droids and sets it to self-destruct, telling it to run full-tilt at the group. Their weapons don't stop it and at the last second Marrow throws himself in front to take the blast, shattering his aura. Uh... after everything we've seen in this show, a single, small explosion wipes out his aura? I don't care about that so much here, but I absolutely care about it for an upcoming scene. Keep this in mind.

Also, I'm not going to get into the potential problems of trying to execute Marrow, beating up Marrow, and then blowing up Marrow. Others can tackle that leviathan of a subject.

At least he survived? But only RT knows if Robyn and Qrow bothered to put him on their ship.

Because as Atlas begins to fall Harriet, free of Marrow's semblance, races for an airship going off the edge of the open parking garage. Idk what else to call that space. I'm sure there's something appropriately military-esque, but we're going with parking garage for now lol. This is the one — one — moment where I felt like the Ace Ops were actually written like they weren't friends, what with Harriet's willingness to race off and leave them behind. Again though, it's too late and there are, frankly, other aspects to consider. Like the fact that Marrow just betrayed her. I don't think she's in the right mind for trusting the rest of her team, especially when there are only seconds to save herself.

Vine uses his stretchy arms to grab hold of her ship though and heaves himself on board.

Cutting to the jail, Ironwood wakes up and is greeted with a despondent Jacques. As Ironwood realizes that the group has the Staff, Jacques goes, "That's right, you lose! … we both lose." Before there can be any interesting discussion though, Ironwood's cell... goes out???

I suppose the explanation for this is things falling apart as Atlas descends, but man is that another moment of head-scratching convenience. What's even worse is that Winter apparently just left his weapons beside the cell. "Hey, what should we do with Ironwood's giant gun?" "Idk, leave it for him on the off chance us removing the city's power source wreaks havoc with the electrical bars?" I mean seriously. At least Qrow had to go find his weapon in a locker.

For a second Jacques is thrilled, sure that Ironwood will open his cell too... right?

He does open the cell, by blasting the whole thing to smithereens, Jacques included.

You all know I'm horribly disappointed with how they've written Ironwood, but I can't bring myself to dredge up any fury over this murder. It's Jacques. You know, the abuser and slave owner who has never shown a single shred of decency? Can't say I'm sorry to see him gone, especially since one of the Schnee girls were never going to kill him. The only other thing they could have done was have Jacques die an accidental death.

So villain!Ironwood can have another murder, as a treat.

Meme jokes aside, it's interesting that Ironwood's never-seen-before-last-episode gun produces a green blast and fire. It looks incredibly similar to what Penny created as an android and the fire around her Maiden eyes. Unlike Watts' apple though, I don't think this is a parallel RT intentionally included. Not unless we want to dig deep for more “Metal bodies = evil” symbolism, but there’s already plenty more persuasive examples of that. 

Returning to Team RWBY, we finally come to the highlight of the episode: Yang falling off the edge.

Okay, I want to praise RWBY for having the guts to kill off a main character... but we all know they haven't killed off a named character. If next episode — or perhaps even next volume — it's revealed that Yang is really dead, I'll happily eat these words. For now though, this is not the consequence that RWBY critics have asked for. This is, in fact, quite a mess.

Let's count up all the ways this scene has failed spectacularly.

No one believes that Yang is actually dead. Not just because she's a title character, not just because Ambrosius never confirmed that the void was deadly or even dangerous — "Don't fall," however ominous, doesn't actually tell us what happens to someone who falls — but also because we have been here before. Three volumes ago. Remember how it looked like Weiss would die only for Jaune to unlock his semblance and save her? Yeah. The audience is both genre and RWBY savey. This cliffhanger feels cheap because absolutely no one is fooled.

Feel familiar? 

Worse, Yang falls because of another round of stupidity. Nothing about this moment is convincing.

First, she notices Neo sneaking up on Ruby. What's her reaction? To flare her semblance, charge her in fury, and be horribly injured. Oh wow, where have we seen this before?

This is the exact same series of events from Volume 3. A loved one of Yang's is about to be harmed, she gets mad, charges without thinking, and takes the brunt of the attack herself, resulting in a far more serious injury than likely would have otherwise occurred. Emotionally understandable, but stupid. More importantly, it's the exact thing Tai tried to warn her about. The fandom praised Yang's arc because she got a moment of calm with Mercury, but since then we’ve ignored that development, reverting Yang to the same, impulsive fighter as before. Volume 6 showed us this problem in a non-combat setting and this moment solidifies it. Yang has learned absolutely nothing since Beacon. She's the same protective, reckless fighter she was back then, getting herself grievously injured because she can't think before she acts. What was the point of sending her on that journey if she was never going to improve? 

Neo cuts through Yang's aura in a single hit. A single hit. These characters have long, drawn out fights filled with crazy attacks and you're telling me a single slice of Neo's weapon is enough to shatter Yang's aura? Really, aura has been an absurd plot device for a while, but this volume has been particularly bad. Ren's aura breaks so the group is spotted by Salem's grimm, but then is back just a few minutes later so he can see purple petals around Emerald. Jaune's aura is said to be running just as low, but then is totally fine to boost Penny for the next hour until she reaches the vault. Now, Yang has had just as much time to rest as they do, but she’s instantly taken out?

This is a problem not because the loss of aura itself sends her over, but because the hit was apparently so powerful Yang passes out. She's groggy at least, blearily looking at everyone as she falls, but not reacting to them and, importantly, not trying to save herself. 

Yang could have reached for Blake's throw. She has a landing strategy. She could have blasted herself up, or towards any of the three paths she falls past. Instead she just... plummets. In a show where our characters are introduced through their ability to survive being launched off a cliff. Neo's attack needs to be miraculously incapacitating to justify — "justify" — Yang doing nothing to get out of this situation, in an episode where, minutes later, Ren's aura will also go out (again) but he's standing up and ready to fight a horde of grimm. But losing her aura through one hit somehow incapacities Yang?  

Also, to ward off the expected claims: she didn't hit her head. Yang's back hit the path and her eyes were closed before she ever made contact. Neo's hit just... knocked her out.

That's absurd.

Worse than her not helping herself, no one else on her team helps either. Except Blake. Ruby, who this volume has learned that she is basically able to teleport and negate the mass of carrying someone else, doesn't fly towards her sister. Weiss, who can summon flying grimm and create platforms for someone to land on, just reaches out a hand. They all had time to do something, Blake's action is proof of that, but neither of them did. Why? Because the show wants this to be a bees moment. I say that not as someone who hates the ship, but as someone who loves it. Or at least, I've always loved its potential, but if you need to prove their devotion by erasing the devotion of others... that's incredibly bad writing. And that's what this is. The choice to have Blake the only one capable of acting sends the message that she loves Yang enough to overcome the shock of her falling. That love powers her to act. But Yang is Weiss’ teammates too! Yang is Ruby's sister.

You’re telling me neither of them had the drive to push past shock and save her? 

I find it particularly insulting that Weiss comforts Blake rather than crumbling in grief herself. I find it doubly insulting that Blake cries and screams, but Ruby stoically continues her fight with Neo. In trying to show Blake's love for Yang — and hers in turn — the show has unintentionally pulled back on the love everyone else has, even between siblings. This is a far more harmful repetition of Yang's moment in the outpost: she cares more about the imagined disagreement with Blake than she does the actual fight she had with Ruby. Blake shows more emotion for Yang's assumed death than her sister has. You can't prove love by diminishing it elsewhere. The scene 100% needed all three girls doing everything in their power to save Yang, failing, and then continuing the fight while expressing the appropriate emotion for such a massive loss. Ruby can fly towards Yang and be pinned by Cinder. Weiss can start to summon and have an attack disrupts it. Ruby can scream and cry while she fights Neo. Again: that's her sister.

There's nothing about this scene that works for me and honestly? After Yang returns they better kiss. Or there better be an "I love you." Something canonical. There will never be a better, more obvious time for a confession than after Blake thinks she's lost Yang for good and if we don't get one... the ship has well and truly sunk. We're living in a post-Supernatural finale world. You can no longer take your one, implied to be queer main couple, toss one into this fantasy's version of super hell, give them a second chance together... and then leave things dangling. RWBY has to make them canon when Yang returns if they have any hope of maintaining a large portion of their queer fanbase.

As a final note on this scene, I don't like what it implies about both Blake and our lost civilians. Like Yang, (and like Penny last episode) this attack undermines the growth our characters have undergone. Yang learns not to attack out of emotion with her semblance... and then does just that. Penny learns that she's a person with an android body... and then gets a human body to make her perfect. Blake realizes that she isn't willing to kill people in this war anymore... and then goes after Neo with an intensity that implies she's ready to kill her. It's a detail that might have been meaningful if Blake's struggle had existed in more than a single line in a single scene. As it is, it just feels like they've forgotten — or are ignoring — another character beat they introduced. 

As for our civilians, will the show bring them back too? Look, I'm pleased Cinder blew them off the edge. I'm glad there were finally consequences for the kingdom-wide attack, even if none of have to come about from our main antagonist. But that impact was erased the second they threw Yang off the edge too. If they bring only her back, Team RWBY look like assholes who only care about their friends, not all the people they were charged with protecting (a recurring theme in this series). If they do bring the civilians back, we've lost that consequence. RWBY never should have tossed a title character into that void especially when, as said, everyone watching knows it's not a real consequence of this fight.

This was a terribly crafted scene, imo. If the only purpose here is to push the bees to confess, we could have gotten that after the whale. Yang was captured by Salem. That's more than enough danger to justify coming clean about feelings and the volume could have easily been reworked to make Blake aware of that danger, forcing her to stew in it until Yang returned, unharmed.

Instead we get this.

Also, I don't even want to get into the implications of having Yang disappear in a cloud of glittering gold dust like Pyrrha did. That's a world building rabbit hole RWBY really doesn't need.

So Yang is gone but obviously not gone. Blake is the only one impacted by this enough to react emotionally. Penny hears her scream and comes running, showing the viewer that absolutely nothing had changed despite getting an entirely new body. 

Cinder weirdly throws her voice — has she done that before? — to distract Penny and the fight continues, with Neo going after Ruby and Blake going after Neo. There's a moment where Blake realizes that Weiss is in trouble too, looking between her two teammates, unsure of who to help. 

I'm calling it now: Blake will be the third semblance upgrade, splitting herself into multiple fighters capable of functioning independently, rather than just shadow clones to take hits.

It would make as much sense as anything else.

Cinder at least is fighting smart, attacking the civilians rather than Weiss directly, then blowing her glass up in Weiss' face. She then manages to catch herself in the air, but, you know, couldn't do the same for Yang.

At the very least don't have Weiss using these abilities seconds later, c'mon.

We thankfully leave this nonsense for, well... more nonsense. Vine and Harriet get into a fight about what Clover would have wanted, which means nothing to the viewer because we didn't know Clover long enough to develop that sense for ourselves. I'm sorry, but following an order to peacefully bring Qrow in for questioning is not proof that he would have seen things through in the sense of blowing up Mantle, yet that's what we're supposed to believe based on Harriet's assertions and Vine's take that "perhaps Clover was wrong." I really hate that RWBY has taken to bashing the guy before he had the chance to actually do anything. Everyone is criticizing Clover based on lies or assumptions about what he might have done if, you know, he hadn't been murdered. Qrow blames Clover for defending himself, not his own choice to team up with Tyrian. Robyn asserts that Qrow is a better huntsmen than Clover, even though the one scene they had together was Robyn deciding to attack Clover because she didn't like him doing his job. Now Vine is like, "Yeah, Clover might have tried to blow up a kingdom needlessly, but maybe he was wrong and a bad person, you know?" I don't even like Clover that much, but the story has really gone out of its way to criticize him when he's obviously not around to prove, disprove, or otherwise defend himself. That’s messed up. 

The one good part about this scene is Harriet losing it, all her firm beliefs crumbling to reveal just an aching grief for losing Clover. Hark, is this humanity for the other Ace Ops I see? Some development and characterization? Vine reaching out sympathetically to comfort her because they've always been a team, no matter what Ruby might say about it?

Oh wait, no. They're interrupted by Robyn screaming as she slams her ship into theirs.

I think Robyn is, officially, my least favorite character in the series. Which isn't to say there aren't objectively worse characters than her — we saw one get blown up this episode — but no one has this particular combination of horrible acts, self-righteous attitude, and an absolute dearth of other positive qualities to distract from that. Robyn has brought nothing to the last two volumes except frustration and I can only hope she goes off to do her own thing when our finale is done.

Qrow goes feral, turning into a bird and changing at the last second to slam through Harriet's window. He taunts her about getting the fight she wanted and we see Watts hacking her ship while they're distracted.

Watts, I'm really loving the evil schemes, but don't you want to, uh... leave? Atlas is falling and you're one of maybe three people left on it. Best get a move on, chop, chop.

Those other two people are Winter and Ironwood, both of whom have come to the vault looking for Team RWBY. Ironwood lands a hit with his new gun, giving a short speech about how though he was always on the lookout for betrayal, he never expected it from her. He tells Winter to stand aside as his final order, to which she replies, “I’ve never wavered in fighting the enemies of this kingdom," preparing to fight.

I've explained the problems with Ironwood's downfall ad nauseam. I don't think that's needed again here. However, there are two final points I'd like to make.

Winter's characterization took a hit along with Ironwood's. Why didn't he think she'd ever betray him? Because they clearly cared for one another. The fact that Winter so quickly and easily gave up on Ironwood is a disservice to both of them. Even in the throes of being an emotionless killer, we still understand Ironwood's devastation at this betrayal: his shock when Winter attacked, his request that she step aside now, the single tear. 

There's nothing like that on her end. No denial that the man she faithfully followed would do this. No insistence that the man who helped her escape her abusive upbringing be reasoned with. Nothing. Winter dismisses Ironwood with the same callousness the narrative has.

Which brings me to my second point: this isn't hopeful. I know the Emerald lovers don't want me making comparisons, but the story has already done that for us. You can't give us an all out villain — someone responsible for countless deaths across the series, attacks on kingdoms, lying to our heroes, willingly working for the enemy  — and say that it's good to forgive her instantly, but it's not acceptable to even consider forgiving the man who has also killed, also threatened to attack a kingdom, was honest with our heroes, and always fought against the enemy. You can't give us an entire story about hope and forgiveness — Ruby reaching out to Raven, Weiss wanting to rescue Jacques, Oscar putting all his trust in Hazel — while saying that this character isn't worth compromising with. This character needs to be denounced to the whole world so there's no possibility of forgiveness. This character will commit horrific acts and his allies will immediately jump ship, but others? Their horrific acts are forgiven the moment you give them a way out. I'm supposed to believe that Yang, who knew Emerald only as the woman who attacked her school and has helped make their lives a living hell since then, will laugh with her within an hour, but Qrow, after years of being an ally and friend to Ironwood, is suddenly ready to murder him over an arrest he had no context for? That Ruby will try to make peace with every enemy she comes across, but not the guy who was the ally she betrayed? That Winter would extend more compassion to her abusive father than the man who helped her escape that? Ironwood's downfall isn't just horribly written, it messes with RWBY's core themes. Everyone deserves a second chance, is worth crying over, is worth reaching out to no matter how many horrible things they've done... except this guy here.

And when that guy is the PTSD riddled military vet who crumpled in large part because the heroes continually lied to, betrayed, and took extreme action rather than working to find a compromise... that's a really bad take. That shows a lot of bias on the part of RT. They're trying to write a story about the evils of the institution, but think they can reduce that to the evils of a single man driven to the brink. That doesn't send a teachable message to the audience and it certainly doesn't send a hopeful one. All it does is reiterate that if you rip away someone's support network when they're already falling they will, shockingly, fall harder.

Which brings us back to characters like Emerald. Because no, no one has to help Ironwood. When someone is hurting you and committing the crimes he has this volume, no one is required to extend a hand at their own, personal peril. But when the narrative is so heavily pushing forgiveness for other mass-murderers? When child torturers are extended a hand during the torture? That reframes everyone abandoning Ironwood into something unpalatable. Having Ironwood’s allies, friends, and really, family, so quickly toss him aside while other, equally bad people are welcomed in says that everyone struggling like him isn’t worth the effort. From a genre perspective, this isn’t a tragedy because the characters don’t care. No one is striving to bring Ironwood back from the brink. No one is crying over the man they lost. Hazel gets a moment of silence as Emerald kneels, stricken in the aftermath of his death, but one of the heroes since Volume 2 gets nothing but hateful looks from his second. 

But we all knew we'd end up here. My current theory? The portal should still be open at the vault. Winter will fight Ironwood, escape through it, and it will close right before he escapes too. He'll fall with Atlas and everyone will act as if it's some beautiful, poetic justice for him to perish with the city. 

Here’s hoping I’m very wrong! 

Finishing with Oscar's group, Ren's aura breaks after trying to mask everyone coming through the portal. Oscar realizes that Penny should have come through by now and runs back to find her, only to discover that the portal is closed on this side. Why? Because Weiss wished for a "one way trip to Vacuo." Not only is this another example of our heroes being stupid — they come up with this complicated wish that doesn't actually makes sense, but don't bother to be careful with their words like Ruby was when helping Penny? — but it also just... doesn't add up? How does Oscar know what Weiss wished for? How does Ozpin? (His one line in the episode.) They recall this together, the flashback acting like a memory, but neither of them were there. Neither was Ren. Neither was Emerald. They haven't spoken to the Relic group since separating.

It looks like RT still needs to edit their scripts.

As Oscar realizes they're trapped, the emotions of the group summons a huge number of grimm to the area. At this point, my only thought was why none of them had used the time Ren was buying them to try and find Vacuo. I mean, they're not the only fighters with semblances here. They have the Happy Huntresses too and, I would think, the Atlas students (unless the army was abandoned like Pietro and Maria were. Where are Neon and Flynt?) There's no one in this huge crowed with an ability that might make scouting ahead a little safer? No one is even going to try and figure some plan out? Everyone on these teams is too passive. They encounter a problem — where's the city? — and instead of trying to solve it while they can, while they’re in a good position to, they wait around until the situation becomes unimaginably worse and they have to figure something out or risk dying. Now, the people are being carried off by grimm, they know something has gone wrong on the pathways, and Ren is about to enter another fight without his aura. Let's hope he doesn't take a hit like Yang.

Summary of "Worthy"? Excellent villains, terrible heroes. It's better than what we've gotten in a while, but choices like Yang's fall ensures it's still not good. Given the trajectory of the volume, it was inevitable that we would end up here: moments that look significant at first glance, but are (quite likely) no more than window dressing in the long run.

Finally, bingo is rather boring this week. Unsurprising, considering we're almost out of space. I'm keeping our "Army of grimm conveniently doesn't kill any civilians" square checked because the point there was for Salem to kill people, not for the group to lead the refuges into a grimm infested desert. We'll have to see how many people they lose though and whether Atlas "somehow survives." Here, like Robyn, I'm talking about the citizens, not the now clearly doomed hunk of land. At this point, Oscar doesn’t seem to at all care about his near death experience, but I'll hold off on that square until we're truly done, and there's still a near certain possibility that Ironwood will die, with a likely possibility that Qrow grabs a bottle when first given the chance. What RWBY has avoided though is a Jacques-Watts team up 2.0. Considering, you know, Jacques is dead.

Gold star for not doing the expected, iffy thing, RWBY.

That's the square I would have least minded seeing though 😬

Anyway, finale next Saturday, folks! What insanity will the end bring? Only time will tell. But I can't wait to see what state the fandom will be left in for hiatus!

Until then 💜

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Ep 16

This is actually really sad, because how badly do we want to see this kid actually shoot Wen Zhuliu? I mean, they even go into hearing Jiang Fengmian’s words echoing in his mind. It’s the perfect setup for some heroic act that just doesn’t happen. It’s weird how even though I know what happens, I’m like, maybe this time it won’t! I mean, it’s good all this happens, because I like what it does to the characters, but it’s still hard to watch. I think this part is probably the bloodiest part in the entire show. Don’t quote me, but it’s pretty bloody.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, it’s also really sad that Jiang Fengmian has this heroic entrance only to be cut down seconds later. It’s easy to fall into a pattern of the good guys win, but that’s not how this story really works. The line between good and bad is thin and warped and blended together, and who we think is good doesn’t always come out on top. But again, if Lotus Pier hadn’t fallen, how would Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian have turned out? What would have happened to Jiang Yanli? I like how these events set into motion so much growth for these characters, and it’s not always positive growth either.

Ugh, I hate it. I hate it! Seeing all these men, women, children, who have been ruthlessly murdered by the Wen Clan—it’s just horrible. And from Wei Wuxian’s perspective, these people were his only family. This was the place that had taken him in when he was very young—it’s the only home he really remembers. And in a matter of hours, it was taken completely away from him. Obviously he’s angry—very angry—and upset. And whatever he feels, it’s only amplified in Jiang Cheng, who is already more emotional and quick-tempered. Not to mention, those are his actual parents, who he loves very much. Of course, his first reaction is to want revenge, which Wei Wuxian temporarily manages to talk him out of.

I like that we get Madam Yu’s perspective throughout this part. I like that she was the one who staunchly defended her home, and I like how she was the last man standing. As horrible as all this is, I get a warm feeling from seeing how she really does care about her family and her husband. I think it’s important that we get to see this before she dies, so that we can see that yes, there was some good in her. She loved her home, her clan, and her family enough that she would die for them. And I really like that she dies by her own hand on her own terms. She got to take that away from the Wens.

And we’re back to this again. It isn’t enough to have the Wen Clan to blame for what happened to his parents and Lotus Pier—no. Jiang Cheng seems to believe deep down that if Wei Wuxian hadn’t helped Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan, things would be different: his parents would still be alive and Lotus Pier would be fine. Of course, that’s not true. The Wens would not have ever stopped. They wanted to lord over all the clans, even the Yunmeng Jiangs. But Jiang Cheng needs to blame someone and who better than Wei Wuxian? And after this point, he holds this grudge forever. Everything else just compounds upon this event.

And Wei Wuxian again just takes it. He doesn’t argue that the Wens would have done it anyway, he doesn’t try to defend himself at all. He must know that when Jiang Cheng makes up his mind, that’s it—there’s no changing things. I’m guessing by the time the morning rolls around, Jiang Cheng has already decided to seek revenge immediately, against Wei Wuxian’s advice. Again, we have a contrast of someone who is very analytical (Wei Wuxian) and someone who’s very emotional (Jiang Cheng), and Jiang Cheng ends up paying for it. And that’s his decision, even though he tries to place that blame on Wei Wuxian.

While Jiang Cheng is feeling sorry for himself, Wei Wuxian is the first to mention Jiang Yanli, who is still waiting for them. Of course Jiang Cheng has just gone through someone extremely traumatic—I don’t expect him to be on top of things, but I appreciate how level-headed that Wei Wuxian is able to be, given that the experience was also traumatic for him. Again, more contrast between the two characters. And not only contrast between those two, but look back at what happened at the Cloud Recesses and how Lan Wangji dealt with his own loss. He did not give up and shut down, like we see Jiang Cheng doing. He understood that life must go on. Was he upset that his brother was missing? Of course he was! Was he horrified by what happened to his home? Fuck, yes! But he didn’t get the opportunity to wallow in self-pity and depression like Jiang Cheng is. He had no one to support him like Jiang Cheng does. Jiang Cheng has a ton of people around him right now, in comparison, yet he behaves as if he’s alone. He lashes out emotionally, he recklessly goes back to Lotus Pier, abandoning his sister, who’s sick and alone. I don’t really care what he ultimately does to save Wei Wuxian, because I think it was clear that he was ready to die anyway. The outcome would have been the same for him, so distracting the Wen guards wasn’t really the selfless act that CQL kind of makes it out to be, albeit under the veil of Jiang Cheng’s memory.

Ugh, breaks my heart. Also irritates me that Wei Wuxian has to be the one to tell Yanli what happened. Like, can’t Jiang Cheng do it? Grow a pair and tell your own damn sister what happened to your parents and your home? Sorry, but I’m endlessly frustrated by him, no matter how realistic that response is. If I were Yanli, I’d want to hear that from my brother. But Jiang Cheng has basically checked out at this point. And I can’t imagine what’s going through Jiang Yanli’s mind. Her parents are dead, her home has been destroyed, her brother is distraught, and then she falls ill. She’s the oldest, she’s the one who should know what to do (whether or not she has any authority to do it)—this must be so difficult to feel like she needs to be strong for her two younger brothers, but to be completely falling apart emotionally.

Look at the physical distance here. It’s quite interesting, really, and good cinematography to show that chasm between them. It’s not just a physical gap but an emotional one as well. You have Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli, who just want to get out of danger so that they can figure out what to do next. And then you have Jiang Cheng, who just wants revenge. Even if it wasn’t obvious already, this scene shows how far apart they are from each other. It’s actually really cool.

I just feel that the only thing that was holding them all together was Wei Wuxian. He is taking his promise to Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian very seriously. This is not a game to him—he will do anything to keep them safe. That is his only purpose right now. Prior to episode 15, I think Wei Wuxian brought up Lan Wangji at least once per episode, whether Lan Wangji was there or not. That name has not passed his lips even once. Jiang Cheng has said it a few times, I think because blame game, of course, but Wei Wuxian is not even thinking about Lan Wangji. His focus right now is to get Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli to safety. Imagine if it were only Jiang Cheng and Yanli right now—if you take Wei Wuxian out of the picture, how do you think they would behave? I mean, realistically, Jiang Cheng would already be dead, because no one would have stopped him from going back to Lotus Pier that night. So thank god Wei Wuxian is here, right?

Look at his vacant expression. Has he even heard Wei Wuxian’s instructions? Probably he has but he just ignores them. His sister has a fever, and he leaves her alone in the inn. He abandons them both. And for what? What does he hope to accomplish alone? His parents and the entirety of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect couldn’t take down the Wens, so how does he expect to? I understand where he’s coming from—I am protective of my family as well—but what he needed to do was step back and wait, and by not doing that, he ruined his own life.

Besides wangxian, I think my favorite relationship in this series is the one between Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian. There’s something so sweet and so beautiful and so loving about two people who aren’t quite family but aren’t not family either. There is so much unconditional love between them that no matter what either of them does, the other will continue to be there. It’s like the relationship that Wei Wuxian could have with Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Cheng does not love Wei Wuxian as much as Wei Wuxian loves him. For a long time, I think Wei Wuxian’s love for Jiang Cheng was unconditional, but he learns over time that it can’t be that way with Jiang Cheng. But his relationship with Yanli is so different. She treats him like family, treats him like a little brother, and she protects and defends him in front of those who would wish to harm him. It’s just very sweet and tragic, of course.

So, this is an important moment. For obvious reasons, of course, but also because Wei Wuxian could have killed Wen Ning, but didn’t. He immediately accuses him of participating in the massacre and goes on to say, “I shouldn’t have saved you.” And Wen Ning responds that he just got to Lotus Pier and was not a part of the massacre at all. And here’s the big part: Wei Wuxian backs off. He believes him and he lets him go. This is important because it shows that Wei Wuxian can see past the clan, past the outfit, past the bloodline. Someone who can’t do that is Jiang Cheng. This is just one of those moments that shows you what kind of person Wei Wuxian really is, and if you remember he made a big point of praising Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen for teaming up together and for not being affiliated with any clans. So here we can see how Wei Wuxian has a penchant for not conforming to the orthodoxy of any of the clans—of the very fact that you need to be in a clan at all. People are more than the clans they are a part of, people are more than their blood relatives. Everyone gets to prove their own worth, regardless of their social status. This isn’t a big deal to someone with modern sensibilities, but within this world, it’s a big deal that Wei Wuxian trusts Wen Ning to help him and Jiang Cheng here. And in the book, he allowed Wen Qing to help them, and he doesn’t even know her. Book!Wen Qing is more awesome in my opinion, and her entrance in the story is great, because you don’t know if you can trust her. You have to trust Wen Ning too, just like Wei Wuxian—you’re taking the risk as well, as the reader.

One more thought: you can see why they’d form such a strong bong—two people who should by all rights be enemies, but instead they choose to work together to stand up to what’s wrong. This is what Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji were doing in the cave, what Wen Ning has already done when he helped Wei Wuxian out against the dog. This is a bond of brotherhood more than anything that the Twin Prides of Yunmeng ever had. It’s a really nice message, honestly. I often don’t appreciate Wen Ning, but they do have such a nice relationship that’s based on nothing but mutual trust and respect.

I find this oddly funny, because Wen Zhuliu is so resistant and doesn’t want to drink, but Wen Chao is so insistent that he ends up doing it. And of course that’s the thing that puts all of them out of commission for the next few days (I think), allowing Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian to get Jiang Cheng and his parents’ remains out of Lotus Pier. Such a simple decision, but if it had not been made this way, Wei Wuxian would have certainly been captured/killed by Wen Zhuliu.

The juxtaposition here is pretty extreme: the clean-clothed dancing ladies in the background, with the body of (I think) Madam Yu in the foreground, hanging there. It’s so disturbing to think about having this feast to celebrate a victory (massacre) with dead bodies hanging around you. Just very creepy and eerie.

I’m flying through these for good reason. Not a lot to say, just getting through plot, and I want to get back to my fave Lan Wangji. Biased? Why, yes, I am.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

[trillian-anders]

marked

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, violence. 

word count: 10748

description: soulmate!au; just because you’re meant to be together doesn’t mean it always works out that way. what happens when you’re not completely ready to meet your soulmate? 

prompt: “that’s not how soulmates are supposed to react to each other”

note: happy belated birthday love, i hope this year finds you well and i hope you don’t get too hungover (sorry this took so long) 

for @jbbuckybarnes​;; birthday challenge

You’ve had their tattoo your entire life. That’s what you called it too. Their tattoo. It didn’t feel like yours. The tiny brand of their fated love. Whoever they were, they were already a fully formed adult by the time you were born. The nurse who wiped the blood and mucus off of your little body gasping seeing the soft little bloom on your chubby arm. 

You parents had been a little alarmed. The tattoos forming once the partner was eighteen years old, the age gap startling. But the fates were to be trusted. So life went on. 

At first when you were a little girl, you’d loved the little string of flowers on your forearm. You’d colored it in with markers and outlined it every day, but you didn’t understand what it was then. They were called bleeding hearts. The strand of them across your entire forearm. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to get it until you were an adult.” Her name was Amy. You didn’t get along with Amy. “Does that mean that you’re going to be with an old person?” A cackle from her group of friends. You sunk lower into your desk, covering your arm with your hand and pulling it in tight to your body. 

It became something they’d tease you about for years. 

The bleeding hearts that your Mother had planted, you came to resent them. The ones painted onto your childhood bedroom’s walls you’d begged them to be covered up. You started using makeup to cover up the black outline of the offending flowers, trying to gain some kind of normalcy. 

It’s funny how a couple of cruel kids can totally change your outlook on something that should be so simple, so easy. 

But it made you think, what if he was an old man? By the time you were eighteen he would be almost forty. That is, if he was exactly eighteen when you were born. There were possibilities outside of the norm, like usually people would be wondering what their partner was doing right now. What did they want to do with their lives? This person, whoever they were, man or woman, must have been alarmed that their flower never showed up. Their right arm staunchly blank until you yourself turned eighteen. 

You wondered that night, as your family celebrated your birthday, as you blew out your candles, if they were just as panicked as you were. 

x

The doctors stalled. Their movements halted, and the asset didn’t know why. What were they doing? New procedure? They murmured to each other. Passing by closely, a nurse resumed strapping him down, his bones still chilled from cryostasis. “Soulmate.” He heard. 

It scratched at him from the back of his mind, the word. He’d heard it before. He knew what it meant of course, soulmates. He’d separated one from another many times. Instructed to dispatch one and let the other live, it didn’t matter which one. 

He did his job, quickly and efficiently. He had to. 

A mouth guard placed between his teeth and his heart began to race in a Pavlovian response. Fingers clenching and unclenching with anticipation. His legs and arms being restrained before the metal plates would close over his face and the pain would begin. 

“I have a new mission for you,” Alexander Pierce. The man who was in charge. His boss. His master. “It’s ongoing. Concurrent with any other missions I ask of you, do you understand?” He felt himself nod, mind still scrambled, dazed. “You see this?” His wrist was harshly turned over, the black lines swirling around it he’d never seen before. “If you ever see this on someone else, this exact tattoo, you bring them here. Do you understand?” The asset’s eyes glazed over, unfocused. Pierce smacked him upside his head, gripping his face tightly and pulling his gaze into his. “Do you understand soldier?” 

“Yes, I understand.” 

x

The sun rose and set with no event. You hadn’t found him. Years passed and your life went on. The apprehension and the fear of finding him out there somewhere would never leave. Your friends found their soulmates, they got married, some even had kids now. And you were still alone. 

“You don’t want to meet him?” Your best friend, Nia asked. She wrapped a perfectly curled strand of hair around her finger, tightly pinning it with a clip and spraying it with hair spray. Her tattoo was of a set of constellations, it was on her collarbone. Her husband’s matching one was found in your first year of college. The two found each other in a chem lab and babbled to one another over renewable energy and found they both wanted to work for the same ecological lab that was currently designing a plastic made from trees, something they worked together to produce. 

You watched her in the mirror curl your hair for another college friend’s wedding, the bride and groom having met each other in a perfect meet-cute, their dogs both racing towards each other in the middle of central park. Screaming and tripping and tumbling into one another and realizing they had the very same perfect little heart on their ring fingers. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to meet him,” You explain, watching Nia’s perfectly manicured fingers twirl another perfect curl away from the iron, “I’m just apprehensive.” And that was the truth. 

You wanted what all your friends had, really. It’s just what happened was you didn’t see an issue in having an older soulmate until your classmates pointed out it was weird to have an older soulmate and now that it was pointed out to you that it was weird to have an older soulmate now you think it’s weird to have an older soulmate. 

But that’s hard to say to people. 

“Everyone is nervous to meet their soulmate,” Nia soothed, “But that person is the other side of your coin, they’re someone who the fates have created specifically for you.” And that’s what is so scary. Someone is out there waiting for you and it gives you a shit ton of anxiety.

x

“Are you sure you’re ready for this Buck?” Steve stood in the doorway behind him, geared up, watching Bucky tighten the laces on his boots. 

“Gotta get back into it sometime don’t I?” Bucky looked up at his long-time friend. Steve’s jaw was clenched, clearly on the fence about letting him back in the field. 

“If you feel it at all going south, just let me know. We can get you out of there, and fast.” Bucky stood, clipping his holster on his back he said, 

“I’ll be fine, let’s just go.” 

x

The wedding was beautiful. In Central Park where they’d met. The early summer sun was warm, but not overbearingly so. It was a perfect day for a wedding and you were already a little drunk. They did this thing with champagne and chambord that was really quenching your thirst and for whatever reason your glass seemed to never be empty. It was easy to lose yourself in the happiness of the day, dancing, drinking, and eating your weight in hors d'oeuvres. 

“Here, c’mon, let’s get a picture.” There was a large floral background weaved with beautiful blooms and greens. The group that were your best friends in college, the ones you smoked way too much weed with and drank yourself blind on twisted teas with, and the groom, whose bathtub you’d woken up in more than once, a group picture at his wedding that you were sure would start endless conversations about late night Taco Bell runs and do you remember this embarrassing thing you did this one time? 

But you couldn’t quite remember what happened after that. It all happened so fast. Spillover from some Avengers fight nearby. There was an explosion, smoke, then triage. 

You couldn’t breathe. The coughing was hard on your throat, gasping for breath. A clear plastic mask was fitted over your face, pure oxygen began pumping into the mask, you could feel yourself shuffled around, doors to an ambulance closing. Your blood was thin from the alcohol. You heard something about a transfusion and then it was dark. 

x

Bucky’s heart was racing as he came out through the fog. It was just like when they would pull him out of cryo. Muddled and cold. 

“Buck.” Steve’s voice called. “Can you hear me?” He couldn’t move his arms. He couldn’t move his legs. “Bucky?” It was a tiled ceiling. White. It hurt his eyes at first glance. He was at the compound. 

He didn’t know how it went south so fast. The mission was going to be intense, he knew, but he didn’t realize the series of tunnels that twisted through the city would lead them to central park. Right into a trap. The explosion he remembers, resurfacing he remembers, what he doesn’t remember was what happened when he was trying to grab civilians out of the way. It all became a blur then. 

“What happened back there?” Steve’s brow pulled in concern, he was changed, freshly washed and sitting in the chair next to the bed in the med room. 

“I don’t know.” Arms flexing against the restraints, “Let me outta here.” A buzz and a chink sound and the metal restraints unlocked and retreated back into the frame of the bed. Bucky sat up and swung his legs over the side, eyes locking onto the bleeding hearts on his arm and halting, before hastily tugging his sleeve down to cover it. 

“I think you need to talk to Shuri.” Steve stepped back and let Bucky stand, “There’s still something going on in there.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

x

Have you ever had a trach? A large plastic tube down your throat, it helps you breathe but it’s uncomfortable, and startling when you wake up and you could feel it hard against your tongue and throat. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes from the harsh lights. A steady beep in the background as you reached consciousness and realized your surroundings. 

“Hey sweetheart.” Your Mom, brushing hair out of your face and soothing your rising heart rate, “You’re okay, you’re okay. Let me get the nurse.” 

Everyone for the most part was fine, the blast came from the ground, feet away from the reception. There were guests in critical condition in the ICU but no one had died. Bride and Groom were in the same condition as you were, bruised and with a broken bone or two but mostly fine. 

A cast sat, freshly dried on your right arm, from wrist to elbow. Your soul mark covered by plaster. Your throat hurt after the trach was removed and you were left to recover in your childhood bedroom. 

“It’s unbelievable.” Your Dad sat in his recliner, feet up, drinking what must have been his third cup of coffee that day. “Ross is a joke.” The news had been all about the Avengers and what happened in central park. Wedding guests who hadn’t been injured were interviewed, joggers, a family visiting from some other state with two small children. There was a replay of events, in between the rubble and smoke were the Avengers fighting a group with steel masks on, one with white scratching in the shape of a skull and ‘x’ scraped on the chest plate. They called him Crossbones. He was their leader. Supposedly. 

“If he were to just let the Avengers do their job, these criminals wouldn’t be getting so close to the city.” A gruff response to the newscaster talking about what Secretary Ross had issued in a statement earlier. 

“We are doing everything we can to find the perpetrators responsible for the Central Park bombing,” A simple, practiced response, “We will be working tirelessly until they are caught and brought to justice.” Your father scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“They’ll sit on their thumbs until the incident is forgotten and then maybe by then whatever group this is will have another bombing ready to go.” A knock on the door. Your Mother leaving the other side of the couch where she was listening, but not really while scrolling through her facebook page on her phone. 

“Hello, how can I help you?” The pleasant chirp of her voice. You couldn’t hear what was on the other end but moments later she reappeared in the living room, two men in suits in tow. “Y/N, honey, these men work with the government, they just have a couple questions for you about the incident.” 

The two men looked straight out of men in black, almost comically so. They said that they worked with the Avengers and it made your parents skeptical of them. Why would the Avengers send someone out to talk to you in the first place? You already had given your report to the police in the hospital. It didn’t make any sense. 

But you answered their questions and about an hour later they were on their way out the door and you hoped they wouldn’t be back. Something just seemed off about them. 

Life went on, as it does. 

You were back at work, girls nights on Thursdays having margarita pitchers and tacos at Nia’s penthouse apartment, her and her husband had the good fortune of working for a leading ecological engineering company where they both worked side by side in a lab attempting to mass produce reusable and biodegradable alternatives to the current norm. Chinese takeout containers in your fridge and the same bag of salad you throw out and replace each week. Normal. 

Except for one thing that made you feel a little crazy. You felt like you were being watched. 

x

Something was wrong, Bucky knew that, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. It was itching at the back of his mind. Something he had forgotten. Something he couldn’t piece together. It was killing him. 

He remembered everything from before. Every hit, every instruction, every time he was put in that chair and his brain was scrambled. Everything except one thing in particular. 

Those bleeding hearts on his arm. 

He knew that he didn’t have them during the war. It was a point of contention for him, never getting his soul mark, he was endlessly sensitive about it. Insecure. He wondered if maybe the fates hadn’t chosen one for him. Maybe he was a mistake, a flaw in the soulmate system. He didn’t have one. Which is why in that little apartment in Bucharest that he found himself staring at the thin and dark black lines on his right arm. 

Was this always meant to happen? He wrought his brain in those early days, when did this happen. When did his soulmate become an adult? How long ago was it? How old are they now? 

The apartment smelled like shit. Plumbing was out somewhere, the neighbors next door constantly screamed at each other, but it kept him hidden. It gave him time to think before he would let Steve find him. 

But those flowers. 

He couldn’t remember. It was gone. 

“It would have interfered with their plans,” Shuri explained, “If you had a soulmate that person might have been overwhelming enough to you to deter your mission.” The lab had been updated since he’d last been here. New gadgets and equipment scattered about in an organized but cluttered way. 

Shuri was always working on something new and she frequently called him down to work on his arm. Something to give it more feeling, now he couldn’t just feel pressure and temperature, he had actual nerve endings. “They’ll immediately close at the hub if something were to happen, though I don’t imagine you being able to destroy this arm easily.” The dark vibranium and gold.

Bucky nods in agreement, “That makes sense.” She gives him an odd look. 

“We could go deeper,” She continues, “They’ve probably buried it deep into your psyche.” It wasn’t a painful process, but it was uncomfortable. Bucky trusted Shuri and he wanted to know. He had to know. 

This person, whoever they were, was made for him. He knew that he wasn’t ready for them, for that relationship, but he could at least figure out when the flowers bloomed on his arm and put a timeline together. That’s what he needed. 

It was like falling asleep in the bath. 

Warm and comfortable, a little foggy. Sleep sets on and you find yourself sinking, slipping further into the heat. Then the inhale of water, burning against your lungs and you’re leaning over the side, fully awake and coughing liquid. 

Then again, 

And again.

Until it’s clear. 

He needed to stay far away from you, whoever you were. 

x

If there was one thing you loved about taking the NYC subway it was people-watching. Not able to happen when it was rush hour and you’d be shoved between an overweight man with a staring problem and an older woman who refused to sit because it was sexist, but on your way home after a late shift. When you had your seat and there were only ten other people in the car with you. 

This observance showed you an old man headed home with a cloth tote of groceries. You assumed he was a professor because who else wears tweed on top of a vest and tie. The leather attache case also seemed very professor-like. 

There was a group of kids, probably fresh out of high school, laughing loudly and joking around at the front of the car. One of them recording the other three on their phone, a short clipped tune playing on the phone. Probably something for TikTok. 

There was a couple and both had a bike with them. The girl was in loose cotton overalls and had lavender hair. The guy’s hair was long, reaching just below his shoulders, heavily tattooed, and thin. He had tapered cuffed jeans and a floral button down on. They would kiss every couple minutes in between talking softly. 

The weirdest group were the three men at the end of the subway car. They gave you a weird vibe, but being around seven other people made you feel a little more safe. 

They weren’t talking to each other, looking at their phones, but something made you feel like they were watching you when you weren’t looking. You just hoped they weren’t getting off at your stop. 

“This paranoia,” your therapist explained, “Is most likely rooted in the incident. You were comfortable and your guard was down.” And then the attack. “It’s perfectly normal to be experiencing some PTSD after being through a traumatic event.” 

But it felt so superficial. Other people have had worse situations. No one was hurt that badly. Yes, your cast itches like hell, but you didn’t have to live through the blip. You were one of the ones who blipped, so it was like it never even happened. 

You had two parents who really loved you and supported your decisions. They didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to and they always were there if you needed help. 

You had a good group of friends who were reliable and got together once a week like adults do. You had a nice studio apartment not too far away from the good part of town and a job that you excelled at. 

There were people who had a bad day, every day. And you had a truly bad day once and now you were this paranoid mess that always felt like the other shoe was about to drop. 

“Your worst day is your worst day,” is what she said, “Don’t compare yourself to others, their trauma does not discount your trauma.” 

But it still didn’t feel right. 

You were regretting bringing your tumbler out to work. Always at the end of the night, full of water or tea, and not wanting to carry it anymore you dumped it out on the street. Another block and you’ll be home. Only one of the men got off at your stop. Tumbler stored in your backpack you white knuckle your keys in your fist. He was headed in the same direction. 

It became kind of like tunnel vision. The only thing you could hear is his footsteps. Hard, clacking against the pavement and also the side of your skull. Your heart was racing and you could feel a cold sweat break out on your forehead and the nape of your neck. Your hands are shaking. 

The steps to your building have never felt more comforting, but the final slam of the passcode protected door was definitely a little more comforting. The shadow of the man continued to walk by. No glance in your direction. 

And you felt foolish. 

You were just paranoid, you were sure of it. 

“So I was thinking,” Nia took a sip of her margarita, the table full with nachos, guac and chips, and various small street-style tacos. It was a local spot not too far from your apartment, a basement restaurant that was the friend group favorite since freshman year of college when you’d sneak in with fake IDs. “Maybe we upload your soulmark to one of those search sites.” 

You roll your eyes, licking the salt of the rim of the glass before taking a long pull of your drink. “I don’t think that’s for me,” You shrug, leaning back in your chair, “I just want to let it happen, it’ll happen eventually.” It’s not that you had anything against those sites. They really helped people and it’s completely possible that it’s how the fates planned for them to meet, but seeing as you were fine as you were at the moment, you didn’t really want anything to help you speed up the process. 

Nia sighs, but relents, “So are you going to come to Gin’s gallery opening?” 

x

“What do you have on Rumlow?” Bucky just freshly back from Wakanda greeted Steve. 

“How was it?” Bucky shook his head, changing the subject, “Do we have anything on him? His location? Anything?” Steve looked at his friend, understanding, but not wanting to drop the subject. 

“We’ve got a couple leads to flush out, but honestly Buck, are you okay?” There was a dark look in his eyes, the look he had often had when he was fresh from the ice and going through Shuri’s process for the first time. The memories he’d face everyday. 

“I’ll be fine.” And that was that. Not further questions. He didn’t want to be asked and Steve knew he would come around eventually. 

He told himself he was fine, because he was, mostly. This fence he straddled of wanting his soulmate and the before final resignation that he didn’t have one, he was finally on a third side. He couldn’t find them. 

Not if he didn’t want to hurt them. 

The fog cleared. 

He remembered bursting from the ground, flung recklessly by the bomb, landing on his feet. Crouched. Knees shocked in protest, from catching his body weight. He remembers instinctively, standing, making one pass and realizing there was a large group of people in the smoke. He got to work, pulling people out, getting them out of the way before going back in. 

Then there it was. As clear as day, he could see it. The bleeding hearts. And then he didn’t have control over his body anymore. 

He snapped your arm. 

He was ripped away by someone on Rumlow’s team. But he snapped your arm. His eyes focused on your unconscious body as he felt himself fighting others. He didn’t mean to break your arm. 

He didn’t mean to. 

But he did. And it sat in his gut. Toxic and acidic, rolling and cresting up his throat until he was spitting up bile. Laying over his toilet, gagging and unable to vomit. 

He had to stay away. There was no other option. 

“They wanted you to bring her back to them?” Shuri asked.

“But they don’t exist anymore.” Bucky offered. Shuri nods, scrolling through the datapad. 

“I can take the mission objective from you,” She explains, “But you’re going to have to deal with these negative feelings with your therapist.” The fear. The anxiety. The longing. 

“It’s a string.” He remembers his grade school teacher explaining. “A string that’s loose at first, but the tension pulls you closer and closer together until you meet.” A string that bonds, wraps itself around you and fuses you together. 

Shuri continues, “You’ll see her again.” It’s a certainty. “Hopefully by then we will have this taken care of.” The trains moving the vibranium, Bucky watched them, disassociating. It was so relaxing seeing them pass on a schedule, quickly and efficiently. Always on time. “You deserve to be happy, James.” That brought his eyes to hers, still unfocused and wanting to leave. “You deserve to be with her.” But he wasn’t so sure. 

“Let’s go.” Steve’s voice was soothing, familiar when he feels like he’s drowning. It always brings him out. It pulls him back to the surface. 

He’s in the jet. The jet just landed. Another base. Another search for information. Far away from New York. Far away from you. 

“All these bases look the same.” Sam sounds annoyed, the concrete structure buried halfway into the ground. Old Hydra bases that Rumlow knew. The ones that Bucky also knew. The ones that Rumlow knows that Bucky knows. Breadcrumbs found in the forest leading them into the evil old woman’s oven. 

It was abandoned and recently so if the empty rotting food containers and spoiled milk in the fridge was anything to go by. Robbed of the guns and ammo, the last few bombs left over from the old regime kept under lock and key behind steel doors. 

“Where do you think they’re going next?” It was no secret that Rumlow hates Steve, Bucky, and Sam. Sam is the reason his face is burnt to shit. Bucky was the golden boy of Hydra and Steve… Steve was one of the big three. Steve’s face was plastered on billboards and they sold action figures of his likeness. Rumlow was the jealous type. Always. 

If Rumlow had been chosen to be a Winter Soldier he would have taken it with pride. He wouldn’t have suffered or had to have been scrambled like Bucky. And as far as Bucky was concerned Rumlow could have taken it. But it wasn’t that easy. And Rumlow had been 60 years too late. 

“Onto the next one?”

x

You could swear that was the same guy from the other night. Maybe. Possibly. Were you crazy? Your leg shaking with anxiety, bouncing to try to release any kind of energy building. The paranoia. The fear. He rode this train the other night. The guy who gets off on your same stop. But maybe that’s just his stop. Maybe he lives on your block. Maybe you really are crazy. 

You were trying to look preoccupied with your phone, but from the corner of your eye you could see him. Black t-shirt and jeans. Hands held placid in his lap, staring out the window. Not much to look at when you’re underground, but if you looked up you can see your own reflection in that window. 

Trust your gut. 

That’s what all of those true crime shows and podcasts have told you. Trust your gut. And something was wrong with this guy. 

Your cast itched like hell. 

In your phone you created a note. What color were his eyes? How tall was he? What was his build? Any distinguishing features? Scars? Tattoos? Did he have a visible soulmark? 

Your stop came. And as expected he also got off. 

The pounding of your heart matched the dual footsteps. A thump in your ears as you listened to the blood rush through them. Above ground you quickly dialed someone you hoped would answer. 

It rang once, twice, three times. 

Four and five. 

He seemed close. Like he knew you were onto him. Like he knew that you knew his intentions were sinister. 

Six and Seven. 

Keys fisted in your opposite hand you prayed under your breath that Nia would wake up. Fucking Christ Nia answer. 

Eight and Nine. 

A chill down your spine, a harsh grip against your cast, arm yanked out of socket. The man pulled relentlessly, other hand coming to grip your neck. Your fisted keys meeting his cheek and eye socket. A scream. Phone dropped. A sore, broken and still healing arm, bruised and blue, now in the open air. A fist meeting your face and your back hitting the brick wall of the building behind you. 

Directed to voicemail. 

x

“Is it bad?” Natasha sniffed the cup in front of him before taking a sip, “Tastes fine to me.” The coffee he didn’t realize he’d been glaring at. Too caught up in thinking about the flowers on his arm. The ones revealed by his rolled up sleeve. 

“The coffee’s fine.” Bucky sighs, yanking down his sleeve, looking up at Natasha’s prying eyes. A beat of silence.  “It’s fine.” 

“No it’s not.” She protests, grabbing his arm and yanking the sleeve back up, “What’s going on?” Bucky shakes his head, picking up his mug and creating a distance, tugging the sleeve back down over the offending ink. “You haven’t been yourself since Central Park.”

“I haven’t been myself since I enlisted in the military.” Not untrue. 

“You know what I mean,” Nat leaned against the counter, peering at him, a calculating look in her eyes. “Did you see them?” The way his back tensed she knew she was right, brow pulling together tight. “Bucky-”

“Drop it.” He could hear disappointment in her voice,

“You not talking to them isn’t going to make it hurt any less.” He knows. He knows. But it would hurt you less. So that’s what he’s going to do. 

“You have to learn to trust yourself,” His therapist said, “You have to trust that you’re a good person and that you weren’t in control, you wouldn’t have done these things normally, would you?” Well no, but he still did those things. The guilt will never go away. He just has to learn how to come to terms with it. 

It’s a process. 

But he needed to keep you from him. 

It’s not that he believed he would break your arm again or worse, but maybe. It’s a possibility and it gave him enough anxiety that he isn't sleeping well anymore. Those blissful eight hours dwindled to six hours full of tossing and turning. Being too hot and then too cold. Nothing was helping, jogs, hot baths, cold showers, time spent with a punching bag, reading, meditation. He wondered why Pierce never removed the skin on his arm. 

If he didn’t want him to have anything to do with his soulmate that is. 

“They could have used them to control you.” Shuri had speculated, “Make you more compliant.” Makes sense. 

But he could have just brought you back and then what? They use you to torture him. Give you to him as a reward? Let you play house for doing a good job? 

He shudders with the thought. 

His room was a nice reprieve from the questioning. From Nat, Steve, and even Sam had started to ask about his more than chilled demeanor recently. But he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to focus on. He didn’t know what he wanted. 

But it seemed like someone was going to choose for him. 

x

You hated hospitals. The smell, the noise, the way the sheets felt against your skin. The only good thing about it was the socks, for whatever reason they are the thinnest yet warmest socks ever created. Wild. 

“We think you should move home,” Your Mother was pacing, “We never liked you moving into the city in the first place.” You knew this. 

When you were freshly graduated from high school and told your parents that you wanted to move to New York it was definitely a hard subject for a while, but you’d been living in the city for a while now and truth be told this was only the third time something bad has happened to you since moving here from North Jersey. 

The first one was years ago when you were still in college and to be fair, it was a bad part of town, it was very late at night, and you and your friends were as naive as you were young. The guy didn’t make off with too much money anyway since all of you were broke, but regardless, still a shitty situation.

The last two were just this past week, the wedding, and now the guy who took your wallet and ripped the cast with unbelievable force from your arm. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Your arm had been pulled out of socket as well, so now you were in a fresh cast and a sling. 

“The city is getting worse,” Your Father agrees, “I don’t know if I can honestly take another call telling me you’re in the hospital.” You could agree with them. 

When you were younger and the Avengers first became a thing it was a steady increase in crime. Then Daredevil and Spider-Man didn’t help. Every criminal in New York wanted to test their chops against the big guys. King Pin became a thing and a bunch of superpowered criminals became rampant, kept only in check by the constant monitoring of heroes on the streets. 

But it wasn’t always like that, 99% of the time it was just another normal day. The problem is your parents loved watching the news, and everything on the news was bad. They didn’t see the good things about the city, they didn’t see the good people in the city. Like the older man in your building who you could call at any time with a plumbing issue and he’d be right over to fix it, the housing office will get back to you anywhere between 7-30 days. There’s another woman with a large family who, even when they’re not there, cooks enough to feed an army and is more than happy to deliver leftovers to your door. 

You’ve never felt more like yourself before moving to the city, there was no doubt in your mind that you wouldn’t be moving out of New York any time soon. 

“It’s just bad luck,” You sigh, closing your eyes against the harsh fluorescent light, “I’ll be fine really, I told you that you didn’t even have to come up here.” 

A knock at the door, your nurse. She walked in and placed the little paper cup with two pills on the tray next to the bed. 

“These are for pain, you have some other visitors,” Other visitors?  “Are you okay to be questioned?” You’d already given your statement to the police. 

“Questioned by who?” The nurse looks over to your parents apologetically.

“It would probably be best if they questioned her alone.” Begrudgingly your parents left the room, two Avengers taking their place. 

x

“So one of Rumlow’s goonies attacked this girl?” Sam looked down at the file in his hands. The car scenery changes from the woods and forest of upstate into the skyscrapers and metal of the city. Bucky’s stomach was churning, but he faced the window and didn’t speak. 

“She was also one of the vics at Central Park.” Steve directed the car down the exit ramp, into the heart of the city. Bucky felt like he was going to vomit. 

It’s her. 

“So dude gets a good look at her, thinks she’s pretty, follows her for days afterward?” Sam speculates. Bucky’s neck feels hot. 

This whole car feels hot. He cracks his window. 

“I’m gonna wait here.” Steve and Sam look at him in the rearview, Sam even turning in his seat as Steve navigated a spot in the parking garage. “What?”

“Everytime there’s something Hydra we can’t pull your nose out of it,” Sam began, “But all the sudden, ‘I’ll wait in the car?’” 

“Are you good, Buck?” Steve’s voice with more concern, killing the engine. 

“No.” He grumbles, “I’m not.” He couldn’t go in there. He just couldn’t.

x

“If it’s okay,” Steve began, “We would just like to ask you a few questions about the man who attacked you.” It must have been a big deal, the guy who followed you. Why would two Avengers be in your hospital room if it wasn’t. 

“Of course.” The chill of the hospital room was slowly warming, a nervousness was growing. Who was this guy? And why did he attack you? 

“When did you first notice he was following you?” The Falcon, he stood further back, almost against the wall. His arms crossed and legs in a wide stance. Captain America was in a much more comforting position, sitting in the chair next to your bed, leaned forward, hands clasped and elbows on his knees. 

“Uhm, well… I was in the hospital for a day or two after the attack.” You shift in bed, suddenly wildly uncomfortable, “I was on the subway, headed home, and he was with two other men.”

“Did they also follow you off the train?” You shake your head, 

“No the first night I saw them, they seemed to know each other, but they stayed on their phones most of the time. The man who attacked me was the only one who left at my stop.” The two men had been on the subway sporadically, not always with him. But more often than not. 

Whoever they were, they must have thought you were dumb enough not to notice. But you were also dumb enough to think your paranoia wasn’t real. Maybe you should be going to therapy once a week instead of twice a month. Maybe then you would have learned the difference between markers of past trauma and an actual gut feeling of danger. 

“What did he look like?” 

x

Bucky’s leg anxiously bounced in the backseat. His fingernails were no longer interesting and his phone, no matter how often he checked his apps, gave him no solace. 

“Maybe just a peek.” He reasoned, leg halting its movements and he looked out the window of the car to the door, entry to the hospital. You were so close, his heart was pounding. He steps from the car, but pauses at the glass sliding doors long enough for them to automatically close again before finally venturing inside. 

Bucky hated hospitals. The smell reminded him of the lab. How sterile it was. How cold. It made him wildly uncomfortable. 

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. The arm. The one he knew that your tattoo resided because that’s where his was, covered in a cast and a sling. There was bruising down the same side, starting under your right eye and trailing down and disappearing into your hospital gown, before reappearing on the small sliver of skin between your sleeve and the top of the sling. 

This was his fault and he knew it. 

But he’ll handle it. 

He’ll make sure that Rumlow and his thugs were safely behind bars on the Raft. Either that, or buried in a shallow grave somewhere in Siberia. 

“She might have seen something.” Steve slammed the car door and Bucky pretended to be preoccupied with his phone. 

“We’ll have to tail her for a while,” The engine starting, Sam continues, “He’ll come back.” Bucky’s jaw clenched.

He wouldn’t give him the chance. 

x

The paranoia. The fear. It was palpable. You constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d bought another deadbolt for your door. Checking the windows twice before bed. You bought blackout curtains. As soon as the sun set. Windows checked, curtains pulled. Deadbolts are always locked. 

You didn’t leave unless you had to. The two Avengers didn’t comfort you, why was this guy after you? 

“We’ll do everything we can to find him,” The Captain, just like the words of Ross, aimed to soothe but it really showed you that they had no idea either. 

“Maybe you should take a break,” That’s what your therapist said, “Go stay with your parents for a little bit.” But you couldn’t. Because it felt like he was winning. And you were far too stubborn for that. 

You started carrying a knife.

It bounced against your hip as you walked, to and from work. The heavy metal you’d run your fingers across if you felt too anxious to continue. The routine helped. It helped the stress, the depression, the anxiety. You found yourself missing the comfort of the tattoo. 

It gave that to you. 

You never noticed it before now. When by force you can’t actually see it, now you wanted to see it more than anything, but your arm was encased in an inch of plaster and was still terribly sore. It was a comfort to know that there was someone out there that would have been able to help you through this. But you didn’t know who they were, or where they were. And it didn’t matter anyway. 

What good would you be if you couldn’t help yourself?

“Have you felt an increase in thoughts of this nature?” Your therapist was a nice woman who wore her hair messily piled on top of her head. Gray streaks throughout and proud of them, always in all black and always had a fresh iced coffee whenever you met with her. You’d been seeing her for years. 

Insecurity about one's soulmate often led a person to seek help, the strange self-loathing and anxiety that grew as a teenager was what gave you a final push in college when you turned to abusing adderall in order to tackle your busy schedule and just keep you from thinking all together. 

“Just since the assault.” And that was true. You’d been so good for such a long time. 

“Progress isn’t linear.” She always tells you. And you’ll try not to criticize yourself even further for falling behind. Or what you think is falling behind. 

You try to hold those ideas close. Because your soulmate isn’t who is going to help you get past this. You are. 

x

It didn’t take long. Not for the Winter Soldier. And definitely not for a man who was personally wronged by a sloppy thug who left tracks like mud on white linoleum. 

It was his soulmate they were after. The tug on his heart strings as he remembered the way you face looked, eye socket swollen and black because of this asshole’s fist. The anger that bubbled and rolled, acidic and hot in his gut. 

It took him less than 36 hours to find the guy. 

“What does Rumlow know?” Fuck all if Brock thinks Bucky Barnes was going to call him Crossbones. The man’s eyes were rolling, head lolling, drool coming from the corner of his mouth, strapped to a medical table that Bucky could still feel against his back. He sighed in frustration. Maybe he hit the guy a little too hard. That’s fine. They had time. 

This place gave him the creeps. The facility that he’d searched with Steve and Sam just a day or two ago. It was eerie seeing it empty. The way he remembered it, back in the 90s when he was here, right before Howard and Maria, it was booming with personnel. Men and women devoted to ‘the cause.’ Hydra’s better tomorrow. 

The better tomorrow that he helped shape. 

Natasha set the bomb off. He was cleaning up the rubble. 

“What does Rumlow know?” The man’s eyes met his, fearful, a hard swallow. Tongue seeking out the tooth that Bucky already ripped out. The cyanide. Another hard swallow, his fate resigned. Bucky leaned forward, the metal chair rusted and screaming in protest. “What?” Bucky couldn’t help but bite, “You had no problem beating a woman on the street.” And now the coward wanted to be afraid. “Start talking.” The tools Bucky kept on him lay out on the medical cart. Pliers and a couple different knives. A pick he used to unlock doors. Mostly for show. 

Mostly. 

Fingernails were the worst. That’s what Bucky started with, but the guy was more of a coward than he thought. He got two fingers in before squealing, 

“He just wanted a picture of the tattoo.” Fat blubbering tears. Snot across his nose. “He wanted to see her soulmark.” 

“Well?” Bucky pressed on the raw flesh, hard. “Did he see it?” If Rumlow saw the tattoo, if he had a picture, and he knew where you lived, he had to move fast. The man squirmed, crying, “Did he?” Bucky yelled. 

“Yes.”

x

You wondered how these kids got so talented. Truly. A ten-year-old who tells Gordon Ramsay that he’s making a Bearnaise sauce. Like what even is a Bearnaise sauce? 

From the comfort of your home, a blissful day off, you’d gotten a lot done. Probably one of the most productive days you had in a long time and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that cleaning your entire apartment ceiling to floor and listening to an audio book completely cleared your mind. It gave the sinking feeling in your gut that you couldn’t shake a twelve hour break as well. 

This ramen that took three minutes to make from a plastic bag looked paltry in comparison to ten-year-old Grace’s filet mignon that she was presenting to the judges, artfully drizzled with her Bearnaise sauce, but it was the best you could do planning to go grocery shopping tomorrow. 

The broth was hot, spilling on your pants as a series of hard knocks met the wood of your front door. Anxiety spiking. Stepping from the couch, you backed away from the door. Setting the bowl on your counter,you backed yourself down the hallway, towards your bedroom where you knew your phone was charging on your night stand. 

The person stopped knocking, voice coming muffled through the door. “Y/N, this is James Barnes.” The Avenger? Your steps halting, you stood in the doorway of your room, straight ahead was your front door. “I have reason to believe you’re in danger.” There was an internal struggle. Was this guy telling the truth? Do you go look out the peephole? You weren’t even sure you knew what this guy looked like to know if it was him or not. What if this was a trick? What if the man who assaulted you was on the other side of that door?

Heart racing you took a step forward, heading to the door to look through the peephole when you were yanked back hard enough to hurt your neck. A scream leaping from your throat as a hand covered your mouth, a strong arm pinning your arms down and keeping you from lashing out. 

“I’ve got you,” A whisper, “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” You could feel your body trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.  “That’s not James Barnes.” There was a slight breeze from where your bedroom window was open. “I’m gonna let you go, but you’ve got to listen and trust me to get you out of here. Can you do that?” His body was hot against your back, the hand over your mouth cold and metallic. James Barnes had a metal arm, didn’t he? You could feel yourself nod, the man releasing you slowly and letting you take a step away before turning back to face him. 

His hair was short, ruffled, with a thick scruff on his face. And the bluest eyes you’d ever seen. 

“Let’s go.” The banging on the door resumed, but this time, the hinges were bending, metal warping with each hit. The man you were supposed to trust jumped onto the windowsill and held out his hand to you, “We don’t have a lot of time.” Your eyes flit between the front door, now splintering, and the open metal palm of the man who broke into your apartment. Adrenaline rising you made a split second decision, the door falling off its hinges you let the man pull you out of your apartment and down the fire escape. 

It was close, almost too close. 

Apartment window locks, the old ones anyway, were an easy lift and pop out of place. The banging on your front door gave him cause for alarm, but you’d already been making your way back to him. Steve had a lot of questions, but was enroute nonetheless. All he had to do was get you as far away from Rumlow as possible. 

“They’re on their way to take care of the guys breaking down your door,” He explained, trying not to think about how soft your hand was in his. “Steve, Sam, and a couple other agents.” 

Your eyes were shifty, he knew you didn’t trust him, at least not all the way. 

“Are you okay?” The swelling was gone from your eye but it was still a violent shade of blue and for a second Bucky thinks he went easy on the thug before turning him over. 

You’re three blocks away, the late night traffic and noise was a little disorienting. A car was in front of you backed into an alley, blacked out windows, the Avengers insignia in gray paint on the side. Maybe this guy was the real deal. 

“I’m fine.” Truth was you were terrified, your feet were cold and you were surprised you didn’t step in glass with how fast he’d dragged you three blocks without shoes on. He gave you an odd look before opening the passenger door and gesturing for you to get inside. There was hesitation. His eyes locked with yours, seeming to debate something before taking a step closer to you. 

You stepped back. 

“I need you to come with me.” His voice was soothing, reassuring, but you still couldn’t quite be bought. 

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of situation you got me out of back there, but this is all a little too strange for me,” There were police sirens, flashing lights sped down the street behind you, towards your apartment. You look back at the man in front of you, arms wrapped around yourself and toes now going numb. “I just don’t know exactly who I can trust right now.”

The metal digits moved to his sleeve, tugging the fabric upward, his pale skin a stark contrast against he black ink of bleeding hearts.

His bleeding hearts. 

Your bleeding hearts. 

“Trust me,” he says, voice desperate, “Please.” And in an instant, you did. 

It made sense.

It made complete sense. 

He was over eighteen when you were born, because he was born a century ago.

 There was silence in the car as you left the city. Both unable to speak. Where did you go from here? You weren’t ready for this. You don’t know if you could do this. Your hands were shaking, your shoulder was aching and you suddenly felt wildly uncomfortable. 

There’s an expectation with soulmates. Is it what he expected of you? Like was this you jumping into the deep end of dating and meeting families and getting married and spending every waking minute sappy and in love?

You weren’t ready.

You couldn’t do this. 

You were safe. That’s all that matters. Bucky’s hand hurt from gripping the wheel so tight. His heart was racing now that you were so close. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do here. Does he start a conversation? Does he tell you about what just happened? No. He doesn’t want to scare you more than you probably already are. Rumlow is a conversation for later. When there can be a rational conversation outside adrenaline and fear. 

But where do you go from here? Bucky didn’t know. Should he be asking you on a date? Are you going to ask him on a date? His anxiety spiked thinking about it. He just started doing well enough in therapy to go back on field missions, he didn’t know if he was ready to take on a committed relationship. The rolling feeling in his gut was back. 

“Here,” The compound was sleek and minimalist, “If you want to rest until the rest of the team gets back, it might be a while after interrogation and processing.” A room for you to sleep in, the sun already sunk below the horizon well before you were pulled hastily from your apartment, the fatigue finally settling in. 

“Uhm, thank you,” You didn’t know what to say, but it seems like he didn’t know either. 

“I’ll uh…” He took a step back, “I’ll come get you in the morning.” Okay, okay. “If you want to take a shower, it’s right through there. And there’s spare clothes in the drawers.” Avengers sweats and hoodies. Nondescript undergarments. 

The bottom of the shower, arm hanging out the side. You didn’t know how long you sat there, the water never went cold. But by the time you were done and you slipped under the covers the rest of the world just seemed to disappear. 

X

“She’s your soulmate?” Steve looked at his friend incredulously. “Bucky why didn’t you say anything before?” He was stubborn, and he didn’t know what to do at the time. 

“I don’t know.” Steve was annoyed. Hands on his hips, wide captain stance, authoritative voice annoyed. Disappointed dad annoyed. 

“We would have had a strict detail on her,” He paced, “We could have brought her here for christ’s sake.” But Bucky didn’t want that. He wasn’t ready for this. 

“She didn’t seem really interested in it Steve,” he shrugs, “And neither am I.” Sam scoffed, leaning back in his chair. 

“You don’t want to be with her?” A strange look, “She’s literally made for you, and you for her, and you don’t want to be with her?” Sam’s eyebrows pulled tight in confusion. 

“That’s not how soulmates are supposed to react to each other.” Steve adds. Both men didn’t understand. When they found their soulmates everything seemed to click into place. They weren’t as damaged, they weren’t as scarred. They wouldn’t understand. 

“I’m not ready.” Bucky’s chest felt tight. “I’m just not ready. Not yet.” 

x

You never had to see him. This Rumlow person. Crossbones. The next morning, when you woke up, James Barnes was waiting for you at the door. 

“Are you hungry?” He seemed nervous, but so were you. He leads you out into the main common room. A plate of food covered in a metal lid, eggs, bacon, toast. A plate set aside for you from their early breakfast, he explained that most of them wake up for early morning training. Paperwork for the incident yesterday. It was quiet. Awkwardly so. But you didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like neither did he.

He busied himself making a cup of coffee and you watched him move. The ease in which he moved about this kitchen in where you imagined he made his meals, where he bonded with those other Avengers. Celebrities. It seemed surreal almost. Domestic. It’s why in all of those magazines they take candids of celebrities going to the grocery store, coming from the gym, faces clean of makeup. 

They buy food. They work out. They have wrinkles and acne. Just like us. 

They make coffee. They have awkward conversations. They don’t know what to do. Just like us. 

It’s why your Mom loved watching reality tv shows. Not because she liked the people on them, but because sometimes it was interesting to see how the 1% lived. What they worried about. What their worldview was. How black and white they saw things. 

You briefly wonder what an Avengers reality show would be like. 

This was your soulmate. 

The person created for you. And he drinks his coffee black. He had dark circles under his eyes. His arm was black, gold detailing, shaped just like his flesh arm. You were trying to remember the guy from the history books, what he looked like, but fifth grade was so long ago and you were more worried about growing out the bangs you’d cut at home in your bathroom. 

It was hard to believe. 

But it was real.

And right on his arm as he turned to join you at the kitchen bartop. You felt your back straighten, your fork continuing its path, pushing eggs from one side to the other. What do you do now? Say something? Anything? You couldn’t tell if he didn’t want this as much as you or if that’s just how he was. Silent, standoffish, the gears in his head turning and turning with thought. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the movement of your fork. Seemingly snapping out of it when you lay your fork to the side, his eyes met yours, a forced smile. 

This isn’t what you expected, but the bubbling in your guy was going to spill from your lips before you could possibly help it,

“We don’t have to do this.” Whatever this was. 

You’ve seen soulmates meet and you’re sure he’s seen soulmates meet in his lifetime. It wasn’t uncommon. Passing on the street, they see the soulmark, tears, hugging, maybe even a kiss if the pair was passionate enough. At your place of work it happened once with a new hire. It happens, constantly, around you. But this wasn’t like that at all. 

He lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank god.” Your heart clenches, a feeling of rejection, smothered down, swallowed with a sip of orange juice. 

“Wow.” His mouth opens and closes, 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair, “I’m just not ready for this.” An understanding,

“Me either.” You both mirrored each other, relaxing against the chair back. You stare at one another for a minute, the silence comfortable for the first time. There was a simmer of rejection in the acid of your stomach, like maybe if he’d just been into it. If he wanted to be together now and do those things together now, you’d push aside your fears and leap into it. 

But this was being an adult? Making the choice that you need to make and not the choice that you want. 

There was that feeling there, you wanted to ask him questions. You wanted to know everything, this curiosity nagging at your brain. But this was good enough for now. 

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” He asked. You let out a heavy sigh, realizing you wouldn’t be able to go back to your apartment for a bit. The door was bashed in “...and the fight was in your living room.” So the entire front of the apartment was mostly destroyed. “You won’t be able to go back there for a while.” You mourn the $300 you’d just spend finishing the living and dining area. “I mean, I’m not going to kick you out.” He continued, “But I’m not sure you really want to stay here.” 

“I don’t.” He watches you rub your eyes and lean over, elbows on the table. “I can go stay with my parents for a little while.” 

He didn’t think about how you would have living parents. His were long gone, buried in a cemetery behind the church they’d gone to their entire lives. It gave him pause,

“If that’s what you want to do.” 

“It is.” 

There was silence for a moment more, Bucky debating something before beginning, “I uh… just got cleared for field work, I still have some stuff I need to work through before I can be in this relationship.” Shifting awkwardly, “Fully.”

He watched your eyes widen a fraction, before releasing a sigh, “I understand that,” You lean towards him, “It’s weird cause my whole life I thought you were gonna be some guy old enough to be my father.” 

“Technically I’m old enough to be your great-grandfather.” A laugh, the tension vaporized from the air. 

“I wish I paid more attention in social studies,” You shake your head, “After central park,” A swallow, “I started to have nightmares and I felt so paranoid, and then that guy attacked me on the street, and now…” 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” His eyes soft, fists clenched under the bar top, “That’s my fault.” 

“I know they were after you,” you could see it across his forehead, the way his shoulders were tense, the guilt, “but it’s not your fault they attacked me, and central park was just a coincidence.” 

“I know.” He knows. “But I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.” You paused, not knowing to say, but it makes sense. His line of work was dangerous, and it means that you might be put into danger every once in a while. 

“We will just have to find new ways to cope then.” You could see the appeal, the way his eyes were looking down at the bartop, then snapped up to yours. It felt like the breath was knocked from your lungs. Is this what it feels like?

If he had asked you in that moment to stay, you would have, without hesitation.  

“If you need anything,” You couldn’t see his eyes properly in the dark of the car parked outside of your parent’s house, “Just call, and if I don’t answer send me a text.” 

“Okay,” you look down at your hands in your lap, then over at the front door, the porch light on and you could see the TV through the window, your parents probably watching Brooklyn-99 reruns and trying to stay awake until you arrive. 

“Hey,” His hand slipped into yours, pulling your eyes back to his, “You can stay at the compound if it would make you feel more safe.” 

“I think I’ll be okay,” He’d taken you back to your apartment, behind the caution tape and helped you pack a suitcase before driving an hour outside of the city, well into New Jersey. Your belly fluttered as he pulled the suitcase from the trunk, carrying it to the front door where the two of you now stood under the porch light. 

“Just check for me,” He said, “You’ve got my number and Steve’s.” You did. “You’ve got the number for the compound direct office.” You did. “Okay, okay.” A pause, “Let me just give you Nat and Sam’s numbers too, and Shuri’s.” You huff a sigh as the phone is taken from your hand, numbers quickly punched in. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He looked at you from beneath his lashes, thumbs quickly entering the last few digits. 

“If anything suspicious happens, and I mean a neighbor takes their dog on a different route, someone passes the house one time too many…”

“I’m gonna be okay Bucky.” Your heart warmed with the concern, but you were also comforted by the fact that you’d agreed to take this slow. 

“This is more for me than you, more for my peace of mind.” You could understand. He let out a deep breath, eyes meeting yours while he handed the phone back. There was a beat of silence, a creeping tension creeping up your spine, something pooled in your lower belly. Not awkward, not awkward at all. Something else. You took a step closer to him,

“Can I just do one thing before you go?” Bucky’s tongue peaked out, wetting his lower lip, rosy and pink. “I’m just-”

“Yeah,” A whisper. His fingers were soft on your arm, warm. And you pressed your lips to his. Hard to explain, how right it felt. Like you had a puzzle you’d been working on all your life and you were close to finishing, putting the whole thing together and he came up and handed you a piece you didn’t know you were missing. But it wasn’t complete yet, not yet. 

Lips parting as you kissed him again, that pink tongue brushing against your lower lip. A breath away, “I should go.” Another kiss, soft and languid. 

“Yeah.” It was hard to catch your breath, setting back down on your heels, stepping back. The air suddenly chilled, your body missing his warmth. 

“If you need anything…” You smiled as he took step off the porch, mouth grinning, stupid and sweet. 

“I’ll call.” 

.

.

.

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[beelsnack]

Hi! I saw your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write a little reaction of the bros + undatable (if you do that) in hearing mc singing or seeing mc dancing and and find out they're very good at it. Thank you in advance, lots of love!❣

*bursts through the wall* Choir kid mode, activate!!

Hope you like it, Nonnie!

Lucifer: The human tended to be...noisy.

That wasn’t the right word, and Lucifer knew it wasn’t the right word, but he couldn’t think of another way to phrase it. They were always humming a Human Realm song he didn’t know, tapping their foot to a beat he couldn’t hear, swaying to a rhythm he couldn’t feel.

So he shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that they had quite the siren’s voice.

He had been in the process of leaving the House of Lamentation to attend a meeting with Diavolo. The fact that the human’s bedroom door was left slightly ajar didn’t even register to him until their voice reached him, making him pause.

Although they were merely singing for themself, and thus not putting all of their power behind their voice, he could still tell how strong it was. Clear, bright, and mid-range. Without fully meaning to, Lucifer closed his eyes and listened. He didn’t know the song or the lyrics, but that didn’t make their voice any less captivating...

Until a harsh clattering interrupted both of them.

Their D.D.D vibrated against their desk, cutting off their singing and breaking Lucifer out of his spellbound state. With a shake of his head, he continued on, smiling softly. Their human was just full of surprises, weren’t they?

Mammon: “Nu-uh, you’re lyin’ to me.”

“Swear to Go - oops,” the human cut themself off with a laugh. “Guess that’s not a thing I should do down here. But for real!”

Mammon snorted, folding his arms behind his head as he flopped back against the human’s pillows. “I can’t see it.”

The two of them were parked on their bed, having long since tuned out the high school anime that Levi had begged them to watch. They had managed to make it to the part where the main love interest stumbled upon the shy nerdy character practicing in the choir room and revealing that they had some Broadway-worthy pipes before they got bored.

“I’m telling you, I was a hardcore choir kid!” the human smacked Mammon on the shoulder with the pillow they had been cuddling with. “I did competitions and everything!”

“That might be the lamest thing you’ve ever told me.” Mammon snickered. “Did you wear robes and shit too? Ow, hey, stop hitting me!”

The human gave him one final pillow-smack to the face. “Well, I WAS going to show you the video of the solo I did, but…”

“Aw, hey, don’t be like that.” he whined, popping up. “You know I’m just messin’ with you.”

After a few more minutes of poking and prodding, Mammon finally convinced them to pull up the video. All of the choir members were dressed smartly in black, but even in uniform, his human outshone them all. They stood apart from the rest, in front of a microphone, and belted out the most heartfelt lyrics Mammon had ever heard. It was a little bit tear-jerking - not that he was tearing up or anything!

“Well?” the nudged him with their elbow as the video finished up. “What do you think?”

“I’ve heard worse.” he shrugged, pointedly turning his head away so they wouldn’t see the awestruck look in his eyes.

“That’s Mammon-ese for “you’re the best singer in the Three Realms,’ right?” they grinned impishly.

“Oh, shut it, human.”

Leviathan: This was all Levi’s fault.

About a week ago, one of his idols had released a video of their dance practice, and, like the incorrigible fanboy that he was, Levi had proceeded to geek. He had sent the video to them, accompanied by flurry of keysmash and emojis that came in so fast that their D.D.D had vibrated off of their nightstand before they could catch it.

After the initial fangasm, Levi demanded they watch the video and tell him what they thought. They had learned from experience that he wouldn’t shut up until they gave him a thesis paper about the video, so the tapped on the link.

It was definitely interesting choreography, and it looked fun. After watching it - with copious amounts of bouncing and swaying to the catchy beat - they flipped over to their messages.

Human: Man, that looks so cool! I kind of want to learn it!

Leviachan: Hah! Good luck, normie, this band is renown for their intense dances. Even I couldn’t do it!

Challenge. Accepted.

With a satisfied smirk, they watched as the file sent to Levi. It definitely could have been better quality, but considering they filmed it with their D.D.D camera perched on a stack of books, it looked pretty damn good.

Levi hadn’t been kidding, the dance was intense. Their muscles were sorer than they were after they worked out with Beel. But, nothing motivated quite like spite, and it was completely worth it when Levi responded.

Leviachan: You…but…how?!

Leviachan: It’s only been a week!! How could you have memorized it that quickly?!?!

Leviachan: More importantly, how were you able to do it?!

Leviachan: I know demons who have injured themselves trying to learn these moves!!

Levichan: *gasp* Don’t tell me you were an idol up in the Human Realm?!

Levichan: Hey, answer me already!!

Satan: He has definitely seen this in a movie somewhere.

The human was looking for a specific book - they were struggling to find research for their Ancient Curses course, and if anyone had a helpful book, it would be Satan. He had offered to help look, but they insisted that they could do it themself.

He doubted that, but never let it be said that their human wasn’t a tenacious little thing.

Watching them climb up the library ladder made his anxiety spike, but they handled themself just fine. Slowly but surely, he went back to his reading, keeping one ear tuned into the sounds they were making somewhere behind him.

That’s when he heard it.

He thought he was imagining things, or maybe the human had stumbled upon one of the books that spoke to you when you opened it. But, as he listened closer, he realized it was their voice.

“Here’s where she meets Prince Charming,

But she doesn’t know it’s him ‘til chapter three…”

There was no holding back his laughter even if he wanted to. He didn’t even need to look to know that they were sliding around on the ladder like that scene from Beauty and the Beast.

“What are you doing over there, Belle?”

“I want much more than this provincial life!”

Asmodeus: He couldn’t believe his luck.

Every time he had invited the human out to The Fall, they had staunchly refused him. They fed him every excuse in the book - they had to study, they were tired, they weren’t feeling good, etc. Even if he couldn’t work his magic on them, he could tell their reluctance was a result of fear of being surrounded by intoxicated demons.

Being around the brothers was one thing - they trusted them quite literally with their life. But other low-class, desperate demons with no such loyalty? Asmo didn’t blame them, and he didn’t push the issue.

But this time, they had said yes.

He didn’t know what changed, and frankly, he would care about that later. For know, he reveled in the fact that he got to see his cute little human all dressed up to go out! Ooh, they looked absolutely delicious.

And drunk.

“Well?” he asked over the pulsing beat of the music. “Are you socially lubricated enough to join me on the dance floor?”

For a moment, they stared at their cup before knocking it back and setting it on the table with a pronounced thunk. “Yup.”

Just as they arrived, the music changed. Slowly, sultry, and sexy. For a moment, Asmo thought they were going to shy away, but that liquid courage was doing it’s job phenomenally.

They moved with grace and elegance that reminded Asmo of the devotees at the ancient temples of Greece. He hummed a little when they accentuated the beat with a teasing roll of their hips.

“You’ve been holding out on me, darling,” he pulled them close to murmur in their ear.

“You think so?” they giggled. “If you like this, you should see me give a lap dance.”

Beelzebub: There was a little corner in the kitchen that had officially become the human’s herb garden.

Little pots with all kinds of green growing out of them were lined up neatly on the windowsill above the sink, and the plants from the Human Realm that needed sunlight that the Devildom didn’t have were placed against the wall beneath them, basking in the sunlamp they had bought on their last visit home.

It was a nice addition, and Beel could always tell when the human used their herbs in cooking. Something about it just tasted..better. He couldn’t quite figure out why.

Well, until now, that is.

He had just finished his morning workout and decided to grab a little pre-breakfast snack. With the sweat he worked up, he earned it. Swiping his forearm across his face to wipe off some of the sweat, he rounded the corner into the kitchen.

The human was standing with their back to him, tending to their garden. No matter how many times they reminded themself, they still forgot to buy a watering can, so they were still using a cup to water the plants. They took their time at each pot, giving them the appropriate amount of water and…

Singing to them?

Beel paused, hand around the door handle of the fridge. Yup, they were definitely singing to the plants, gently inspecting the leaves as they did so. Their voice was soft and sweet, and as Beel watched them,he could have sworn the plants looked a little more cheerful as they passed over them.

Beel felt a little more cheerful too.

Belphegor: “Did you seriously ask me to come over just so you could use my lap as a pillow.”

It was more of a statement than a question, and Belphie barely opened his eye enough to give them a lazy glare. “Yes.”

“Why.” they sighed, slumping back against the wall.

“You have a comfy lap.”

“You have, like, fifty pillows.”

“And none of them are your lap.” Belphie rolled over onto his back to look at them fully. Despite the bored expression he had, they could see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “If you’re going to keep making noise, sing me a lullaby.”

He had been almost entirely joking. So when they started to actually sing, he felt his heart do something funny.

They had a soothing voice. Not too high, not too low…a perfect lullaby voice, actually. Without really meaning too, he felt himself start to doze. Before he actually fell asleep, he nuzzled closer to them.

“I wasn’t expecting you to actually be a good singer. Keep going.”

Diavolo: “I thought you said they didn’t teach ballroom dancing in Human Realm schools anymore.”

They couldn’t help but laugh at the situation they were in. Lord Diavolo had taken to having weekly “meetings” with them that were a thinly veiled excuse to grill them about whatever human custom he found himself fascinated with. Now it felt more like a gossip session instead of a meeting with the Crown Prince of Hell.

The week prior, they had lamented the fact that they were attending all of these formal gatherings as the Human Representative of the Student Council, but didn’t know any of the waltzes or other dances that seemed popular. It made them feel out of the loop.

So, they shouldn’t have been surprised when they arrived at the Demon Lord’s Castle to find Diavolo waiting for them in the ballroom.

“They don’t,” the human giggled as Diavolo spun them around. They had long since given up on memorizes steps and were now basically just twirling around the dance floor. “I guess I’m just a quick learner!”

“I should say so.” Diavolo’s smile was nearly blinding. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were classically trained!”

The human spared a glance down at their beat-up sneakers and jeans with a hole in the knee. “Really?”

“Clothes have nothing to do with it, my dear,” Diavolo suddenly pulled them closer before lowering them into a dip. “You could be dressed in rags and I would still find you mesmerizing.”

Simeon: “May I have this dance?”

Lucifer was still trying to hide them behind his back, but the human was having none of it. They ducked from beneath his arm and took Simeon’s offered hand. “Of course.”

It was hard not to burst into laughter at the angry sputtering and protesting behind them. Even Simeon couldn’t quite hold back the amused grin on his face. “I think you were supposed to refuse me.”

The two of them stopped in the middle of dance floor as the music started. “I like to keep things interesting.”

Simeon laughed, taking the lead. The dance wasn’t too complicated, almost boring. Until Simeon leaned down to whisper in their ear.

“What do you think? Shall we have some fun with them?”

They followed his gaze over to where the brothers stood fuming. Based on the air changing colors, they would bet good money that Satan was attempting to curse Simeon.

“Let’s.”

Simeon led them into a spin, and when they came back, he pulled them flush against his chest. He looked like he was about to give them instructions, but they leaned into him with an impish grin. His blue eyes widened slightly as they put their weight on him, sliding their leg up to his hip in a decidedly scandalous manner.

It didn’t fit the song at all, but the angry squawking from Mammon and the whine from Asmodeus was music to their ears.

“You catch on quick.” he laughed.

“I have to use those dance lessons for something, don’t I?”

[waveypedia]

Scroldie Week Day 1 - AU (Duck Crossing AU)

Scrooge McDuck had always risen with the sun. Whether it be in his ancestral home of Scotland, his longtime residence of Duckburg, or his current home - the formerly-deserted island of New Horizons. His daily life had wavered and changed many times over the years, but this one routine remained the same.

Sometimes, Scrooge would be joined on his early risings by one of the island’s residents - most frequently his honorary niece Webby, the island’s Resident Representative. She loved to be awake at odd hours, solving an adventurous mystery or tracking an elusive bug. Or his nephew Donald, when he was on shore leave (or fell off his boat and got stranded on the beach), whose insomnia meant he knew the night well. Dewey, like Webby, loved to be awake at night just for the fun of it - although Scrooge had implemented a 10pm curfew on his nephews’ store so they would be well-rested and have a clear head for the next day of business.

While Scrooge loved the company of his family, blood or not, he preferred it most of all when he was alone. He would watch the sun rise slowly over New Horizons and revel in his successful business and daily adventures on his island with his family. Island life, despite its token serenity, could be quite hectic sometimes, and Scrooge took great comfort in those rare moments of peace in the liminal sunrise space. He was safe and happy and successful, and so was his family. Aside from adventure and money, what more could a duck need in life?

(That was a lie. There would always be more in life for Scrooge to discover, and he would never be fully at peace. But sometimes, it was nice to push those lingering doubts away.)

This morning was just like one of Scrooge’s picturesque favorites - he sat, alone and peaceful, on a bench overlooking the beach. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, humming with the promise of fish and treasure and adventure. Scrooge drummed his fingers impatiently against his fishing rod, but otherwise simply waited for the fish to bite his superior bait. While he waited, he watched the sun rise and the sky burst in a symphony of beautiful colors that would have Webby and Huey painting one of these days.

The slight breeze and the rustle of leaves and early-morning bugs, as well as the waves, were the only sounds penetrating the serene morning air. Scrooge leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, content in his moment of peace and quiet before the hustle and bustle of island life.

Then a loud ship’s horn honked, shattering Scrooge’s picturesque morning into a thousand pieces.

Scrooge groaned and frustratedly ripped his fishing pole from the water, probably traumatizing some poor random fish, and stuffed it ungracefully in his pocket. He snatched his cane from the ground and stomped in the direction of the ungodly noise, muttering angrily under his breath. “Blasted boats, blasted sailors, blasted- RUINING MY MORNING-“

Sailors. It better not be Donald and his Navy crew again. Scrooge’s fists trembled with anger, ready to give them a piece of his mind, nephew and his friends or no. Fethry and Gladstone, his other seafaring family, wouldn’t fare any better (definitely worse, in Gladstone’s case).

Webby, likely roused from her sleep by the horn, sprinted in the direction of the shops (probably to see the boys). She paused as Scrooge passed, but didn’t cross him as he stormed towards the culprit of the sound.

“Sir?”

Scrooge slowed his pace to a brisk walk as he passed his workplace. His hired assistant, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, rushed up to his side. Scrooge glowered at him, but evidently it was not enough.

“Yes?” He kept his tone clipped and as free of his anger as he could manage.

Fenton tapped his fingertips together nervously. “Remember the person you had me issue a warning about over the morning announcements a couple days ago? The, ah, dangerous one?”

Fury washed over Scrooge as the pieces clicked into place. He nodded once, curt and sharp, and stormed off to the secret beach.

The sight that awaited him was just what Scrooge expected, but that in no way made it welcome.

“Hooty-hoo, Scroogey!!!”

A small boat, flying a telltale gold flag, had docked on Scrooge’s beach. Annoying, although he was significantly less concerned about the boat than its inhabitant.

Goldie O’Gilt, his old business partner. And current rival.

She beamed smugly at him from the deck of the boat, radiating barely veiled triumph. “Nice to see you too, old man!”

“Goldie,” Scrooge groaned, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. This was going to be a long day.

He allowed his beak to curve slightly into the smallest of smiles. “It’s good to know you haven’t been arrested again.”

“Awww,” Goldie replied, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “It almost sounds like you care about me, Moneybags.”

I do, Scrooge whispered internally, but his pride refused to let him admit it. “What do you want with my island?” he asked instead, rough and sharp as always.

That was the key to dealing with Goldie. Stay tough and guard your heart. It kept the pair in their precarious game with each other, dancing around their feelings, both staunchly refusing to be the first to break and confess.

(She cared too.)

“Who’s this, Uncle Scrooge?” Dewey, loud and boisterous, had probably been investigating the mysterious disturbance to the island’s serene morning peace, and the cryptic stranger that brought it. He stared up at his uncle with wide, curious eyes.

“I’m just here to sell some pretty art, Scroogey,” Goldie called before Scrooge could reply - probably on purpose, to shape Dewey’s first impression of her. “I’m sure those kids of yours would appreciate some quality art pieces. Difficult to find, too!”

Scrooge growled. “Where did you steal them from?”

Goldie waved a hand breezily, dismissively. “Oh, hon, not all of them are stolen,” she responded, faking hurt. “I can’t believe you would assume I would steal art!”

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Oh come now, Goldie. Forgeries, then?”

Huey perked up and hefted his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook from where he, Louie, Webby, Lena, and Boyd were crouched behind a bush nearby. “I can evaluate them, Uncle Scrooge!”

Scrooge didn’t miss the way Louie’s eyes lit up at the idea of selling forgeries or stolen art. Best to nip that one in the bud. “Good, Huey. That’s part of your job, in case someone donates Goldie’s art to the museum.”

Goldie huffed and slipped off her boat. “Whatever. You have my word that all my art is one hundred percent real. And a lady would never go back on her word, now would she?”

Louie and Webby ran after her, eyes shining as the latter peppered her with enthusiastic questions and the former watched closely. Lena, Huey, and Boyd took the opportunity to join Dewey and Scrooge at the crest of the secret beach as they watched the trio leave skeptically.

Dewey tugged gently on Scrooge’s sleeve, grabbing his uncle’s attention. “You never answered my question. Who is she?” Scrooge noticed Huey flipping open his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, pen posed carefully to add a new entry.

“That’s Goldie O’Gilt, lad,” he replied gruffly, turning on his heel to follow Goldie and the rest of his kids back to the plaza. “My old business partner.”

The kids lit up with a barrage of boisterous questions, but Scrooge answered them on autopilot. He was too immersed in thinking about Goldie. What her re-emergence would mean for him. For them.

They had seen each other briefly in the years since Scrooge stormed angrily out of Goldie’s business. He wanted to make his money square, even if it landed him destitute. He was an honest man.

Unfortunately, it had forever soiled things between them, ruining opportunities and pathways Scrooge never would have thought to mourn before he left.

But now…

Maybe now, with his successful business, and Goldie so desperate she’d come to leech off of it, maybe he could mend the bridge.

He’d just have to make sure she didn’t scam any of his residents first.

~

happy scroldie weekend!! this ended up having a little more worldbuilding than scroldie but whatever, i honestly forgot about it so i wrote this today haha. it’s not the best quality sorry

duck crossing au comes from the delpad discord!! it’s such a cool au, and Scrooge and Goldie fit Nook and Redd so well!! i had fun exploring some of the other roles too. i don’t think Fenton fits Isabelle that well in job description, but their personalities are the closest match.

[norcumii]

I get to blame @dharmaavocado for this. See, the tags here:

god look at his little smug face see this is why time travel aus fascinate me because just imagine cody adn rex going from dgnified jedi master obi-wan who is a hot mess but like a stately hot mess to this shit with his babyface and his sass come on COME ON I need it sw: galaxy far far away

....Yeah, so I couldn’t help myself. Under a cut because it ended up longer than intended, and only accomplished with the cheerleading of the ever amazing @dogmatix and @deadcatwithaflamethrower. <333

Gen time travel (I know, I was shocked too) under the cut, mostly just the setup for shenanigans, plunnie is TOTALLY up for adoption. ^_^

*****

Cody had once thought that Rex making friends with Kenobi was one of the most frustrating things to have ever happened to him, and he was responsible for most of an army in a galactic wide war. Somehow, all the weird shit in the whole damn war seemed to happen to either the 212th, the 501st, or both.

Cody knew this for a fact: most significant incident reports passed by his desk at least once – the joys of rank, and effectively outranking even most Jedi. That was due to a certain ridiculous Jedi taking on leading more of the damned war than he actually could, but that was why he had Cody around.

Sometimes he wondered how the Order had even survived before they had clones around. Probably not well. 

He shook the mental bitching off, because as entertaining a distraction as it could be, it was probably time to get worried about their actual situation. He and Rex had gotten separated from everyone else - Rex chasing after Skywalker, Cody having paused to grab someone’s lightsaber and robe that he’d dropped, again, and in the process he’d fallen far enough behind he’d just gotten swept up in Rex’s...thing. 

He hadn’t even grabbed Kenobi’s shit due to the Jedi not being able to get them: the ability to rub someone’s nose in the moronic behavior was all the reason he’d ever need. 

But then the Seps had sent in some kind of bombing run, forcing him and Rex to take cover in what he’d thought was a cave, but a few feet in it was more obvious that it’d been carved and reinforced by sentients once upon a time. Probably good, given they’d had to retreat further in as the bombs got closer. 

Helmet lights picked up nothing moving beyond dust and spiders, nothing strange pinged on their HUDs, and the only weirdness was that both of them had fuzzy interference on visuals for the same 2 seconds. They came out the other end of the tunnel awhile later, long enough for sounds of fighting to have died off, leaving nothing but that peaceful, too quiet air that made hackles rise because shit had to be going down soon. 

That quiet was broken by two figures hurtling out of the trees and blurring past them at Force-enhanced speeds, dark cloaks billowing out behind them. Cody swore, wasted a moment to share a look with Rex, then they took off after stupid fucking Jedi. 

After all, if the Jedi were running like that, there was either something very nasty with lots of teeth and/or explosions right behind, or something very fun with lots of fighting ahead. Always best to follow Jedi going hell bent for leather. 

They didn’t even make it a few meters before the shorter figure skidded to a halt, whirled, and ignited a lightsaber. The taller one kept going, as the Jedi in an unfamiliar battle stance called out with a very familiar voice, “Friend or foe?”

Oh what the FUCK. Cody stared, trying to squelch down a kneejerk flare of anger at a ridiculous babyfaced Jedi. Last time he’d seen the General clean-shaven like that had been after the Hardeen fiasco, and he was still very pissed about that.

Thankfully Rex was in front of him, less personally furious about Hardeen-related bullshit, and holding up his hands. “Friends,” he called out, though he sounded more than a little off. Cody didn’t realize why until the General eased up, lightsaber less pointed in their direction and better illuminating his face.

Oh FUCK. ‘Baby-faced’ was right. This wasn’t the General. He was young, somewhere in the twenty range maybe, though Cody had never been good at sorting out ages for natural borns. There was a scrawniness to him that was bizarre, a softness that he’d honestly never even imagined for all that he knew the General hadn’t sprung forth, fully aged and already being....Kenobi. He’d been a padawan at some point, and judging by the long braid hanging over his shoulder — 

....Oh no. Cody moved on autopilot, punching Rex in the shoulder. “I am never auhorizing your stupid gods-awful bullshit reading material ever again,” he hissed across a private channel. He allowed himself a moment to wallow in resentment of a fucked up galaxy, ridiculous Jedi bullshit, and the unfairness of the worst holonovels in the entire GAR getting dumped on his head. 

Then he pulled himself together. “We’re with the Order,” he called out, shifting to show both the robe he carried and the lightsaber at his hip. 

The shiny that was Kenobi straightened up further, but damned if he didn’t look miffed. “I thought they couldn’t spare any backup.”

“We’re not backup,” Rex said before Cody could stop him. “We have no idea why we’re here.”

“Less socializing, more running!” a woman’s voice called out from where the other Jedi was, though it didn’t sound right to have been that person. Kenobi leveled a glare in that direction, huffing a sigh. 

“Easy for you to say, you’re getting carried the entire way,” Kenobi muttered, then gestured. “Come on!”

This, at least, was familiar. Charging headlong through entirely the wrong kind of forest for the planet they had been on, chasing after their damnfool Jedi, following their lead to just miss trees and other obstacles. 

By the time they ducked into the crumbling, roofless walls of what had once been a small house, Rex was showing signs of Skywalker’s more aggressive fighting style that involved less running around all the damn place. Cody had spread the word that most 501st should be getting in more practice with endurance running, but he was willing to admit that everyone needed to sleep sometime. 

Didn’t stop Rex from giving him a knowing glare from where he was leaning against a wall, catching his breath. 

The taller Jedi finally held still long enough for Cody to get a good look. Older human, long brown hair starting to go gray, typical Jedi Master beard, entirely too tall, and carrying some woman. She was around Kenobi’s...new age, blonde hair in a braid — 

Oh no. Cody’s brain tried to short out again, because he recognized Duchess Satine Kryze when she was glaring him in the face. The big Jedi let her down, and she just ramped up the hostile look at them. “You’re dressed like Mandalorians - what kind of Jedi would do that?” she asked, suspicion practically radiating off of her. 

In the end, the problem was that ‘with the Order’ apparently didn’t translate as ‘affiliated with the Jedi’ instead of ‘Jedi.’ But they were a lot more likely to deal with weird shit like blasted time travel than the ordinary person, had more authority than two random clones-who-shouldn’t-exist-yet-if-this-did-involve-time-travel, and had reason to be carrying around a random lightsaber and Jedi robe. 

He allowed a second to consider the headache about trying to explain that, and instead answered, “Corellian.” He’d heard plenty from the General about how that branch of the Order basically did what it damn well pleased, most often accompanied by Kenobi’s polite, genteel version of whining ‘why do they get away with all this shit while I get yelled at for it?’

All told, there wasn’t even a noticeable pause. However, at the exact same moment Rex chimed in with “Agricorps.” They shared a look — the Jedi probably couldn’t read the body language to suss out Cody’s glare, though Rex sure as hell could — and Cody cleared his throat. On the plus side, it did explain only the one lightsaber.

“We’re trying to blend in,” he tried. Habit had him removing the bucket, Rex following his lead. It was interesting to watch the reactions: no recognition, which was probably a good thing; mild curiosity on the older Jedi’s face; a funny, unidentifiable blink from Kenobi, and surprise for Kryze. 

“You’re twins?” she asked, getting a twitch out of Rex.

“Same father,” Cody declared, staunchly not making eye contact with him. 

“I didn’t think the Corellians sent many to the Agricorps,” Kenobi said, and it was starting to get under Cody’s skin that he couldn’t tell what was off about the General. Kid. Whatever. But something had turned odd about how he’d been looking at Rex, who just lifted his chin in challenge. 

“Nothing wrong with the Corps, and nothing shameful about making sure everyone gets food and taken care of.” Great. Now Rex was sounding odd - not defensive, but...cautious. Like he genuinely cared about farming and the like. Cody had nothing against logistics and those who made sure the army kept marching, but the way Rex sounded it was — 

Oh. Rex had to have intel he didn’t: given the chain of command, Cody tried to maintain a bit more distance from Kenobi. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the man, he just didn’t need to know his life story. If nothing else, he didn’t have time to be confidant and amatuer counseling along with everything else. Was one of the reasons the frustration from Rex making friends was worth it. Let him deal with that sort of thing, with the bonus that there was enough difference in rank that Rex could call him on his shit without it causing issues later. 

Cody coasted through introductions (“No titles, please. Like I said, we’re trying to fit in.”), paying more attention to potential plans. They were indeed on Mandalore, there was still a civil war going on, and Jinn and Kenobi were trying to keep one of the last members of House Kryze alive - in spite of some of her own best efforts, given how she didn’t have a solid grasp of tact quite yet. 

They either had to find some way back, or find some way to sabotage the war to keep it from ever happening in the first place — that would be harder, since they couldn’t just assassinate Dooku and consider it a done deal. There were politics involved, galaxy wide politics that weren’t in Cody or Rex’s skill sets, and he’d never made any kind of study about the history involved. Rex might know things; he read anything that held still long enough for him to download it onto a datapad, but it wasn’t like that was common reading material sitting around the barracks. 

There was the uncomfortable thought that once Kryze was an established power — or figurehead — she might be a useful ally. 

Meanwhile, they just had to stick to pretending to be Jedi — less the moving things with their minds Jedi, more the good at fighting and intuition type. It wasn’t like the Jedi would be able to do more than suspect things were hinky without a blood test, after all, so it was just a matter of avoiding that. 

He knew Kenobi had spent a year running around Mandalore protecting the young Duchess, and given what they did know about history and combat, they could handle this. Whatever weird fuckery their Jedi had inadvertently dragged them into, they could handle this. 

“So how long have you been on the run?” Rex asked, dragging Cody’s attention back to the mess at hand. 

Kryze let out a melodramatic sigh and flopped back against the wall. “Two entire weeks.”

…no, no they were pretty well fucked. 

~end

(Though you KNOW that at some point Obi-Wan loses his lightsaber, and Cody just sighs in resignation and passes him the one clipped to his belt, because that’s just how things go. Obi-Wan, however, Does Not Know What To Do With This.)

[loganscanons]

plus one

Characters: Lotus and Ivan, mentions of Jasper and Ava

Summary: A few quick stories. Ivan gets invited to Jasper and Ava’s wedding, Lotus is his plus one, and he looks good in a suit. Lotus definitely isn’t falling for him. The fourth story is ~spicy~ and nsfw.

Standing at the kitchen island, Lotus sorts through the day’s mail, tossing unwanted junk mail into a pile. She stops flicking through, her finger hovering over the edge of a colored envelope. She picks up the card and looks closely at the scrawled words. The addressee is Ivan, and she doesn’t recognize the people listed on the return address.

“Hey, Ivan,” Lotus calls. “There’s mail here for you.”

With silent footsteps, Ivan ambles into the kitchen, and gives her a questioning frown. Lotus tosses the envelope across the counter, and he catches it before it slides off the edge. His eyes flick over the return address. The confused look only deepens. Looking up from her own mail, Lotus watches as he tears the envelope open and pulls out a flat card. 

In the year and a half, give or take, that they’d lived together, Ivan had never received a letter. The mail he receives isn’t her business, but this is a new development, and she can’t help but be curious. She chews the inside of her lip, watching his expression go from confused to neutral, his features relaxing.

“What is it?” Lotus asks, trying not to sound too interested.

He tosses the card back to her and signs, <<Wedding invitation.>>

“A wedding invitation?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow. She picks up the card. A save-the-date for Jasper Salvador and Ava Torres’s upcoming wedding. “Who are Jasper and Ava?”

<<We went to camp with them.>>

Lotus looks at him blankly. She stopped going to camp six years ago, and she hardly bothered to know who people were then. By this point, she’s forgotten about most of the people she did know. Jasper and Ava don’t ring any bells.

“Who?”

<<He is son of Apollo,>> Ivan signs. <<She is...I do not remember. It has been long time.>>

Lotus looks closely at the smiling couple on the card, the two caught in a moment of mirth. The woman looks familiar. Her brown locks tumble over her shoulder, and there’s something about her smile that she recognizes.

“Oh,” she says as realization hits her. “She’s friends with JJ.” 

It’s Ivan’s turn to have a blank look. <<Who?>>

“JJ Vasquez. He has a twin sister, Harper. They’re Hecate kids,” Lotus explains.

<<I do not know him.>>

Lotus shrugs, “Are you going to go to the wedding?”

He hesitates, then signs,  <<Probably.>>

She turns toward the fridge and pins the card beneath a cactus shaped magnet. Under her breath, she mutters, “Such a waste of money.”

--

Lotus sits at the kitchen table with one knee up, surrounded by open books and lined paper covered in color-coded notes. Absentmindedly, she twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, tugging lightly. The sun went down hours ago, but she hasn’t noticed, too focused on her work. 

Ivan appears beside her and places a plate of sliced fruit on the table. His presence, looming above her, pulls her out of her hyper-focused headspace. She looks up at him and gives him a small but appreciative smile. 

“Thank you,” she says. “What time is it?” She lifts a few books and shuffles through her papers until she finds her phone. It’s almost midnight. She rubs her eyes with her palms and sighs. 

“I have to get up early tomorrow,” she mutters. She picks up a sliced strawberry and pops it in her mouth, and looks up at him. Recently, he’d started to bring her food when he knew she’d gone hours without so much as looking up from her work. He would place the plate beside her without comment, then disappear to the couch or his room, unless she asked him to stay. The gesture makes Lotus’s heart flutter. 

“Sit down with me,” she says, and reaches beneath the table with her foot to push out the chair nearest to her. Obediently, he sits.

They sit in comfortable silence as Lotus eats the sliced fruit. She still has her knee up, her heel on the edge of her chair, and Ivan sits in the eerily still way that he does. There’s food left on the plate when she gently pushes it away from her, toward him. She’s not hungry. Blowing out another sigh, she starts to gather her notes and close her books. She needs to go to bed if she wants any sleep. Instead, once her papers are in a pile, she remains in her chair, her cheek pressed against her knee.

When Ivan notices she’s not intending to return to her work, he asks, <<What is plus one?>>

“What?” Lotus asks. It sounds like an incomplete math problem. 

<<Plus one,>> he repeats. <<Jasper says I have plus one for his wedding.>>

“Oh,” she says. “That means you can bring one person with you. Like a date.”

There’s a small, unidentified flutter in her stomach. She staunchly ignores it.

He nods slowly, looking vaguely into space. <<Do I have plus one?>> he asks as he turns his gaze back to her. 

“I don’t know,” Lotus says, sounding more annoyed than she means to. “Do you?”

Maybe he does have another woman in his life. She doesn’t own him. How should she know what his plus one options are?

<<I do not know,>> he says. His eyes widen, and he looks like a child who’s been placed in an unexpected situation, slightly panicked. He holds his hands up, ready to sign, hesitates, then asks again, <<Do I have plus one?>>

“What are you asking me?” Lotus asks. She suspects he’s asking her to be his plus one, but she doesn’t want to be wrong and seem like she expects him to invite her. She doesn’t expect him to. They’re just roommates who fuck sometimes. Besides, he knows her feelings about weddings. They’re dull and a waste of money.

<<Do I…>> he wavers, then starts again. <<Are you...do you want to be my plus one?>>

Lotus stands abruptly, nearly knocking her chair over. She pushes the chair back into place, stacks her notes on top of her books in a neat pile, then turns to him. “I don’t like weddings,” she says, her tone bordering on exasperated. 

His shoulders slump and the look in his eyes suggests bewilderment, unsure what to make of her reaction. 

In a soft voice, barely above a whisper, she says, “I’ll be your plus one.” She leans down to kiss his temple, then flees from the kitchen, disappearing into her bedroom. Ivan is left sitting at the table alone, staring at nothing for several minutes as he tries to understand what just happened.

Lotus stands above her bathroom sink, scrubbing her face more vigorously than she should. The conversation has left her feeling tingly and annoyed, for reasons she can’t place. Nor does she care to place them. The way he’d invited her was just annoying. That’s all. 

--

As much as she hates going out on formal excursions, especially to weddings, Lotus enjoys getting dressed up. It’s nice to feel pretty and dolled up. She turns, examining herself in the mirror. This is the first time she’s had a chance to wear this dress; a dark olive, off-the shoulder dress that reaches her knees. A slit runs from the bottom of the dress to her upper left thigh, showing more leg than she usually does. Her jewelry is all silver. A silver chain necklace with a shining white jade pendant, a gift from Connie, rests above the collar of her dress. She wears a matching white jade bangle on her wrist, and her earrings are thin silver chains. 

Lotus smooths her dress. She looks good. She spent a long time on her make-up, much longer than she usually does, and it was well worth it. Even if she has a boring time at the wedding -- which she will -- at least she’ll get to feel pretty for a while. 

She turns away from the mirror, grabs her clutch that’s lying on the sink countertop, and flicks off the bathroom light.

“Hey, Ivan,” she calls as she walks into the main room. “Are you ready to go--oh,” the last syllable falls from her lips as a soft gasp. 

Lotus has always been attracted to Ivan. Even at camp, when she was an uncomfortable teenager and she hardly spoke to him, she’d thought he was attractive. The night when they met in the bar years later, the attraction reignited. The tattoos, the piercings, his toned arms, the dark expression that kept people away. He checked nearly all her boxes. 

But this...this is a look she’s never seen on him. The suit flatters him, hugs his arms and thighs, fits the breadth of his shoulders. The tattoos on his wrist poke out beneath the olive button down she bought for him as he readjusts the cuffs. He looks like a villain in a spy movie. It’s hot. He’s hot. There’s a stirring feeling in her abdomen, and her body warms. She didn’t want to go to the wedding before, and she wants to even less now. She wants to stay here in the hotel and appreciate Ivan in a suit.

She makes herself look away and take a deep breath; try to cool the warmth in her cheeks. Lust, especially for Ivan, isn’t new for her, but something about this feeling is different. More and more lately, she’s noticed her heart fluttering when Ivan smiles at her or laughs at something she said. Little things, like cleaning the kitchen or folding the laundry, make her want to wrap her arms around him. As she ogles him in his suit, that feeling, whatever it is, mixes with the lust. She ignores it and moves toward him.

“This is a good look on you,” she murmurs as she approaches him. A smirk plays on his lips, as she places her hand on his lapel. She gives him a lingering kiss, which he returns without hesitation. Her heels make her one inch taller than he is, a deliberate choice on her part, and she doesn’t need to tilt her head up to kiss him.

There were rules, albeit unspoken ones, that they both followed when Ivan moved in. One of their silent agreements was that physical intimacy would be limited to the bedroom. Or the couch. Or wherever they decided to fuck. There were no gentle kisses on the cheek, no hand holding, no nuzzling affectionately. But the rules are becoming obsolete. More and more often, Ivan will reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear, or she’ll kiss his head as she passes him on the couch, or she’ll fall asleep on his chest after they’ve done nothing more than talk. Lotus needs to reset the boundaries. She doesn’t want to give Ivan the wrong idea. But that’s a problem for another day.

Lotus holds her hand out to Ivan, inviting him to take it. “Shall we?” she asks.

--

The door shuts behind Ivan with a soft click. He’s hardly had a chance to lock the deadbolt when he’s grabbed by the collar and tugged forward. His eyes widen, but Lotus doesn’t see that. Her lips crash against his, and she stumbles back against the wall, pulling him with her. The momentary surprise wears off, and he puts his hands on her waist and leans into the kiss. 

The wedding was torture, and not just because it was a wedding. Ivan was beside her for most of it, looking incredible, and seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil. Never had she so badly wanted to drag someone into a private room and tear their clothes off. Any physical intimacy in any remotely public place didn’t interest her. The thought of getting caught mortified her. But Ivan looked so good, and she didn’t want to be at this wedding and make small talk with strangers, and he looked really, really good. The interactions with strangers and distant acquaintances started to grate on her, so she’d quietly asked Ivan to step away with her, just for a few minutes. She told herself she only intended to get some air, to get away from people for a bit. 

The moment they found a secluded spot, Lotus broke her own rule about doing anything in public. She pulled him into a kiss in a way that was embarrassingly desperate. She felt like a horny teenager escaping a high school party to make out with her crush for seven minutes in heaven. Her cheeks flushed as Ivan’s hand moved up the slit her dress. She stopped him before he could go any further, though she would have loved nothing more than for him to continue. Just not in public. She smoothed her dress, fixed her hair, and reapplied her lipstick, which fortunately wasn’t the kind of lipstick that left marks. Without a word to Ivan, she returned to the wedding, hoping her cheeks weren’t noticeably red.

Now, she’s going to finish what she started. She runs her hand up the edge of his suit jacket, and tries to tug it off his shoulder, not willing to break the kiss for long enough to look at what she’s doing. Ivan’s hands leave her waist just long enough to pull the jacket off. The garment falls to the floor. He took his tie off the moment they’d left the wedding, and popped open the top button of his shirt, freeing himself from the restricting fabric. In the quiet of their hotel room, Lotus fumbles with the button beneath it. 

Ivan doesn’t resist as she puts one hand on his chest and pushes him away from her. He takes a step back and gives her space. She wants to look at him. Her eyes rake over his body and the arousal that stirs inside her is overwhelming. It’s almost unfair how good he looks, the button-down outlining his muscles, the fabric parting to reveal his chest where the shirt has been unbuttoned. His arousal is apparent through the suit pants. She could melt. With a shaky breath, Lotus runs her fingers through her hair and pushes it out of her face. 

“Come here,” she commands breathlessly, grabbing the collar of his shirt again. The shirt looks so good on him; she wants it to stay on for a bit longer. 

He moves with her, braces one hand against the wall beside her head as he falls forward, and puts the other hand on her waist. As her lips part for him, the hand he has against the wall moves to cup her cheek. He moves his right hand under her knee and pulls her leg up to his hip, which she hooks around him. His hand slides up her thigh, up the slit in the fabric, and his mouth moves down the length of her neck, nipping lightly at her skin. She tilts her head back with a gasp and tangles her fingers in his hair.

Ivan pushes up the fabric of her dress, causing it to bunch around her hips. He slides his hand between her thighs, and his fingers ghost over her underwear. She knows he can feel how wet she is. The jolt that runs through her as he touches her makes her wobble. 

“Hold on,” she gasps, pressing her palms against his shoulders. “I need--” He’s already drawn back. 

Still balancing on one leg, she tugs off her high heel, then tosses it toward the door. She pulls the other shoe off, then leans back against the wall, and gives herself another few seconds to drink him in. 

“Okay,” she says with a goofy, inviting smile. She feels giddy. 

She holds her hands out to him, and he takes them, but he doesn’t move closer, instead taking a moment to look her over. The look in his eyes as his gaze moves up her body makes her tingle. She likes being ogled by him. Likes knowing that she’s the reason his pants feel tighter. While she’s aware that his favorite look of hers is when she’s wearing nothing at all, she also knows how good she looks in this dress. 

Impatient and unwilling to wait any longer, Lotus pulls Ivan toward her by his belt loops. Her hands move to his belt buckle, and she tilts her head to kiss him. She unbuttons his pants and frees him. His hands are on her again, pushing her dress higher up her hips. His fingers linger on the waistband of her underwear as he kisses her neck. With no protest from her, he pulls the underwear down her thighs. The fabric drops to her ankles. She steps out of them and kicks them to the side. 

Pinned between Ivan and the wall, Lotus hooks her legs around him. He grips her thighs, holding her up, and she guides him into her. Another gasp escapes her lips as he rolls his hips. She tugs at his hair. If he could, he’d be moaning. 

It doesn’t take long for Lotus to start coming undone; maybe it’s because she’s been waiting for this, wanting this, thinking about this for hours. Rushes of pleasure surge through her. She presses her face against his neck, breathing heavily. She can smell his aftershave, and that sends her over the edge, making her entire body tremble. Her fingers grip his hair tighter, and she lets out a quiet whine as she leans her forehead against his shoulder.

Ivan starts to pull away, but she shakes her head still resting on his shoulder, her hair tickling his face. “Uh-uh,” she gasps, her hands running through his hair. “Finish.” 

Not needing to be told twice, he thrusts his hips again, and she whines and presses her lips against his throat. The overstimulation makes her dizzy in the best way. Her breath is heavy and warm against Ivan’s neck as she gasps and tries not to whine. She hasn’t stopped trembling, and the pleasure hasn’t stopped. Her breath hitches. 

Lotus leans her head back against the wall as Ivan spills inside her. He kisses her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, his fingers digging into her thighs. For a dizzying, blissful moment, time stands still, her overwhelmed with pleasure with him still inside her. He breathes heavily against her chest. 

Slowly, Lotus lowers her legs, her arms still wrapped around him, her head still tilted back against the wall. Her legs feel like jelly, and she wobbles, but Ivan grips her waist, keeping her upright. Lotus giggles and runs her hands through her hair. Later, she’ll blush at the thought of her giddy giggle, but right now, she’s too blissed out to worry about anything. 

“That was fun,” she whispers, as her eyes fall closed. 

For a moment, his hands leave her, and she makes a quiet noise of protest, not opening her eyes. Then he lifts her again, and she leans against him as he carries her to the bed. She lands gently on the mattress, Ivan carefully moving with her, her legs gripping him. 

“You should wear suits more often,” she says. She gazes up at him. 

Ivan smiles and shakes his head in amusement, enjoying her happiness. Another jolt runs through Lotus, different than when Ivan’s fingers were moving over her. His smile makes her heart flutter. She pulls him down into another kiss, not acknowledging that she has butterflies in her stomach and can feel her own heartbeat.

[minijenn]

Universe Falls, Chapter 80, Part 3

Alsdkajsldkajdlasd I’m dying, Dimensions is done, I’m dead, I’m Dead MiniJen, my opus is complete and I’m Suffering from feels, enjoy this massive fucking painfest that you are NOT ready for enjoy (read it on ao3 or ff.net pls for formatting purposes) 

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/623372505375277056/universe-falls-chapter-80-part-2

***

Chapter 80, Part 3: Dimensions

EW YLLVLT XUUR, VG OACC IWEOVU SD QGKU WZCT'H PQNG WG VRJPK CAIMTL PPX BUDL'U LTJF QF WG YAXX RWE PGTE CSI BUDL CRR 9 LMA BSWPES XTM QRGT 

The very moment they fell into the Nightmare Realm, Stepper knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d been here before. His brief, yet awful time there had been, like most of his memories it seemed, completely locked away from the forefront of his mind. But now, upon getting so much as a single glimpse of the endlessly shifting spacescape that echoed with an unintelligible void of constant noise, it was as though a handful of sparse, somewhat distant recollections filled him as to what happened to him here. Here… in the place where Bill Cipher had cracked his gem, stolen his shield journal, and stripped him of any sense of who he was truly supposed to be. 

As for his gem, it was still pounding substantial pain through his body with every passing moment. He couldn’t suppress an agonized cry as he was tossed forward by the force of the portal closing up behind him, Mabel clinging tightly to one of his lower hands as they were essentially thrown through the weightless expanse around them. Neither of them had any time to gather their bearings, however, as they were both stopped almost immediately upon abruptly crashing into the group that had entered the portal just before them. 

Ford, Stan, and the Gems all reacted in apt alarm, spinning around with their weapons drawn to confront who they initially believed was Bill himself. Only to find the very pair they had been dead set on keeping out of this horrid place to begin with. 

“Stepper!? Mabel!?” Pearl gasped in obvious shock. “W-what are you kids doing here?! We told you to stay home!”

“W-we couldn’t…” Stepper huffed as he moved one of his shaking lower arms to cover up his damaged gem, even though that did little to stem the searing pain originating from it. “We… I-I had to come… I-I have to get my journal back…”

“Yeah, and I’m with Stepper,” Mabel brazenly agreed, tightening her steadying grip on his hand. “No matter what.”

Despite the resounding ache still reverberating throughout his body, Stepper managed to glance down at Mabel to offer her a genuine smile of gratitude, one that she readily returned. An affirmation of their shared resolve to get back what the fusion had lost, even despite the danger they both knew they might face in doing so. 

“N-no, you shouldn’t be here,” Lapis countered anxiously. “We need to get both of you back now.”

“We can’t,” Ford noted with an exasperated sigh. “The machine is set on a timer back in our dimension; it won’t reopen another wormhole home until about 24 hours in our time.”

“24 hours?” Stan asked incredulously. “You mean we’re stuck in this oversaturated wacko world for a whole day?”

“A day in our time, Stanley,” Ford corrected, annoyed. “Time moves differently here, remember?”

“Uh, so are we able to send these two home or nah?” Amethyst asked, pointing a thumb over at Stepper and Mabel. 

“At this point, it doesn’t seem as though we really can…” Pearl mused with a worried frown. 

“G-good, because we wouldn’t go back anyway!” Mabel proclaimed with an air of defiance in her tone. “Right, Stepper?”

Stepper could only nod weakly, his vision blurring as his gemstone unleashed yet another wave of unbearable anguish upon him. The stone flashed brightly, a strangled cry escaping him as he failed to keep himself upright, ultimately prompting Garnet to rush forward to catch him before he could fall into the empty space ahead of him. 

“There’s no time for arguing,” the Gem leader said staunchly as she kept a close, protective hold on Stepper’s trembling body. “They’re here now, which means we have to do our best to protect them. And to get his journal back as quickly as possible.”

A beat of fretful silence passed at this as everyone spared a concerned glance Stepper’s way, his condition seeming to worsen more with each passing second. The color of his gem was a dull, almost gray kind of pink, even as it flashed with a bright, warning white light almost constantly.  His skin was pale between the pink cracks torn across it, his eyes tightly shut against the chilling pain pounding through his veins. Pain that the others knew there was only one way to stop, or at least, a way they hoped would stop it. 

“Did I hear someone was looking for a journal?” An all-too-familiar voice suddenly boomed across the Nightmare Realm, catching the entire group starkly off guard from the very first word. Several of them gripped their weapons tightly, tensely glancing around the surrounding void for any sign of the dream demon they’d come here to confront. Only to find that Bill himself was hovering high above them, far out of anyone’s immediate reach. “Well, it’s your lucky day,” he remarked casually as he reclined coolly in the air. “I recently got my hands on a real page-turner that I might be willing to lend out… for the right price.”

The reaction to Bill’s unexpected, yet largely informal arrival was sharp and immediate on all sides. The Gems lashed out first, Pearl and Amethyst pushing themselves through the gravity-free air with their respective weapons drawn to land a starting attack against the dream demon. Before either of them could even get close, however, Bill swiftly disappeared, only to rematerialize seconds later not too far away from the group still positioned down below. 

“Hey, now! How about we-” Bill protested, only for Ford and Lapis to lash out simultaneously, the former with one of the several blasters he’d brought along and the latter with a series of successive waves of water. Even though Bill evaded these attacks just as easily, Garnet, who had just handed off Stepper’s safekeeping to Stan and Mabel, was next, rushing at him furiously with both of her gauntlets ready to land a devastating strike. Yet even so, Bill easily rebuffed her, sending her flying back toward the other Gems with a mere wave of his hand before he came to calmly hover above the disgruntled group of visitors to his realm. 

“Yeesh, have any of you ever heard of manners before?” he asked with a harsh scoff, his hands on his edges. “You don’t just barge into someone’s house and start throwing hands without a single, solitary hello, do you?”

“We do if it’s your house, chump!” Amethyst yelled, tossing her whip out as Pearl swiftly tossed her forward in another bold offensive. However, Bill managed to catch the end of her whip, carelessly flinging it behind him to send the purple Gem flying before deflecting the spear Pearl had sent his way in retaliation. 

“Boy, you all sure are riled up,” Bill noted with faux innocence. “I wonder what’s got you all so upset that you’d go through all the trouble of coming here to see me personally…?”

“You know exactly why we’re here, Bill!” Ford shouted, his blaster still trained on the dream demon.

“Return Stepper’s shield journal now,” Garnet demanded briskly, both of her gauntleted hands clenched in tight, unyielding fists. “Or else we’ll make you.”

“Ha! Make me?” Bill laughed mockingly, sizing himself down to a much smaller scale as he circled the group mirthfully. “Do any of you really think you stand a chance against me here, on my home turf? C’mon, get real. All you need to do is take one look at your ragtag little group of LOSERS and you’ll see why this whole thing is a very bad idea…” At this, Bill focused on the Gems, all three of whom had their weapons raised on a defensive guard as they eyed their old foe with mutual distrust and disdain. “First we’ve got the Crystal Chumps, who always THINK they save the day, but when they think they do they always find a way… to mess everything UP!” Easily provoked by such a cruel remark, the trio reacted aggressively, swinging their respective weapons in the hopes of landing so much as a single hit on the malicious dream demon, though as usual, he slipped away before they could get the chance. “And Sixer, it’s a no brainer why you’re here,” Bill remarked rather teasingly as he appeared just in front of Ford. The author wasted no time in firing a blast at him, though the dream demon disappeared before it could even come close to touching him. “I always figured you’d come crawling back here sooner or later. Still got some… unfinished business with me, don’t ya?” 

“I certainly do,” Ford remarked immediately, offering the dream demon a relentless glare. “And this time, I’m not about to let you get away with-”

“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, vengeance, blah, blah, I ruined your life, blah, blah, blah,” Bill mocked callously, only serving to aggravate the author even more. “You’re really starting to sound like a broken record at this point, Fordsy. Speaking of broken… Water Wings! Nice to finally meet ya face to face! Especially since I’ve heard so much about you from poor little Pine Tree.” Bill’s tone was cheery and bright as he glided over to Lapis, who had no qualms about launching another heavy wave of water at him right off the bat. 

“You!” she shouted, furious as she continued trying to pin him down, only for Bill to steer clear of each of her onslaughts. “You’re the one who hurt Dipper and Steven, you… you monster!”

At this, the blue Gem unleashed just about all of her raw fury upon the dream demon, calling upon her aquatic wings to supply her with plenty of water to send a specifically-targeted tidal wave his way. But as usual, even this incredibly powerful attack did little to daunt Bill, who simply dispelled the water completely with a quick, flaming barrier. 

“Monster? Aw, Water Wings, you’re too kind!” Bill quipped brightly, all but ignoring the intense glare Lapis was offering him as he turned his attention to Stan instead. “And wow! Looks like we’re meeting in the flesh for the first time too, Fez! Not that you’re a total stranger, I did go on a casual little romp through your mind a while back. Good times, good times.”

“You… what?” Stan asked, completely lost before he shook his head of this apparent distraction, raising his brass knuckles in preparation for a fight instead. “Whatever, who cares? You heard Shades: give the kids their magic book back and then get lost, freakshow!”

“Ohoho! So quick to the point! That’s what I like about you, Fez,” Bill remarked as nonchalant as ever. “You don’t waste all your time on tears like some people do.” He pointed back to Ford and the Gems, all of whom were on the verge of trying to land another hit on him, though they all ultimately took pause, realizing just how futile that would be. “But while we’re on the topic of useless crybabies…” In an instant, Bill disappeared, only to show up right alongside Mabel, who was in the midst of desperately trying to keep Stepper conscious, an effort that seemed to be all but futile as the fusion struggled to keep himself awake, much less aware of what was going on around him. “Hiya, Shooting Star! How’s Pine Bud doing? Looks like he’s realizing life’s not all it’s CRACKED up to be without his pretty little journal, huh?” Bill joked, catching Mabel off guard completely. For her part, she reacted quickly, throwing herself between the demon and Stepper, determined to protect him from sustaining any further harm. 

“S-stay away from him!” Mabel shouted as brazenly as she could manage, the others all rushing over to offer her some much needed support at a frightening moment like this. 

“Aw, it’s cute how you always try to act like you actually care about Rose Tree when you and I both know you DON’T, Shooting Star,” Bill accused with a twisted chuckle. “None of you do, you pretty much proved that by letting him come back here. But boy, am I glad you did…”

Without any warning, Bill vanished once more, but this time, he didn’t seem to reappear, at least not in anyone’s immediate field of view. Because instead, he showed up right behind them, or rather, behind Stepper, not saying a single word until he had the listless fusion right where he wanted him. “After all, I know you’re all just DYING to see how this whole thing is going to end!” 

The entire group spun around in an instant, freezing up in mutual shock at what had happened far too quick for any of them to even try to stop. Bill had returned to his towering size as he floated over all of them, but by far more alarming than that was what, or rather who he was tightly gripping in his massive hand. Stepper lay largely limp against the secure, unrelenting grip Bill had him in, his gem reverberating with pain that he’d largely gotten much too used to by this point. Pain that didn’t seem like it would ever really go away, no matter how much he desperately wished it would. 

“S-Stepper!” Mabel cried, trying to rush forward to get to him even as Stan pulled her back just in time. 

“Release him immediately!” Pearl shouted fiercely, her spear aimed directly at the dream demon. 

“Haven’t you already hurt them enough?!” Lapis added, just as desperate to keep any further harm from coming to the now-captured fusion. 

“Hurt him? Now what makes you think I’d do that?” Bill asked almost flippantly as he eyed Stepper almost cordially. “Rose Tree and I reached an understanding last time he was here; it was a pretty fair trade, all things considered. I let him leave with his life, and in exchange, he gave me THIS!” 

The shield journal flashed into existence, hovering lightly over the dream demon’s free outstretched hand and haloed in an unsettling golden glow all the while. The moment it appeared, Stepper weakly managed to glance over at it, a ripple of immediate desperation rippling through him at the mere sight of it alone. He could sense it, he could practically feel that book was what he’d been missing, what he’d been longing to get back for what seemed like his entire life, or at least what little he could remember of it. The missing piece of himself that he knew would finally tell him who he was truly meant to be, the key that would finally unlock the mysteries that were Steven and Dipper inside his mind. 

A tight gasp of pain escaped Stepper as he tried reaching for it, his upper arms fortunately free from the heavy grip Bill had around his midsection. As soon as the dream demon noticed him struggling for it, however, he was quick to pull them both even further apart than they already were, widening the gap of distance between them that, as far as Stepper was concerned, felt far too great. “Whoops! Sorry, Pine Bud, but I can’t let you go running off with this and all the precious memories tucked away in it,” Bill remarked, ignoring Stepper’s continued attempts to wriggle out of his hold. “Mostly ‘cause I wanna show you this really neat trick I came up with first! See, I thought reading up on every teeny tiny juicy little tidbit about each of your halves would be a blast; so many embarrassing, hilarious moments to pour over, all your doubts and insecurities and fears laid completely out in an open book. But see, after awhile, just reading about it all started to get sort of… boring. Turns out you were right before, Rose Tree; I already did know everything that’s in your journal. So… I figured instead of reading it, maybe I should just have a little fun with it instead…?”

Neither Stepper nor any of the others knew what Bill meant by this, until he happened to flip the shield journal open and, in a moment so quick no one could even think to try and stop it, he swiftly ripped several successive pages clear out of the book entirely. A shared gasp of horror from the group below was overtaken entirely by a sharp, intense scream of agony from Stepper, a scream that only grew louder and more anguished as Bill suddenly ignited the torn pages in his usual blue fire. For the fusion, it was an unbearable kind of pain, almost as though something had been ripped out of his very soul along with those pages, whatever that something was burnt to an unsalvageable crisp just the same. All memories he’d yet to uncover, yet to reclaim; and now, it was uncertain if he’d ever get the chance to reclaim them, even if he somehow managed to get his journal back at all. 

“Who could have guessed a magical fusion-formed journal would make such good kindling?” Bill quipped, only to narrowly pull the journal away just in time to avoid the spear Pearl had finally thrown at him. 

“How dare you do something like this to him, you… you despicable, awful, wretched-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Bird Brain, keep on squawking,” Bill rolled his eye. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“W-what happens to Stepper when you tear pages out of his journal like that?” Mabel dared to ask, clinging tightly, tearfully onto Stan’s leg. “Why does it hurt him?”

“Great question, Shooting Star!” Bill exclaimed, pulling another random page out of the shield journal, eliciting yet another anguished cry out of Stepper in the process. “See, at the moment, this book is all that’s left of who Pine Tree and Rosebud are since their empty headed fusion here clearly has no idea. So, whenever one of those pages has a little… accident,” With this, Bill swiftly burned that page completely out of existence, much to Stepper’s and everyone else’s distraught alarm. “That’s like a piece of one of them is being erased clean out of existence. Isn’t that one swell of a discovery? One that poor Pine Bud didn’t have a clue about, otherwise he might’ve thought twice about just forking it over like he did!”

“T-that’s because you tricked him!” Mabel protested with a newfound wave of fury as she pushed herself forward. “You tricked him and lied to him and didn’t give him a choice because you cracked his gem and left him with no other way out! W-why…?” she asked, choking on a tight, yet absolutely livid sob as she glared up at the dream demon hatefully. “Why would you do this to them?! What have they ever done to you?!”

Bill took pause at this, his eye narrowing specifically at Mabel so he could return her scowl much more icily. “I’ll tell you what they did, Shooting Star,” he began, his tone cold and dripping with malice. “They’ve gotten in my way one too many times. And unlike you and your dumb family and even dumber friends, I make it my mission to get rid of anyone who tries to stop me! Which is EXACTLY what I’m gonna do to every trace that’s left of Rosebud and Pine Tree, leaving THIS,” he shook Stepper violently at this, exacerbating just how sore the already battered fusion was even more. “Behind as nothing more than a dull, empty shell of who they used to be!” Despite the fact that Bill was growing red with obvious fury, he strangely cooled down quite quickly to resume his former casual tone. “Unless… one of you has something you’d be willing to trade in exchange for his journal that’s worth even MORE…?”

Bill’s sights settled directly on Ford at this, and in that moment, the author had no doubts in his mind about exactly what the dream demon’s endgame was with this entire scheme. An endgame that he wasn’t about to let him achieve, both for the sake of the boys and for the sake of the very universe as a whole. “O-oh?” Ford asked tensely, lowering his blaster just the slightest bit. “A-and what might that something be…?”

“I’m pretty sure you already know, Sixer…” Bill countered just as knowingly.

Ford did his best not to falter at this, especially as he realized Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were all offering him the same sort of scrutiny Bill was. At the same time, Mabel, Lapis, and Stan, as out of the loop as they were, all looked to the author in complete confusion, none of them having the faintest idea about the momentous trade Bill was basically forcing Ford to make. 

“Well, Ford?” Stan asked his brother harshly, expectantly. “Give this creep what he wants so he’ll give the boys their book back and we can get the heck out of here and finally put an end to this whole disaster.”

Ford hesitated, not wanting to reveal anything too direct about the rift, even though it was exceedingly clear that was what Bill was after. “I-I… can’t,” he said tightly, shifting a wary glance toward the dream demon. “I didn’t bring it.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Bill scowled, clearly disgruntled. “Why am I not surprised? Anything to keep it as far away from me as possible, huh, Sixer? Well, that’s A-OK! I’ll get my hands on it sooner or later, and until then, maybe I’ll just keep taking pages out of Rose Tree’s book instead!”

With this, Bill let out a cruel, sadistic laugh as he prepared to yank yet another handful of pages out of the shield journal, which was clearly starting to run low on them by all accounts. And while everyone else continued adamantly throwing their weapons at him in the hopes of somehow prying the journal from his grasp, Mabel found herself distracted by something else instead. Stepper had his sights set directly on her, pain still wracking his expression, yet there was a hint of hardened resolve there too, particularly as he subtly pointed down at the grappling hook in her hands. Mabel frowned in confusion, unsure of what he wanted her to do until he silently nodded over to his shield journal, forcing himself to remain quiet even as Bill carelessly ripped another page out of it. Finally, he pointed back at himself, his intention made clear, a plan that Mabel understood and was more than ready to carry out, especially if there was a chance, however small, that it could put an end to this madness once and for all. 

She made sure to take aim carefully, making sure Bill was thoroughly distracted with brashly taunting the others before she even thought about firing. And when she did, everything seemed to happen all at once, in a moment that passed both far too fast and nowhere near fast enough. 

Mabel’s aim struck true, her grappling hook latching onto the edge of the shield journal from its spot hanging above Bill’s hand. As she yanked her hook back hard, Stepper used every ounce of his waning strength to push his lower arms against Bill’s other hand, catching him off guard enough to finally break his steady grip on him. From the moment he was free, Stepper wasted no time, lunging for his now-freed journal, anxious, fearful, desperate to get his hands on it, to reclaim what was rightfully his. He strangely felt nothing the moment it fell into his grasp, but even so, he gripped it tightly the moment he did, refusing to let it be stolen from him again. Unfortunately for him, however, Bill wasn’t about to let him get away with it so easily either. 

“ROSE TREE!” he snapped, furious as he lashed out, latching onto the book’s back cover with a forceful hold. Even so, Stepper didn’t dare release the journal, even as Bill began pulling both him and the book back up toward him. A burst of raw, righteous anger flooded the fusion at this, over just how much damage this demented demon had done to him, just how much he’d taken from him, just how much he’d lost from it all. Which was why he had absolutely no qualms about lashing out as Bill yanked him upward, throwing his languished body up hard to land a direct, brutal kick right in the center of the demon’s singular eye. Bill reeled back in immediate pain from this, but still his hold on the journal didn’t give, and neither did Stepper’s as he was thrown back. Under that severe amount of stress on both sides, it wasn’t long before the journal, even as magical as it was, ended up giving way entirely. 

And in a sickening, sudden second, the shield journal was brutally ripped apart, clean down the spine, right through its center. 

An electrifying jolt of energy rushed through every single one of Stepper’s senses at this, his mind empty and his breathing completely stilled as he found himself falling away from Bill. From the other half of his shield journal, now torn entirely apart. The chaotic cries of alarm from everyone around him were practically deafened as he tightly hugged onto the half he still had, his gemstone completely engulfed in white as that glow began to spread across the rest of his form. And as he continued to fall through the empty void of the Nightmare Realm, a single, stark memory rang through his mind, through his heart, as clear as a bell. A memory of only half of who he used to be. 

“S-Steven…” he gasped, just shy of falling apart completely. 

The others were all stunned into silence as they watched Stepper split, the very sight of Steven and Dipper finally separated once more enough to shock them all. Both boys floated unconsciously near each other, their forced unfusing taking a heavy toll on them physically. Even so, the Gems wasted no time in rushing forward to catch them, Garnet being the first to retrieve their listless forms and pull them as far away from Bill as possible. Ford made sure to put even more distance between them as he fired a momentous blast at the already quite distracted dream demon, sending him flying with an enraged scream across the vast scape of the Nightmare Realm. Right along with the other half of the shield journal he still somehow possessed. 

In the brief moments of tentative peace that followed, no one wasted any time in checking on both of the boys to ensure that they hadn’t sustained any long-term damage. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were all closely gathered around Steven, the Gem leader holding him close as they all reeled from just how miraculous it was that they’d managed to get him back at all. Especially since just a few short hours ago they’d been wondering, fearing that they never truly would. 

“Steven!” Pearl shouted frantically, tightly gripping one of the young Gem’s hands. “Steven, can you hear me!?”

“Yo! Check out his gem!” Amethyst exclaimed with a bright, newfound smile. “It’s totally fixed!”

Sure enough, Steven’s gemstone was in pristine a state as ever, not a single hint of the formal brutal crack torn across it remaining it. His skin was also clear of its remnant pink scars, and his breathing was steady, even if his eyes were still closed as his body tried to recover from what it had just been through. “He’s whole again,” Garnet smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks as her visor disappeared. “That means Rose’s fountain did work on his gem, but its magic was delayed until his mind was healed. And now… it is.”

“S-so… will he-” Pearl was cut off as Steven began to stir in Garnet’s arms, letting out a soft, tired groan as his eyes slowly opened. 

“G-guys…?” he muttered, his vision largely bleary as he looked between the trio. 

“Steven!” all three of the Gems exclaimed in immense, tearful relief. 

“Are you ok, dude?” Amethyst asked, extending out a hand so both her and Pearl could help him properly sit up. “Do you, like… remember who you are again?”

Steven nodded slowly, still largely leaning against Garnet for support. “Yeah… I… I think so?” he replied, confused by the question. 

“Tell us your name, just to be sure,” Garnet said, her tone steady as her visor reappeared. 

“Uh… Steven Universe?” he answered, still trying to make sense of their concern. 

“A-and who were you just a moment ago?” Pearl pressed, fearing his short term memories might be lost. 

Steven paused for a long moment at this, trying his best to focus his scattered thoughts on what had happened and how they’d gotten here, to a place he recognized all too well: the Nightmare Realm. The very same place where Bill had cracked his gem and taken their journal and started a chain of events he couldn’t remember clearly, at least not on his own. “I-I was fused…” he said, a hand pressed against his aching head. “I was fused into Stepper with-”

“Dipper!” Mabel’s distraught cry echoed starkly through the air, startling Steven and the Gems in the process. They all turned to see the frantic scene beside them, where Mabel clung tightly onto her still-listless brother with Stan and Ford and Lapis all staying very close by his side. “I-I don’t understand!” Mabel shook her head, lightly shaking Dipper by the shoulders again, only for his head to dully loll forward instead. “What’s wrong with him!? Why isn’t he waking up?!”

“S-Steven’s fine!” Lapis tightly agreed, briefly sparing the alarmed young Gem a somewhat relieved glance. “So Dipper should be too, r-right?!”

The other Gems all gasped, Steven joining their wide-eyed stares of shock as they all gathered around Dipper as well. The young Gem’s heart sank with worry when he saw him, still completely out of it and unmoving, though that was probably the least concerning thing about his condition. His skin was frighteningly pale, and somehow still marred with the faint pink cracks that had been torn across Stepper’s. And to make matters even worse, his entire body was remarkably cold still, and he barely even seemed to be breathing, barely even seemed to be alive at all. 

“He should be, but…” Ford trailed off, entirely unsure of what to make of his nephew’s comatose condition. 

“C’mon, kid, you can’t quit on us after all this!” Stan urged, taking over where Mabel had left off in trying to physically rouse Dipper into waking up. Tears were clearly starting to well up in the conman’s eyes, tears that Mabel already had in hers and were just starting to find a place in Ford’s. The same mutual dread rising up in all three of them over a thought far too horrific for any of them to bear; the thought that Dipper might already be too far gone for them to save. 

They were all caught off guard, however, as Steven suddenly reached forward, his hand sparkling with telltale healing saliva as he gently placed his palm against Dipper’s cheek. His magic shimmered just as much as it usually did as it settled on his skin, and yet it did absolutely nothing to clear away the cracks covering it, much less awaken him. Steven drew his hand back, his eyes wide with emerging fear as he tried and failed to understand what might have gone wrong, why Dipper wasn’t recovering when he already had, what had led to this awful moment in the first place. 

“D-Dipper…” he whimpered, silently pleading with him to open his eyes, to move, to say something, to show any sign of life, however small. “I-I can’t… y-you have to-”

“Well, well, well, isn’t this an interesting turn of events…?” 

 The entire group jolted in genuine fear as they all turned to see Bill hovering over them once more, fully recovered from the previous attacks launched against him. The Gems were all immediately on high alert, with Ford joining them in forming a defensive line to keep Bill away from all three of the immensely vulnerable kids. Yet even so, the dream demon largely ignored them to keep his focus set on Steven and Dipper instead. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Rosebud!” he greeted the young Gem with a faux friendly wave. “It’s a shame Pine Tree didn’t seem to make the trip back with you. I wonder why that could be…? Something’s missing here, I know it is, but what…? Let me think… Oh! I know!” 

With a simple snap of his fingers, the other half of Stepper’s shield journal appeared hovering above Bill’s hand, still somehow intact despite how violently torn apart from its other half it had been. Steven in particular gasped in awe when he saw it, a sudden flood of memories striking him all at once, though as scattered and faded as they were, far too few of them came together cohesively. 

“I-is that…?” he tried to ask, unable to even finish the question before Bill blithely answered it. 

“Sure is! Its Pine Tree’s half of your fusion’s journal!” he exclaimed, tossing the book up into the air casually. 

“B-but… how?” Pearl asked, incredulously. “Steven and Dipper aren’t fused anymore, how can their journal still exist without Stepper?”

“I’ll tell ya how,” Bill began in clearly rising anger as he continued glaring down at the boys. “SOMEBODY had to mess up the windup to a perfect pitch, the ideal deal. You and Pine Tree just couldn’t just let yourselves die nice and peacefully, huh, Rosebud? You twerps ALWAYS refuse to die! Even when I had you cracked and on the ropes, even when you were both on the verge of being wiped out of existence forever, neither of you EVER know when to quit! Well, FINE! If I can’t get rid of both of you, then at least I can have the pleasure of watching ONE of your miserable lives burn out ONCE AND FOR ALL!” 

“N-no…” Steven gasped, not even needing to think twice about what Bill was planning. Panic surged up in him as he threw himself forward, summoning a shield and tossing it in a last-ditch attempt at trying to stop this, and knowing he couldn’t stop it all the while. “NO!” 

His shield accomplished nothing. None of the others even saw it coming. And it happened so quickly that there was nothing any of them could have done about it if they had. 

In an instant, a mere, momentary second, the other half of the shield journal, Dipper’s half, went completely up in flames. 

“No!” Mabel screamed, hugging Dipper tightly as she watched Bill burn every trace left of who he was. Along with every trace that might have saved him. 

For his part, Dipper remained completely still and silent, the only shift being the cracks in his skin finally fading, his body maintaining its deathlike pallor as all his memories were reduced to nothing more than mere ashes in a matter of seconds. Everyone else’s reactions were immediate, grief and outrage overtaking them all as they lashed out, each of them, from the Gems, to Stan and Ford, to Lapis, rushing forward to launch a full-scale attack against the dreams demon out of sheer fury alone. Acting on the same mournful, maddening impulse, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl swiftly came together to form Alexandrite, her towering form scaling up to roughly the same size as Bill’s current shape. She threw her first punch just as Bill was finishing discarding the ashes of the journal, letting them scatter aimlessly across the Nightmare Realm before he got to work deflecting the fusion’s assault. At the same time, Lapis flew high, creating watery platforms to give both Stan and Ford a boost as they threw themselves at the demon with mutually furious shouts, any and all regard for their own safety forgotten in light of what they’d just lost. Surprisingly, Bill had no taunting quips to tease them with as this chaotic brawl unfolded, largely since he was beside himself with gleeful, sadistic laughter over the devastation and despair he’d just caused, and over the innocent life he’d just effectively put to an early, empty end. 

As this chaotic brawl unfurled, Mabel continued to cling onto Dipper, awash in perhaps the worst grief she’d ever felt in her life as she poured it out in an endless round of loud, agonized sobs. Between those sobs, she kept whispering heartbroken pleas to her lost brother, begging him to somehow come back to her, to not leave her behind, to stay with her… even though he was already so clearly gone. 

At the same time, Steven also lingered close by the twins, completely shellshocked as he stared down at Dipper and nothing else. His own tears were completely silent as they streamed down his cheeks, his mind numb and racing all at the same time. He almost made another attempt at healing Dipper, until he realized it wouldn’t do any good, it wouldn’t be enough to bring him back. Nothing would… save for the very half of the shield journal that now was no more. 

Steven only barely managed to glance up to see Bill land a heavy blow on Alexandrite, enough to split the livid fusion up and send all three of the Gems flying back. Another swift, violent blast did the same to Stan, Ford, and Lapis, though fortunately the blue Gem managed to erect an aquatic shield to keep any of them from getting badly hurt. By now, it was apparent that Bill’s jovial tune had shifted into annoyance with the ongoing onslaught, and he had a plan in mind to put a succinct stop to it. A plan that was particularly cruel even in the aftermath of what he’d just done. 

Much to everyone’s surprise, Bill disappeared, without making a single remark in edgewise and leaving them all to land their attacks on the now empty space he’d just occupied. As lost to their mutual despair as they were, neither Steven or Mabel noticed him pop up behind them, at least until he suddenly reached right past them both to abruptly grip Dipper by the front of his shirt. The pair screamed, startled and scared as Bill harshly yanked his prone form away from them, pulling his body far out of their reach before either of them could so much as think to try and stop him. 

“Dipper!” Mabel cried, desperate to see her brother, whatever was actually left of him now, finally be safe and out of the dream demon’s malicious range. 

“Put him down, Bill!” Ford shouted, absolutely livid despite the tears still brimming in his eyes. 

“Nah, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll hang onto Pine Tree for a bit,” Bill remarked, holding Dipper by the back of his vest as he hung loose and limp from his hand. “After all, it’s not like he’ll be waking up anytime soon, so why don’t save you the trouble of figuring out what to do with his cold, empty husk here? After all, I’ve been wanting to take one of my favorite puppets for another go, for old time’s sake.”

A harsh, shared gasp escaped Steven and Mabel alike at this, a whole host of incredibly unpleasant memories filling them both as they realized exactly what Bill intended to do. Mabel reacted first, acting in impulse and panic alone as she lifted her grappling hook with shaking hands, hoping it could somehow manage to pull her brother’s body away from him. Yet before she could even hope to fire it, before any of the others could even try to stop him either, Bill swiftly did the unthinkable. And, with essentially nothing to stop him and no deal needed to grant him access, he easily slipped into Dipper’s lifeless, seemingly empty body, callously taking it over to use as his own again, just as he had once before. 

Suddenly “Dipper” moved, and yet everyone instantly knew it wasn’t him. Because when his eyes opened, they were merely thin black slits against a garish, glowing yellow, every bit as eerily unnatural as the wide, demented, leering grin that split across his face as he beamed down at the horrified group below him. “Ah, now isn’t this nostalgic!” Bill smirked as he looked over his stolen form. “Pine Tree’s every bit as stringy and pathetic as I remember him being. Would’ve thought that him learning how to swing that dinky sword of his around would have gotten him at least a few more muscles, but ah well. Once a wimp, always a wimp, I guess.”

As shocked and distraught by this horrendous turn of events as everyone was, no one really knew what to say or do outside of the silent, shaken tears they were all shedding over the downright sadistic way Bill had found to twist the knife even further into each of their hearts. Mabel practically fell apart at the mere sight of her possessed brother’s body, knowing that if Dipper was actually aware of anything that was happening, he’d hate what Bill was doing to him, just as he hated it so much before. Lapis was the first to actually try to do something about it, however, flying fast to get up to Bill’s level with an infuriated shout. She had a massive, downright deadly swath of water at the ready to attack him, an immediate threat that the dream demon made not a single move to try and block or evade as he simply smiled at the blue Gem, his hands held behind his back as he addressed her evenly. 

“Whatcha gonna do with all that, Water Wings?” he asked coyly as Lapis’ bombardment was brought to a grinding halt mere inches away from his puppet’s face. “Drown me? That’d be fun! I didn’t get to have a taste of that action the last time I took Pine Tree’s body for a ride; stabbing and broken bones, sure, but no drowning! Can you believe it? What’s the fun of playing with a puppet if you don’t get to watch it go limp face-down in a puddle of wa-”

“STOP IT!” Lapis shouted, sobbing heavily as her aquatic attack fell apart completely. “Just STOP it and get out of him and leave him alone! Just…” her wings faltered as she covered her face, unable to bear so much as even looking at “Dipper” like this. “J-just leave him alone… please…”

“Sorry! No can do, Water Wings!” Bill said simply as he allowed himself to drift back away from the blue Gem. “Like I said, I’m hanging onto Pine Tree for a bit. But… I might be willing to let him go early in exchange for a certain little… trinket…” 

The dream demon’s stolen smile widened, his golden sights landing on Ford once again. The author wavered under Bill’s--under his nephew’s--focused stare, and even moreso under the tearful, tense glances the Gems all sent his way. Once again, he’d found himself at an impossible crossroads, in a deadly trap that Bill had so carefully set for them all that had no way out; or at least, no way out that would result in all of them leaving with their lives. “I-I already told you…” Ford said as steadily as he could possibly manage. “I don’t have it.”

“Then get it,” Bill deadpanned, his smile turning into an irritated scowl. “I have all the time in the world to wait for another random rift back to your dimension to open up for you to go grab it. And now,” his icy smirk returned as he perched a patient hand under his puppet’s chin. “So does Pine Tree.”

Ford shuddered, the weight of this disastrous situation falling upon him all at once. He knew well what was at stake here, a fact that Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl all knew just as well as he did as they all looked to him expectantly. Bill had them all exactly where he wanted them, he had perfectly plotted this entire sinister scheme out right from the beginning and was set to see it through all the way to the end. And in the end, he’d given them all a terrible ultimatum: to risk the rift and the very fate of their world itself… or never even have so much as a chance at saving Dipper’s life, however small that chance might be now. A choice that none of them even began to know how to make. 

It was a weighty choice Steven was well aware of too, even if several of the others present weren’t. His eyes were wide as he looked over at Ford and the Gems, inferring that his guardians had somehow found out about the rift too, even if he didn’t know how. Even so, he remembered well just how the author had warned him and Dipper about the rift’s power, about how devastating it could be if Bill ever got his hands on it. And he had no doubt that was exactly what the dream demon was playing at now as he forced them to essentially pick between someone they all cared so much about and the very world they all shared. It was an awful proposition, one that had no real right answer in any regard. One life or many. Both equally as precious, and both equally at risk of annihilation. 

There has to be another way… Steven’s thoughts echoed in his grief-stricken mind, his heart aching as he looked back to Dipper, or “Bipper”, as Mabel had called him once before. There had to be something, anything he could do to stop this, to save Dipper, to save the world. And, as he happened to lift his shirt up a bit to take a peek at the stone on his stomach, he instantly came up with a way to do exactly that. 

“So, Sixer?” Bill asked casually, clearly assured of his victory. “What’ll it be?”

Ford shook his head, his mouth dry and his heart racing as his mind frantically searched for a solution he simply didn’t have, not this time, not to something like this. “I… I don’t-”

“Wait!” Steven’s sudden call startled just about everyone, even catching Bill off guard as he glided forward. “W-wait! Stop, I-I…”

“What is it now, Rosebud?” Bill scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “Can’t you see the grown-ups are bartering here?”

“I think I know something you’d like even more than what Mr. Ford can give you,” Steven said quickly, sternly as he stared the dream demon down. 

“Oh yeah?” Bill perked up in sudden, knowing interest, his gaze already drifting toward the young Gem’s stomach. “And what might that ‘something’ be…?”

“...This,” Steven lifted his shirt up, revealing his newly-healed Gem glistening upon it. 

“Steven, no!” the Gems all shouted in frightened unison. However, Steven himself was the one to stop them from approaching him by erecting a large, pink bubble around himself and Bill alone. 

“S-Steven?” Mabel whispered, her tearful eyes wide with fear as she looked to him in apt alarm. 

“Kid, what are you doing?!” Stan asked just as incredulously. 

For his part, Steven offered none of them any answers, even as a few of them began beating against his bubble in a fervent, desperate attempt at trying to stop the young Gem’s risky plan. “You do want it, right?” Steven asked Bill, his tone and his manner alike unwavering. 

“You know I do, Rosebud,” Bill grinned cordially. “But are you sure you wanna give something that valuable up for poor little Pine Tree here? That’s basically like--wait, no it is trading a priceless gemstone in for a comatose corpse. Doesn’t really seem all that fair when you think about it.”

“It is fair,” Steven insisted firmly. “T-to me. I want him back. I… I need him back.”

“Really? After all the terrible things he said to you?” Bill asked with a small, amused chuckle. “I don’t get you, Rosebud. You always put your neck out for people who don’t care about you.”

“That’s not true!” Steven protested resiliently. “Dipper does care about me! I know he does...” He placed a gentle hand against his heart, remembering the very moment that Dipper had proven just how much he did care. The moment he’d vowed to stay with him, even with a practically fatal crack torn clear across their gem. Even when they were both falling apart at the seems. He’d stayed, he’d cared, he’d refused to let go of him, to hold on to him, no matter what the cost. 

Which was exactly why Steven knew it was his turn to return the favor. To refuse to let go of him, to hang onto whatever was left of Dipper, in the hopes that it could somehow save him after all. 

“Whatever you say, Rosebud,” Bill rolled his eyes dryly. “But fine. Who am I to turn down a good bargain, especially since you’ve made such a generous offer? Besides, I’m sure it’s bound to lift at least a little guilt off your shoulders seeing as how you were basically the one who got Pine Tree into this whole mess by asking him to fuse with you in the first place…”

“Y-yeah…” Steven’s confidence finally faltered at this, remorse welling up in his expression as he admitted the truth to this awful fact. That if he’d never asked, never begged Dipper to form Stepper with him in the first place, then at least he might have found a way to spare his life instead of gravely endangering him, his memories, and everything else in the process. “I know…”

“Oh well, no use in crying over a chopped Pine Tree!” Bill quipped enthusiastically as he extended a hand out to Steven in offering. “So what do you say, Rosebud? Your gem in exchange for his empty shell. Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Steven hesitated, for just a moment as he looked to hand Bill was presenting him with, somehow covered in the dream demon’s telltale blue flames that never seemed to actually burn. At the same time, he could hear the others just outside of his bubble, still pounding against its surface with everything they had in the hopes of keeping this terrible transaction from taking place. 

“Steven, please!” Lapis cried, lashing out against his bubble with successive water whips. “Don’t do this!”

“Yeah, man! Don’t listen to him!” Amethyst added just as desperately as she punched the side of the bubble brutally.

“You can’t trust him, you know that, Steven!” Ford practically pleaded as he floated alongside Pearl, who strangely said nothing amidst her tears, both of her hands tightly pressed against her mouth as she shook her head fearfully. 

“Steven,” Garnet spoke up, her tone tight and rigid to the point that it was practically shaking. “We’ll find another way to help Dipper. Do NOT give Bill your gem.”

Steven finally glanced back at the group at this, wanting to tell them he had to, that there was no other option, that it was either his gem, the world, or Dipper. And that really, between those three things, only two of them actually mattered in the grand scheme of things. But he stopped when he caught sight of Mabel, her face nearly pressed against his bubble, her eyes shining with mournful tears as she wept softly, her attention fully focused on him instead of her possessed brother this time around. 

“S-Steven… please…” she begged him in a tiny, frail whisper, so soft he only barely managed to hear it at all. “I-I… I can’t lose you both…”

He stilled at this, a small, terse breath escaping him as he realized exactly what he was about to do here. Exactly what he was about to give up and exactly what that might cost him. True, he didn’t know what would become of him if his gem was taken from him, but given just how agonizing it had been for him when that gem was cracked, he had a hunch that its absence would likely do him far more harm than good. And even more than that, he still had no idea what Bill planned to do with it when he did get his hands on it, much less why he even wanted it to begin with. Indeed, what he was about to do was an incredible, potentially deadly risk, and Steven knew that, he was prepared for that outcome, no matter what.

And yet he still couldn’t shake that same resounding thought from before:

There has to be another way.

There had to be another way… and as another sudden memory dawned on Steven, the very memory of what had nearly torn his friendship with Dipper apart in the first place at the start of this entire disaster, he knew he’d found that way. He could only hope it’d be enough to keep them both alive in the end. To make sure that Mabel wouldn’t have to go home without them. 

“Yes,” he said unflinchingly as he turned back to Bil. “It’s a deal.”

The shared cry of alarm that rose up from the others was lost on Steven as he reached forward, ready to do whatever he could to set things right and knowing well what might happen if he couldn’t. Yet even so he stayed the course, remaining calm and steady as he took Bill’s outstretched hand and shook it squarely. 

The moment he did, he shut his eyes tightly, digging deep inside himself for a power he knew he had access to, a power he’d never really tried to use intentionally before now. For a split second, he silently pleaded with his gem for it to work before Bill could catch on, and miraculously enough, his gem seemed to hear and heed him just fine. Because in an instant, a connection was made, one that he could feel overtaking both him and Bill alike as their hands remained intertwined, even as he turned their deal completely on its head. 

As he began to embark upon his other way entirely. 

When Steven opened his eyes again a second later, the swirling colors of the Nightmare Realm were gone, replaced with a dense, dark, colorless forest. Each of its trees were dead and decaying, their lofty branches stripped of every single leaf as they creaked amidst the dull, dry breeze sweeping through them. By all accounts, this forest was lifeless and empty, just about the last thing Steven had hoped to see in what he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be Dipper’s mindscape. But even so, the fact that his mindscape still existed at all was a reassuring sign in and of itself. A sign that pointed to the possibility that maybe he wasn’t as far gone as Bill had claimed after all. 

“WHAT IN THE--ROSEBUD!” Speaking of the dream demon, his outraged shout echoed through the entire mindscape, rumbling through the trees as Steven spun around to face him. Here, he was back in his usual triangular form, his momentous size scaled down considerably as he glared at the young Gem relentlessly. “What did you DO?!”

Steven flinched but quickly regained his nerve, knowing that he couldn’t back down now that he’d already managed to make it this far. “I-I-”

“SHUT UP!” Bill snapped, his form flashing red in raw fury. “I know what you did! What, did you really think dragging us both into Pine Tree’s empty head here would change anything? Cause it WON’T! You still owe me one gem, Rosebud, so PAY UP!”

“H-hold on,” Steven advised as calmly as he could. “Just… hold on a minute. I-I… I want to make another deal with you.”

“Ha! You really think I’d be dumb enough to let you pull the wool over my eyes TWICE in a row?” Bill scoffed harshly. “Forget it, kid! You ain’t getting squat outta me!”

“B-but you’ll like this deal even more than the other one,” Steven pressed, earnestly and anxiously. “Just hear me out. I-I know Dipper’s still in here somewhere; I can… I can feel it,” he lied, knowing that he couldn’t, at least not clearly. Still, that wasn’t something Bill needed to know about, especially not at a moment like this. “Give me a chance to find him. If I do, if I can bring him back somehow, then you don’t get my gem; and you have to get out of his body and never, ever possess it again.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever, Rosebud,” Bill deadpanned, hardly phased by these terms. “What’s in it for me when you fail? Which you will, by the way, just saying.”

“I-If I can’t find him…” Steven took in a deep breath, knowing he was about to put everything on the line with this lofty contract. And yet if he succeeded, if he really did somehow save Dipper after all, then it would all be worth it. “Then not only can you have my gem. Y-you… you can destroy my memories too, all of them, just like you did with his.”

“Ohohohoh! I like the sound of that!” Bill exclaimed brightly as he circled the young Gem. “I get the rock I’ve been after AND I get to kill two pesky twerps with one stone, while inevitably breaking the hearts and spirits of all your friends and loved ones in the process! Great thinking, Rosebud! I’m in!”

Steven watched as Bill’s outstretched hand lit up in blue fire once more, in offering of another deal he couldn’t quite see the outcome to. Yet as afraid as he admittedly was, he knew he couldn’t let that fear stop him now, not when he knew who was counting on him. He also knew exactly what the cost would be if he did fail, a high penalty that could ultimately snuff out both his and Dipper’s lives in one fell swoop. Yet despite that cost, if there was still a chance, still hope that he could succeed, that they’d both come back alive and well, then that hope alone would be more than enough. 

And so, Steven found himself reaching out to shake Bill’s hand once more.

“Great! Then you better get looking, kid!” Bill exclaimed cheerfully as their handshake came to an end. “Oh, by the way, Rosebud, you should know that this whole thing is basically a fool’s errand since there’s just about NOTHING left of Pine Tree’s consciousness for you to find. So good luck! You’ll need it.”

With that, Bill disappeared in a bright flash, no doubt going to wait in the wings and watch to see what might happen next. Steven seized up in sudden anxiety the moment he was left alone, realizing that he had essentially no leads to speak of when it came to finding Dipper. The woods surrounding him were lonely and dark, without a single trace of anyone else around amidst the inky shadows between the trees. Even so, he pressed forward through them, unsure of exactly where he was going as he began a search that both his and Dipper’s very lives depended on. “Uh… Dipper?!” he called, his own voice echoing back at him through the trees. “A-are you in here? Oh, wait, of course, you’re in here, this is your head, but uh… c-could you maybe come out? I… really need to find you… please…”

Steven trailed off with a small, sad sigh, stopping in the middle of another empty clearing to look around. Once again, a familiar bout of fear filled his mind, though that fear wasn’t for his own potentially grim fate in any way. Instead, it was for the possibility that Bill was right, that there really was no trace left of Dipper to be found, even inside his own mind. Guilt welled up inside of the young Gem’s heart viciously as that thought permeated his mind, the same sort of guilt that had prompted him into essentially gambling his very own life to save Dipper’s. Because if he couldn’t actually find a way to bring him back to himself, then at the very least he deserved to share the same kind of demise. After how he’d put them both in such a horrible position to begin with, it was only fair. 

He was prepared to continue his search when suddenly, a sparse speck of light peeking through the nearby trees caught his attention. As dark as this forest as a whole was, it was a surprising sight to see, which was why Steven curiously, cautiously approached it, only to find that it was something akin to a tiny firefly hovering just a bit above the ground. Even from a distance, Steven could feel a sense of comforting warmth emanating from its glow, and he couldn’t help but smile hopefully as he slowly reached out to gently cup it in his hands. 

“D-Dipper?” he whispered wonderingly. “Is that you…?”

It wasn’t, of course, but Steven soon discovered what this light actually was as his hands carefully touched it. Because in the blink of an eye, the dark forest disappeared, replaced with a sun-drenched, grassy hill as a familiar scene played out before him.

“I’m Steven, by the way. You’ve already met Lion, of course. And this is my friend, Connie.”

“Nice to meet you! Even if it was by accident.”

“I’m Dipper and the girl losing herself inside your, uh… lion’s mane is my sister, Mabel.”

Upon this simple greeting, the boys exchanged another brief, yet kindly smile, the first of many they’d share as their close-knit friendship only grew from there. 

And just like that, it was over. Steven gasped as he found himself back in the shadowy wood, silence echoing around him on all sides once more. He stared at the flickering light before him in amazement as he realized what it was: a memory. A memory of the very day they’d first met back at the beginning of the summer, to be exact. A bright, joyful recollection that filled the young Gem’s heart with hope as another newfound thought struck him. Dipper’s memories weren’t gone after all; sparks of them still remained, however small and dwindling those sparks might be. All Steven had to do was reignite those sparks into a flame bright enough to bring Dipper back, to help him remember who he really was.

And fortunately, he happened to find yet another spark of memory floating just a few feet away. He rushed to it, reaching for it eagerly to find both of them embracing on a mountain in the aftermath of a battle that had never happened. After both of them had figured out how to be strong in the real way together. 

“Dipper! I’m so glad you’re ok! I was starting to think something happened in there!”

“I’m fine, Steven. Well… physically, at least…”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t do it. You were right; turns out the Multi-Bear didn’t deserve it at all. I beat him and everything, but when it came down to killing him… it didn’t feel right… I guess this really does make me a wimp, huh?”

“Are you kidding? Not at all! I think deciding not to go through with it makes you even braver than if you actually had done it!”

Steven smiled, remembering well how proud he’d been of Dipper at that moment. That pride turned to relief as he received yet another recollection just a bit down the forest’s unformed path. A memory that came from the aftermath of a battle they’d only narrowly managed to win, one of the first few of many decisive victories they’d see over the summer. 

“Well… I’m not gonna lie. Pretty much everything hurts. In fact, I’m pretty sure I probably have a concussion and might need stitches in a few places. But I’m sure it’s nothing Steven and his, uh, healing spit can’t fix, right?”

“Of course, Dipper! I’d be more than happy to heal you up!”

“Ok, ow! Like I said, everything still hurts, Steven! You haven’t healed me yet!”

“Oh, sorry!”

He’d always heal him, anytime he might need it. Even now, when he needed healing most inside his own mind. The next memory he found was a moment he deeply treasured,, a moment of true, earnest understanding between them both, the moment he believed they had gone from mere friends to best friends. 

“It’s like we said… we’re really different. And… maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Steven, holing myself away from everyone just to research stuff and forcing myself to spend all my time alone for it… really isn’t a good thing… If there’s one thing fusing with you taught me, it’s that.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I mean, being fused and essentially sharing a mind and body was really weird and uncomfortable and overwhelming, but… I think I finally understand what Garnet meant when she told Maven that fusion turns you into something greater than yourself…”

“I-it really does… It’s like you can feel everything that you’re feeling and everything that the other person is feeling. And when both of you are feeling good, its… it’s incredible. It feels like there’s nothing in the world that could bring you down from that. And…. that’s what I wanted for us, I guess…”

And then… once what had been damaged between them was finally repaired, that’s exactly what both of them got. 

“Well… I do know of a certain fusion who might be able to do an even better job of lending them an extra hand, or two, or four…”

“Oh, Dipper! Do you really mean it?!”

“I do. But only if we’re both on the same page about it this time.”

“Right. Well, I guess we better—whoa!” 

Then they danced, they fused, the harmony between their hearts flowing freely, openly, just as it was really meant to. Just how fusion was supposed to be. 

Tears filled Steven’s eyes as he let the warmth of that memory fall over him, cherishing their fusion, cherishing their friendship and all that it meant to him. The sweetness of that memory stood in stark contrast, however to the next, one that had happened in a moment of uncertain desperation. A moment when something important had been taken, and neither of them knew if they’d actually have a chance at getting it back. 

“Steven, wait. I-I don’t know if I’ll ever get this chance again if… if something goes wrong out there, so…  I just wanted to let you know that I’m so sorry… This whole mess is my fault, and I should have been the only one to suffer the consequences of that stupid deal! But then you got dragged into all of this, even though you had no parts in it at all! Bill’s been making you absolutely miserable all day just because you’re trying to protect me, which is something you shouldn’t even have to worry about in the first place!”

“Why not? Dipper, you’re one of my best friends, of course, I’d want to keep you safe! I wish none of this had ever happened just as much as you do, but I’m glad I was at least there to know about it the moment it happened instead of not knowing how much trouble you’re in at all! And don’t worry; now we have Connie and Mabel to help us! With all of us working together, we’ll have you back in your body in no time, I promise.”

“R-right… Well then… good luck. I’m sure we’ll all be needing it…”

He’d kept his promise to Dipper once. And as far as Steven was concerned, he was determined to do it again now that the stakes were higher than ever before. And, even if he couldn’t actually save himself in the end, at least he hoped he’d find a way to save Dipper. At least he hoped to finally set everything that had gone wrong between them right before it was too late. 

He was in tears in the next memory, awash in guilt that felt all too similar to what he felt now. Guilt over the realization of just how much he’d hurt him, just how much he hated hurting him whenever he did. 

“Dipper, I-I’m so sorry! I finally understand why you were so upset with me and Mabel about what happened yesterday! It’s because we didn’t trust you! B-because I didn’t trust you, a-and that’s why I almost erased your memories back when we were dealing with the society! I thought you couldn’t handle it all but I was wrong! I was only thinking about how bad I felt then, about how scared I was yesterday that I didn’t even t-think about how… about… about anything else! You’re right… I-I… I’m selfish… Just like my mom was…”

“Y-you guys didn’t… I was just… I… I was wrong. About Stan, about the portal, about… well, just about everything. In fact, when it comes to the big things this summer, there’s probably about only a handful of times when I’ve actually been right. And I guess I was just so tired of being wrong about everything all the time that I wanted to blame it on someone other than myself so… maybe I sort of just… pinned it all on you two. Which is something else that’s wrong, when you think about it, because you guys totally don’t deserve that. You did what you thought was right. And… in the end, it turned out for the best. I mean, it brought Great Uncle Ford back to where he belongs, it led to us finding the Gems’ memories—for better or worse—it gave us the answers to so many of the questions we had this summer. So… I’m sorry for holding it all against you guys. What happened yesterday… it changed pretty much everything. But the one thing that it shouldn’t change because of any of it is us.”

They’d found a way to fix what had been broken between them then. But it hadn’t mattered in the end, it didn’t matter now, because Steven knew he’d thoughtlessly, carelessly torn open that rift between them again, with a mistake that had been so foolish and selfish. A plan that had he had only really come up with to ease his own worries and woes instead of Dipper’s, he realized. No wonder he’d said he was just like Bill… he was right in so many different ways. 

Yet in so many others, he wasn’t. 

Because another memory showed them fusing again, no words exchanged between them as they danced, literally lighter than air, their smiles warm and mutual as that cherished harmony flowed between them again. They laughed lightly, their hearts easy and free together, until they reached the point that those two separate hearts joined to become one. As their bodies and minds came together, as the line blurred between them until there was no space, no separation left at all. 

Until Steven and Dipper became Stepper. 

Then they were Stepper again, a frightened fusion lost in a horrendous, hateful place they had no chance of escaping. Their gem was cracked, their mind damaged, their lives both in grave danger. Yet even despite all that, they held onto each other, onto their bond, for everything it was worth. And what it was worth to both of them was something far more than mere words could have ever expressed.

“I don’t want to break away from you. Our friendship means so much to me. You mean so much to me!”

“Y-you… stayed with me… s-so I’m staying with you…”

“Steven…”

Steven gasped, his eyes wide with alarm as he was pulled out of this most recent memory. Suddenly, he could sense something behind him, a break in the massive, seemingly endless forest as another wide clearing opened up within it. The sparks of memory had led him here, to the forest’s largest, most distinct feature: a large, lofty tree, one that surprisingly bore signs of life in the sparse, yet fading leaves hanging limp from its branches. Several of those branches curved inward, converging on each other to create a small enclosure toward the top of the tree. And, floating unconsciously within the center of that enclosure, was none other than Dipper himself. 

Steven froze at the mere sight of him, a sharp, stunned gasp escaping him as he kept his focus on that spot in the tree high above him. Just as he’d been before, Dipper was completely out of it, his eyes closed and his expression listless as he hovered in what almost seemed to be a peaceful sleep. He looked faint, his colors dull and faded as silence echoed in the area all around him. At least until Steven made an attempt at breaking through to him from far below. 

“Dipper! Can you hea-”

“Ah, ah, ah, Rosebud!” Bill chastised as he suddenly appeared out of thin air right beside Steven. “You wouldn’t wanna wake Pine Tree up, now would you?”

“Y-yes, I would!” Steven retorted brazenly. “I found Dipper, which means you have to keep up your end of the deal. Now get out of his mind and leave us alone!”

“Now, now, Rosebud, if I remember correctly, the terms YOU laid out were that you had to find a way to bring him back,” Bill pointed out, glancing up at Dipper. “And as far as I can tell, Pine Tree’s still completely out of commission. Which means your gem and your memories are still on the line.”

“Y-yeah, but-”

“In fact, you know what? Why don’t we speed this along a little…?” Steven flinched as a bright blue flame ignited over Bill’s palm, one that was large and devastating as it flickered with a thirst for destruction. “I’ve got places to be, space rocks to cash in, so let’s clear the slate, permanently!”

“No!” Steven shouted, leaping high off the ground at the very same time Bill launched his deadly flame toward Dipper. The young Gem floated as fast as he possibly could, essentially racing the dream demon’s sadistic fire and twisted ambitions all at once, all in the hopes that he could stop them both. In the desperate need to finally save Dipper, even if he couldn’t save himself.  

The flame was gaining, his own heart pounding as he summoned a shield to jump off of as a springboard to gain some extra speed. Somewhere far behind him, he could hear Bill’s demented laughter echoing through the woods, his flames drawing nearer and nearer to Dipper’s unmoving, unknowing form. Steven cried as that flame passed him, knowing that he wasn’t going to make it in time, that he was already too late to stop this, knowing that he couldn’t be too late to stop this, that he had to save him, he had to bring him back, he had to, he was going to-

And he did. 

Somehow, with speed Steven didn’t even know he possessed, he soared through the air toward the top of the tree, his gem flashing as it provided him the strength he lacked to succeed. He cut the fire off just in time, reaching their shared target just before it could. And as soon as he did, he formed a sturdy, steady bubble around them both as he crashed into Dipper, throwing his arms around him and locking him in a tight, tearful embrace. As the flames slammed into it and abruptly burnt out on contact, Steven still hung onto Dipper for dear life, leaning his head against his shoulder as he offered him a solemn message, one that, while soft in its delivery, managed to speak volumes all the same.

All it took were three simple words Steven whispered gently into Dipper’s ear. Three simple words that were more than enough to get Dipper to finally, finally open his eyes. 

“NO!” Bill practically screamed in raw, intense fury as he watched his devious plans unfurl all around him. The once-dead mindscape began to bloom back to life, lush green needles sprouting on the pine trees dotted across it, its black sky dawning with newfound sunshine as the memories that had been ripped out of it were restored. Amidst this swift restoration, Bill found himself being ripped out of the mindscape instead, bound by the very deal he had agreed to, especially as an all-new blinding, purifying light began to spill across the forest. “ROSEBUD! PINE TREE!” the dream demon shouted hotly, unable to do a single thing as he was forced out of the mindscape that was in the midst of being harmoniously joined to another. 

“ROSE TREE!”

Everyone took in a shocked, startled gasp as something suddenly shifted, a stark change taking place amidst what they’d been anxiously watching for what felt like ages now. During that time, both Steven and Bill had remained completely still, their eyes shut and the young Gem’s bubble still erected to keep each of them out so they wouldn’t interfere. None of them knew what to make of it, and they were even more at a loss for words as Steven suddenly pulled Dipper’s supposedly possessed body forward into an unexpected hug. The very moment he did, Bill was abruptly tossed out of Dipper’s body entirely, flung far across the Nightmare Realm with an intense amount of force and an infuriated shriek. At the same time, a telltale warm glow surrounded Steven and Dipper, the bubble around them dissipating as that light overtook them both and brought them both together again. 

And brought Stepper back together again. 

He opened his eyes with a small, startled gasp, confusion filling his mind first and foremost as he looked around his inexplicable surroundings. “W-what… where…?” he trailed off, glancing down at all four of his hands, his bewilderment only increasing as he looked himself over. “Wait… when did we fuse--” He cut himself off with a sudden sob, one of his upper hands covering his mouth as his lower arms held onto each other tightly. “Y-you… you’re back…” He smiled warmly, joyful tears streaming down his cheek, even if half of him didn’t understand where those tears were coming from. “Back? Back from where?”

“H-he’s back?” Mabel suddenly spoke up, tears brimming in her eyes as she floated forward a bit, the others all hanging back as they stared at Stepper in apt awe. 

“He’s back!” Stepper nodded happily, though that happiness soon shifted right back into a puzzled frown. “Mabel? What’s going o-” 

Once again, he was interrupted as Mabel threw herself at him, hugging his midsection tightly as his lower arms readily returned it. The others were all quick to join her, each of them engulfing the fusion in a unified, delighted embrace. As overwhelmed with relief as they all were, none of them had a single word to say, only soft, contented smiles and silent, satisfied tears over the realization that somehow, some way, Dipper and Steven were both back, their memories mutually restored. Finally, their boys were safe; finally, they were whole. 

“O-ok, not that this isn’t really sweet and everything, but I’m confused,” Stepper said with a small, uncertain chuckle as everyone finally released him, though the hug his own upper arms had locked him in still remained. “What’s going on?”

“PINE BUD!” 

As this absolutely outraged shout rattled the entire Nightmare Realm, Stepper jolted, a rush of stark realization striking him, even as Stan, Ford, and the Gems all rushed to take up a protective stance in front of the fusion. But as soon as he spotted Bill rushing across the shifting spacescape toward them, all of his questions were abruptly, immediately answered. 

“Oh… I remember now…” he scowled, all four of his hands curling up into tight fists as he glared up at the towering dream demon firmly. 

“Out of my way, chumps!” Bill seethed, wasting no time with any of the others as he swiftly shoved all of them aside to get to Stepper. “YOU…” he growled, his form a bright, blood crimson as he offered the fusion a look of absolute hatred. “Do you have ANY idea what you’ve just done!? You cost me a gem, you cost me your dimension-”

“And you cost us our memories,” Stepper countered sternly, not showing a single sign of fear against the dream demon, not this time. Not after everything he’d done. “You almost cost us our lives. I’d say this makes us more than even.”

“NOT EVEN CLOSE!” Bill shouted, his hands aglow in blazing blue flames. “I was ready, I was THERE, set to wipe both of you miserable twerps from out of existence once and for all, and then you just had to go and turn the tables and CHEAT to get your way!”

“Oh, I cheated?” Stepper asked with an incredulous scoff. “I cheated?! Did you just forget about how you pinned us down and cracked our gem!? Or how you LIED to us, how you gave us no other choice but to give you our journal, our memories, our identities?!” The fusion was absolutely livid by this point, to the point that even Bill seemed surprised by just how intense and outraged his tone and expression alike were as his anger flowed out of him freely. Anger for just how much torment this monster had put both of his halves, his family and friends, everything and everyone he cared about through as a whole. “All you do, all you’ve EVER done, is cheat and lie to get what you want, all because you can’t get enough of tearing innocent lives apart just because you think it’s funny.  News flash, Bill: it’s NOT funny and it NEVER has been! And that’s why I’m DONE watching you use, and manipulate and hurt me and the people I love! It’s over, Bill,” Stepper finished firmly, Mabel, Stan, Ford, and all of the Gems regrouping by his side so they could all face the dream demon together. “We’re not letting you get away with it this time.”

Bill surprisingly said nothing as the group before him pulled their weapons back out, their resolve renewed now that they were all truly back together again. By all accounts, the dream demon seemed caught off guard by such a united, unflinching resistance against him, but even so, he wasn’t about to back down that easily, especially when he still had the home advantage on his side. “Oh, you wanna bet…?” he hissed darkly, launching his first round of fireballs at the group. Lapis quickly deflected them with a powerful burst of water as Garnet and Pearl rushed forward amidst the resounding steam, both of them hitting Bill at just the right angles in attacks he hadn’t been ready for. As he was distracted, Stan and Amethyst teamed up as the conman tossed the purple Gem at the dream demon, her whip spinning around her all the while as Ford kept up his own line of steady offense with his powerful blaster. Stepper himself was more than ready to join the fray, yet just before he could try to summon his shield journal, a sudden hand taking his stopped him. 

“Hey,” Mabel said, looking up at him with a soft, hopeful smile. “Got room for one more in there?”

“Always,” Stepper laughed warmly, not hesitating to sweep her up into a wide, lighthearted spin, one that was more than enough to bring Mabel into the fusion. 

Dipevebel let out a steadying, contented sigh as the light faded from their form, though their focus was quick to shift back to the battle raging before them. “Ready? Ready,” they grinned, the now-replenished shield journal appearing about one of their hands while Maven’s grappling shield materialized in one of their others. “Let’s do this.”

And with that, they rushed ahead to join the fray, using their third arm to end a shield flying at Bill point-blank just as another one of Pearl’s spears struck him. The dream demon reeled back with an aggravated shout, but he was quick to retaliate by shooting a widespread laser blast that the others made sure to block or evade the best they could. Garnet and Stan both rushed in with the intent of landing a simultaneous pair of punches, though Bill easily avoided their blows by disappearing out of the crowd persistently attacking him. He wasn’t able to get too much distance before Dipevebel’s grappling shield struck him clean in the eye, knocking him back a bit until Amethyst held him back by latching her whip around one of his arms. Bill wasted no time in setting fire to that whip, forcing the purple Gem to release her hold on it, though while he was distracted, he failed to notice the blast that was coming at him from behind until it struck him squarely in the back. Ford grinned as he poised his blaster for another round, though by then Lapis had taken over, bombarding Bill with a heavy dulgue of water while the others all continued their steadfast assault. 

“I can’t believe it!” Ford exclaimed with an incredulous laugh as he regrouped with Dipevebel for a brief moment. “We’ve got him on the ropes. If only I’d brought my quantum destabilizer, then we’d have a sure-fire way to finish him off for good.”

“Well… there’s gotta be some other way to really defeat him… right?” Dipevebel asked with newfound curiosity. 

“...I suppose,” Ford noted as he readjusted his blaster. “But I’m hard-pressed to think of one at the moment. For now, just fending him off until our portal home reopens will have to do.”

With that, the author took off to rejoin the fray, leaving the fusion behind to think on what he’d just said. While they certainly seemed to be doing an adequate job at holding Bill off by working together, a part of Dipevebel couldn’t help but feel as though that wasn’t good enough. Not as long as they had the opportunity, however small, to finally put an end to Bill’s chaotic ambitions once and for all. 

Amidst the heavy, unified resistance he was facing on all sides, it wasn’t long before Bill turned from mere aggravation over such resistance to outright outrage. While he hadn’t been pulling his punches before, as intensely provoked as he was, the dream demon’s attacks steadily became more violent and vicious. He lashed out at the Gems first, clearly with the intent of poofing them, if not something even worse, based on the intense, wide-reaching blast he launched their way, one that they were only narrowly saved from thanks to the large shield Dipevebel cast over them just in time. Even so, Bill wasn’t anywhere close to finished yet as he unleashed another powerful burst of flaming energy at the entire group, and while it fortunately didn’t substantially harm any of them, it did manage to knock them all back to give the dream demon some space to recover and gear up his next onslaught. 

From the force of this attack, Dipevebel suddenly split, though only partially. As she reoriented herself, Mabel was admittedly confused as she realized Dipper and Steven had somehow remained together, almost as if they had thrown her out of their fusion intentionally, though she highly doubted that was the case. Even so, Stepper remained steady, still upholding his shield journal as the others all prepared themselves for whatever Bill might have in store for them next. 

“ENOUGH!” Bill shouted, clearly furious in tone and form. “You’re all way more trouble than you’re worth for a bunch of dumb old space rocks and useless humans! I’ve got MUCH better things to do with my time than take you chumps down a peg.”

“Oh, sorry, Bill,” Stepper taunted with a brazen scowl. “We didn’t mean to inconvenience you even though you’ve more than inconvenienced all of us by now!”

“Can it, Pine Bud!” Bill snapped, not hesitating to launch another fireball the fusion’s way, one that he easily deflected with a timely bubble. “You know what? I’m sick of looking at all of your stupid faces. I think it’s time to do what I SHOULD have done a LONG time ago and take care of you chumps FOR GOOD!”

Strangely, Bill didn’t make a single move to attack the group immediately. Instead, he brought both of his hands up high above his tip, his eye going completely blank, pupil-less and white to match the practically blinding glow forming over his raised hands. A glow that only seemed to be growing stronger and more powerful with each passing second as the dream demon continued to build it up. “W-what’s he doing?” Pearl asked in apt alarm. 

“No idea,” Amethyst said tensely. “But I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

“It looks like we won’t have to,” Ford smiled, relieved, as he spotted a spark of sudden energy appearing afar in the distance behind them. “Look!”

That spark soon split into a portal, none other than the very one that would lead them back to their home dimension. On the other side of it, Peridot anxiously waited, still maintaining the machine that had created it, though it was clear from her frantic tinkering that it would only remain open for so long. 

“It’s time to go!” Garnet shouted, leading the way to leap through the spacescape back toward the portal. Seeing as how they’d certainly gotten what they came here for, no one protested this plan of action as they all began an urgent race to the portal, hoping to get out of Bill’s destructive range as soon as possible. Yet strangely, for his part, Bill didn’t seem to notice their escape at all, instead completely focused on feeding power into his next attack, whatever that mysterious attack might actually be. 

However, in light of his lack of focus on them, one among the group suddenly stopped short, something that wasn’t lost on Mabel as the hand that had been clinging onto hers suddenly fell away. “S-Stepper, what are you doing?!” she exclaimed, noticing that not only had Stepper stopped heading for the portal; he’d strangely turned his attention back to Bill instead. “C’mon! We gotta get out of here!”

Stepper largely ignored Mabel’s futile attempts at pulling him along by one of his lower arms. Instead, he remained focused on Bill, focused on the opportunity right ahead of him, a chance he knew he wouldn’t get like this again anytime soon. It would be so easy to run full speed toward the portal just as the others all currently were, so easy to go home and put this mess behind both of his halves. And yet…

There would still be the inevitable risk of Bill returning, the risk of the dimensional tears the rift was causing giving way to someone else falling into his nightmarish home just as he had. And of course, the risk that Bill could get his hands on the rift and use it to unleash destruction and devastation untold upon the world. No one was safe as long as the dream demon still lurked somewhere; not Stepper, not either of his halves, not Mabel, not the Gems, not Stan and Ford, no one on Earth was free from his twisted, relentless treachery. Even as confined to the Nightmare Realm as he currently was, he was still free to spread his lies and deception to anyone who would listen, still free to subtly, quietly ruin the lives of innocent people by taking away what they loved most. Bill was a monster, no question or doubt about it. A monster who, Stepper knew, Stepper remembered had put him through so much suffering, so much unnecessary pain just for his own demented amusement. A monster who had ripped away every shred of who he really was, who had burned half of his very identity out of mere sadistic pleasure alone. A monster who had left so much ruin and anguish in his wake for the endless string of atrocities he’d committed, both past and present. Atrocities that, for the sake of himself and his friends and family, at least one half of Stepper refused to let continue any longer. 

Even if that meant he might not make it back in the process.

“Mabel…” he finally spoke, glancing back at her with the faintest ghost of a bittersweet smile. “I-I… I’m sorry…”

Mabel didn’t get a chance to say a single word before Stepper bolted forward, jumping off a shield he’d summoned to give him some extra speed as he rushed back in Bill’s direction. “Stepper!” Mabel shouted, her distraught cry catching everyone else’s attention as they drew close to the portal. 

“What the heck is he doing?!” Stan exclaimed, completely baffled. “Have they both gone nuts?! We’re trying to get AWAY from the psychotic, bloodthirsty triangle, not run right back to him!”

“He’s going after Bill…” Ford said with a gasp of terrified realization. “The portal could close up again at any minute; we’ve got to stop him before it does!”

“On it!” Lapis said, calling upon her wings to give chase after the fusion. 

At the same time, Stepper continued speeding toward Bill, who was still completely captivated in charging up his own power. The fusion had forgone his shield journal in favor of attacking the dream demon head on, letting sheer, unbridled rage overtake him as he remembered every horrible thing his foe had done. Amidst that rage, Stepper didn’t even realize the vibrant pink glow that had started brimming in his usually dark violet eyes, pink that steadily spread out from his face across his entire body, to the point that he was glowing with it. At the same time, the entire Nightmare Realm had begun to rumble from the immense power Bill was pulling from it, his devastating attack nearing completion as he still seemingly ignored Stepper’s furious approach. For his part, Stepper was set to complete that approach as he drew from his own power, or more specifically, his gem’s, the countless momentous emotions running rampant between both of his halves fueling the fire of that power into a grand, uncontrollable blaze. 

And, working on every ounce of unspeakable anger within him, Stepper unleashed that blaze upon Bill at full force. At the very same time Bill released his own. 

Titanic waves of white, destructive energy violently clashed against a pink, purifying flash. The moment these two completely opposing forces met, the reaction was stark and immediate. An incredible explosion rocked the entire realm, rippling through every part of it in searing shockwaves. Those shockwaves split over the group in the midst of escaping from the Nightmare Realm, energy from them blasting their way through the very same portal that led back to Earth. And from that portal, that energy continued spreading in swift, largely invisible flourishes, engulfing all of Gravity Falls itself in a brief, inexplicable flash of what almost seemed like lightning. 

A single moment was all it took, a show of power far too immeasurable to contain. And just as quickly as that power flooded between both dimensions, it was all over, leaving everything seemingly exactly the same. And yet, in the process, leaving a sudden shift in the very fabric of reality itself, one that would practically change everything.

Both Bill and Stepper were thrown back by the brunt of this blast, hard enough that the fusion briefly lost consciousness altogether. When he finally did manage to open his eyes again, his ears were ringing, his vision blurry and his skin no longer beaming pink. He was flying backward, not on his own accord, but by something else entirely: by Lapis and the steady, unrelenting hold she had on both of his upper arms as she carried him back toward the wavering portal. 

As another wave of the explosion’s fallout shuddered through the Nightmare Realm, Stepper forced his bleary vision focus ahead of him, hoping that he’d see not a single sign of Bill anywhere in sight. And yet, his worst fears were realized as the dream demon suddenly rose into view afar in the distance, shaken by the impact of the explosion, but hardly no worse for wear because of it. 

“N-no…” Stepper choked, his eyes wide and distraught as he realized his plan hadn’t worked. Still, he refused to let it not work, it had to work, he had to stop Bill somehow, he was going to stop Bill right here and now and he wasn’t going to stop until he did. 

“D-Dipper! S-Steven!” Lapis grunted as Stepper started aggressively struggling against her firm hold. “What are you doing?!”

“L-let me go!” he shouted hotly, his lower arms reaching up to pry his upper ones out of Lapis’ hands.

“Are you crazy?!” Lapis retorted, incredulously. “There’s no way I’m letting you get anywhere close to him again! We’re getting both of you home where you belong, NOW!”

 “Please! Lapis, you have to let me go finish him off!” Stepper practically pleaded, knowing that they were nearing the portal. Which meant that his time to act was running out. “I know I can! I-”

 “Forget it!” Lapis snapped, infuriated by his stubbornness. By his incredibly self-destructive behavior above all else, especially after everything he’d just been through. “You are NOT doing this! We almost lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again!”

Stepper continued resisting her hold, wanting to argue back with every bit of palpable fury he had left in him. Yet he stopped just shy of them reaching the portal, which itself was on the verge of sealing up completely after everyone had already safely made it through to the other side. He stilled briefly, just to hear Bill offer him one final vindictive word of farewell. A bitter reminder of once possible chance that had just slipped out of his hands once and for all: 

“Nice try, Rose Tree, but you can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ll always come back! And I’ll ALWAYS BE WATCHING YOU!”

The last thing Stepper heard before Lapis dragged him through the portal was the dream demon’s haunting, malicious laughter. Laughter that had always tormented his mind and heart from the very beginning. And now, as long as Bill would continue to survive and thrive and carry on with his ceaseless conquest of chaos and destruction, it always would. 

The portal sealed itself up in a blinding burst of light, closing up the connection between the Nightmare Realm and Earth just in time. The moment it did, Garnet wasted no time in plowing her gauntlets into the machine that had made it, knowing that the risk of keeping such a device around was far too great. In light of their harrowing escape, most of the group took the time to recover their lost breath on the floor of the author’s room, save for Stepper, who, as soon as Lapis finally released him, made it a point to get up and vent his immense frustration right off the bat. 

“Why?” he asked harshly, turning on Lapis in particular as she also rose to stand. “Why did you stop me?! Why didn’t you let me go back and finish what I started?!”

“Finish what?” Lapis shot back just as severely. “Trying to get yourself killed?! You’re lucky to even be alive right now after what you just went through, and you were just... ready to throw the life you only barely managed to get back away without a second thought!”

“That’s not what I was trying to do!” Stepper argued fiercely. “I was trying to beat Bill once and for all. I could have done it too, I was right there-”

“And then what?” Lapis countered, refusing to back down. “Even if you had destroyed him, which you didn’t, either you would have been stuck in there forever or you would have wound up destroying yourself at the same time! You weren’t thinking about what you were doing, Dipper!”

“I was thinking!” Stepper shouted hotly, ignoring the fact that she had been spot on about who had actually decided on such a deadly course of action to begin with. “I was thinking that I had a chance to finally, finally stop him and I took it. Unlike the rest of you who just ran as soon as you had the chance.”

“We had no choice but to run, Stepper,” Garnet interjected, her tone surprisingly even. “Even while working together, we all only barely managed to hold Bill back. We didn’t go to the Nightmare Realm to pick a fight with him in the first place. We went there to recover your memories, which we did. We had no reason to risk staying there any longer.”

“Yes, we did!” Stepper rebuffed resiliently. “If we’d all worked together, we could have taken Bill down easily! We could have won! And if we had, if you had all just let me take my chance and stop him, then we’d never have to worry about him hurting anyone else ever again!”

“Stepper,” Ford spoke up with a weary sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Believe me when I say that no one wants to see Bill’s downfall more than me. But that was not the proper time and place to launch such a haphazard, desperate, reckless-”

“Reckless?!” Stepper interrupted with an appalled scoff. “You think I was being reckless?! I knew what I was doing in there! I was ready for whatever might happen as long as it might work. Defeating Bill-”

“Is NOT your responsibility!” Ford cut him off in newfound frustration. “You’re both just kids! Children who shouldn’t be anywhere near Bill, much less trying to bring him to an end!”

“But I could have done it!” Stepper protested. “We’re strong enough, I’m strong enough to face him! A-and… and even if I hadn’t made it back, wouldn’t it have been worth it to finally get rid of him, to finally keep everyone, the entire Earth, safe from what he’s planning for it?”

“N-no…” Mabel muttered on the outskirts of this intense fight, her voice barely audible as she clung onto Stan’s leg for support. “It wouldn’t have been…”

“Stepper, just… chill already!” Amethyst advised anxiously. “We all want to see Bill go down just as much as you do-“

“No you don’t!” Stepper sharply shouted, all four of his hands in tight, shaking fists. 

“Yes, we do,” Pearl countered as calmly as she could. “Bill has hurt all of us in so many different ways-“

“Ohohoh, yeah, Bill’s really hurt all of you,” Stepper scoffed, an air of bitter mocking in his tone. “The worst he ever did to any of you was trick you or possess you. Well guess what? He did BOTH of those things to me! But I guess you’re right. I mean it’s not like he took away every part of who any of you are and just... burnt it to ashes like it was nothing, RIGHT?!”

A long, heavy bout of silence filled the room at this, one that was only permeated by a heavy, angry sob from Stepper himself. He could tell just from the pity-filled glances they were all sending his way that no one was on his side with this, not really. Instead, they were all seeing him for exactly what he was: a pair of largely broken boys hiding behind a fused facade that was falling apart at the seams every bit as much as each of his halves were. And under their scrutinizing stares, Stepper quickly realized he could scarcely bear the immense weight of his own mounting mistakes, of his own failure to finally stop Bill’s tyranny once and for all. His failure to take back everything the dream demon had stolen from him and then some.

So he sighed, wiping away his tears as he turned to leave entirely. “Yeah…” he muttered as he walked out of the room. “That’s what I thought.”

Mabel was the first to move to follow Stepper, awash in worry for his wellbeing on several levels after everything that just happened. Yet before she could get too far, Garnet happened to stop her with a sudden hand on her shoulder. “Let him go,” she advised with a small, tired sigh, clearly sharing Mabel’s concern for the troubled fusion. “He needs space to work through this on his own. To work through this together.”

Shield after shield was flung off the top of the temple hill, with no real regard given to where they might be going until they inevitably disappeared into the distance entirely. Stepper knew he was essentially throwing a childish temper tantrum as he tossed them haphazardly, wishing he could throw away all of the anger and resentment he was feeling just as easily. Though his tears were gone, his frustration had hardly diminished, even though that palpable fury was only really coming from one of his halves all while the other one stepped aside to let them both feel it. After all, pain like this simply demanded to be felt. 

“It’s not fair!” Stepper shouted, letting another shield fly loose over the edge of the cliffside. “We finally had the chance to beat Bill for good and they just… took it away from us! And now he’s still out there, still after the rift, after all of us! It’s like none of them even understand that! I-I know…” he sighed sadly, his less furious side finally peeking through the cracks a bit. “But… there is an upside to all this. Really?” he scoffed, finally letting his shield journal disappear as he crossed his upper arms. “Because as far as I can see, there is none. There is,” his lower hands gently found a place against his upper ones. “We made it back; both of us remember who we are again… I know it’s not the same as actually defeating Bill but… at least we managed to win that much from him… That’s something... right?”

Stepper took pause at this, his gem and his birthmark briefly flashing with the same mutual thought: at least you’re ok if nothing else is… 

And on that thought, the fusion let out a long, exhausted sigh as he allowed himself to fall back into the soft grass, the bright morning sun casting a sort of welcome warmth he couldn’t quite feel. Instead, he felt cold on the inside, cold and sad and empty. A feeling both of his halves were far more used to than they should have been by this point in their lives. 

“I-I just… wanted to stop him…” he whispered, covering his eyes with his arms to block out any tears that might come. “I wanted to never have to think about him or what he did to me again… I wanted to finally learn how to feel safe again…” He could feel a morose sob begin to escape him, but his other half managed to stop it as he wrapped his lower arms loosely around himself. “You are safe… with me…”

While there was so much he could have said, so much he wanted to say at a moment like that, he let that gentle promise sink in, allowing himself to accept it as a much-needed momentary comfort. He let out another deep breath as he closed his eyes, simply letting himself lie there in solemn silence to reflect on everything that they’d been through. Everything he’d been through. 

His halves could remember everything their fusion had gone through, even when their own memories had been torn away from him. They could remember how lost and scared and alone Stepper had felt, how much he’d wanted to become his own person instead of being torn apart into either of them. It was a jarring recollection, to say the least, but even so, neither of his halves could fault him for it. Because in losing both Steven and Dipper, Stepper had lost who he really was too. 

And now, both of them were back, Stepper, Steven, and Dipper were all properly restored in body and mind. But it had been a narrow, almost hollow victory, one that they had barely managed to snatch away from Bill in a moment when all hope had essentially been lost. And in the end, Bill had really been the one to win, his wicked ways allowed to survive and thrive another day despite the fusion’s very best efforts to put an end to them. Because in the end, those efforts hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough. 

Stepper didn’t know how long he’d been lying there when he finally caught onto the sound of approaching footsteps in the grass. A brief glance to the side told him Garnet was coming, and while he didn’t acknowledge her outside of that, he did sit up, pulling his knees to his chest as he glanced down at the wide view of the town before him. 

“Mind if I join you?” Garnet spoke up, though even so, Stepper refused to look her way. 

“I thought you were mad at me for being ‘reckless’, just like everyone else is…” he muttered crossly. 

“I’m not mad,” Garnet clarified, taking a seat in the grass beside him. “In fact, I’m very happy that both of you are safe and sound. We all are.”

“...But you still think what I tried to do was wrong… don’t you?” Stepper asked, finally briefly glancing her way. 

“Actually, I think what you did was very brave. And warranted. For the safety of our entire universe, Bill does need to go down, but the way you tried to go about doing it… that’s not how it was meant to go.”

“Now you tell me…” Stepper deadpanned, disappointed. 

“To be honest, I can’t see how, when, or even if Bill will ever be defeated,” Garnet said, adjusting her shades. “He evades my future vision every step of the way; that’s why what he did to the two of you came as such a shock. I could have never seen it coming; but if I had…” The Gem leader paused to wipe away the tear that had happened to slip out from under her visor. “I would have done anything in my power to keep both of you from suffering the way you did. Stepper is something that’s so special to both of you; the way you both have grown and bonded together through him is inspiring, even to me. But Bill turned your fusion, your bond, into a prison that you were both powerless to escape from. And that’s something I’ll never forgive him for.”

“Well… at least that’s something we can all agree on…” Stepper said, managing a weak smile at this. 

Garnet, on the other hand, said nothing, her focus set on the fusion before her and her expression unreadable all the while. Still, it didn’t take her long to speak to that scrutiny, noticing Stepper’s sudden confusion over it. “Stepper,” she began calmly, evenly. “Both of you have your memories back… you’re both whole again. Which is why I can’t help but wonder why, now that everything’s said and done, you’re still fused.”

“Wait… what?” Stepper frowned, looking over himself in newfound surprise. Or at least, surprise for one of his halves. “Oh my gosh, we are still fused. I-I mean, of course I knew we were fused, but… between everything else, I-I… I guess I didn’t really think about it until now…”

“Steven,” Garnet addressed the half of their fusion that was truly behind this. “You should tell Dipper the truth of why you’re still together. He deserves to know.”

“Know… what?” Stepper asked, only for his own shared thoughts to answer him as his gem and birthmark flashed once more. Tears had already started welling up in his eyes as he covered his mouth, both parts of him reeling from exactly what that answer actually was. “Y-you… you’re scared?” he whispered to himself worriedly. “Why? B-because!” he choked out a tight, sudden sob. “I don’t want to lose you again! When I brought you back from inside your mind, I-I didn’t have a clue what I was doing! I just thought fusing would work somehow, a-and it did! But… i-if we split up, then… I don’t know what’ll happen! I don’t want you to just… disappear all over again! Whoa, whoa, wait!” he stopped himself, trying to keep both of his halves steady despite such a frightening thought. “I-it’s ok! I won’t disappear. ...Will I?” he asked, looking to Garnet. 

“I… don’t know,” Garnet shook her head fretfully. “I can see several outcomes but… not all of them are good. Not all of them are absolute either.”

“So… what you’re saying is… there’s no telling what could happen?” Stepper asked, aptly anxious. Garnet only nodded in response to this, leaving the fusion at even more of a distraught loss than before. Especially when he realized what the alternative might be to staying together, an alternative with far more permanent consequences than he could really see at the moment. “Then… what should I do?”

“That’s your decision. One both of you have to make together,” Garnet advised as she stood, placing a consoling hand on Stepper’s shoulder as she did. “But whatever you choose, we’ll all be there for you. No matter what.”

And with that, the Gem leader left Stepper to ponder the momentous decision before him, the outcome of which could impact his life, or rather, the lives of his halves far more than any other decision either of them had ever been forced to make. Even so, the bittersweet irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. They’d come so far and fought so hard to get themselves, their memories, every piece of who they actually were as individuals, back from Bill. Only to realize that they still very well might have to end up trapped in their fusion all the same. Yet even so, neither of them saw that fusion as a prison, they never could. If anything, Stepper’s very existence meant more to them now, after all they’d gone through together as him, after how they’d managed to stay by each others’ sides through it all while being him, more than ever. But to be that fusion for the rest of their lives, after only just regaining their own identities… it was something Stepper wasn’t sure he could allow either of them to commit to. 

Which meant that once again, he found himself facing yet another incredible risk that he had no choice but to take.

He decided to unfuse in front of everyone, deciding it was better that they weren’t alone in doing so, just in case. There was a bit of convenient coincidence beyond that, since Ford had also spread the word that he wanted to gather everyone together for the sake of sharing some “important information”. But that information was largely the last thing on anyone’s minds as Stepper stood before them, preparing himself to finally split apart once more. He hadn’t told anyone else about the risk he’d be taking in doing so, and as far as he knew, Garnet was the only other one to know. And yet even so, she offered him a supportive nod to proceed, though he still hesitated, at least until he met Mabel’s practically pleading expression. He knew he’d kept her waiting for both of them for far too long now. It was time to give her brother and her best friend back. It was time to allow Dipper and Steven to rightfully return. 

A sense of calm washed over him at the same pace as the white, gentle light that enshrouded his form. It only took a second, it always took a second, but soon enough, there they both were, standing apart from each other, on their own, their hands still intertwined all the while. Steven opened his eyes instantly, only to notice Dipper starting to sway forward, his eyes still shut, his own return still completely uncertain. He panicked, rushing to catch him just before he could hit the den floor and Mabel hurried to join him at his side as he lay still for a long, unbearable moment. A moment in which Steven couldn’t help but think the unthinkable: that he really had just fortited Dipper’s life at the expense of his own after all. 

And yet nothing could have described the young Gem’s incredible relief when Dipper suddenly started to stir, a soft, tired moan escaping him as he slowly opened his eyes. He met the pair hovering over him with a small, warm smile, one that they both returned with a tight, tearful hug. The others were all quick to join in on that hug, the Pines and the Gems all folded together into a momentary blissful embrace… but one that ultimately did little to fully heal the heavy rifts that this dire ordeal had torn between so many of them. 

Even so, everyone settled down, taking a seat across the den to listen to Ford’s most recent findings in light of their frantic escape from the Nightmare Realm. Steven and Mabel sat with Dipper sandwiched close and comfortably between them both, all three of them quite cozy under the light blanket Pearl had draped over them. Despite that, they were just as on edge as all the others were as Ford began to divulge what he knew, his own tone and manner rather grave and serious as he reported his latest research to them. 

“So I have some good news and some bad news,” the author began as he flipped through his notes. “The good news is that after a thorough scan of interdimensional activity, I can safely say that Bill is still confined to the Nightmare Realm, as he should be. He didn’t manage to slip back through our own portal home. But… there’s still an entirely new problem altogether. It seems as though there have been several small, randomly-forming gateways to the Nightmare Realm appearing in the area in and around Gravity Falls due to… some u-unexplained phenomena.” Ford hesitated at this, exchanging a brief, knowing glance with the Gems, confirming that all of them knew the rift was to blame for those gateways. “It was through one of those gateways that Steven and Dipper first wound up in the Nightmare Realm to begin with, correct?”

“Yeah…” Dipper answered, bitterly glaring away as Steven nodded fretfully. 

“So… are these random portals something we should be worried about?” Lapis asked, aptly concerned. 

“I-I think they should be, especially if Cipher can manage to sneak his way through them!” Peridot exclaimed tightly, fearfully. 

“Well actually, he can’t!” Ford pointed out with something of a relieved smile. “Largely since those portals won’t lead to the Nightmare Realm, at least not anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Pearl asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. 

“It seems as though the fallout from that last attack exchanged between Bill and Stepper had a certain… effect on the ongoing interdimensional instability,” Ford said, clearing his throat as he looked away from Steven and Dipper in particular. The pair exchanged a confused glance all the same, completely oblivious to whatever impact their shared power could have had at large. In fact, the only thing either seemed to know of that incredibly strong, momentous attack was that it hadn’t worked as they’d intended it to. “That fallout slipped through our portal back and rippled across not only our dimension, but… from the looks of it, several others. It severed the existing connection between our world and the Nightmare Realm, for now, and instead opened up passageways between our dimension and countless worlds existing parallel to it! I’ve never seen anything like this before, it’s-”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s ‘astonishing’,” Stan deadpanned, annoyed. “Mind explaining all that mambo-jumbo in english for the rest of us, poindexter?” 

Ford returned his brother’s scowl at this but even so he complied. “Simply put, the randomly-occurring portals that once led to the Nightmare Realm will continue to show up, but instead, they’ll lead to parallel dimensions to our own.”

“Well… that doesn’t sound too bad,” Mabel piped up. “At least nobody else can get sucked into the Nightmare Realm again, right?”

“While that is true, these dimensional gateways still have me concerned all the same,” Ford mused. “Regardless of where they lead, they’re still holes torn in the very fabric of reality itself. And the more holes we let rip their way into it, the weaker that fabric will steadily become.”

“Then that makes those portals a problem,” Garnet said firmly. “Possibly even more of a problem if Bill somehow finds a way to use them to his advantage.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Ford staunchly agreed. “That’s why I’m already in the process of readying a device that can not only scan for these portals, but close them up completely. But it’s going to take some time. For now, the best any of us can do is keep an eye out for any unusual dimensional anomalies, especially anything akin to a portal. Where exactly these gateways could lead is mystery; as far as we know, the worlds they connect to could be hostile and dangerous. So until we can find a foolproof way to keep them at bay, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

A murmur of solemn agreement passed throughout the room at this, everyone understanding just how much of a problem these newfound portals could really pose. But at the same time, Steven and Dipper both remained silent, their shared role in changing where these portals led not lost on either of them. Because in the end, their last-ditch, desperate attempt at stopping Bill only did more harm than good. 

Just as everything either of them did always seemed to do.  

The night air was cool and crisp and refreshing, complimenting the dark, moonless sky well. The natural silence filling that air was calm and comforting, an aura Dipper tried to let wash over him as he sat on the shack’s roof platform alone. In general, being alone was suddenly a strange sensation to him, even outside of no longer being fused with Steven; Mabel and Stan hovered over him with immense concern (or as much concern as Stan was actually willing to show) for the rest of the day, and while Lapis and Ford both kept their distance for obvious reasons, he still caught them sending several fretful glances his way all the same. He’d assured them several times over that he was fine, that there was nothing more for any of them to worry about, but of course that worry still came all the same. 

Only now, in the very late hours of the night once everyone else had finally gone home or gone to sleep, was Dipper able to find a spare moment of solitude. Yet even still, that solitude felt strangely… wrong somehow. He frowned as he glanced down at his hands, only two now instead of Stepper’s four. The longest he’d ever been part of a fusion before was for a few hours at most; but the course of several days as Stepper, both when Stepper remembered he existed and when he didn’t, had left him feeling oddly out of place on his own. While he didn’t necessarily feel the need to be fused, he still felt wrong somehow. He felt like something important, essential even, was missing. 

Above all else, he felt alone. 

Or at least he did until the very person he wanted to see most suddenly came to join him. 

“H-hey,” Steven greeted with a small wave, landing on the roof from the floating leap he’d taken to get up there. 

“S-Steven?” Dipper started, though he was quick to ease up as Steven came over to take a seat next to him. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I… I couldn’t sleep,” the young Gem admitted. “Not after… well, you know.”

“Yeah…” Dipper sighed, pulling his knees to his chest as he perched his chin upon them. “Same here…”

Silence lingered between both boys for what felt like hours, both of them knowing there was so much they could have discussed in light of what they’d just been through together yet neither of them knew where to start. Eventually though, Dipper was the first to speak up, a very vague, distressing thought filling his mind, a memory he only really had at all thanks to Steven sharing it with him while they were still fused. “I… I really was gone… wasn’t I?” he asked, his voice barely even above a whisper. 

Steven shuttered, hating to even think about what had to have been one of the absolute worst moments of his entire life so far. Even so, he knew he owed Dipper the truth of the matter. “Yeah…” he admitted anxiously, glancing away. “You were…”

“But… you brought me back… didn’t you?” Dipper asked, glancing over at him. 

Steven nodded, finally managing to muster a small, fond smile at this. “I would have never been able to do it without your help.”

“My help? What do you mean?”

“Your memories,” the young Gem’s smile widened just a bit. “When I was inside your mind, they were what led me to find you.”

“...You were inside my mind?” Dipper asked with a light frown. 

Steven gasped, his eyes widening as he realized the unintentional slight he’d made against Dipper in doing so, memories of their bitter argument flooding his mind with guilt and dread. “I-I’m sorry!” he exclaimed anxiously. “I know you don’t like me using my powers on you, b-but it was the only thing I could think of to get Bill out and save you, a-and I-”

He was abruptly cut off as Dipper engulfed him in a tight, unexpected embrace. The tears that were well on their way stopped, for Steven at least, though for Dipper, they were only starting to arrive. “Please, please don’t be sorry,” he begged him, remorse racking his tone as he sobbed against his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be sorry! I said so many terrible things to you! I-I can’t believe I said you were anything like… like him! You’re not! You’re nothing like he is! What was I even thinking?!”

“Y-you were just upset,” Steven tried to sooth him as he gently returned his desperate hug. “I’m not angry about it; I never was.”

“You should be!” Dipper protested, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pulled away from the young Gem a bit. “You should be furious with me, not risking your life to try to save mine like you did! W-why… why’d you do that?” his volume diminished entirely at this as he closed his eyes, looking away in unspeakable shame. “Why didn’t you just let me go…?”

“Because,” Steven comforted him, placing his hands against Dipper’s arms in the hopes of calming him down. “When my gem was cracked, you didn’t let go of me. And even if you had, I still would have done anything I could to get you back.”

“B-but why?” Dipper asked, still mystified by the young Gem’s sheer, incredible sense of loyalty.

“Because you’re my best friend, Dipper!” Steven laughed warmly, tears brimming in his own eyes now. “I’d do anything for you!”

“A-anything…” Dipper repeated, letting out a small, incredulous chuckle of his own. That levity soon faded as he slowly wiped a few of his own tears away. “Even agree to sacrifice everything just because I wanted to defeat Bill, huh?” 

“Of course,” Steven nodded earnestly. “I could tell that’s what you wanted more than anything. I knew how much you thought that would help you, and all I wanted, all I’ve ever wanted, is just to help you. And I guess… I listened to you for a change to figure out how.”

“A part of me wishes you hadn’t,” Dipper sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “As much as I hate to admit it, the others were right; if our attack had worked, then… there’s a pretty good chance neither of us would be sitting here right now. I almost got us both killed, all because I was obsessed with finally getting even with him for every awful thing he’s done to us. But… it didn’t work. Of course, it didn’t…” he sighed again, shame creeping into his tone once more as he hugged himself loosely. “I was wrong… just like I always am.”

“N-no, you weren’t, it’s just…” Steven frowned, unsure of what he really wanted to say. “It’s like Garnet said; now just… wasn’t the right time. But… when we finally do stop him, and we will, then we’ll do it together, just like before.”

Dipper faltered briefly at this, wanting to believe such a hopeful idea, that Bill really could and would be brought to justice someday. And yet, in light of him so easily escaping that justice yet again, he knew that finally bringing him down once and for all would be far easier said than done. 

Yet for the moment, at least, he allowed himself to smile, grateful to be alive after everything they’d both been through. Grateful for his memories, now revived and restored in full. Grateful for Steven, grateful for his support, his selflessness, his kindness in every instance of this ordeal. And most of all, grateful that their friendship had managed to weather the worst of storms it could have ever gone through, grateful that the rifts torn between them had, at long last, finally been repaired. 

So he still smiled, knowing that even if Bill was still out there and their problems were still plentiful, there was still so much to be grateful for. Still someone who stayed right by his side through it all, who was ready to stay by his side, right up to the bitter end. 

Someone he knew, without a single question in his mind, was nothing less than the absolute best friend he could have ever asked for. 

“Yeah… Together.”

Next:

[doctorhawke]

all six of my oc hawkes in one big thing, i have an au where they are all a big happy family and run amok in kirkwall

below the cut theres “brief” bios for them all (including their names because my renditions of their handwriting might not be very legible) and a little chart showing more insight into their personality makeup

all the ages are from act 1, after a year in kirkwall, relative to carver and bethany’s 20 (fyi they both survive in this au and both become grey wardens. cannot IMAGINE that any of these hawkes would let one of their littlest siblings fight an ogre 1v1 when theres literally eight of them lmfao they tag team it like they do everything)

steve hawke- he/him, age 27, adopted by the hawkes at 8. steve is a mage, a healer, and a pacifist. as such when there are fights he will focus on incapacitating enemies without harming them (force magic and mind blast comes in handy) and especially on supporting the team through healing. he’s gay and immediately takes to anders, mainly because he spends a lot of time helping in his clinic. 

he strongly believes in mage rights especially as malcolm imparted a lot of responsibility on him towards his younger mage siblings, nyx and bethany. he’s protective and a bit of a worrier, though as time goes on in kirkwall he becomes more and more exhausted, and starts to cope through making light of things. post-game, he and anders are on the run. 

—————————

kit hawke- he/him, age 24, bio kid, and a dual-wielding rogue. he’s bold, charming, and a bit of a pessimist- all of which kirkwall amplifies by virtue of being a crazy fucking city. kit is also pretty business minded and usually spearheads bone pit related shenanigans. varric (who deeply cares for all the hawkes of course) immediately takes to him and the two are inseparable. 

kit is bi, and likes to have fun, though over time he falls for both isabela and fenris, and over time the three get together and become the most impressive trio you ever saw. all kit’s siblings are kind of like “are you serious dude, we have a limited number of friends and you end up with two of them? what about the rest of us” but considering the amount of drama and heartbreak kit undergoes over the years in relation to his love life, they all kind of figure he’s earned the happy ending. post-game the three of them become pirates on isabela’s ship and free slaves in between tracking down hidden treasure or whatever it is that pirates do, and they eventually have adorable baby twins. 

—————————-

syl hawke- she/her, age 26, bio kid but only leandra’s, she actually is varric’s half sibling (though she does NOT know this and the sibling rivalry that develops upon them meeting is incomprehensible to the both of them). so syl is the shortest of the bunch, and looks a lot more like varric and bartrand than kit, carver, or bethany, despite them all being related. 

syl’s the only warrior of the group (other than carver- a dynamic duo), fights with hammers exclusively, and has a tendency to be super intense. she doesn’t really get humor at all, in the rare case that she accidentally makes a joke and people laugh she assumes they’re laughing AT her. she’s also very shoot first and ask questions later, and the only hawke more protective than steve is. her big sister energy is off the charts and she’s prepared to kill any templar that so much as looks at her family. as such she’s staunchly pro-mage.

she’s a lesbian and has massive game despite not really being any good at flirting- it’s probably her sheer intensity. she and isabela have a brief fling, tallis is very taken with her, and she has a rivalry-fueled sexual tension with aveline for ages (the long road is a VERY fun quest to play through with syl). however she was always very supportive of and close with merrill and eventually the two fall in love. once they’re together they’re insanely sweet and have mega chemistry and i love them so fucking much. post-game they’re forced to leave kirkwall but end up living in the denerim alienage.

—————————-

lith hawke- she/her, age 25, adopted by the hawkes at 9 along with her twin nyx. an archer rogue, with speed taking precedence over power or precision. lith is a lot to take in okay. she’s the only one who’s pro-templar in the group, and is a rabid andrastian. back home in lothering her chantry beliefs were instrumental in keeping her family safe, as she not only knew every templar by name (as the whole family did) but also is endlessly trustworthy to them and to all the chantry sisters and mothers. countless times a templar might have come calling to take away one of her siblings or her father, but was dissuaded by lith- after all, little lith hawke would NEVER help hide apostates, right?

she supports her siblings because she believes that in the end their souls will be saved. (the only thing that freaks her out more than nyx’s blood magic is when syl casually drops that she’s thinking about converting to merrill’s religion.) she doesn’t trust mages if they aren’t related to her, and always advocates for the circle when given the chance. she’s best friends with fenris and they hang out a lot, more and more as the years pass. since merrill and anders both move into the hawke estate (which was already a bit of a circus, can you imagine the chaos?) lith finds herself more and more outnumbered ideologically and often escapes to fenris’ mansion for some quiet. 

during the endgame, she sides against her family and the mages. she basically has a villainous breakdown. she helps them kill meredith and once it’s revealed that meredith had been influenced by the lyrium idol, lith’s whole worldview is pretty much shattered. post-game she leaves the city and seeks out her cousin, ash amell (i have eight wardens so im not going to get into this but basically my amell and my cousland (eve) are in a gay throuple with leliana and its dope as all hell). spending time with ash, eve, and leliana is very healing for her, but all her siblings assume she’s dead and she doesn’t see them for years after kirkwall. 

—————————-

nyx hawke- they/them, age 25, adopted by the hawkes at 9 along with their twin lith. nyx is the blood mage of the group, and is an absolute icon quite frankly. they’re very chaotic, and especially close with kit, merrill, and isabela. nyx has a ton of fun fighting, and they and syl make an especially good team in combat. nyx always looks up to syl and its very sweet, and syl is the only one in the family who never once messed up nyx’s pronouns (everyone is very good about this of course, and by kirkwall its a non-issue, but even lith slipped up once or twice early on). 

they have very noodly arms because they’ve never had to worry about fighting hand to hand when running out of mana, because of the blood magic. this leads to quite a bit of teasing but tbh they pull it off. nyx is bi and has a thing with isabela for a short while but in the end they’re better as best friends. 

nyx and lith are very close. they’re often perfectly in sync when doing things, especially in combat, and have that twin esp thing going on which can get spooky at times. however they also bicker a lot, and obviously clash on ideology pretty much constantly. though this is the norm nyx always assumed they would have each other’s backs no matter what when it came down to the nitty gritty, and lith’s betrayal during the endgame is really heartbreaking for them. 

over the years anders and nyx do a lot of collaborating when it comes to mage rights. they help him polish his manifesto, and smuggle mages out of the gallows. the only real reason nyx isn’t brought into the loop on the chantry explosion was a mixtures of anders’ crushing guilt and his knowledge that if he told nyx and not steve, steve would be really hurt. (however he couldn’t tell steve because he didn’t want the deaths to be on steve’s conscience- anders knows he definitely would have helped if it came down to that). post-game nyx goes on to be one of the leaders of the mage rebellion.

—————————-

lou hawke- he/him, age 22, adopted by the hawkes at 10. hes a cowboy and i love him. an archer rogue, he prioritizes powerful firing over speed or precision. he’s a massive sweetheart, terminally polite, and has massive ears that he’s self-conscious of and tries to cover with his hair. however whenever his hair gets long enough to cover them leandra starts poking and prodding him to get a trim and he’s always too soft to refuse for long, beginning the cycle again (and after leandra is murdered he always keeps his hair to her liking- he gets weepy if it grows too long). he’s the only hawke i’ve drawn without his in-game outfit because this fucking game doesn’t have cowboy hats or cute shirts with tassles and i do what i want. 

lou also plays instruments, he’s got a guitar and a harmonica and plays the piano passably. he IS the piano man in the eyes of the hanged man’s patrons. sing us a song, they tell him, etc. he manages ten minutes of harmonica in the deep roads, citing excellent acoustics, until anders tells him to stop because the darkspawn will hear. when the hawkes get rich lou buys a horse and goes for morning rides out on the wounded coast. 

lou is bi, and runs around for years with a massive crush on isabela but that doesn’t exactly work out. he ends up with jethann (theres a lot of lore here but suffice it to say its extremely tender) and post-game they leave kirkwall and end up owning a ranch not far outside denerim. lou hires lots of farmhands that end up looking to him as a father figure and its super sweet, and jethann refuses to do manual labor. 

—————————-

this got insanely long i am SO sorry flkjsdlkgjlkcxjglsfkd

feel free to send any asks relating to them because i really love this family so much and could talk about them forever dlfskjlxcjglskd if you couldnt tell from this diatribe

[statementends]

What the Ghost?! (Ch5)

Characters: Jon, Georgie, the Admiral

Pairings for this chapter: Jon/Georgie

Warnings: None

Rating: G

Summary: Georgie and Jon have a podcast. It's been getting a lot of attention recently. Shifting POVs of different people interacting with the WTG podcast and crew and how it ties in with the Magnus Institute.

Chapter Summary: Jon and Georgie answer some questions in their summer break Q and A.

AO3: Link

Note: Thank you to @raspberrysundae, @radiosandrecordings, @vissercomplex and @aussie-bookworm for letting me use their usernames/giving me ideas for usernames. 

Big thanks to Raspberrysundae for helping me out with this chapter. 

Sidenote: All the WTG contact info is fake and neither I nor anyone I know owns the handles. 

---

Chapter Five: What the Q?!

“Hello and welcome to What the Q!? I’m Georgie Barker.”

“And I got outvoted on the name.”

“He loves it. He just pretends not to.” 

“It doesn’t make sense!”

“With me is my love and co-host Jonathan Sims and today for the first time we’re doing a special Q and A as a Patreon reward to tied you over during our summer break.” Georgie grinned at Jon and leaned against him. He rolled his eyes but pressed against her as well. “We asked for your questions on Twitter.”

“@WTGcast.”

“And our email.”

“wtgpod@gmail.”

“And of course our Patreon.” 

“Patreon.com/whattheghost.”

“He learned it all himself.”

“I’m not computer illiterate despite the memes out there to the contrary.”

“Why don’t we get to some questions. Shall I read one out for you?”

“Let me guess.”

“Hm?” Georgie looked up from her tablet that contained all the questions she had selected for the show.

Jon had that intense look he’d get sometimes. “Why are you so staunchly skeptical about some things and not about others?” He offered. 

“I’m sure that’s in there somewhere. Did you want to address it now?”

“Hm…” Jon hesitated. Georgie marked the time as a potential cut. Jon didn’t really like getting personal with strangers. When their podcast started climbing the charts on Itunes and he started getting attention directed at him he almost walked away from the entire thing. There was a lot of long nights and conversations before he agreed to keep going. The Q and A was really a bit of a build up. They were getting invitations to conventions which would be essential for their brand and for funding, and their online presence was growing. They’d even have to start hiring other people on soon.  But it would be hard for Jon. Sometimes she wanted grab him by the shoulders. Tell him not to be afraid. That it was holding him back.

But that wasn’t fair. 

“Why don’t we go with your first question and work up to it.” Jon said. “I do have an answer but… maybe let’s not start there?”

“No problem, Jon.” She squeezed his hand and lifted her tablet. “Our first question is from Elfgrunge. They ask: Why do you use a fake accent for the show?” It took all of Georgie’s will to keep a straight face.

There was a long moment of dead air. Jon gave her a look. 

“The people want to know Jon.”

He gave a soft groan. “I don’t know how this rumour started. My accent is real. This is how I talk.”

“You do lean into a bit of a crypt keeper vibe for the intro.”

“Oh yes,” Jon nodded in agreement. “That’s for effect, but it’s more about pitch than my accent.”

“Confirmed. Jon is a citizen of the United Kingdom and speaks like a local. Or at least that’s what he claims. Why don’t you ask the next question?”

He smiled at her as he took the tablet.

“Desert-Lurker has a question for you, Georgie: have you always been into horror? Do you have a favourite horror writer?” 

Georgie laughed. “Well… it’s funny because what me and Jon are doing… it is in the category of a horror podcast. Creepy stories every two weeks about things that are unbelievable, but I’m not sure if horror is exactly the right word for it.”

“A lot--the majority I’m fairly certain are just stories,” Jon added raising his eyebrows to see if his interjection was alright. She nodded.

“From Jon’s perspective at least,” She agreed. “But our goal is to research and share real people’s stories and experiences with the supernatural. I know we get a lot of comments that we’re writing the stories we share ourselves and Jon and I are just doing a bit, but we aren’t. People send us stories, we research the ones that interest us and share our research with all of you. That said I used to be into horror comics as a kid, but … fell out of it. Swamp Thing was a favourite, and Hellblazer. Constantine was actually pretty big for me thinking about it. Seeing a bisexual character in the early 2000s was rare. But… yeah I’m not interested in the horror genre as an escape anymore.”

Jon was nodding along with her story. He passed her back the tablet. 

“Let’s go to a question for both of us. This one comes from Mothman-is-my-Dad. Great username: How do you decide which submissions and stories to go forward with? Do you go in order or do you have a process?”

“Oh, that’s a good question,” Jon said approvingly.

“Well, to start with we do not make a show for every story sent in.” Georgie said. 

“Yes,” Jon agreed. “That would be a lot of work, and… while I have certain reservations…--”

“Are you still mad about Ghost spider?”

“Don’t talk to me about Ghost spider.-- while I disparage some of the stories sent in, the ones that we don’t record. Well.” His voice dropped disapprovingly. “You can only imagine.” 

Georgie made an exaggerated nod. She was the one looking through all those emails after all. The things people would send them. Yikes. She continued:

“I look through the submissions and weed out the ones that aren’t viable. Sometimes it’s because it’s obviously fake, sometimes because there isn’t enough information for us to get started. Even then we have a very large backlog of stories that we’d like to look into.”

Jon hummed. “We put them into categories: does this story have potential to be true? Are there ways we can do follow up? Will our listeners want to hear about it?”

“Will Jon want to research it?”

“Well…”

“Not that I slack being producer, sound mixer, and social media head of our little company, but Jon does the majority of information gathering and research. I’ll give him a few with potential and he’ll choose one. We go from there. Sometimes he flat out refuses.”

“I--yes…some of them just don’t… it’s a gut thing.”

Georgie snorted.

“What?”

“It’s just funny for you to say that.”

“Fair enough.”

“And, just so we’re clear. He might whinge about it, but he did approve Ghost Spider enough to do the research.”

“There were elements strange enough to warrant investigation. Honestly though I should have put my foot down the very idea of it--But…yes. I’ll take the story and look into any provided evidence and hand off my findings to Georgie. We build the episode around that.”

“And then the magic happens,” Georgie finished with a one handed jazz hand for Jon’s benefit. He smiled and plucked the tablet from her.

He snorted reading over the question.

“Georgie, Raspberrysundae wants to know: Who’s the goodest boy? Jon or the Admiral?”

Georgie grinned. “Jon comes in second place for sure.” 

“I can accept that. He’s a tough cat to beat.”

“To be fair, Jon would sell me up the river for the Admiral, it’s all mutual.” 

Maybe because he heard his name a paw was suddenly poking under the doorway. Georgie and Jon burst out laughing. Immediately Jon went to open the door. Georgie noted the time for the recording although she thought she might keep it in since it was a bit of a behind the scenes episode.

“See, look at you babying him. No cats in the studio.” 

“He’ll be good.” Jon said scooping the large cat into his arms and bringing him over. Georgie gave the Admiral a scritch on the head. 

“He’s purring all over the equipment.” 

“Question and Answers are supposed to be more real aren’t they?” 

“Give me my cat.” She pulled the Admiral into her arms and he happily flopped across her lap. “Don’t mind the purring, Jon once again has chosen cat over sound quality.” 

“Oh, they love it,” Jon smirked. His hand ran through the Admiral’s fur. She gently pushed the cat back into Jon’s lap so she could maneuver the tablet and her notes a bit easier.

Georgie skimmed through the questions. “Jons-Skepticism asks: When you came out with your Pride WTG logo pins I was super excited that you included aro and ace. You said when you announced them that you would have to keep an ace pin especially for Jon. You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, I was wondering though if Jon is ace or if it was just a joke?”

She had mentioned before hand to Jon that there was a question about it and asked if he wanted to include it in their Q and A. He had agreed. 

“That was a very recent episode so I think it will be good to answer this one directly. There was a bit of a backlash accusing Georgie of outing me on the podcast or of making a rude joke, but we do edit this, and I have a little bit of say for what gets included.”

“Just a little. Wouldn’t want it to go to his head.” 

“Georgie was just being… sweet. She wasn’t making a joke at anyone’s expense. The truth is I don’t really know much about the community and the terms used. Georgie has been helpful in that, but I’m…” He trailed off thinking about it. “I grew up as … odd for a lot of reasons. A lot of things… didn’t make sense to me… you know how I feel about evidence and proper justification of things. Gender and orientation weren’t things I struggled with exactly. It was just a… lack of interest? Boys can’t wear skirts, girls can’t be on the football team. It seemed like useless rhetoric. And when you get to a certain age you… feel a certain way. Sorry. I’m trying to… explain it. My internal feelings never had to interact with the rest of the world. I saw myself as weird and I didn’t expect that others would understand me or feel the way I did. Society tries to convince us that we’re broken if we’re not the same as everyone else. Sometimes it succeeds… Georgie has helped me understand. I’m a private person. I don’t think I would be able to talk about it without her…” He sighed. “I’m rambling I hate rambling. I’m just… learning. Asexual fits… with how I am. I’ve never really needed a label before, or even knew there was one. I was sort of insulted when I heard the term the first time thinking about single-celled organisms. I like it better now. There is a comfort in it, that other people are the same… so I wanted to pass that on. That’s why we kept it. It’s not really anyone’s business… but maybe if one of the authors I read as a child had written about someone like me I would have felt different in my… more awkward years. We were trying to go for casual.”

“We forgot that sometimes it’s better to be explicit.” 

They chuckled. 

Georgie checked the time. 

“Alright Jon, I think we have time for one more question which is a pretty big one. This comes from MKBwood: Have either of you seen the supernatural before?”

Jon started stroking the Admiral’s fur and a long silence stretched between them. As they both were urging the other to go first.

They had talked about it before… in the vaguest sense. When they started Georgie asked. Jon said yes. It had come as a surprise considering his skepticism, but he was openly researching the supernatural back in school, there had to be a reason for it. And Georgie… well… she had only answered: Yeah. Me too. They had never gone into detail. It wasn’t about trust it was like… infection. She didn’t want Jon to get poisoned by it the same way she had. But maybe he had his own poison too. 

Jon spoke first, his attention solely on the Admiral. 

“I… have, but I won’t go into it.” He smiled bitterly. “I can’t prove it you see. There’s no point in sharing something that can’t be proven. And yes. I hate that I can’t. Perhaps that’s an answer for my brand of skepticism. I know that there are things out there. But… I have to believe there can’t be that many of the… things like it. Not without solid evidence.”

Oh. That did explain a lot. 

“I have as well.” Georgie said slowly. “That was when I stopped liking horror stories.” She added ironically. “When it’s real the fantasy becomes unappetizing and… not very interesting. There are things in our world that are secret. That we don’t understand. Maybe it goes back to what Jon was saying about… seeing and knowing others that have the same experiences as you. There’s a comfort in it, and spreading information that is interesting, that maybe could even save somebody is the right thing to do. I’m not afraid of the things out there. But they cause a lot of trouble.” 

More silence between them. Absentmindedly Georgie noted it. 

“Well,” She forced a brighter tone. “On that cheerful note I think we’ll call it there. Thank you so much to those that submitted questions. I’m Georgie Barker.”

“And I’m Jonathan Sims.”

“Goodbye!” 

This would be the part where the outro and theme music would play, but that would all be edited in later. Jon let the Admiral crawl off his lap and over to Georgie. She stroked his fur. 

“I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” She asked. 

“I don’t ever want to talk about it, Georgie… it. It was a Leitner.”

“The books?”

“Yes.” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “It was… a spider.”

“Oh. That explains…”

“The disdain for them? Yes. I… I’ll never forget it. I remember every line of that book… what about you?”

“A dead woman spoke to me,” Georgie replied. “She told me the future. She stole my fear, or maybe there was just nothing scarier than what she had said.” 

Jon nodded pensively. 

“I think that’s good.” Georgie said turning off the equipment. “Want to take the rest of the night off? I’ll start editing tomorrow. We can get takeout.”

“As long as it’s not Hungarian.” Jon forced a smile, his eyes weren’t in it. He was still thinking of his spider. 

“I suppose we can get a curry instead then.” She took his hand and pulled him to a stand. Held him and kissed his cheek. 

“I’m alright. I just… try not to think about it.” 

“One day we’ll owe each other the stories, but maybe not today?”

“Yes. Not today.”

[em-be-lievable]

The long drive home. (Ch 2)

Fic Title: The long drive home.

Chapter Title: A night without stars.

Warnings: angst like woah, mild alcohol abuse, awkward conversations, smoking, minor confrontation

Word count: Around 3000, it’s a short lil thing.

Summery: Roman made a mistake. He knew from the beginning that he had completely fucked up. But he never knew how much he’d regret it until Patton looked at him and all the stars in those big blue eyes were gone.

Author’s Note: This fic is incredibly therapeutic to write. Next DWAU coming soon, I just had to get this out and away from me.

Pairings: Past Royality, Moxiety, Logince, Remani, Former familial DLMP, Familial PattonxEmile- honestly it’s a mess, just go with it. 

Previous chapter is here, and it’s also available on AO3!

———————————————————————————————————

Roman had fucked up.

Roman had fucked up really badly. 

He had known he’d fucked up. Made peace with the destruction, and vowed to do better once he was able to see Patton again.

But he never really realized the extent of the damage until he was standing face-to-face with his mistake. All at once it seemed like every little red flag and every little warning sign finally hit him and it became clear that there wasn’t anything he was able to do to take it back. To make things how they used to be.

He had ruined it, like he always did. He just ruined everything good in his life beyond repair.

Roman felt like he was cracking apart as he meekly raised a hand to wave at Patton. Patton smiled at him and waved back, but it was wrong. The smile was not a beaming, shining display like he remembered. It was the same smile Pat used for strangers he met during his old customer service jobs. 

All the love and adoration Roman had been used to getting from Patton was gone. And something about that hurt him so much more than he'd expected it to. 

“Are you going to go in, or just stand in the doorway all night?” Logan sighed, pushing past Roman and moving into the living room either oblivious of the tension, or simply uncaring of it. The lankier boy maneuvering flawlessly through the crowd of people to get to the bar and throw back the first container of alcohol he came in contact with. 

"Salutations, Patton.” He stated flatly, “I hope you're doing well.” 

“Ehe, nice to see you too, Logan!” Patton giggled from the bar and Roman resisted the urge to cry. This scene was wrong. Logan and Patton were supposed to be best friends- Patton was supposed to throw himself onto Logan and cuddle him, and Logan was supposed to grumpily protest despite loving the affection. This exchange didn't feel like two long time friends reuniting, it felt like two aquaintances passing each other on the street. "How's the book coming along?”

"UUUGGGGHHHHH-” Logan groaned, throwing back yet more alcohol. “I'm going to kill Stephanie.”

Patton chuckled lightly, but the true mirth he'd hold for Logan's more dramatic responses was missing. “Is that your publisher?” 

“Yes.” Logan sighed putting his head on the bar top. “She pushed back the release date of the second book. Again. I swear, I don't know what requires so much time- Just publish the damn thing already!”

Patton laughed again into his cup and Roman was still resisting the urge to scream. That wasn't the way Patton laughed at their antics. Patton's laugh was supposed to be more bubbly, more genuine. This wasn't the Patton Roman knew anymore. The one from high school, who loved them more than anything. This was a stranger wearing a Patton suit. Someone Roman didn't know.

His entire being cried out for the real Patton, but no answer ever came. Just fake, sugary sweet smiles and hollow laughs in a mock performance of the Patton he had remembered. This new changeling of a man was all that was left. 

And one way or another, Roman was going to have to deal with it. “Long time no see, Patton! What’s new with you.” He tried, plastering on his best, fake brave face as he maneuvered around the crowed to join Logan at the bar.

“Oh y’know. Same old stuff as before.” Patton laughed out effortlessly, before tossing back the remains of his cup. Something in Roman frowned at this. That…didn’t seem like a real answer.

“Yeah? And what does that ‘same old’ entail?” He tried again, awkwardly chuckling in an attempt to lift the grim mood he was feeling.

“Oh you know! I’m still working too much, and playing video games when I’m not working.” Patton shrugged. “Can I get you a drink?”

Another fake answer from Patton, that left a distaste in Roman’s mouth. Why was Patton avoiding telling him anything? What was his job? What did he do? What video games was he playing? It felt like every option to delve closer into Patton’s personality was being blocked. Like Roman was doing nothing but running into walls.

When did Pat become so guarded? “Sure, I’ll take whatever you’re having.” 

Patton made a somewhat disapproving face, and the sorrow in Roman turned slightly defensive. “Are you sure? There’s alcohol in this.” 

“I am aware.” Roman sighed back.

“Roman drinks now, Pat.” Emile chimed in, trying to provide fillers into the holes of Patton’s memory.

“Oh? Really? You were so staunchly against alcohol as a kid!” Patton giggled, shrugging before fixing Roman the drink.

‘Yeah, and so were you.’ Roman thought to himself, but didn’t dare to voice aloud. ‘When did that change?’ 

“Here ya go, kiddo!” Patton chirped, handing over a plastic cup full of dark liquid over to to Roman. Roman grunted a quick ‘thank you,’ before going to take a sip. Maybe alcohol will make this exchange easier.

However upon tasting the bitter, and burning liquid on his tongue, Roman quickly spat up the sip back into his cup. Patton giggled. “Whoops! Guess I should have warned you- I make strong drinks.” 

‘Strong is an understatement!’ Roman whined internally, as someone- probably Logan, patted his back. ‘This is practically a cup full of straight rum!’ “Yeah, geez Pat.” He coughed out a bit. “How are you able to drink that stuff?” 

Patton shrugged, taking a big gulp of his own newly fixed drink. Roman winced for him. “College changed me, as a man.” 

‘Yeah, I can see that.’ Roman grumbled to himself, pouring in a bit more soda to make the drink more tolerable. ‘What the hell happened to you?’ 

Before he could open his mouth and try to fix this painfully awkward conversation, someone new entered and Patton enthusiastically went to go greet them. Roman watched from his seat, sorrow, anger, and confusion filling his heart.

“He certainly has changed.” Logan hummed from his seat besides Roman, earning a cautious look from Emile.

“‘Changed’ is an understatement! He’s a completely different person!” Roman whined eyes still glued to the bright blue of Patton’s back. “Emile who is that and what have they done with Patton?!” 

“Guys, be nice.” Emile sighed, taking a few empty cups and throwing them into the trash nearby. “He’s been through a lot recently. It might take some time for him to warm up to you again.” 

“It would certainly be nice to know what that ‘a lot’ is.” Roman grumbled bitterly, turning back to his cup. “Is it just me, or did he just dodge all of my questions?” 

“Roman.” Emile sighed, “Stop taking this so personally, alright? Don’t forget, we had to deal with Dee for months after you left. It’s natural for him to be a little distrusting.” 

Roman glared into his cup. Right, Dee. The little shit who tore up their friendship completely, but not all on his own.

It was true, Roman and Logan decided they couldn’t take it anymore. All of the lies, the shittalking behind everyone’s back- it had made them both paranoid to the point they didn’t want to be around any of the old members of their friend-group anymore. Like they couldn’t trust anyone in affiliation with Dee anymore. So Logan and Roman cut all ties with Dee and everyone else in favor of working on their book. 

Not for lack of trying though. Patton tried desperately to fix the situation. To make everyone happy, or at the very least keep some semblance of a relationship with Roman and Logan. And they…just shut him out. Roman was so frightened that everything he said would make it’s way back to Dee. That any information could be used against him.

He imagined he acted quite the same way at Patton as Patton was acting now. But the threat was gone; none of them talked to Dee anymore.

So what was Patton so afraid of?

—-

Patton liked being drunk way more than he probably should.

In his defense, he was a happy, bubbly drunk. Under the influence he loved people, and felt like nothing could hurt him. His troubles and worries felt so far away to the point he could no longer understand what it was he was so upset about.

Patton didn’t get drunk a lot, but when he did he relished the freedom from feeling it gave him.

And that’s how he found himself outside, sitting around the bonfire chatting up someone he didn’t know. She was very pretty though, and delightful to talk to even if just in casual conversation. Her name might be Valerie but Patton wasn’t that good with names, even when he was sober. 

When Valerie was called over by one of her friends Patton turned to the next available person and started listening to what they were saying. They offered him a cigarette and he took it along with a light- he was going to die young anyway from all the stress, might as well enjoy a few vices along the way. 

He was about half way through the nasty-tasting smoke stick when Roman found him, the other wrinkling his nose at the sight. “I didn’t know you smoke.” 

It took a moment for the words to register with Patton, and he smiled at the other while shrugging. “Well, y’know- When in Rome-an!” 

The pun put a face of cringe on Roman’s face, and Patton turned away. ‘Fine, screw you.’ He thought to himself, ‘If you disapprove you can just fuck right off like you did before. I don’t care anymore.’ 

“You do know that’ll give you cancer, right?” Roman tried with a dry chuckle. Patton frowned, taking a final drag and flicking the end in the fire.

“Yeah, and so will sunlight, the water, and pretty much all the food we eat, kiddo.” He stood up, “Right now all your cells are slowly setting on fire and we’re all going to die eventually. Why not at least enjoy it for a bit?” He walked passed Roman, pausing and then turning around- as if Roman was only a second thought. “I need another drink, do you want anything?” 

Roman frowned deeper, and Patton mentally rolled his eyes. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” 

Patton gave him a final shrug and headed inside, only getting side tracked by a few people and conversations, before they amassed a crowed around the bar. Finally the laughter and jokes were back flowing easily, and Patton could wash the nasty taste of Roman’s general disapproval out of his mouth.

After someone challenged him to shots, and abysmally lost in a Smash tournament consisting of every player playing Kirby the entire time, Patton found himself laying on the floor and giggling, Logan watching from a chair nearby.

“…So, Patton. How was your college experience?” Logan tried eventually, Patton noted the slight look of concern in his eyes- but decided he didn’t like it, and wouldn’t let Logan bring down his mood.

“Generally it sucked.” Patton shrugged, “The first few months were fun, but then the courses got really hard, and everything with Trevor happened- but then I met Toby and managed to graduate. So at least theres that!” He chuckled.

Logan furrowed his brows, pressing his lips together. This felt like a whole chapter of Patton’s life summed up into a few sentences. And there was so much he was missing from it. “What did you study that was so hard? And who is Trevor, and Toby?”

Patton giggled, that’s right- Lolo didn’t know. He wasn’t Emile, and he didn’t stick around for the shitshow. “I studied programming! Remember how I wanted to make video games? I decided to go into that- but it was super hard, and I don’t even make games now. I work as a tech manager for a banking firm and it’s super boring.” Pat sat up, grabbing his cup and taking another gulp of the burning swill within it. This probably had to be his last drink for a while, lest he threw up or passed out. “Trevor is a bitch, and will be only referred to as fuck-face mcgillcuddy from now on. Toby is cool. I met him at a party and we became like siblings. He’s super obsessed with Halloween- his full name is even ‘October.’ After I moved from Baltimore he still kept messaging me. Though he mainly just sends me memes.” 

Logan blinked twice. Somehow, despite talking more- Patton didn’t truly say anything. The most human thing that came out of his mouth was about Trevor, given that Patton never typically swore. Whatever happened with Trevor it was probably bad- Or maybe Patton was just drunk, Logan really couldn’t tell. Despite that there was nothing to really go off of for Logan to further the conversation. He wasn’t one to press a sensitive subject after all, so he had to find something else to go on.

“Toby sounds cool, I guess.” He tried, fidgeting in his seat. “Um, do you like dungeons and dragons?” 

“I LOVE dungeons and dragons!” Patton lit up, like an excited puppy. “I’m actually a DM for an online campaign! They even call me the Dadgeon Master!”

‘Oh thank god,’ Logan sighed inwardly, ‘At least we can talk about something, finally.’ “Roman and I do too. We’ve actually been interested in doing a campaign, but can’t find enough people to play.” 

“Well if you need a DM I’m down!” Patton hummed, giggles bubbling up from his chest. “I could build you guys an epic campaign!” 

“I think I’ll take you up on that.” Logan smiled warmly, for the first time in what felt like forever. “I think it would be a fantastic chance for us to all catch up.” 

“Heck yeah! What kind of character do you play? I bet you’d make an awesome mage!” Patton prattled on, and Logan chuckled.

“Actually, I primarily play rangers.” He hummed, “I find the companion aspect gives me a strategic advantage.” 

There was something in that that gave Patton pause. Logan shrunk inwardly at the blank face Patton gave him, like he almost didn’t really believe what Logan was saying.

It made Logan feel small, and foolish. Like he was better off not opening his mouth at all. “Oh! That’s really neat kiddo! I never would have guessed!” Patton smiled, but it didn’t fix the weird vibe Logan was getting. If anything, it only felt more patronizing.

“Yes, well.” Logan got up, looking for any excuse to leave the conversation. “I think I better find Roman.” 

“You do that then!” Patton hummed sipping from his cup. “Catch you around!” 

Logan didn’t say anything back, as he ducked out of the sliding doors in favor of being literally anywhere else but in the same room with Patton. The night air only soothed his soul a fraction of a bit, as he distanced himself from the vile air that had come between them. Was Patton always like that? So belittling? Was Logan getting worked up over nothing?

It didn’t seem like that. When Logan looked back on his memories with Patton he thought of the sweet kid who was always at Roman’s house. The bubbly innocent kid who always had the best hugs Logan never knew he needed, and went along with all their hair-brained ideas, or was always willing to stay up into the early hours of the night playing video games with them.

That idea was so tainted now. So grossly bastardized that it felt like two separate idealizations of two completely different people. It actually hurt. It hurt Logan that Patton was acting this way. He didn’t even know what to do.

He wasn’t sure if he even liked Patton anymore, and it hit his chest like morning a loss of a departed loved one. 

—-

As Emile waved some of the last party attendees away, he sighed inwardly. This whole event was taking a lot more out of him than he realized, his joints screamed in protest of doing anything more tonight. As he surveyed the disastrous remains of his basement he groaned. If he cleaned up now he’d be absolutely wrecked tomorrow, and wouldn’t be able to make the most of Patton’s visit. But if he waited he might not have the energy for it in the morning, and his stepdad would be pissed. Just the thought of that made him feel like complete garbage, and he could already feel the pain induced mental fog start to fall over him. All he wanted was to lay down and rest.

Amidst his contemplating, Remy snaked a hand around his waist and pulled him into his side, kissing the top of Emile’s head. “Thanks for the party babe. Don’t worry about the clean-up, I got it.” 

“What about Patton?” Emile hummed nuzzling into his boyfriend’s chest.

Remy chuckled, “I think I’m gonna have Pat pass out on the couch for a bit. Gurl drank an awful lot.” 

“Yeah…” Emile sighed, pulling away for a moment to rub his face. “Do you think it was a bad idea to invite all of them tonight? Roman and Logan didn’t seem really happy when they left. And when I checked in with Patton he said he was fine, but he was also a bottle and a half of whisky in so I’m not sure how much I believe that.” 

Remy sighed, with a shrug. Emile knew this wasn’t really Remy’s area of expertise. While he had been by Emile’s side for most of the shitshow, he wasn’t directly involved with it. He didn’t feel the sting, the paranoia of never being to trust Dee. Of screen shotting their conversations just to have ‘receipts’ of his actions. Didn’t feel how much stress it put on Emile after Patton left for Baltimore. Or didn’t feel the sorrow witnessing the tears that came down Patton’s face as he, and Dee encouraged him to forget Roman and Logan after they left. 

Pangs of guilt hit Emile’s chest as he remembered how much a part of the problem he had been. And although Patton constantly denied it, Emile knew he was also partly to blame for how things turned out. How Patton turned out. Even if it was just a small part, he contributed to the destruction of the famILY.

Emile was shaken from his thought’s as Remy pulled him in once more, running a comforting hand through Emile’s hair in an attempt to soothe his boyfriend. “I think it was for the best. Babes have a lot to work out, but at least they got started. It’s gonna take some time and patience, but I think they’ll make up eventually.” 

“You sure?” Emile hummed, nuzzling deeper into Remy. “I think they’re hurting.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s natural that the start of this would be painful.” Remy reassured, pressing his cheek to Emile’s head. “Pat’s not just gonna forget a backstab like that. It’ll take some time but he’ll come around.” 

‘I’m not so sure about that.’ Emile thought, but didn’t say anything. ‘Pat will never admit that he’s still angry. He won’t even talk to me about what happened. And we talk about everything.’

“C’mon.” Remy encouraged, tugging on Emile’s sweater softly. “Lets get you to bed. We’ll worry about this in the morning.” 

Emile didn’t say anything, he just let himself be slowly helped up the stairs and to his bedroom. Remy was right, the fog had settled in and it was getting harder and harder to think. He just needed rest.

He didn’t have enough spoons for this tonight.

———————————————————————————————

Nobody’s perfect. Not even Patton. 

General fic list: @spaceisbigger @a-pastel-pan @side-for-sides @shadowsoul357 @peanut0303 @stormblessedcastiel @3xtralif3 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @therealpeterpan @punsterterry 

[jewish-privilege]

I am a lifelong Democrat. I believe the party stands for the principles that reflect Jewish values and will create a brighter future for every American, including American Jews, and for the world—from gay rights to access to health care to racial justice to women’s rights to the fight against poverty and for equal access to a prosperous future. The year I spent working to reelect Barack Obama—dedicating much of that time to outreach to Jewish communities on behalf of the president—was the best of my life. It was the most inclusive, diverse, respectful space I have ever worked, a place where my Judaism was not tolerated—it was celebrated. Together we built strong coalitions across communities and, I believe, a better America for all.

It is with this background and with these beliefs that I issue a warning to my friends and colleagues in the Democratic Party: Nothing in this life is promised.

Jewish-Americans are frightened, angry, and looking for leadership from the party to address a global crisis that hits us close to home. I know because I have been hearing from them, with increasing urgency. They fear that the climate of anti-Semitism in America right now is echoing 1930s Europe. They are remembering the warning signs that their bubbes whispered to them and renewing their passports. It may seem overwrought to you, but Egyptian Jews thought they would always be welcomed in Egypt. German Jews thought they would always be welcomed in Germany. This has been the story of Jews, for centuries and throughout the world.

They are frightened because they have heard silence from people they thought were friends, and worse from those they at least considered allies. They fear the Democrats are abandoning them. They say they plan to stop volunteering and donating, that they are afraid the Democratic Party doesn’t include them anymore, or won’t include them soon. They tell me how unthinkable this was for them even a month ago. But then they tell me the fears started before that. That they’ve faced growing anti-Semitism from various corners of the progressive movement for years, that they’re looking at what’s happening in the U.K. and thinking we are about to be kicked out of one more place in the long history of Jewish exclusion and disenfranchisement.

We need to see Democrats addressing anti-Semitism across the political spectrum, including from within the party and within the progressive movement. Because here is the truth: American Jews could stay home on election day. American Jews could decide their synagogue’s capital campaign for synagogue security needs their money instead. American Jews could decide our feet are tired of canvassing. American Jews are key to turning swing states blue. We are a reliable bloc of voters, donors and volunteers, but we are not promised to Democrats. Every vote needs to be earned. We need to see action, we need to feel respected, we want to be valued by the party we overwhelmingly support. We want your full-throated support during a frightening time.

American Jews need the Democratic Party to stand with us, and we need to stand with the Democratic Party. There is too much at stake.

...Jews have real reason for fear in America right now. We have a white nationalist movement that is growing. There is an undeniable, global rise in anti-Semitism. It is happening in France, in England, in New York City. Hate crimes are rising across the U.S., and rising against Jews at a rapid pace. Blood has already been spilled inside a synagogue.

America is experiencing political instability, and historically that bodes badly for Jews—and we must not lose sight of how we got here. We have a president who dove into the American psyche and embraced our darkest histories and worst hatred. He launched the Muslim ban. He brought extreme anti-gay policy into the mainstream with his VP. He called African countries “shitholes.” He launched campaign ads with Hillary Clinton surrounded by Jewish stars and dollar bills. He excused and endorsed violence against protesters at his rallies—even discussing the possibility of paying legal fees of those in violent confrontations. Trump’s MAGA campaign embraced hate, viscerally and loudly, and has made many historically targeted minority groups in America feel less safe. Hate crimes began to pick up during a racially charged, frightening election season and shot upwards after his election. I know you remember the crushing, paralyzing fear and shock in the days after Charlottesville.

And language has extended to other vulnerable groups, too, and those attacks reverberated back on our community with grave consequences. He created a narrative in which refugees, including children, were somehow an existential threat to America. He claimed that there were terrorists and criminals hiding within the migrant caravan – a claim that was a lie. He spoke at campaign rallies claiming that the Democratic Party was encouraging people to “break into our country.”...

Despite the fact that Trump’s claims of potential violence from refugees was a political tactic, some took it seriously—including, tragically, the shooter who took 11 lives at the Tree of Life synagogue, who believed that because of Jewish support of refugees, especially HIAS, Jews must be killed to protect Americans from the violent threat at our border. Trump created the environment which led to emboldened white supremacists, xenophobic frenzy, and eventual violence—including violence against Jews.

You would think that this sort of behavior would inspire wall-to-wall cohesion among those who oppose the president—a commitment to working together to fight his words and actions. Instead, we have seen a tragic fracturing on the left, with sharp and painful faults opening up around Jews, anti-Semitism, allyship and Israel.

I have been deeply critical of those in the progressive movement who have fallen down on anti-Semitism, but I do not believe the failures of those activist movements are analogous to the Democratic Party. One clear example is the Women’s March. After serious allegations of anti-Semitism among Women’s March leaders were reported, the DNC pulled out of partnership with them—and while some 2020 Democratic candidates participated in local iterations of the march, not a single one attended the March in Washington.

Another is the response to Ilhan Omar’s recent comments about Israel and American Jews. Within 24 hours of her first offensive remark, Omar had been formally reprimanded by Nancy Pelosi and many senior House Democrats. And after she engaged in divisive and frightening rhetoric again one week later, Democrats passed a full-throated condemnation of anti-Semitism, one that additionally reiterated their dedication to fighting against all hatred for a stronger America. That broadening reflects Jewish values of justice and inclusion, and ultimately strengthens the fight against anti-Semitism.

An additional challenge facing us is the Democratic Party’s relationship to Israel. Here’s the reality: There are forces on the left that want to create a divide between Democrats and Israel. There are people who want to see Democrats embrace BDS and anti-Zionism. This movement is small, but it has the potential to grow. Since over 92 percent of Jews consider themselves pro-Israel, this creates an obvious tension.  While Rep. Ilhan Omar and Rep Rashida Tlaib have been depicted as the new face of this exciting class of freshman Dems, in actuality, this freshman class is full of Israel supporters. For example, Rep. Max Rose, won a seemingly impossible race in Staten Island, a district that went for Trump by 9 points. Rep. Rose is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan and lists supporting Israel as one of his top priorities in Congress. He is deeply committed to continuing bipartisan support for Israel. Rep. Elaine Luria is another freshman in Congress after unseating incumbent Republican Scott Taylor. She is staunchly pro-Israel and has already taken  a bipartisan trip to Israel. She opposes the Iran deal and BDS and supported moving the U.S. Embassy to Jerusalem.  Former CIA analyst Elissa Slotkin also won her race in the Michigan 8th against Mike Bishop. While serving at the Pentagon, she helped finalize the 10-year Memorandum of Understanding between the U.S. and Israel. These incredible new members of Congress, deeply supportive of Israel, all flipped their districts red to blue. That means they will face fierce 2020 elections when the GOP seeks to regain those seats. They need our support to continue to be strong Jewish pro-Israel voices in Congress. They shouldn’t be punished for others’ mistakes.

Additional pro-Israel freshman Dems include Ayanna Pressley, the first black lawmaker from Massachusetts. She is against BDS and enjoys a “warm and productive relationship” with her local Jewish community and the Boston JCRC. Mikie Sherrill, another veteran who flipped her seat, is also strongly pro-Israel and supports continued military aid for Israel. Beyond freshmen, examine Democratic Party leadership Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer, and Hakeem Jeffries, all boasting impeccable pro-Israel records, to say nothing of Nita Lowey, chair of the powerful Appropriations Committee.

It’s also worth noting that while 92 percent of American Jews define themselves as pro-Israel, 59 percent of American Jews say they are critical of at least some Israeli policies. There should be no appetite for smears, anti-Semitic rhetoric or wholesale condemnation of Zionism, but there is plenty of room for substantive, policy focused debate.

It is true that two freshman members of Congress have chosen to engage in dishonest and ugly rhetoric about the state of Israel. I hope they take meetings with Israeli and American victims of Palestinian terror. I hope they meet with families whose kids were targeted by bomb-filled balloons in Southern Israel, and they hear what it feels like to tell your children to be afraid of balloons. I hope that they hear from Persian Jews who are messaging me telling me how angry they are to hear the country they fled compared to Israel, especially by a fellow refugee. I hope they hear from FSU Jews who are writing me telling me how dual-loyalty charges turned their family into refugees and how frightened talk of allegiances makes them. Talk to Democrats in Congress and tell them stories they have never heard and won’t ever hear without you. Tell them if they want your support, they will need to earn it.

It is true that the party has stumbled to address anti-Semitism within its caucus. It is true that we have been disappointed by many members of the Democratic Party and by their slow or inadequate response to anti-Semitism at home, around the world, and within our own movement.

But the Democratic Party is the political home of 75 percent of American Jews. I believe we can stay in our political home, where our values of justice have always lived, and create a stronger party that learns from the mistakes of the past couple of months.

And the way to do this is how Jews in America have always expressed themselves politically—by engaging those around us, especially those who claim to be our leaders. Schedule an in-district meeting. Go to a town hall. Write a letter to the editor of your local paper. Show up to your local Democratic Party. Call your member of Congress everyday and tell them how you feel. There are actions he or she can take right now to support our community. Tell them to pass the Anti-Semitism Envoy Act and the Domestic Terror Prevention Act—two bills that will help keep our community safer and are ADL legislative priorities. Look to your local party for action as well, especially if you live in one of the five American states with no hate-crime statutes to protect you and other communities.

We should tell them our stories. Members, especially freshmen, genuinely are moved by constituents and their stories all the time. Our stories are worth hearing. We must stand up and fight this. We must involve ourselves more and more deeply in our party—not less. We must run for delegates, vote in primaries and get involved in local party politics, and make our voices heard. Be the Democrats you wish to see in the party. The answer is not to leave—but to fight.