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fk12b · 5 years

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Thrill Of It All

Boxer & Rockstar AU in the 80′s AU

Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Rockstar!Reader

@asadmarveltrashbag’s 3K Writing Challenge

A BLAST FROM THE BAST!: Thrill Of It All

Main Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Prompts:

“You knocked over my ceramic Hello Kitty piggy bank, bitch”

“Once again, I fell in love with you”

Warnings: So much kissing. Just pure fluff. Boxing??? Rock & Roll??? Old shoes and alcoholism???

Word Count: 6258 Words

A/N: First of all congratulations to my friend @asadmarveltrashbag you’re amazing, and she deserves all the love. Second, thanks for letting me participate in this amazing challenge. And of course, I hope you enjoy this little piece of my mind. Here you go <3000. I’m so sorry for posting this like, so very late.

Based on these songs -> Stacy - Fortune (1985, AOR/Hard Rock/Arena Rock from USA ) + Thrill Of It All - Fortune (I recommend you to listen to these two songs, which they are one of my favorites, while you read this, or simply take a moment to admire these gems. Headphones greatly recommended)

The roar of the crowd could be heard from miles away. They were ready for a good show.

One was King of the ring

The other was the Queen of the pentagram

But they couldn’t care less...

James “Bucky” Barnes needed a moment to relax his mind and clear his thoughts. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of this fight, or he would be bound to failure. Sitting on the bench of the changing room, he closed his eyes, letting his head rest in the lockers behind him, taking a deep breath to tranquilize his racing heart. After some seconds, Bucky placed his headphones over his head, pressing play on his walkman.

Always the same routine before a fight. Long deep breaths while he listened to her voice, that was one of the angels, becoming one with the guitar. How lucky he was for being blessed with her voice. Oh, no, she didn’t usually sing. Even though she moved graciously on stage, playing her bass as if it was another part of her body. She was not the lead singer of her group, no. She was the back voice with showgirl soul, brimful of elegance and grace. She was the soul of the rock group.

You stand alone

The look of a stranger in your eyes

Locking the door

Alone in the silence of the night

Pacing the floors, like a cat in the alley

You come and you go, oh such a tease

Barnes could spend hours just listening to her voice, as it made him feel warm, forgetting the rest of the world. The ending of the melody signaled it was the time for him to fight, and once the ballad of the goddess culminated, he stood up from his spot crestfallen, carefully, yet reluctantly putting away his Walkman inside of his bag. He stretched to warm the muscles of his legs, back, arms, cracking his neck, and finally, his knuckles. With newfound strength, he took his silk red robe, wrapping it around his form and putting on the hood, and headed out of the changing rooms, with thoughts of you clouding his mind.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

Meanwhile at the other side of the country...

The room you were assigned to in the huge venue’s backstage was almost quiet, with only the background noise the small TV was providing. Some sports channel your friend and lead guitarist of the band, Andy, had left on. You were currently sitting on a black couch, frowning with your elbows resting on your knees and hands laced resting under your nose, debating if you should wear black high heeled boots or just black boots.

The all so familiar opening of the boxing program made you deepen your frown, glaring at the two pairs of shoes on the coffee table in front of you. There was only half an hour left for you to get ready for the show, but all you could think of was your true love, and the argument you had yesterday.

It all started with a small thing. You had been stressed out thanks to the upcoming tour your band was starting today, sorting out last-minute details and making loads of phone calls and meetings with your bandmates, and agent, Tony Stark. Your boyfriend of five years, the world-champion boxer Bucky Barnes, was also tensed due to the nonstop fights he had.

During these past hectic five months, yesterday was the only day both of you had to be alone with each other. You couldn’t talk to each other much since every time Bucky tried to call you, it would go straight to voicemail, as you were twenty-four hours glued to it, talking to your manager or bandmates. And every time you tried to call Bucky to the hotel he was staying at, he would have already moved to the next location.

Bucky’s thoughts went to dangerous areas, thinking you were ignoring him, whereas all you could think of was the tour, as a result of your manager changing completely the detailed planned schedule you gave him, without consulting you, nor the band. You were furious, to say the least.

So, when Bucky finally arrived at your shared home, after five long months of not seeing each other, instead of being greeted with your usual smiley happy face and a tight hug, he was met with your angry self hurrying out of the house, grumbling you needed to go urgently to the studio, sparing him so much than small peck on the cheek.

Once you came back home from the meeting, you were tired and still angry as only half of the problem could be fixed. But Bucky was furious with everything, because his thoughts had clouded his mind, and it only took him to accidentally drop your favorite mug, scattering it into small chiliad pieces for you to snap at each other. The argument grew heated with every passing second until any of you couldn’t take it anymore, ending with Bucky rushing out of the house, knocking some things over after a harsh slam of the door.

When you woke up this morning, at an unholy hour to get ready for the tour, after not having slept a thing as a result of you spending the night crying, Bucky still wasn’t home and you felt hideous. Hence, between sobs, you got into the bus, leaving a letter for Bucky to read, if he ever returned home.

Now it’s up on your feet

Moving around from town to town

I know how it feels

Wearing a smile to hide a frown

When all of the while

I know what you’re thinking

You’re acting so shy

But it don’t mean a thing

The familiar tune, signaling the entrance of the first fighter interrupted your train of thoughts. It was your favorite song that your band had written. The one where the guitar solo, combined with the bass riff of the intro, sounded like a classical symphony, but still having the most heavy metal essence. Every time you played that song, the crowd always went wild with the first two notes and pumping their roar with each passing second. You always joked that it was the perfect song for boxing fight entrance.

And apparently, James Buchanan Barnes thought the same. You looked up to the TV and there he was, walking in all his glory to the ring, with confidence and a fire in his eyes, as if he was a fearful lion king. Your eyes followed his moves until the camera stopped at his face, clouded with determination. But all you could see were his beautiful blue eyes that shone with a newfound intensity. You almost forgot that he had a fight today, regretting not being there in the crowd to support him or watching the fight on the TV.

You were so lost in him and in your thoughts, you didn’t notice your friend JJ, the vocalist, dropping himself next to you on the couch to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. He was the only one that noticed something was wrong since you set foot in the trailer, while the others were still busy doing last-minute phone calls. But JJ saw right through your happy facade, concern for your wellbeing in his eyes, and you broke down explaining what happened that night.

“Stop worrying, everything is going to be all right” JJ reassured you squeezing your shoulder and bringing you to his side. However, you stayed silent, felling how tears cascaded down your face, unable to stop them. “You know that James really loves you right?” You still didn’t respond, eyes trained on the TV, while you watched how he got inside the ring and walked to his corner. To be honest, you didn’t know if JJ’s words were right. As if sensing your discomfort, he gently shook your shoulders.

“Are you seriously questioning his love for you?” Andy gasped, sitting on your other side, pointing outraged to the TV “That man is forever devoted to you. I have never seen someone look at his significant other, the way Bucky looks at you. You are soulmates. I can see it in his eyes” You chuckled at his words, looking down at your thumbs twining them together, while he patted your leg with a reassuring smile.

Andy has always been spiritual and philosophical of the quartet, you weren’t going to deny his words, but maybe, any other day, you would have believed them fully.

“Ten minutes” The stage coordinator, Jerry, shouted from the door while Chanin, your drummer, waited in the doorway. Quickly, wiping the trail of tears away, you threw on the simple black boots that reached your midthigh, before having a tight group hug the four of you and running together to the side stage, simply closing the door to the room.

No one bothered to turn off the TV, left on the sports channel. Barnes versus Wilson, the fight of the century was on, and as the first notes of the very song Bucky used for his entrance echoed through the venue, accompanied by the roaring clamor of the crowd, the first punch was thrown with the first chord of the first verse.

Wilson started his offensive moves, but Barnes’ defensive was impenetrable, and as Wilson stopped to adjust his stance, Bucky used that opportunity to land one of his famous punches, a powerful right hook thrown with his complete right side of his body, just before the referee signaled the end of the first round, in time with the first song. As if both crowds were one, they roared to support their favorites.

The first half of the fight started quite balanced but as Bucky’s stance remained like iron, tiredness was taking a toll on Wilson’s movements, and halfway throw one of the rounds, Bucky Barnes’ fieriness snaped and started throwing punch after punch, leaving Wilson with no time to respond.

Once Bucky threw one of his famous right hooks, that could shatter any jaw because like many opponents said they felt like iron, the fight was over. Bucky Barnes was victorious, having added another big title to his list. After the two opponents hugged, the world champion belt was given to the blue-eyed man, who hurried out of the ring as soon as he had it in his hands.

The press was left dumbfounded, wondering where the champion had to go in such a hurry, as if he had somewhere else important to be than answering their questions. Of course, he had somewhere else important to be. Better yet, someone important to go to. The journalists seemed to multiply themselves in front of Bucky. The flashes of their cameras blinding him everywhere he looked, in his frantic search for a way out from the sea of press and fans. One of the journalists even dared to jump in front of him.

“Bucky, Bucky, Please. New York Times, Do you have some words for us?”

“I’m retiring. Now, I’m sorry, I have a girl to see” The boxer interrupted the man before he started to bombard him with more questions, while the crowd around them gasped and went wild with questions, with a gentle shove to his arm.

“But-” The young journalist tried to pry more words out of him.

“Please, move. I have a girl to see” Bucky said more sternly this time.

“You heard the champion!” Sam Wilson shouted from his left making both of them turn to him, interrupting the interviewer bugging Bucky “Now, move!” he gestured with his head before locking eyes with the champion throwing a knowing smile his way “What are you waiting for” He sternly said, raising an eyebrow to Bucky, who gave him a curt nod in thanks, shaking his head with a small smirk of his own.

The young reporter gulped in fear, not wanting to upset the prize-winning more, he jumped out of his way, snapping pictures at Bucky’s retiring form, prompting the rest of the press to do the same.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

And if it’s only one night

Tomorrow’s yours but the moment’s mine

I’ll shoot my super twist

Just for the thrill of it all

It was past midnight when Bucky got back home. He was tired and battered, new bruises adorning his face. Throwing his bag carelessly next to the door, after kicking it with his foot, he peeled off of his body the leather jacket clinging to him like a second skin with a lot of struggle. His tired self and mind only had thoughts about snuggling with you, but the clatter of a shard, when he took a step made his head snap to the floor. It was then when the memories of yesterday came back overflowing his brain.

How he walked away from you, how the pent up stress took a better of him. Bucky felt horrible, as he crouched down to retrieve the pieces of the mess he made, wishing he could have acted better on his actions. The drained man frowned, not recognizing whatever broken object he was holding, but he was adamant about buying a new one to replace it.

When he left the pieced object on the entrance table, it was then when he noticed the house quieter than usual and all the lights being off. Maybe you were asleep? It was late so it could be understandable, but on the back of his mind, he feared the worst. What if you had left him for good? He couldn’t bear losing you, for a stupid mistake, a stupid fight. You made him a better man, you were his rock. He would be lost without you.

To collect his thoughts and racing heart, Bucky went to the kitchen to pick a water bottle, running his hands down his face, and letting out a long breath through his nose. As he reached the fridge, the calendar where you wrote down important events, caught his eye hanging on the wall.

On the day of today, there were to events appointed, his fight and your first concert, signaling the start of the tour. It was then he realized he had been a complete stupid asshole. Instead of being caring and understanding about the stress the tours generated you, always making sure everything was settled to the detail, he was the stupid selfish idiotic boyfriend. And what made him tears sting in his eyes was that he wasn’t next to you to support you.

There was also written the name of the town there, only just six hours away. Letting his head hit the wall, he then glanced around the kitchen seeing a folded piece of paper with his name written on it. At that moment, his heart skipped a beat fearing the worst. In a panic, Bucky rushed to pick it up and without opening it he ran to your shared bedroom.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, his heart and mind were at a mile per millisecond and his worst fears became true when he opened the door to your shared bedroom and you weren’t there.

His mind wasn’t registering anything he was doing or happening, too preoccupied with finding you, as he rushed back to the calendar, for any more details. It was in the side block of notes where the name of the hotel was written. Quickly picking back his leather jacket and bike keys, not caring that his dead tired muscles were screaming at him to stop, he carefully placed the note inside his pocket and roared his baby to life, speeding out of the porch to get to you as fast as possible.

Bucky Barnes drove like a mad man, with only one thought in mind, and he for sure risked his life. But he didn’t care if he had lost you for good. He had to see you and apologize. Now, as he stopped in front of the hotel you were staying at, were a lot of fans had crowded around the entrance to take a peek at their idols, they went feral as all of them recognized him, not letting him stand up from his bike.

The security guards fending the hotel entrance came to his rescue, as they recognized him as your boyfriend, presuming he came to surprise you, pushing people away from him and escorting him, as they marched towards the main entrance, where they told him your room number. With a rushed thank you, he instantly ran up the stairs since waiting for the elevator would take too much time.

Just as Bucky walked throw the corridor leading to your room, he thought clearly. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you were mad at him? Tired and more anxious than he was ever before, it took him a while to compose his thoughts. What he was going to say, Sorry? It seemed too plain, for his mistakes. He didn’t even have flowers with him.

Once he reached your door, he hesitated on knocking, hoovering his fist over it. He was sure you didn’t want to see him but well, it’s worth a shot. With a ragged breath, he knocked on your door.

You thought you had dreamed it, but you swore you heard a knock on your door. Taking a quick look at the digital clock with red bright numbers, you realized it was 6 AM. You were still tired as you still didn’t sleep well. It was always hard for you not to sleep near Bucky because he was warm and being in his arms always made you feel safe. Although, it didn’t help much the constant thoughts of the fight you had flooding your mind either.

Since you didn’t have a concert today, you thought that maybe one of the guards needed something, or one of your friends wanted something, like go sightseeing, before the meet and greet with the fans. You rose from the warm, yet cold bed, placing a robe around you, and trying to tame your mane a bit before you opened the door.

You were surprised to see Bucky on the other side of it, looking down to the floor with a deep frown in his face. “Bucky” you softly whispered, his head snapping up to meet your eyes.

At that very moment, Bucky’s world stopped, again, as if it was the first time he saw you. Even having recently woken up, you were the most beautiful woman of the entire galaxy, and he surely will be blessed if you forgave him. Bucky’s mind halted as he took in your shiny beautiful Y/E/C eyes and merry smile. God, It felt like eons since he had seen that beautiful smile. Had he been this blind all this time?

Without thinking it twice, you crashed yourself forcefully to him, making him stumble a bit at the force, but never losing his balance, hugging him tightly to you. Bucky instantly pulled your much smaller form to him, circling your middle with his strong and sculpted arms. You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you clung to him for dear life as if he was going to disappear at any second, being sure you were still dreaming. You were pressing yourselves into each other so hard, it was as if you were trying to make yourselves into a single entity.

“You came” you whispered closing your eyes, letting him cloud your senses as you felt Bucky move one hand, to cradle the back of your head into his big hand, without letting go of you while you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, doll” Bucky whispered back in your ear, kissing the side of your head, before cradling your face carefully between his big and battered hands, to rest his forehead in yours “I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but just know that I love you so much. You are my sun and stars. You make me a better person. I can’t lose you. I’d be so lost without you”

“Bucky” you spoke softly his name as you turned your head a bit, to caress his nose with yours, leaving your lips close to his “What are you talking about?” you wondered frowning, your breath ghosting his lips with each word. Had he not read your letter?

You felt his lips crash into yours in a searing, yet tender, kiss full of love. He poured out every emotion he felt towards you in that kiss. You instantly kissed back holding onto his jacket and pouring out every ounce of emotion into the kiss too. And if it wasn’t for Bucky’s thumb caressing your cheek, you would have thought you were dreaming of this kiss. Bucky’s lips brushed yours, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could steal your breath away, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the taste of something undescribable lingering far after. When the need for air felt unbearable, you parted to gasp for air while he rested his forehead on yours.

“Please, don’t leave me” he whispered softly, not wanting to break the magic that surrounded this intimate moment, nuzzling your nose with his, lips brushing together in a feathery touch.

“Bucky,” you said a bit louder this time “What are you talking about?” You pecked his lips, making him hiss a bit as you realized now that he had a split lip, and a bruise forming next to his left eye. Carefully, placing your palm next to it, Bucky leaned into it, after nuzzling it to kiss it “I’m not leaving you, how could I ever leave you? I love you so much.” Bucky couldn’t help but kiss you again, he wanted to get lost in that moment, and so he did until you pulled apart and took shaky, shallow breaths “You are my world, my soulmate” you whispered caressing his cheek looking into his glistening blue orbs, getting lost in them. “You didn’t read my letter did you?”

“I’m retiring” Bucky let out a tired sigh, that’s when you took in his tired form, the bags under his eyes and the still-forming bruises. “I love boxing, but I love you more, doll” He but let his weight slump on you, yet cradling you to his chest.

“James Buchanan Barnes! Did you drive here all night, right after the fight, six hours on your Bike?” you only but freaked out, holding his face to make him focus “Are you crazy! You-”

Bucky silenced you with another kiss, and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingled, while his other hand got lost in your locks. You ran your fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you both and you could feel the beating of his heart against your chest, running one hand up to his chest.

Definitely, your senses had been seduced and you could no longer think straight. “Y/N” Bucky whispered slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. You smile, your heart fluttering at his voice as you clasped your hands at the back of his neck. Never before has your name ever felt so wonderful “I don’t care, I had to see you” He kissed your forehead as if saying sorry, a weight being lifted over his shoulders.

“You could have come here in the morning, If you had read my letter” you reassured him, untangling your form from his frame reluctantly, dragging your hands down his right arm, the one you knew was scarred and covered in tattoos. Bucky entwined your fingers with his tightly, as you dragged him inside your room, closing the door after him.

Looking down at his clock, he realized it was 6AM. Widening his eyes, at his idiocy he ran his free hand down his face, letting out a long sigh. “Please don’t leave me, I’m sorry for being an idiotic asshole” was all he could whisper as he let you drag him to your bed, making him sit there.

“I’m not going to leave you” You kissed his forehead and scruffy cheeks before you helped him take off his leather jacket and boots “How could I ever leave you?” you carefully peeled the t-shirt that had clung to him like a second skin. You knew he was sore after the fight, as you could see a lot of purple sports covering his skin. After he was only in his boxers, you both got under the covers, holding each other close.

“Because, I’ve been an asshole, baby. I thought you hated me” Bucky spoke tiredness taking over his body, now that he was comfortable and you in his arms. He felt how you kissed his eyelids, that he didn’t know had closed them, as a smile graced his beautiful face, one of your own mirroring his.

“I mean I thought you hated me because I yelled at you” you frowned letting your head fall close to his, laying almost on top of him.

“Uhm, no” he tiredly whined rolling to face you, entwining your legs together “Never, but the note...” he mumbled fighting very hard to stay awake

“We’ll talk in the morning,” you said kissing his lips once more, holding him close to you “Now go to sleep”

“but-”

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up” you both let the sleep embrace you, not letting go of each other.

It was a more reasonable hour when you woke up to a feather-like touch, caressing your cheek. You couldn’t help but beam, while you tried to hide, pressing your form closer to Bucky’s chest, that shook as he let out a happy chuckle.

“Good morning, beautiful” he let out in his morning raspy voice as he moved to kiss your cheek, playfully letting his body weight rest on you, making sure he didn’t crush you.

“Morning, handsome” you let out a jawn as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, and took him by surprise when you tackled him down to the bed, straddling his lap, as you both laughed non stop.

Bucky thought he was blessed by the angels themselves, admiring your ethereal form glowing in the morning sun, as he caressed your arms. After all this time, each time he looked at you, it was as if it was the first time he saw you. He would find new different glow of lights when the sun touched your skin, new different shades of your Y/H/L Y/H/C locks and the red of your lips. A new different twinkle in your bewitching Y/E/C headlights, when he looked into them and got lost. At that exact moment, that was all he ever wanted and needed.

“What are you thinking?” You wondered with a bright smile, caressing the purples in his chest, knowing that he didn’t hear a word you said.

“Nothing” the blue-eyed man focused on your caring and loving eyes “Once again I fell in love” he moved to a sitting position, holding you gently to him, cupping your face with one hand. Bucky leaned down and softly kissed the tender area at the base of your neck, before leaving a trail of warm pecks along the length of it and throat, to brush your lips together in a searing kiss, warmth radiating from the spot where his lips just touched, slowly spreading through the rest of you. “I’m retiring from Boxing” Bucky announced stopping your next words with a soft and warm peck “Before you say anything, I’ve been thinking about this, and us”

“But boxing is your life” you frowned hugging his neck as he denied adamantly.

“You couldn’t be more wrong” Bucky smiled softly at you “You are my life” he stated kissing your forehead and lingering his lips there “I spend a lot of miles away from you, for just a mere seconds of glory, when all the glory and all I need is right here in my arms”

Your eyes were glistening with happy tears at his words, holding him tight and close to you. You didn’t understand why he needed to give up his dream, just for you. “Bucky, I can’t as you to do such a thing, just to be with me. Boxing is your dream”

“You don’t understand” he spoke softly holding your hands close to his heart “You are my dream, and I don’t ask you. I’m doing this because I want to” He paused for a moment to look directly in your eyes “I want to be with you, forever. I don’t want you to be worried if I will ever come back to you because I took a blow badly. I don’t need all the glory, nor the money. All I need is you”

By now, small tears were running down your cheeks, were Bucky made them disappear with his thumbs. He held your chin delicately between his fingers tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “If that’s what you want, I’m very happy” you nodded kissing him “I just don’t want you to regret a thing”

You watched how Bucky held a finger with a mischievous smile, moving to retrieve something from his pants on the chair next to the bed. He was hiding something between his palms, a big smile not leaving his lips.

“I was planning on something else but this, right here, is the right moment” He moved one hand to reveal a small velvet box, and carefully opening it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. You looked at him not believing your eyes, placing a hand over your agape mouth. “A promise to love you forever, I’ll be your friend and my love for you will never end. I will stand beside you, all the way and through the years, as life goes on and on.” He took a deep breath “Y/F/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my lovely wife?”

You could only nod, as by the time he popped the question happy tears were cascading down your face. Taking a deep breath, you croacked a yes as you crashed your lips into his. He had tears of his own as he chuckled when you pulled apart to put the ring on your tembrling hands. You both couldn’t belive it, but now you were engaged, you both feeling as happy as ever. You squealed when Bucky tackled you down to the bed hovering over you, and kissing you in a passionate kiss.

“Uhm, Bucky, Y/N/N?” You heard Chanin hesitan voice as he knocked on your door “I’m sorry for being a party pooper, but we really need to get ready for the meet and greet”

“Oh boy” you gasped having forgotten everything about today, being on cloud nine, that definitely your fiancé have nothing to do with, trying to push him off of you to get ready, to no avail.

“How did you know I was here?” Bucky asked not having any plans to move, until you playfully patted his cheek, and reluctanlty moving off of you.

“We saw your bike when I went to order the breakfast!” Andy happily squealed.

“We heard everything, by the way” JJ squealed too “Congratulations to the newlyengaged” They all cheered together.

“Are you presentable enough, so we can open the door to hug you both?” Chanin wondered.

Between chuckles, you quickly got ready so your friends and bandmates could hug you and congratulate you.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

And if it’s only one night

Tomorrow’s yours but the moment’s mine

I’ll shoot my super twist

Just for the thrill of it all

You were halfway through the tour, with Bucky by your side. It was unspoken rule that now that he was here, he had to join for the rest of the tour, and since you were engaged and you wanted to spend the most time together, no one hesitated on making room for one more troubled soul.

One of your bodyguards had injured himself while he chased a fan, that wanted to intrude in the backstage, so everyone thought that Bucky was fit for the job, now that he was retired from boxing. Your other bodyguard, Steve Rogers, didn’t complain either, as he loved having his friend Bucky around. For once, everything was perfect.

Halfway through the concert, after the song ended, usually where you talked with the crowd, you joined JJ this time, picking the microphone in front of you.

“How’s everyone?” JJ cheered making the whole stage go wild in a second “Wow! Are you hyped too, like we are? Holy shit!” You chuckled while everyone cheered again “I see you have decided to joing the small JJ-Talk, Y/N/N” he smirked at you placing his arm around your shoulders.

“Yes, it was about damn time, you know!” you happily spoke making the crowded stadium go wilder, if possible “And besides I have a present for you all!”

“Wohow!” JJ did a happy crazy dance, as the people chanted your name “Are you going to do what we ALL think you are going to do!” He looked at you spectantly, along with the quiet audience.

You took a deep breath, creating misterious aura, a smile permanently on your face, suddenly becoming nervous, as you didn’t rehearse what you were about to do “Yes” at that word the croud went savage with glee. “I have a song for all the people that are in love, or need a love song, or just simply, y’know, want to enjoy some music, and I don’t even know what I’m even saying” The crowd and bandmates laughed with you.

After thanking, Scott, the stage coordinator, who placed a tabouret and a microphone in the middle of the stage for your little performance, handed you your red Fender Stratocaster with a happy fanboy smile. Taking a look at the side stage for support, were Bucky was standing enjoying the show, next to Steve, you beamed when Bucky couldn’t help but throw a wink at you, along with a kiss.

“Man, you are so whiped” Steve leaned close to whisper to his friend “Wilson was very right”

“Oh, shut up, punk” Bucky slapped his head focusing back on you.

“So, this song is for someone very special” You cleared your throat as the crow awed “You know, is the cheesy moment-”

“Really? We didn’t notice!” Andy joked making everyone in the venue laugh.

“Don’t listening to him! He’s jealous because the song is not about him” you joked back, Chanin fuelling the joke with a Ba-dum-tss “So, I was saying, this a very special moment-”

“And cheesy” JJ repeated joining the teasing.

“SO, of course my song needs a beautiful” you raised your index finger to stop Andy “and cheesy title” by now the spectators were full on joining your antics clapping and whoping when needed “This song is called you still broke my hello kitty piggy bank, bitch”

Everyone laughed and cheered as the illumination dimed until there was only a spot light, pointed at you.

When Bucky heard the tittle, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, as he had finally discovered what was the figurine he broke. And for the first time, Bucky was going to hear you magical voice live.

As you strung the strings on your electric guitar, the rest of the world disappeared. He let you magical chant envelop him, there was no crapy cassette on a battered Walkman, around his ears to disturb your magnetism. But no cassette was crapy when it held your voice. It was never possible.

You were singing directly to him. This song was about you both, and even though, you were sharing it with the rest of the world it was entirely yours. You were pouring out your heart, voice becoming one with the guitar, that completed you to perfection. And he understood what that letter he found and held it close to his heart, meant. It was a love letter. It was the love letter turned melody. It was your ballad, your love song.

Just for the thrill of it all

And as the roar of the crowd could be heard from miles away, the King of the ring, run to kiss his Queen of the pentagram, as everyone cheered like there was no tomorrow...

Just for the thrill of it all

...But they couldn’t care less, as they held each other close as their hearts roared and cheered at each other, like there was no tomorrow.

Let me know what you thought about it, feedback is very welcomed. And I’m very sorry for posting this so very late.

99 notes · View notes

mikkomacko · 5 years

Text

Sweet As Honey 4

Harry doesn't like going places without y/n. It's not that he thinks she can't take care of herself or that she should be constantly dependent on him, he just really loves having her around. He loves the reminder that he has a family, a family that he made all on his own. That he's capable of being a part of a family.

He was disappointed when he couldn't go to her doctor's appointment with her. He had planned to, anxious to know what it was that was waking her up in the early hours of the morning to go throw up in the bathroom and heating her up with a fever.

He was buttoning up one of his silk shirts when his phone rang, displaying a picture of a drunk Nick with a flower behind his ear. The photo had been taken at Harry and y/n's wedding.

Harry answered the phone, frowning when he heard how out of breath Nick was. The man was so worked up about something that he barely even spoke to Harry, only shouting, "Need you at the gym right away! Ted Nichols is here!" and then hanging up.

Ted Nichols ran the league Harry boxes for. Harry had spoken to him once, when he was just twenty and Ted had visited the illegal ring Harry was fighting at. Ted was impressed with Harry and offered him a match at his professional league and Harry had accepted. They didn't speak anymore after that but if he's at Harry's gym now, it must be vitally important.

"What's the matter?" Y/n asks, noticing the deep frown on Harry's face as soon as she exited the bathroom. Harry grunts, falling onto the bed with his elbows on his knees. He's rests his chin on his intertwined hands.

"Ted Nichols is at the gym." Harry says. "Nick told me I need to go in."

Poking her head out of the closet, she looks at him curiously. "Wouldn't that be a good thing, love?"

"M'not sure." Harry says truthfully. He hasn't had a match in the past two weeks and he doesn't know why. Nick told him that Ted was just mixing up the schedule and he assured Harry that he'd have a fight soon. Now, Harry hopes he hasn't done anything to make the boss think less of him.

"I'm sure it's great news Harry." Y/n calls out from the closet. Harry pushes himself off the bed and to the closet, leaning against the door frame. A smile tugs at his lips, watching his wife from behind as she hops from foot to foot to wiggle into her jeans. She turns to Harry's side of the closet, pulling down his old Princeton shirt and catching his eyes.

"I don't think tha's yours dearie." Harry teases. She smiles innocently, tugging it over her damp hair and slipping her arms in.

"That's funny," She hums. "because it sure looks good on me."

Harry steps into the closet, grabbing her hips before she can turn to pick out a pair of shoes. Bringing her flush against his chest, he presses a few warm kisses to her forehead.

"Can't argue with ya there."

She giggles, hands sliding up his torso to rest on his chest. Her fingers tickle his skin where he's left a few buttons undone, petting affectionately at the wings of his swallow tattoos. Harry smirks, leaning down to mold their mouths together when a cry crackles through the baby monitor in the room, halting their movements.

"I got him last time." Harry quips, grinning. Y/n rolls her eyes, groaning as she dramatically throws her head back. Harry presses a kiss to her throat.

"And you call us devils." She mutters.

Snickering, Harry steps around her and nudges her to the door with a pat on her bum. She swats at his hand.

"Go get our son 'fore I decide to give you another one!" Harry calls after her, stepping out of the closet in time to see her disappear around the corner.

"They trusted us enough to let us stay here and keep an eye on their baby. That's something."

Her mother nods at her words, standing over the edge of the play pen to watch Arlo. The baby is sprawled out on a blanket in nothing but a diaper, happily babbling as he tosses his stuffed bunny around.

"Harry trusted you." Anne murmurs sadly. "Not me. I have a feeling we're only here because of y/n, God bless her. She's the sweetest girl."

"She is," Gemma agrees, changing the channel on the TV even though she's been constantly watching her mom stare affectionately at Arlo. "but you know we wouldn't be here if Harry didn't want us to be. He's just hurt right now."

"Gem," Anne croaks, lip trembling. "you saw him yesterday. I've never seen him that angry, not even that day with Ja-"

"Don't say his name." Gemma interrupts. She pushes herself off the couch and to the play pen. "He was nothing but a parasite mum. He hurt us, hurt you. He took advantage of us when we were at our lowest and he doesn't deserve to have his name leave your lips."

"I've messed up my so bad." Anne says pitifully. Gemma rounds the corner of the play pen and wraps her mother up in her arms.

"It's going to be ok, mum."

"He's my baby boy," Anne whimpers, her voice cracking on the last word. "And he won't even call me mum anymore. I've hurt him, my baby."

Arlo looks up at them, pink lips frowning and eyes squinting in that same way Harry's does when he's observing something or someone. Still clinging to each other, Gemma and Anne smile down at the baby. He eyes them for another moment before dropping his bunny, sticking his arms straight up in the air. Gemma's watched him do the same thing to Harry and y/n when he wants to be held, so she pulls away from her mother and leans to pick Arlo up from under his armpits. Instead of curling himself into Gemma like he usually does, Arlo twists around as best as possible, wobbling a bit when he loses his balance.

Gemma watches him look Anne up and down, frowning as he decides how he feels about the woman that's obviously been the source of Harry's moodiness. Finally, Arlo leans towards her and reaches one arm out.

The smile that lights up Anne's face is both heart warming and heart breaking. It's the purest look of relief Gemma's ever seen, mixed with immense guilt and topped off with such adoration, Gemma could cry.

She lets Anne take the baby boy from her, grinning at how delicately she holds him. It's as if Anne hadn't had two kids of her own.

Arlo rests his head on Anne's shoulder, chubby hands resting on either one of her biceps, just like Harry did when he was child.

Basically reading her thoughts, Anne voices what Gemma's been thinking since she first saw little Arlo. "He looks so much like Harry. Acts like him too, such a sweet, clingy boy."

Like he knows they're talking about him, Arlo gives a toothless grin to Gemma, still hiding in Anne's chest. She gives him a small wave, seeing her baby brother when Arlo giggles and turn his head the other way. Always teasing, just like Harry.

Don't worry, it's good news! How's the appointment going?

Biting her lip, y/n rereads Harry's text and decides to not answer until the doctor returns with her blood results. She's sort of relieved, having known that Harry was being to called to the gym for a good reason, but her stomach is spinning with nerves.

She had been diagnosed with a small cold, most likely a side effect of the changing weather and warned about the upcoming cold front because the last thing she needs is to fall even more ill and risk getting Harry or Arlo sick. But after examining her throat, her doctor informed her that her cold shouldn't be giving her any nausea and ordered a blood test.

Y/n had an idea, knowing her body and the way it had reacted the first time around but she was still nervously twirling her hair when the doctor returned to the office, beaming smile and cheering, "Congratulations! You're pregnant!"

Mind whirling as she schedules her check up and exits the doctor, y/n is struggling to keep her excitement at bay when she climbs in the car. Turning the key in the ignition, she pulls out her phone, already planning on how she's going to tell Harry and texts him back.

Everything's fine, I'm heading home now and I'll explain :)

"How far along are you?"

Swallowing a sip of her Shirley Temple, y/n smiles around her straw at the fairly new diamond ring on her finger. She turns to Kate, smiling growing. "About a month."

Kate's eyebrows shoot up, lips falling open in shock. "So he really got the job done on your wedding night huh?"

Giggling, y/n shrugs. She turns her gaze forward again, admiring the orange and pink sunset that's casting the beach in a summer glow. She finds Harry, running across the edge of the water with Liam and Scott while he attempts to play football. She giggles again watching him bobble the football that was thrown at him, long limbs flailing about as he drops it. Harry may be extremely athletic, but no matter how hard that poor boy tries, football always gets the best of him.

"We're you guys trying?" Kate questions, pulling y/n away from her pouting husband.

She shrugs again, adjusting her back on the beach chair so she's turned more towards her best friend. "Not really," She admits, cheeks flaming as she thinks of the nights following her and Harry's wedding. "I mean, we didn't like take any precautions but we didn't go out of our way for it to happen."

Kate nods, eyeing Harry with a new found respect. "First try and everything, talk about a jack pot." Kate says, clearly impressed that Harry managed to knock up y/n a month after they got married.

Laughing, y/n smacks her friends shoulder. She takes another sip of her drink, returning her gaze to the mediocre game in front of them. After a moment of silence, y/n clears her throat.

"I'm going to tell him tonight."

Kate gasps, careful to not be too loud so the group of boys don't catch on to their secret chat. "Here?"

Y/n nods, body flushing at the sight of Harry. His hair is frizzy from swimming earlier, fanning out around his face and perfectly framing his dimply, sunburnt cheeks. He's got a Fourth of July necklace resting on his chest, the red, white, and blue stars lighting up and casting odd shadows on his tan skin. He catches y/n staring, lifting his arm up to wave at her just as Liam throws the ball straight into his shoulder.

"Yeah, here." Y/n murmurs, knowing that right here would be the perfect place. Before they can continue they're talk, Nick and Lionel return from their walk to town.

"Fireworks are starting in precisely five minutes!" Nick shouts, falling onto the beach sand with Lionel. Scott, Liam, and Harry call their game quits, y/n standing up to give Scott a seat next to his girlfriend.

Harry jogs up to y/n, shaking out his mess of curls and grinning. "Gonna watch fireworks with me?" He asks, hands settling on her bare sides and hips pressing into hers as if he's physically drawn to her.

"I don't know, was kinda thinking of watching them with Liam."

Harry scoffs, curling down towards her so she can slide her arms around his neck. He begins walking her away from the group, y/n stumbling in the sand from walking backwards. Harry keeps her steady though, giggling with her at nothing and everything.

"Are you too good to sit with us now, H?" Liam calls out accusingly.

Harry doesn't stop moving. He tilts his head back, eyes still staying on y/n and shouts, "I've got a missus now, can't have her sitting on the ground with you dirty lot!"

Y/n laughs and blushes at his words. He grins, pecking her lips once and walking them all the way to the Range Rover that Harry had parked on the sand this morning.

"Can't see fireworks from inside the car, Harry." Y/n teases. Harry shushes her through a chuckle, releasing his hold on her to open the back hatch. It rises up, revealing the dozens of blankets that Harry's laid out over the folded seats.

"Up we go darling." Harry says, hooking his pointer finger in her denim shorts and pulling her towards the car. They climb in together, Harry settling further back and spreading his legs so y/n can sit between them.

She hums, melting into the warmth of his chest and loving the way his rough palm is rubbing the skin of her back that her bikini top isn't covering.

The fireworks start, lighting up the sand in reds and blues and covering the noise of the water hitting the shore. Harry leans over her shoulder, breathing in the smell of cherries and sunblock that lingers on her.

"Give me a kiss." Harry requests, already puckering his lips at her. Y/n giggles at him, meeting his lips for a kiss. Harry smiles, dipping his tongue into her mouth so she can taste the beer and Rocketpop on it.

Heart full, she pulls back enough to look him in the eye. He's soft, looking over her flushed face with dazzling eyes and red lips.

"I've got something to tell you." She whispers, turning into him so she can hold his face in her hands. Harry nods, urging her to continue. Before she gets a chance to second guess herself, she rushes out, "I'm pregnant."

It takes Harry a moment to respond, the fireworks being the only sound for quiet some time and if it weren't for the ever growing glimmer in his eyes, she'd be scared.

"With a baby?"

Y/n laughs. "With your baby."

Harry smiles at that, exhaling in disbelief and eyes filling with water. His hands fall to her stomach, cupping it gently even though she's not showing at all yet. "My baby." Harry murmurs, sniffling.

Y/n nods, her own eyes not full of happy tears. "Think we can handle a baby, H?"

"A missus and a baby?" He beams. "Couldn't ask for anything better."

Shivering, Harry enters his warm home, toeing off his boots and hanging his coat on the hangers by the door. He locks the front door, knowing y/n is home and they have no where else to go today.

The delicious smell of chicken floods Harry's nose as he enters the living room, veins heating up with the kind of warmth only home can bring.

He finds y/n in the living room, curled up under a thick knit blanket with Arlo sat on her stomach. She's holding his hands, laughing as the baby bounces lightly on her tummy. Though she's paying more attention to Arlo, 50 First Dates is playing on the TV.

"A rom-com?" Harry gasps, bringing a hand up to his heart. He moves to stand behind the couch his wife is laying on. "Without me?"

Y/n laughs, both her and Arlo greeting him with similar smiles. Harry leans down, pressing his lips to Arlo's head and then y/n's warm forehead. Harry frowns, ready to ask her about her fever when she interrupts.

"Just took some Advil. It's going down."

He nods, still concerned but glad she's taking care of herself. She did however, tell him that everything was fine so why is she still sick? Harry stays crouched down, slipping his hand under her hair to hold the back of her neck. She sighs contently, eyes fluttering shut at his cold fingers on her hot skin.

"What'd the doctor say, darling?"

She hums, eyes staying shut as she breathes out, "It's just a cold, not too contagious either. I just need to keep taking Theraflu and it'll pass over."

"Good," Harry murmurs. "I'll pick up some more tomorrow on my way home."

Arlo gurgles, wanting his mother's attention back on him. Y/n laughs, opening her eyes to watch Arlo while he continues to bounce on top of her.

"Are you going to tell me the good news?" She asks, trying to hold back her smile but failing miserably.

"Absolutely." He grins, butterflies swarming his stomach.

"Gemma was curious too so you better tell her as well." Y/n says, pushing herself up and off the couch. She settles Arlo on her hips, walking around to meet Harry with a kiss on the lips.

"Where is she?"

"Kitchen." Y/n starts leading him to the other room. Harry follows, bouncing on his feet as he recalls the words Ted had said to him.

"Harry's home and he's got news." Y/n sings, gaining the attention of Gemma and Anne. Harry follows her to the bar, pulling out a stool for her. She sits down, him plopping down next to her. Arlo reaches out for Harry and his grin grows. He takes Arlo and places him on his lap.

Harry looks up, coming face to face with his sister and mother. He realizes that it's them that have been cooking dinner and he reminds himself to thank them later. Y/n needs her rest and he's glad they're helping out.

"Are you going to tell us?" Y/n laughs, shaking his arm impatiently. Harry chuckles at her, smiling bashfully at Arlo.

"Every year, the man that runs my league sets up a national tournament. Each league is represented with one boxer and Ted Nichols has asked me to participate this year."

"Oh my God," y/n breathes, jumping to her feet. "that's amazing Harry!"

He barely has the chance to giggle before she's pressing her front to his back, arms wrapping around his neck tightly. She presses her face into his, squeezing him with all she's got.

"So you'll be competing against boxers from all over the United States?" Gemma asks, mouth gaping open.

Harry nods, cheeks heating up and stomach swirling. "S'the biggest tournament of the year." He turns his head to y/n, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

"If I won this, you'd never have to work another day in your life, pet."

She giggles, shaking his shoulders and quietly squealing. Harry's reminded of all the fights she's sat front row, always sporting some kind of gear with his name. All the blood, bruises, tears, cuts, and broken bones she cared for. She's always been his number one fan and now he has the chance to give her the world.

"I'm so proud of you, Harry." She murmurs, keeping her arms around him, fingers stroking over his pounding heart.

"That's incredible Harry." Anne finally says, voice wobbling like she's afraid of speaking to him. He looks up at, not exactly smiling at her but not glaring either.

He imagines a time where they'd be sat here, him gleaming over the news and happily receiving congratulations from his family. It's a time in which he'd still call her mom and he'd hug her like his life depended on it, grateful for her words.

He nods. "Thank you."

She smiles, a bit awkwardly but still warm. "If you need anything let Gemma and I know and if you'll have us, we'd love to be there cheering you on."

Harry's chest aches. He's always dreamed of her being proud of him, of her accepting the fact that Harry was born to be in that ring. He couldn't imagine what it'd feel like to have her support on boxing but he never thought it'd feel like this.

He stares back at her, feeling like he's eight again and inviting her to the school play. "I already told Nick I'd be needing three tickets to the matches."

This time, he's able to return her smile.

He feels trapped. His chest and head pound, heavy and tight. He doesn't know what he's mad at. Maybe his dad, maybe the doctors, maybe alcohol. Or maybe his mom, or Jack, or even himself. He might even be mad at the universe. Whatever it is, he doesn't care because he's so angry, nothing else matters besides the desperate ache to hurt someone.

He's reckless, swinging wildly and fiercely at the the boy across from him. He manages to catch the kid in the eye and the nose, two hits he knows he wouldn't have landed if the kid wasn't a newbie like him.

The sounds of the road around him disappear and all he can see is the doctor stepping out of the operation room, breaking the news to his mother. It's like some primal instinct takes over and Harry's lunging, tackling the kid and delivering punch after punch.

He's pulled back, dragged away from the boy's limp body but he keeps attempting to throw more punches. His body tingles, the adrenaline in him feeling refreshing compared to the dull nothingness he's felt for months.

"Chill out kid, chill out." Someone tells him, holding him tight around the chest until the anger has subsided and his surroundings come rushing back.

He's been pulled all the way around the corner, now out of view of the poor boy he just beat. Harry huffs, pushing away from whoever's holding him.

"That was a good flight." The boy tells him, eyes flickering down to Harry's split knuckles. The cuts sting but he doesn't care.

Harry just nods, not knowing what to say. After years of feeling helpless and lost, he finally feels free. He felt in control. He had the ability to protect himself from being hurt and instead being the one to hurt this time. Call him morbid, but the feeling was so fucking good.

"Felt good, hurting him." Harry mutters, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Why?"

Harry stays quiet. He knows why it feels good but he doesn't want to explain it because it doesn't feel valid enough. That kid wasn't the reason Harry's dad was gone. He wasn't the reason Harry's mother has already moved in another man. It's not that kids fault that Harry's house no longer feels like a home.

So he shrugs, looking down at his feet. The pavement is blurry and he growls in anger, hating that he's crying in front of this guy.

"I know you didn't want to hurt him." The boy says, taking a step closer to Harry. "Could tell by the way you fight, you didn't have a target. You were just swinging."

"M'mad." Harry growls. "I'm always so fucking mad and it feels so good to..."

He doesn't know what to say because he's still mad. He's mad because he just beat an innocent kid for no reason other than the fact that he wanted someone besides himself to hurt.

"I can help you." The boy says, knowing Harry couldn't finish his sentence. "I can teach you to fight, I can show you how to get rid of that feeling."

Harry looks up at him. "You want me to fight again?"

"Not out here." He chuckles. "Not in the street like this. You've got the talent to box, you just need help and I can help."

Harry perks up, heart pounding at the offer. He'd kill to not feel like he's constantly on the edge of exploding.

"Me? A boxer?"

The boy nods. "What do ya say?"

Harry swallows, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hands. "Ok."

"Cool." He grins. He looks down at his feet before shrugging. "Get over here and give me a hug, look like you're about to collapse into a puddle."

Harry laughs, blushing a bit but gladly stepping into the strangers embrace. It's been awhile since someone's hugged him and he's not passing up the opportunity to feel arms around him again.

"I'm Nick, by the way."

"M'Harry." He let's out a shaky breath. "Harry Styles."

Y/n should've known. He had kept his eyes on her all night, still basking in the glow of sharing his news and grinning.

But there was that glint in his eyes. One that she knew meant he was up to something. And after dinner, as she carried Arlo up the stairs he had been pressed into her back, hips tight against her bum. Even as she changed him into a clean diaper and laid him down, Harry was stuck to her like a magnet.

"What are you up to?" She asks, smirking when he kicks their bedroom door shut and slides his hands under the front of her shirt. If possible, he presses his crotch even tighter against her.

"Just lovin' on ya." He murmurs, kissing her shoulder.

"That's all?"

He hums. "And tryna fuck ya."

She laughs, eyes squeezing shut when his fingers pinch at her stomach. He walks her to the bed, spinning her around to face him.

"What are you giggling for?" Harry grins, rotating them so he can sit on the bed. His hands slip down to the button of her jeans, flicking it open. He kisses her tummy over her shirt.

"Knew you were trying to get into my pants."

Harry chuckles hotly, goosebumps rising on her stomach. He pushes her shirt up, keeping his lips on her stomach. She giggles at him again, taking the shirt he had bunched up over her breasts in her hands and pulling it off.

"Want to thank you." He murmurs, tongue dropping out of his mouth to lick over her skin. "My biggest fan deserves to feel good."

Her toes curl, belly flooding with warmth as he works her pants and underwear down on one go. She falls helpless to him, eyes fluttering shut and head lolling back. His hands snake around her waist and up her back, tickling her skin and reaching for the clasp of her bra. He keeps his lips on her front, sloppily kissing over her pelvic bone and the crease where her thighs meet her hips.

"How come I'm the only one that's naked?" She breathes, hands tangling in Harry's hair. He groans deeply, tickling her skin and vibrating all the way down to her core.

"Get to work then, darling." He drawls, voice coming from deep in his chest. He watches her with a boyish smile on his lips, groaning softly every time she removes a piece of clothing just because he knows the noise gets her worked up.

And it works. By the time he's got her sprawled out on the bed, thick thighs holding her legs open and hands squeezing her plush thighs, she's already dripping for him.

"My pretty girl." He praises, pinching her thigh. She jumps, hips jutting towards him. He chuckles deeply, rubbing his hand up and over her wet core. She sighs in relief, eyes fluttering shut. Harry smirks, nudging her clit with his knuckle. She moans quietly, lips falling open in rough pants.

"So wet for me already pet." Harry coos, rubbing her little button in tight circles. "Don't even need to stretch ya, do I? Ya ready for me?"

"Harry," Y/n mewls, hands fisting the blankets under her. "Please."

He grips his cock in his free hand, giving himself a couple pumps as he watches his fingers work on her glistening lips for a few more seconds. He waits for her leg to twitch impatiently before removing his hand and laying chest to chest with her.

He guides himself between her thighs, rubbing the tip of his cock over her folds so he doesn't hurt her. Her hands grab at his shoulders, eyes opening to look at him.

"Ya alright?" He whispers. "Can I fuck you?"

She nods, hooking a leg over his hip. "Want you to fuck me Harry."

He simpers, pushing into her tight cunt with a low groan. His lips find hers, kissing her sweetly and pulling back so he can rut back into her.

"Love you so much y/n." He grunts, dropping onto his forearms. Her breasts rub against his chest, pulling his attention down to her full chest. He kisses between her breasts.

"Love you Harry."

He groans, hips picking up speed as he licks over her chest. She whimpers when he pecks his lips to her nipple, sensitive from breastfeeding.

"Watch it," She warns weakly.

"Know," Harry shushes, slowing himself to deep thrusts. The tip of his leaking cock nudges the spongy spot in her, her thighs tightening around his. "Just licking darling, not gonna suck on 'em."

He laps at her nipple, brows furrowing when his cock twitches in her and his stomach tightens. She moans, nails digging into his shoulders as he continues to hit that spot inside her.

"Harry," She whines, walls starting to tighten around him. He picks up the pace again, moving to her other breast.

"That's it baby, feel so good." He praises, lips leaving sloppily saliva patches on her chest. Harry moves to the side, digging his teeth into the flesh. He gets the reaction he wanted, her pussy pulsing around him as she comes.

Harry drops his forehead to her collarbone, hips staggering and sloppy. He grunts, chasing his own high and working her through hers.

"Come on Harry," Y/n encourages, voice breathless and syrupy. "want to feel it. I need you to come in me."

His neck prickles, hair flopping with sweat. His prick twitches, tip starting to spurt into her velvet walls. "Fuck," He curses, toes curling.

"So proud of you Harry, you're doing so good." He's not sure if she's referring to him fucking her or the new fighting tournament but he doesn't care because the praise pushes him over. He stills, lifting his head and squeezing his eyes shut as he pushes into her with all he's got. She strokes his neck, leaving wet kisses on his jaw and murmuring how much she loves him.

He pulls out, pressing his lips to hers. They kiss for a moment, tongues lazily rubbing together and noses nudging. His arms get shaky so he falls next to her, pulling her onto his sweaty chest. She runs her fingers through the dips of his abdomen.

Harry's catching his breath, twirling her hair around his fingers when he realizes what day it is. He freezes, opening his eyes and looking down at her.

"Pet?"

"Hm?" She hums.

"Shouldn't you be on your period?"

575 notes · View notes

crazy-talk · 6 years

Text

As promised, here’s a little large compilation sort of thing of little moments and memories from SBFP that you folks have submitted. I really appreciate everything that you’ve all submitted, it’s pretty clear that SBFP helped and entertained a whole lot of people - in equal amounts.

Here’s some SBFP moments:

Grand Wizard Wakka

The Shitstorm VII Woolie haunting plan

“What a mysterious game.”

MY HOUSE

“Wait, what’s my objectives?” “You don’t haaave any objectives!”

Qui Gon Chi

“Whah happuh?” “das whah happuh!”

“No, shut up though.”

The Baby

“Shut the fuck up about Face/Off!”

“Bleetzboll...”

The Sadness Trilogy

“KIDS LOVE THE FOCKIN’ DEVIL!”

Pat thinking he’s dying because he sat on a chocolate bar

Kenpachi Ramasama

Shit-kids

“Whut deh fuhk? Is he using duh bät room?”

Mr. Shakedown/Kenny/Quint/Eric Sparrow

TAR-KUS! TAR-KUS! TAR-KUS!

“Love is just chemicals.”

Pat eating candy alone in a closet

Matt throwing the fire axe

“Oh no, I make’da bad game!”

“Hey, is that the script?”

“JAAASON!”

“It’s fine.”

The RE2 valve noise

“Yeyeyeye!”

Woolie’s atomic purple Gameboy

“Eyy, what’s goin’ on, man? You ready to play?”

And some SBFP memories. Some of these may be a bit emotionally heavy so feel free to skip this part:

the sbfp lp of yakuza 0 got me and my best friend into the yakuza series. we watched it together and we still laugh about matt falling to pieces over "never-before-seen results" - Anon

the best friends have had such an influence on my speech patterns that i've infected people who've never watched them before. half of my friend group says super big [x] and porked up now - Anon

SBFP introduced me to so many games that ended up becoming personal favorites of mine, like Deadly Premonition and the Silent Hill series. Their videos became a way for me to spend time with some of my own best friends as well! - captainofthestars

theres one particular moment that will always resonate with me - in their devil may cry lets play, i cant remember if it was 1 or 3, they talk about someone in the comments who mentioned that they had to beat devil may cry with items due to having a physical disability of some kind, i cant remember which. they talked about how it was awesome that he managed to even beat the game like that, and, personally, as someone who struggles with motorskills issues this made me very happy, as a devil may cry fan. theres a lot of other great moments from the tbfp, both funny and genuine that made me happy, but this one in particular stuck with me a lot. - krillfingers

I'll never stop making "pull out king" jokes thanks to sbfp - venerabledreadnought

I remember the first Shitstorm that made me actually have to get up and sit in a brightly lit room with other people in it, Anatomy. It's become a Halloween tradition to watch it every year since, though watching a whole bunch of Shitstorm also became one. As someone who started watching at their second machinma ep, it's not a lie to say that they made up the entirety of my teenage years. I will miss the channel dearly, but I look forward to the future. - duke-nitro

My friends and I have been watching The Zaibatsu for so long that we have accidentally adopted a bunch of their phrases like going “yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah” or saying someone “go down.” Also, despite us not knowing each other when we became fans, we all somehow began with their Man vs Wild let’s play and I even made friends with one of them because I quoted something from it at work. Favorite moment probably has to be the entire Omikron playthrough, I can’t pick a single moment. It was a beautiful trainwreck start to finish and I still put on the playlist from time to time while I’m doing other things. I swear I could gently fall asleep to the sounds of Pat screaming about the shooter segments. shogun-ceanataur

Persona 4 and Kenpachi Ramasama were my favourite. I found the name itself hilarious, but how they kept on referring to him as the full name in different little bits and tones never failed to make me laugh. That “See you later, fuckers!” part from when you see Yosuke was also hilarious. I’m not sure if that video is the oeigin, but it’s why I’ve integrated that phrase into my everyday life. Goddamn what a fun, memorable episode. - whatthehellisthisevenfor

tbfp got me through being homeless in my car twice. every time that I wanted to give up, to just stop trying, i'd turn on whatever new video they had out and it brightened up my life. my mom, who was with me, came to love them to, she used to wait to hear them to relax. i have so many memories of that time, and i don't fully relax or even eat on long days until I've turned their videos on. my favorite quote is still "mistakes into miracles". its a rly motivating quote imo. - c0l0c4k3s

I always loved the Silent Hill 2 LP. I never played it when it came out - all I knew was that it was a horror game, and I hated horror at the time. But when the LP came around, I knew a bit more about the game and I was intrigued. Seeing the game, meeting the characters, hearing Pat disect the story and themes for Matt, I loved it all. I was fascinated, and still am. I will still watch the LP every few months, and I call SH2 one of my favorite games, even though I still haven’t played it.Thanks, SBFP, for all the great moments and the great memories. I wish you all well. - iamthewanderingbard

The best friends are what got me so invested in the Dark souls games, and what motivated me to get through DS2. Even if I say 'You see what i mean' unironically a lot, and go 'You. Did it.' - awkwardmuses

I got into Super Best Friends from a post on the Twin Perfect forum, that linked to the Silent Hill Downpour lp, and never looked back. Their let's plays brought me so much joy back when I wasn't in the best living or health situation, and continue to do so. My favourite let's plays have to be Eternal Darkness and the Shitstorms; I always go back to those when depression hits, or for any reasons. I'll miss them together, but I'll always have those delicious delicious memories. - mrjaffesxeldritchtwin

The Best Friends Play are the reason I end so many sentences with "though". I first found them when a friend recommended the Best Sisters Play MLP animations, and I've loved them ever since. I know it's used as a joke, but I really believe they've earned the title of HYPEST GAMEPLAY ON YOUTUBE. I love all of their David Cage playthroughs, and I adore how many plot-points they guess during Beyond: Two Souls. I love how, when they play a game they really love, they show so much knowledge and care. - mads-in-zero

It was incredibly amusing and oddly touching that the Zaibatsu created this hate circle of David Cage and his godawful games. Even before Detroit’s release, the best friends AND the fanbase were ready to hate it because as a collective, we just latched onto that one thing to hate/make fun of. And we go all out on it together like some fucked up family, and I love it. - missinghmmingbird

I can’t help but shrug off every minor inconvenience and major issue in my life with “it’s fine” thanks to Gun Jumper Liam. Thanks to Matt and Woolie supporting Skullgirls like no one else on the internet, I really got into it and fighting games as a whole. I’m not good at them, but oh boy do I love them.And if it wasn’t for Pat, I don’t think I’d ever have touched a Yakuza or Persona game.These guys affected my life more than any other individual or group on the internet ever really has. - dklordg

The first Best Friends video I ever watched was Portal 2. That short LP had me in stitches. I'd never laughed so hard. I've been a huge fan since then. These guys where the ones that introduced me to LPs and made me realize that you can have fun watching other people bumble through games. TheSw1tcher has been one of my favorite channels on YouTube since I began watching. It gave me something to look forward to. I got through high school, and essentially grew up, watching these videos. There are so many catchphrases and memes I will never forget and will always make me smile. I absolutely say stuff like “whah happun?” and “shit-kids” all the time. The Deadly Premonition and Detroit: Become Human playthroughs are wonderful gems in my eyes. It’s amazing how a group of guys can get so many people to collectively love and bash certain games. We’re all on the same page, having a blast like a huge group of friends at a slumber party. Matt, Pat, Woolie, Liam, Billy, and everyone who involved themselves with the Super Best Friends are the absolute best. They gave me a chance to relax and laugh along with some familiar voices. Although it's sad they are going their separate ways, I totally respect that fact. They have my love and support. I wish them nothing but success and happiness moving forward. I'll be watching! And a note to my fellow fans: This has been a wild ride. I'm glad I got to enjoy it with you. You are all fantastic people. - fablesamongus

#Text post #Comp post #super best friends play #SBFP #Two Best Friends Play #TBFP

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starswornoaths · 5 years

Text

A Proposition and Negotiation

Aymeric receives a petitioner, and Lucia wins a bet. Technically.

Or:

Hi this has been kicking around in my head for several months and I’m finally at a point where I can just get it out.

Fair warning, this one comes with that particularly cursed tag of: Fluff with a Sad Ending”

Word count: 2,050

It was just late enough in the afternoon that when Aymeric received a call on his linkpearl, he was half grateful for the excuse to step away from his desk. With how little he was actually gleaning from the missive he had been reading and rereading, it was hard to deny how his eyes were beginning to tire.

“Lord Commander,” Lucia addressed him, though he couldn’t help but note the hint of amusement in her tone. “It would seem you have a petitioner.”

Petitioner? Of what? It was just early enough in the day that it could have been for anything— and like as not, was for something that should be brought directly to the Houses of the Lords and Commons rather than to him specifically; he’d had to politely dismiss many a noble who sought to buy his support before taking it through the proper channels. The more things change…

“And what sort of petition would they bring before me?” He asked, already rolling his eyes.

“A petition of a more personal nature, Lord Commander. They mean to discuss a petition of marriage.”

Aymeric wished it had just been bribery, if that were the case.

“And they would deliver it in person?” He asked, and was admittedly more than a bit suprised by that: such petitions were typically sent with a missive and pages filled with long winded overtures about the benefits of “such noble families joining houses,” and the like. For it to be sent in person…

“That they would, Lord Commander.” Oh, Lucia was delighted, he could tell.

Social decorum would demand he receive his would-be petitioner in person— to give the care and thought he “received” through their personal delivery in kind, and she was doubtless having a laugh at his expense for it. Such proposals were typically given by a messenger, impartial and inconsequential things as they ultimately were, so to have someone come to deliver it by hand...either the nobility was getting better at feigning effort, or he had an admirer that thought themselves closer to him than he would like. That would not be a first, either, he thought with a groan.

Already resisting the urge to force his head through the desk he cleared his throat and in the most pleasant tone he could manage through clenched teeth, he permitted his petitioner’s entry. Heaving a heavy sigh he rose from his seat and moved to look out the window into the forum below. The light that spilled in through the glass was muted through the overcast clouds, tinting all the world in an icy blue. A part of him wished he were out enjoying it, be it with pleasant company or none but his own. Perhaps once this whole nonsense with this petitioner was done he might slip out to the more quiet halls of the Vault just to enjoy the open air gardens for a moment…

Aymeric did not turn at the sound of the door opening, nor at the proceeding clicks of boot heels as they approached his desk. It was too bright out to spy his guest through the glass in any clear detail, so he took a deep enough breath to count to ten, exhaled softly for just as long, and hoped it was enough to help him hold his tongue from exasperatedly demanding to know why his petitioner chased a happily kept man. He already knew the answer, after all.

“I thank you for your consideration,” he greeted, even as he continued to look out into the streets below; it gave him time to soften his glare. “‘Tis my understanding that you come bearing a personal petition.”

“Well, that’s a term for it.” A familiar voice replied.

Shock doused what mild annoyance he may have had in a rush that left him feeling faintly chilled. He had not thought— he had hoped, but she had said it was not— but then she had—

Rather than let his baffled thoughts spiral, Aymeric spun to see Serella stood in front of his desk in a lovely white tea length dress and deep blue petticoat, hair braided and pleated with a blue ribbon hanging down, and her same old worn brown adventurer’s boots— a comfort item, he distantly realized— and holding a formal petition writ in her hand, with his name on it, with lilies pressed into a mauve wax seal.

And looking as scared as he was stunned, to see her fidget so.

“Ella?” He wheezed, acutely aware that either his heart had stopped beating altogether or was beating too fast for him to feel.

With a sheepish smile, Serella gave a little wave with the hand not clutching her proposal letter. “I hope I’m...not asking at a bad time?” His stupor knotted his ordinarily silver tongue— by the Fury, but she had never looked so beautiful, he had never felt his insides squeeze so painfully, so wonderfully— oh, but she was speaking again, “O-or asking a bad question? I mean—” she was rambling, her eyes wide and her hands trembling as she tugged at her sleeve— she was panicking and he needed to speak but his throat was caught between shouting for joy and just crying— “I don’t want to pressure you— we haven’t, we haven’t really spoken on it but twice or so, a-and last time you seemed to like the idea— but if you don’t want to, that’s alright, I’ll never—”

“You beat me to the asking.” Aymeric blurted.

Serella’s anxious babbling stopped, and it was her turn to go stock still and stare at him as though he had gone mad. “...What?” She asked in a stupor of her own.

In three long strides he had moved to stand beside her, gently taken her face in his hands, and let words die between them for a while as he kissed her. He felt her proposal being pressed into his chest as she closed what distance there was between them, and he could do naught but sigh in bliss, even as he mentally scrambled for words— he would have need of them.

“A moment,” he breathed against her lips. When she tried to speak again he kissed her briefly and bumped their noses together. “Just the one. Please.”

She blinked owlishly at him, eyes wide and lips parted— ah, and they swelled so enticingly under his affections he could not help but kiss her once more before he stepped behind his desk. He did not sit down: he knew exactly where it was.

With a key from his pocket he fumbled to unlock one of his desk drawers— and seeing that little box he’d tucked in the furthest corner of the drawer somehow made all of this real in a way it didn’t feel before. The box was superficial now, and he readily discarded it for the ring inside.

His hands trembled as he moved back to her, and even as he presented the ring he could not get them to still.

“I knew not when to ask.” He explained helplessly, his eyes fainly stinging. “But Uthengentle crafted this for me...longer ago than I should admit.” With a laugh, he added, “Lucia knows you better than I, it would seem: she insisted you would ask me first.”

Serella looked down at the ring held between his fingers— gold with a deep blue gem in the orthodox style— as though she was not sure it was all real either.

“I...have technically not asked anything, my lord.” She said slowly, peering up at him through sooty lashes— and ah, but her eyes were shimmering, too. “I am but a petitioner with a proposal of terms.”

Aymeric let out a breath of laughter with what must have looked like a manic smile for how his cheeks began to ache but he did not care. With a sigh of relief, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Marry me?” He asked in a whisper.

She smiled then, a toothy grin formed from giddy laughter and relief.

“Yes— on one condition,” she answered. Before he could seek clarity— for there was naught that he would not do for her in this moment, surely she knew that— she produced a simple gold ring from inside her coat and held it out beside the ring he still held. “If...if you would accept this, promise me you’ll never take it off?”

“I swear.” He nodded, and Fury preserve him, but if his hands would just stop shaking as he accepted the offered ring. When he turned it over he caught sight of an engraving on the inside of the ring: As Ever, it promised him in neatly spaced letters— and across from the familiar phrase, there was a small blue gem embedded into it.

“Oh, Ella,” he sighed, and those lovely engravings were now blurry for his tears. When he nodded and she slipped it on his hand the gem felt cool against his finger— why was it on the inside of the ring, he wondered even as he blinked back tears and placed the ring her brother had crafted on her finger in kind.

“There’s a reason I ask you not to take it off, you know.” Serella spoke quietly. Her thumb idly brushed over the ring on his hand, smoothing back and forth as she spoke, “I...I needed help from a master smith to enchant it, but I could think of nothing better to offer you.” She let go of his hand and took a step backward. “Hold your arm out as though your holding a shield and don’t move.” When he tilted his head she smiled. “Humor me, love.”

When he did as she asked, she reached her hand in the space between them, he could not bite back a surprised gasp when he felt the gem against his finger grow cold and her hand connected with a barrier of aether between them: a shield.

“What—” Oh, and he was crying then, foolish man that he was.

“I can’t heal your shield arm.” She explained, and he lowered his arm to draw her near again. “It was damaged long before I met you. Contrary to popular belief, I’m no miracle worker.”

“You need not try—” He tried to soothe her— for how could she take the blame for something that had happened in the early days of his knighthood?— but she pressed her fingertips to his lips to silence him.

“I know. I can’t fix it— but I can protect you. This ring is a part of my promise: I am, as ever, your shield.” With flushed cheeks, she lowered her gaze to his collar and moved her hand over his heart. “So...promise you won’t ever take it off? So I can protect you even if I’m not with you?”

“I swear it.” He barely managed to promise before she kissed him again.

Scarcely a moon later would find them deep in the trenches of the Dark, where further loss and agony and demands made of them both would compel Serella to make Aymeric keep another promise: that their duties would always, always come first. Scarcely a moon later, and he would offer her another promise to wait for her, that she would have a home with him regardless of what obligation she had to a title she never wanted. Scarcely a moon later, they would be left in duty driven isolation, and the rings upon their finger will grow heavy with the promise of later, a promise neither are certain they can keep.

Scarcely two moons later, all that would remain of Serella on this star for the foreseeable future would be the gold band on his finger. His shield, as ever, even so far from home as she will be.

That was not now, however. For now, ignorant and blissful, Aymeric easily swept her in his arms and sat her on his desk. For now, unaware of the tragedy that would yet seek their ruin, Serella drew him in for the first of a dozen dozen kisses. For now, preparing for the worst while not being able to be prepared for what was to come, there was naught on their minds but the weight of the ring on their fingers, and the distracted fumbling with the lock on his door.

For now, they were happy.

#I am as ever your shield #Serella Arcbane #Aymeric de Borel #ffxiv #*rolls around in my feelings forever*#THIS WAS HAPPIER IN MY FIRST DRAFT BEFORE 4.5 YOU KNOW #anyway hi everyone I'm back on my bullshit #one more story to go before ShB!#\o/#I hope you enjoy!#vague spoilers for 4.5 #also I hc that the reason Aymeric doesn't have a shield is because he was injured young and can't use that arm as extensively #which is why is isn't an archer anymore even though he was when he was a knight #but that is by no means canon I don't think

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winnipegpatty · 6 years

Text

like what you’re doing to me | two | s.m. series

a/n: yes let’s go! okay forreal this time though thank you @mendesmood for the instagram edits!!! <3 the ice cream picture is from sara_hara on IG, she’s beautiful. also, if you like this consider buying me a ko-fi (link on my page!)

Setting up a collaboration with Karli hadn’t been too hard considering Shawn didn’t have a whole lot going on right now outside of tour rehearsals. Andrew had wanted Shawn to set it up as soon as possible as to not lose some of the hype that had come along with his tweets and Karli’s video.

A ton of Twitter fans had already been speculating that they may be setting up a collaboration of some sort. And Andrew had given Shawn the go ahead to tease about it here and there, just to keep interest up. Which meant that Shawn and Karli had been flirtily tweeting each other all week. Nothing too crazy, but just here and there.

So now, about three and a half weeks since Shawn’s initial tweet from the airport, he was flying to LAX to create an unknown collaboration with Karli King. He’d left pretty much any and all specifics about the video up to her discretion, saying that he trusted her craft, whatever the fuck that meant. The truth was, Shawn didn’t know how to make a fucking Youtube collaboration. Sure, Shawn had started on Youtube. But Youtube years ago, was a completely different game than Youtube now. Shawn had recorded unedited, raw covers in his bedroom. And now, people were creating music that was just as produced and put together as his albums were. And they were putting out that content once or sometimes even twice a week. This was a world far removed from Magcon days. A loud cry from his vine days, and it was something that Shawn hadn’t the smallest inkling about.

But he hadn’t wanted to tell Karli that. He couldn’t seem like a fucking idiot to her before they’d even met.

Karli had sent over all the details of meeting spot and time and what not to Shawn’s cell (because now they had each other’s phone numbers, which was something Shawn doesn’t like to think about). And Shawn was just set to drop his things off at a hotel before meeting Karli King for the first ever time, and it was going to be...fine.

Shawn was nervous as hell. He never gets nervous, but goddamn he was nervous. He had butterflies constantly roaming his stomach, never giving him a moments peace. He felt like he had the jitters, his nervous habits that he’d abandoned long ago we starting to creep back in, and Shawn just felt completely on edge.

Why did he feel like he was about to me the fucking Queen of England?

It’s just Karli King.

Shawn hopped in an Uber, giving the address Karli had sent him, and decided it was time to clear is mind. He pulled out his phone, deciding to tweet something extremely ambiguous just to see the familiar flood of excited responses from the fans. He shot out just a quick little message saying “Today’s a big day!” and he waited.

It only took thirty seconds before he saw his mentions grow exponentially, filled with fans asking what was going on, if he could tell them anything, or requests to post pictures. Shawn replied to a handful of them, sifting through similar ones, finding the gems hidden in the rough.

You’ll see later. Coming soon. Pictures? Maybe, I’ll get back to you on that one ;)

Finally Shawn swiped off Twitter, entering his messages app and hitting Niall’s name.

Shawn: Hey, in LA for a few days. Hangout?

Karli was insanely terrified. Not just because Shawn Mendes was coming to her house, but because of the video they were about to produce.

It’s not surprise that Karli is best known for her ten song mashups. It’s unique, and it’s what got her traction on the platform, garnering her over 5 million subscribers. But if you knew Karli, you knew this wasn’t what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She loved Youtube, absolutely. And her fans were incredible. But Karli wasn’t wanting to sing covers forever. She wanted to write and release her own music.

So Karli was taking a risk. A really big one, but is life really worth living without them?

Karli wasn’t stupid. She knew that no matter what she put out, a video with Shawn Mendes was guaranteed to get more views than most of her own content. His fan base was insanely huge, arguably one of the biggest in the world right now. So, if she was going to take a risk, this is where she was least likely to flop. Because Shawn Mendes would be holding her up.

And Shawn had given her complete creative control over the video content. Shawn didn’t know this yet, but today he was going to be learning and singing a Karli King original. She was completely terrified. What if he hated the song? Or wanted to do something else? Or completely backed out because he’d expected to be doing a ten song mashup?

Shawn didn’t really seem like the kind of person to bail, but she also had to admit that she doesn’t really know him

But nevermind that, she didn’t have the opportunity to change her mind because Shawn would be here any minute.

She just hoped he liked it.

Shawn showed up about five minutes early, donning a backpack and two guitar cases. Karli hadn’t specifically told him he’d be playing the guitar or anything, but he wanted to come prepared. So he’d brought an acoustic and an electric.

“Hey,” Karli had easily welcomed him into what looked to be her actual home.

Which, made sense. He, after all, had also recorded everything in his home too when he’d started out.

Karli’s platinum blonde hair was flowing down her shoulders, with a small portion of it tied back into a small bun on her head. She wore a yellow cropped Adidas hoodie and a pair of gym shorts. He feet were clad in fuzzy socks, and Shawn felt immensely overdressed in just his right black slacks and his loose fitting tee.

Karli led them down a hallway, “Bathrooms right here, if you need it.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “And this, is the studio.” She opened a door on the right to reveal an immensely beautiful space. Shawn actually gasped.

There was a mini grand piano in one corner of the room, and three guitars hanging on the wall near it. There was a desk with her producing equipment, an area for a camera set up, and a corner with microphones and music stands at the ready.

“Holy shit,” Shawn looked at Karli, “this is fucking legit.”

Karli laughed, and Shawn felt his heart stop. Her laugh was so mealoudious in video, but in real life it was angelic. He was never going to survive this day.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Karli responded. “I’ve spent years collecting this stuff.”

Shawn shook his head, “You could honestly to god record an entire album in this one room.”

Karli beamed at him, tugging on the drawstring of her hoodie, “That’s the goal.”

Shawn, who’d been busying himself with one of the guitars hanging up, turned completely shocked. “Really? You’re wanting to make your own music?”

She simply nodded her head shyly.

“Do you write your own songs?” Shawn asked, now completely invested in Karli, guitars all but forgotten.

“Well...actually, yeah. I’m going to show you one, for the video.”

Shawn’s eyes went wide, “You want us to sing one of your originals together?”

They spent the next few hours becoming accustomed to Karli’s original song, which she had titled ‘Why Won’t You Love Me’. Shawn absolutely loved the song. It had a sick beat, that they’d been playing around with on her computer. The electric guitar part was amazing, and their voices meshed so well on the chorus.

“Okay, the first verse is just going to be me and the guitar. So, then you just harmonize like that in the chorus and play the guitar, but then we’ll switch back on the verse. I’ll play the guitar. You’ll sing the second verse, which I will harmonize with. Then go into the chorus and bridge together.”

“Sounds perfect.” Shawn agreed.

Karli eyed Shawn for a moment, “Did you happen to bring that blue guitar in either of those cases?”

Shawn laughed, “Yeah, I did bring that blue guitar.”

___

YouTube: Shawn Mendes and Karli King sing “Why Won’t You Love Me”

___

Shawn: so do you like celebrate a video release?

Karli: i would say that’s the proper way to do it, eh?

Shawn: you wouldn’t be making fun of my Canadian heritage would you? just when i thought we had a good thing going.

Karli: i would never.

___

Since the video’s release, Karli’s channel has been trending on YouTube for days. She’s gained a ton of subscribers, and people showed genuine interest in her music. It seems like a lot of her fans had been waiting for her to release her own music, which was a pleasant surprise.

On Shawn’s side of things, progress was a bit more difficult to track. What with him already having millions of fans, and pretty high activity every day whether there was something being released or not, new traffic was a bit harder to grasp.

But Andrew continued to tell Shawn that all the press had been good. Karli’s song was huge, and she’d released a recorded version on iTunes without Shawn on it, that was doing really well on the charts. It seemed the media was viewing this as a “Shawn Mendes returns to his roots and pulls up an up and coming Artist with him” sort of situation.

Shawn really couldn’t care less about the success or what it was doing to his fan base, as long as it was semi successful at least. Shawn wanted the success for Karli, but for himself he really hadn’t cared.

But what he had used this opportunity as was a way to continue communication with Karli, on a slightly more personal level. They’d moved past Twitter mentions and into the regular texting category of new friendships. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been flirting with her.

But if Shawn had thought he liked Karli before he’d met her, he was head over heels for her now.

He couldn’t get her off his mind. He’d simply never found someone more mindblowingly talented. The effort that she put into her music was inspiring to even Shawn. Her conversations were captivating, like she always had something on her mind.

Shawn was honestly surprised with how open she’d become with him so quickly. But he wasn’t going to be complaining.

After the video release, Shawn had returned home to continue tour rehearsals. Tour was set to start in about a month, and Shawn was ecstatic. He’d never been more excited to sing songs live that he was about these ones. And practicing the tour every day just made him more and more energetic.

On top of rehearsals, Andrew also had Shawn doing some writing sessions here and there, preparing to release a single mid tour. Writing sessions meant going to LA for a few days here and there. Most of the time he spent this time coupled up in a house with Teddy, putting together ideas until finally something good sticks and turns into something incredible.

But other times, like now, Shawn had a free night. Normally, when in LA, he’d first reach out to Niall, but he knew for a fact that Niall was in the UK running some promo with his golf company. Shawn was honestly a bit bummed out anytime he and Niall seemed to miss each other, one away while the other was in LA. It felt like a gross injustice on the universe’s part, to give Shawn a friend like Niall but then rarely allow them to see each other in person.

Twas the life of a rockstar, Shawn assumed.

Shawn needed something to do though because he was in one of those moods. Those moods he gets into when he’s too much in his head. When he needs someone else to pull him out of it, and remind him that there is life outside of his mind. These moods only had one fix: people. It never really mattered who, though Shawn preferred it to be a close friend. But frankly, those were often in short supply for Shawn, depending on which corner of the world he was in on any given day.

Despite knowing tons of people in LA, Shawn really only wanted to see one person.

And that scared him.

His writing session with Teddy today had been productive, but Shawn knew exactly why. Because he’d been thinking about a certain blonde. He’d been thinking back to their first meeting and just how nervous she’d made him. In a way no one ever had. And how even now, the idea of texting her and asking if she was free to hang out had his stomach in knots. Shawn wasn’t this kind of person. Sure, he wasn’t like smooth or anything when it came to the ladies, but he wasn’t one to become nervous. Performing made him nervous. Awards shows made him nervous. Girls don’t make Shawn Mendes nervous.

Until Karli King.

Should he text her? Call her? Were they on a calling basis? Probably not. Were they even on a casual hangout basis? Shawn had no idea. Maybe he just had to just do it. Just text her and not even look back or think about it. That probably seemed best, before Shawn got even further into his head and completely over thought the whole thing.

Shawn: Hey Karli. I’m in LA for a couple days, and have the night free. Want to get together?

That was a normal thing to send a friend right? Shawn went to the kitchen of the house the team was staying in for writing sessions, grabbing himself a beer to calm himself. He didn’t have to worry for long, before his phone was chiming with a message.

Karli: Hey! I’m out with some friends tonight, actually. We’re just bar hopping. Come join us!

Shawn wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to join a group of people he didn’t know on a bar hop run, but he knew he wanted to see Karli. And he knew he wanted to be around people, so I guess this was the option that checked off both of those boxes.

Shawn: just tell me when.

That may have been overeager

Karli: We’re at Jeni’s now, won’t be going out for another hour or so. Come get ice cream!

Shawn smiled at the picture, wondering what ice cream flavor was her favorite, as he wait for the address of which Jeni’s they were at.

Shawn stumbled around the house, throwing on a YOUTH hoodie, and pulling on a pair of chelsea boots. Shawn had already called for an Uber by the time Karli had responded with the address. He answered her saying he’d been there in a few.

The butterflies in his stomach only amped up as he thought about how he was going to see her for the second time in just a matter of minutes.

“Are you drunk?” Karli laughed, throwing her head back as they continued to dance together.

“What?” Shawn asked shocked, “No. I’ve only had two drinks. I’m not a fucking pansy.”

Karli laughed even harder at that, “Well, what do I know? I’ve never been out drinking with Shawn Mendes before.” She smiled up at him, “You just seem like you’re having a good time.”

Shawn smiled, bringing his hand around her waist as he moved against her body, “I am having a great time, Karli.”

“That’s really good.”

Karli slung her arms around Shawn’s neck, “I’m not drunk either, but I might be soon.”

___

Getting to know Shawn after their night together in LA was easy, almost natural. Karli found herself texting him almost constantly. They would share bits and pieces of their days with each other. She’d send him little sound bites of a song she was recording while he’d send her little videos of him and Teddy messing around with a beat.

It was fun and light, but Karli knew there was more coming. She could feel it in the way her cheeks widened at the sound of his voice, or the way she’d blush slightly before sending him a picture of her day. She could feel it in the way Shawn’s laugh echoed in her mind hours after a phone call had ended.

She wasn't going to do anything about it though because he was Shawn Mendes and that entailed a lot of things. A lot of things that Karli couldn’t pretend to know about. Dating Shawn wasn’t something that one casually did because he was a celebrity. There were contracts and paps and images involved. Karli wasn’t going to insert herself into that.

She couldn’t, not with the way her life was now. She was building a name for herself, and she wasn’t doing it on the back of someone like Shawn Mendes. The last thing Karli needed was accusations being thrown her way of using Shawn for his fame. She knew all about cancel culture, and one headline like that could literally end her career before it had even fully started.

So there Karli remained, the silent background friend of Shawn’s that no one knew about.

___

Shawn: come to the zoo with me?

Karli: what? why are you going to the zoo?

Shawn: i want to see a kangaroo

___

It was a Thursday morning, just a week before Shawn’s tour was going to start. His energy was through the roof, and he had to get it out somehow.

So he went to the zoo.

Karli has easily agreed, and they’d met up outside before starting the day together. It was fucking hot outside despite it being early March. Kids were in school, so the zoo was practically empty. Just like Shawn had hoped.

“Okay so,” Karli looked over Shawn shoulders, pushing up on her top toes. “Looks like the kangaroos are all the way at the back.” She pointed to literally the furthest place in the zoo.

Shawn clapped, “Well we better get moving then, if we are to make it to Australia by days end!”

Karli laughed, following Shawn as he moved down the walkway.

Turns out that seeing the kangaroos, really just meant Shawn wanted to see every animal in the entire zoo. He stopped and gazed at every single exhibit. Asking Karli which animals she liked best and which she identified most with. He’s randomly share the oddest facts with her.

“Did you know that a rhinoceros's horn is made of hair?”

“I did not know that, Shawn.”

Occasionally Karli would initiate the conversation, saying how she wished she could be a sloth, or maybe how she wonders how penguins don’t get cold.

Overall, it was the exact kind of day Karli wanted to spend with Shawn. Sharing stupid facts together, laughing at odd jokes, accidentally brushing fingers or shoulders a little too often to be truly accidental. It was perfect. It was peaceful.

___

And they did finally see the kangaroos.

___

tagging: @fourtristattoos @peacedolantwins2 @rosecth @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @justanotherfangurl272 @my-sweet-escape-from-the-world @loveydoveyshawn @outlandishnerd @amandash113 @lostinroses @ilsolee

#shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #imagine #fic #fanfic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes writing #my writing #mine #writing #lwydtm #like what you're doing to me

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endlessgreysky · 5 years

Text

August 10, 2.04 am

Fun thing about ptsd is that my brain protects itself from things, until it doesn’t. A lot has happened recently and I went numb for actual weeks, and I just had a tiny moment where I felt a tiny emotion and suddenly every emotion just rushed into the crack so quickly I had a panic attack.

Lost one of my friends. Out of everyone I’m friends with she’s the one I’d expect it from, she’s the one who’s problematic enough on her own that I honestly didn’t feel anything but rage at what happened. Then I felt nothing, and I felt a little weird and bad for it but it was more important how my friends were feeling anyway. The drama is between my best friend and her, so I’m just here being pissed because my best friend is my person and I’m wildly overprotective of her. But my other friend is like the ex-friend’s person, so it’s awkward bc she’s going to keep being friends with all of us and she just wants us to work it out. She talked to me about it yesterday and I’ve just been thinking about it ever since. The first thing I did when the drama happened was remove her from social media everywhere so she can’t contact me without it being a “request” so that I can choose whether or not I engage. Thinking back I’m just beating myself up because I’m so used to dealing with drama that I never stopped to think if that was the best idea in this situation. And it’s not like I’m super excited or ready or willing to let her even a tiny bit back into my life, but in all honesty everything I feel towards her regards what happens with my best friend, so if they work things out I’ll still have removed her everywhere. I guess I got so used to losing friends and everything being impermanent that it took me this long to realize the friends I’m losing now are the ones I’d started to consider family.

I’m pissed at her, a part of me hates her, a part of me never wants to even look at her face again, but it hurts. It’s just this nagging ache that I felt when I realized that she was my family for awhile and I just shattered a part of my family since she’ll always be around as long as my other friend is. And that ache is what let in all of my other feelings as something besides my numb depressed state.

My mom had someone she loved die today and threw herself into a dinner with my dads shitty fucking family right after. They condescended her because that’s what they do, they condescended me because they think she doesn’t know how to raise me, and honestly I just hate being around them and it was in the house I grew up in and it was just really uncomfortable. Not to mention that my dad exists to make me miserable. But my mom thought things were going really well and she was actually feeling great when we went home, only to find that my cousin posted the picture she took while my mom watched her take it, and tagged everyone in it except my mom. And it made my mom upset and excluded and all of those feelings which made me really upset bc no one gets to ever fucking make my mother feel that way. She deserves better. Quite honestly, I deserve better, but I don’t care enough about myself for that.

My two best friends in the entire world deserve better too. The one I talked about earlier has a lot of dumb family drama and it’s been a hell of a lot worse lately, and there’s nothing real I can do to help her besides talk about how nice it’ll be when we have an apartment together. It’s not very reassuring since I don’t even have a job yet. And her birthday is coming soon and her family is just remaining shitty as if she’s not about to turn eighteen which should be huge and exciting. And my other best friend goes through a lot and I just can only help her so much through text but she lives in another country so there’s literally nothing more I can do to help her. It’s the worst feeling in the world, to want to fix something or help someone and literally being unable to do it.

I’m really lonely. I still haven’t told my mom about my ptsd and I’ve kind of been closed off because I don’t want to tell her anymore. My best friend lives in another country, my other has a job, and my only other real friend now is moving into a dorm soon. Those are my people and they’re amazing people and I love them with everything in me but it’s just like, there’s something missing. I guess I was really in love with this guy that broke my heart and it’s not even him anymore, it’s just that I miss that feeling. I’m tired of being alone. And almost all of my trauma is from my ex, so being in a healthy relationship is literally the only thing that works best to heal and shit bc it replaces the bad memories with good ones. My therapist says if I do that enough it should blot them out a lot, and it’s worked so fucking well with my friends that I’m just dying for it to happen romantically. I’ve been having more flashbacks and nightmares again bc my ex is back in town and it’s just looming over my head. And just bc all of my mental health is getting worse. And I have a lot of methods to cope now that are helping, but there was something about my recent ex that just helped. Like, I had a flashback once and he wrapped his arm around me and that was all it took to calm me down. It was just the feeling of being with someone in that way that was safe and comfortable and it was something I’d never felt before and idk if I’m a junkie for it or if I miss it or what but I don’t know how to really get better without that happening. And it’s going to take so much time for that to actually be able to happen again and it’s just killing me ig. I’ve also jumped into this self destructive state where I’ve convinced myself that I want or even need to see my ex again for like closure or some bullshit, as if I don’t know the fucking panic I would go through even if we stayed forty feet away from each other the entire time.

My life has gotten so quiet and depressed recently that I’ve stopped listening to music most of the time, which is like ridiculously sad. And concerning. Music is literally the thing in this world that means the most to me that I care the most about and I just don’t fucking care about it right now. I don’t feel like I have the mental energy. I have no idea why or what’s wrong with me but you know what? It’s terrifying me.

I’ve been drowning all of my problems in fanfiction like nobody’s business. It’s wildly problematic bc I’m burying my feelings, I’m not doing anything bc on the days I don’t read all day I’m sleeping all day bc I read all night. I haven’t written anything for my novel in a month now and I’m very aware of it but I couldn’t be bothered to work on it, which is bad bc I’m about two weeks away from missing my second goal for it and I’ll beat myself up a lot once I start having feelings again. (Funnily enough I’m going numb again now that I’m getting all of my emotions out here.) I’ve deadass cancelled plans with myself and other people to read the fanfiction. And like it’s great fucking fanfiction but it’s getting far passed even the term unhealthy. In fact, I literally started crying during my panic attack earlier because I’d convinced myself Wade Wilson was so real that when reality hit I couldn’t handle it. It’s like I was using Wade comforting Peter (Parker, its Spideypool) as my own emotional comfort in that kind of relationship way I’ve been missing. And even knowing he’s not real I’ve been taking a lot of comfort knowing he would beat the shit out of my ex if he ever met him. But yeah I’ve been channeling myself through their relationship and living through it and it’s been one of my most incredible acts of escapism yet, and then I realized I don’t actually have someone to hold me when I break and reality crashed onto me so much fucking harder. And I think it’s also that I know Wade’s character enough to trust him and so I’ve become a fictional characters emotional leech and I let it get so intense unintentionally that I literally couldn’t handle the reality that didn’t have him in it. This kind of makes me sound crazy lmao. Funnily enough, I used to have breakdowns like this a lot whenever I got way too into my escapism. But usually it was just a lot of sadness - the only other time I had one at this level was when I started to realize that my entire fantasy universe wasn’t going to come to life when I grew up. Basically, I had a very intense childhood but like fuck i was lonely back then and I guess I must be that lonely now. At least this time I’m creating fake significant others instead of having only imaginary friends.

My therapist and I haven’t been able to meet much over the summer and it’s been enough for me to pull back and make my issues seem better than they are, which is probably a lot of the reason I’m suddenly a fucking mess. Luckily for me, she’s gone this week so I won’t get to see her 🙃. But anyway, I think I got everything out and I definitely feel like this helped. I needed to vent in a way I haven’t done in a while. I’ve also been being misgendered a LOT on my recent trips and it’s all by family which affects me worse bc they know my identity and don’t work to correct themselves. So that’s not helping. And it might be almost 3 am now but I’m definitely diving straight back into fanfiction for awhile longer before going to bed. I can admit I’ve taken it way over the top but escapism is my bitch for a reason and I’m not giving up on it now. I think I am gonna try to make some sort of note for my therapist so that I don’t keep talking about my issues like they’re better than they are. I always do it but with her it’s a problem lmao. Oh, I’m also avoiding sleep tonight bc I don’t want nightmares. So there’s that gem. I turn 18 in 15 days and I’ve stopped making plans bc I literally don’t care anymore. Taking stock on the things I’ve stopped caring about, I’m literally a huge fucking mess and I didn’t even realize. Oh! And I’ve also started having a lot of self esteem issues bc it’s hot outside and my stretch marks on my thighs show with my shorts on. That hasn’t been a problem for me in years.

Anyway, I think I’m finally done now. I seriously doubt anyone read all the way through this long ass vent, but on the off chance that you did, thank you for your time. I really appreciate it. I hope you’re having a better time than I am, you deserve all of the good things and I hope you’re getting all of them and more. Please have a good morning, day, or night. Stay hydrated and do something nice for yourself bc you deserve it! All my love 💕

Chris xx

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knightofbalance-13 · 6 years

Text

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ofs5kcTnG9A&feature=youtu.be

Anyone who knows me knows I fucking HATE it when people try to use Monty or Shane to attack RT.

And looky, the disingenuous idiot of the RWBY critics is gonna do just fucking that.

How fun.

So his first argument is that Shane’s Letter ‘exposes’ stuff about RT.

Mind you, the image he brings on screen goes to show WHY the letter doesn’t work the way Dan says it does.

Because in that image, we see that the summary is about 20% RT and 80% Shane. As in, the letter spends more time talking Shane himself and his own life and how he was affected by Monty’s death than anything related to RT.

Contrast this with say, The ‘Not So Awesome’ which is ENTIRELY about the grievances with Channel Awesome.

In fact, the ‘Not So Awesome’ Document really shows just how USELESS Shane’s letter is in this context.

The second document is labeled in a non-manipulative way, structured to showcase issues with the company in a factual manner, gives evidence for their claims through screenshots and has numerous sources in the document. Shane’s letter is labeled to tug at people’s emotions, structured to build sympathy with him instead of just displaying the facts and he has ZERO evidence in his document. Now, what I said about Shane isn’t really his fault and I’ll get to that latter. However, this DOES matter with Dan because he is trying to use this letter as a factual piece of evidence to support his bullshit vendetta against RT when, as a so called critic, he should have caught onto these issues even WITHOUT another document to contrast.

Next he tries to claim that they were sabatoging Monty’s work with this image:

See, not only is this NOT sabotage as RT has every reason to switch to Maya and standardize the workflow since the literal ONE MAN who made it is now dead-

But you can’t sabotage who is DEAD. Dan talks like they were doing this when Monty was alive but this piece is firmly located in the May 2015 section, which is AFTER Monty’s death. And at this point, they can’t sabotage him. They can only work with they have NOW.

Not only that, we only have Shane’s word this is what was said. And sorry to say but between the needless points about his marriage and interacting with Sheena as well as the OBVIOUS signs of depression in Shane: the man is not trustworthy on a factual basis. As someone with depression himself, I guarantee you that depressed people tend to remember the WORST version of what happens since that is what our minds are focused on.

Dan is using a DEPRESSED MAN’S mental state to back his bullshit.

And then he talks about the letter, how he went back and forth with the letter (I call bullshit because he doesn’t even TALK like someone conflicted about the letter) and how Miles and Kerry aren’t mentioned (which he calls ‘Very interesting’ despite them being implied as the higher ups in RT.)

Dan then goes onto try and criticize EZ PZ for saying that Sheena was the reason Monty died and tries saying that Sheena was nothing but a ‘perfect partner for Monty.”

A. Not that I agree with EZ PZ mind you. He is a complete piece of shit using fucking KIWI FARMS’ levels of bullshit to justify his crap. But Dan, don’t fucking act like you’re any better. You have used this letter in the past and more (we’ll get to THAT as well) to hate on RT.

And B. How can YOU say that when your only evidence is the same letter you said should be taken as a grain of salt. Don’t speak for things you have no knowledge on.

And then he just talks more and more about stuff said in the letter, using it to basically spout his opinions.

Like his bitching about the Ruby Vs. Torchwick and Neo which is basically just him crying about Neo getting out by opening her umbrella (not like airborn ships are moving FAST and an umbrella would catch the fast moving wind, amirite?) which is just him being PETTY.

Then we got to how Dan says that the Letter proves that the CRWBY aren’t trying to respect or live up to what Monty did. Which is a blatant LIE with the Adam Trailer, The Yang Vs. Bandits fight and ESPECIALLy the Cinder Vs. raven fight. Oh and there he goes again trying to use a DEAD man and a DEPRESSED man to justify his own irrational vendetta against people not bowing down and doing EXACTLY as he wanted.

And remember how he said you should take this letter with a grain of salt? Yeah, which is it Dan? DO we take the letter seriously or NOT? Or do we just use to support our biases and then pretend we actually give a shit like you do?

And here’s one of the most disgusting things I have ever heard. I’m gonna try and type it out word for word so you know WHY I think this way:

“But maybe, Monty’s friends. Miles and Kerry and all those people are trying to live up his name. Maybe they’re reading the reviews and seeing that Monty’s RWBY is better than their RWBY.”

Basically:

“If you don’t listen to me and admit you are shit, you were not Monty’s friend.”

Because it’s not like Dan has never met the man ONCE in his entire life, let alone long enough to make any sort of assumption his behalf and most certainly not over his co-writers and fucking BROTHER-OH WAIT, THAT”S ALL COMPLETELY TRUE.

Then we go into Dan claiming that RT is trying to make RWBY into their own original IP. Which even if it isn’t (They have Camp Camp, Nomad of Nowhere and Gen:Lcok): IT IS THEIR OWN IP. Monty was THEIR employee and while he may have created it, it would have never become what it is without RT as a whole. And mind you, Miles and Kerry are JUST as important to the creation of RWBY as Monty, to the point that MONTY went to both of them to be his co-writers. But hey, that would mean...you know, treating Miles and Kerry with basic human decency and of course Dan is physical incapable of that.

Also goes against what he said earlier, calling them Monty’s friends and saying they weren’t as bad as he thought. Seems like a recurring theme huh?

This would ALSO mean that Miles and Kerry could, you know, SUCCEED at their work instead of continuously failing to embody a dead man who they could never hope to copy. We know this because Shane TRIED IT IN THE FUCKING LETTER AND FAILED. But we both know you don’t WANT them to succeed.

He then tries to blame the Maidens and the Relics on Miles and Kerry...Which everyone knows both are MONTY’S IDEAS. We know this because SEVERAL people have come forward saying this and we can see similar concepts to these in the things Monty liked, like Evangelion or Blazblue. So I guess they’re suppose to both do what Monty would and NOT do what Monty would do...or maybe Dan is two faced. Who knows?

Oh and he outright admits Monty added shit in and then STILL tries to blame it all on Miles and Kerry by saying they discussed it and that they ‘are into that stereotypical anime bullshit’ trying to use the DRAGON BALLS as an example. (You know, those SEVEN things made by ALIENS that ANYONE can use and AREN’T the focus of the series.)

And then Dan has the BALLS to claim that Monty isn’t a part of RWBY anymore and that he will never be respected in RWBY again. He then calls Miles and Kerry ‘Cooperate bullshit.’ He then tries to excuse himself of his bullshit by saying “I’m bashing RT as a company. I’m not bashing Miles and Kerry” and tried claiming RT tried to cover it up by not saying anything. He then claims the voice actor for Winter (it was Glynda dumbass) said it was all true and then says two people said it. He then triers to say that they have decency for Monty’s craft or his work...

*cracks knuckles* Let me break this down.

A. If they didn’t respect Monty anymore, why the FUCK would they keep the Maidens around despite the fact that only MONTY liked them?

B. You ARE bashing Miles and Kerry specifically. You SPECIFICALLY mentioned them as a part of the cooperation. This is you trying to get out of any accusation of harassment and slander.

C. Glynda’s voice actress was fired from RT for claiming that Burnie’s fiancée fucked her way up the cooperate ladder and Barbara all but directly said she was harassed by her. She did this because she was vindictive about not being treated like a gem by the company.

D. Dan, RWBY is ALSO Miles and Kerry’s brainchild. They are just as important to the series as Monty was. In fact, they probably kept it from crashing and burning since Monty had no experience in writing and wasn’t a good writer inherenty.

E. RT didn’t respond because that’s their policy. They don’t react to this shit. They just keep going. And if they wanted to cover it up-WHY DIDN’T THEY SUE SHANE? they have the right to as Shane broke the confidentiality agreement he signed to work for them. So show me the legal action used to cover it up.

And E. Monty was all about unity and being together. YOU are trying to create division and strife all because you’re basically a jittled lover. YOU are the one who has no decency jackass.

But wanna know the funniest thing about this?

Dan tries acting like this is some huge conflict for him and tries acting like this has changed his views at all.

When on the same day, he posted this to his twitter (https://mobile.twitter.com/MuffinManDan1/status/1045078347808681984)

So Dan:

You say that they aren’t so bad.

Then you say they are.

Then you say they aren’t again.

Then you say they are.

And then you say they always were on your Twitter.

Muffin Man Dan-

Shane’s actions are understandable because he was depressed, grieving and broken. He was pretty fucking out there.

Yours are not.

You lie, you attack, you insult, you slander, you misinform, you use people for your own personal gain-

You do irredeemable shit for deeply PETTY bullshit.

You don’t care about Monty, Shane, Sheena or RWBY.

You care about yourself and what you can gain, you two faced asshole.

#muffin man dan

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inkofamethyst · 4 years

Text

January 25, 2021

OKAY SO FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

Started off good with an ~official major change~ and now I’m no longer a biochem major!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m a ~Cell Bio and Genetics~ major which sounds infinitely more interesting to me. I also (finally) sent to major change request for to the anth advisor this afternoon and I’m refusing to let myself get anxious over it. The worst he can say is “No, you waited too long.” I had some synchronous and asynchronous classes today, though this will likely be the chillest Monday I have until Spring Break.

I did some assignments ~ahead of time~ (mostly just syllabus quizzes and the like), and I plan to get even more of a head start tomorrow, though I’ll also need to complete a number of my internship applications hahahahahahhaha.

Anyway on the DreamSMP, there’s apparently an egg cult being led by BadBoyHalo and Antfrost. Like, I ain’t got no idea what this is about, but it might just be a new plot thing. I wander what’ll hatch from it. ...so I skimmed one vod and I’m skimming another one and like... BBH trapped awesamdude in the egg and the egg... made Sam start to eat his own flesh?? And now he’s dazed and confused and all wack with a random new gem in his crown? what the hecccccc is this egg??

Also CaptainPuffy is in this stream with Tommy (I’m basically skimming through Tommy’s streams every few days for plot at this point so I don’t have to resort to clip channels as much) and I’ve never seen her content before! She seems pretty cool! I also heard that Karl had an interesting stream yesterday that included some lore toward the end about his DSMP character, and while,,, like, I don’t particularly care very much for Karl as a content creator (he’s fine, I guess, just not someone I’m actively following), but I figured I’d check it out, and it mostly just feels like a scripted adventure map lol. OH? Ranbob... like, as in, a Ranboo equivalent? (Dream’s playing a character that has the same coloration as Ranboo called Ranbob.) Wait. And there’s a community room? Some sort of community house equivalent? A... a room dedicated to Ranboo?? Ranbob is a Ranboo descendant? So... this is... this is a future of the DSMP?! But it seems as if history’s been twisted. Sapnap didn’t have a love for pets, rather, he was known for killing them. And Ranboo didn’t have a great memory. I guess at least Ranbob reflects that. So there are “rooms” dedicated to some of the major DSMP characters. AHAHA and they list Tubbo as eating bees. And they say that Tommy was a big fan of plates with holes lol I’m crying. Anyway Karl/Issac’s (he’s playing an explorer character named Issac) Main Character Energy is strong in this stream. OOP AS SOON AS I SAID THAT HE GOES AND DIES. But... he’s returned? okay okay okay okay so Karl is a whole time traveller? Wacky dacky dudes. not y’all gettin me to actually care about Karl smh. Did I need to watch the whole stream... ehhh no, I skimmed it anyway, but at least I know who Karl’s character is. Maybe he’ll start playing a larger role in the plot?

Today I’m thankful for the fact that this first day wasn’t, like, super unbearable. Also! It snowed outside this evening which is cool.

On to tomorrow! I think I want to begin my days at 9:30, so I want to wake up around 9 in the mornings, and since I think I prefer 7.5 hours of sleep that means I need to go to bed at... no later than 2 in the morning. If I bumped that back to 12:30, I could get another full REM cycle in for 9 hours of sleep. Hm, maybe some other time this week, perhaps?

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minijenn · 7 years

Text

Universe Falls Chapter 49

AN-So its abuot time I fucking post this chapter on here, huh? What can I say, I’ve had a busy day :P But anyway, I gotta say I’m still quite proud of this one. It was a struggle for sure (and ridiculously LONG) But the parts of it that shine just shine so much! So if you haven’t already read it yet, enjoy!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/170522545399/universe-falls-chapter-48-part-2

Chapter 49: Northwest Mansion Nightmare

N PLWKERY TSTVVAESF VNB JBSARUX N FZGNERY URZC HY CLGLGZP OPKPWGPS R KVIEFVR HYXF PLGNTVK MOAC'V GRJVK ZAI EBTVK LVIIVTL GFHU FYKM PCDX AK FW

Northwest Manor was bustling with activity as its various staff and servants bustled about, preparing for the immaculate celebration held within its lavish gates. The aptly named Northwest Fest was by and large a legendary party, one that carried a very high reputation that extended far beyond the boarders of Gravity Falls alone. And like all the parties prior to it, this year’s formal event was rumored to be every bit as posh and elegant, if not then some, and those were exactly the kind of rumors that both Preston and Priscilla Northwest wanted circulating as they oversaw the preparations for the event.

“Preston, I must say, the guest list for this year’s party has so much diversity!” Priscilla remarked to her husband as she overlooked said list.

“Yes, a nice mix of millionaires and billionaires,” Preston nodded proudly as one of his many servants handed him the day’s newspaper. His calm manner abruptly shifted, however, upon noticing another servant incorrectly setting the nearby table nearby with fine china and pure silverware, which the billionaire was quick to correct with an admonishing swat with his newspaper. “Put the oyster fork at an angle! We’re not animals, man!”

“E-excuse me, Mr. Northwest?” another servant anxiously interjected, two other staff members hauling in a large covered glass case behind him. “T-those rare, uncut gemstones you ordered have arrived.”

“Ah, yes, good,” Preston said rather dismissively. “Let me see them.”

“Oh, uh, w-well, sir…” the servant continued, wringing his hands nervously as the other staff removed the cover from the case. “They… they’re not exactly what you ordered…”

“I’ll say they’re not!” the billionaire exclaimed hotly upon taking a look at the collection of precious stones before him. Instead of the smooth, radiant gems he had been expecting, these stones were clustered and clumped together with no real order or organization at all, giving each set a haphazard, almost even ugly appearance. “What on earth all these… hideous things!? I specifically ordered the finest raw gemstones available, not these grotesque chunks of rock!”

“Ugh, just look at them!” Priscilla interjected, quite mortified herself. “What will our guests think if they see those gaudy excuses for gemstones?!”

“They won’t be thinking anything because they’re not going to see them,” Preston staunchly concluded as he addressed the servant. “Take those back to the jeweler immediately and have them send us some real stones to put on display.”

“W-well, normally I would, sir, b-but… these were the last gems the jeweler had…” the servant gulped fretfully. “T-they said they found them buried not too far away from a canyon a few hours out from town and that they’re actually quite rare, but-”

“But nothing!” the billionaire huffed, quite displeased. “I suppose that since its far too short notice to get replacements, we’ll just have to put last year’s gemstones out on display like we’re a bunch of simple peasants! And as for those… unsightly hunks of rock… just put the entire case in some hallway that no one’s likely to wander down during the party. We’ll figure out what to do with those disappointments later.”

“Speaking of which, where the devil is-” Priscilla cut herself off upon spotting her daughter finally making a rather tardy appearance. All the same, Pacifica smiled brightly as she strode into the room, already clad in the sophisticated light green ball gown she planned on wearing to the party the following evening. Her mother, however, was far from pleased. “Pacifica! What did I tell you about that dress?! The theme for the party is sea foam green, not lake foam green! Go change!”

“B-but… I kind of like it…” the heiress frowned, having already anticipated this scolding. Still, she had hoped her mother wouldn’t have noticed when she had put the dress on, but clearly, Priscilla’s sharp eye for fashion beat her own tastes in this case.

“Mind your mother, Pacifica,” Preston gave his daughter a critical glance. Still, given the fact that this was a rather minor detail, Pacifica hoped that she could somehow win out in this debate, even if she knew her chances were rather slim.

“B-but I-” Her soft protests were succinctly cut off by the sharp, high ring of a small bell, courtesy of her father. A bell that she was all too familiar with and knew well to obey. “Y-yes, father…” she muttered meekly, glancing down in embarrassment for even trying.

However, before Pacifica could even head out to follow her parent’s rigid orders, the entire dining room began to shake as if it was being rattled by a major earthquake. And yet, this was no natural occurrence as the dining ware on the table began to clatter violently, a bizarre, undeterminable gale striking up solely inside of the room as everyone present gasped in terror over the alarming sight surrounding them.

“Oh no!” Preston exclaimed fearfully, well aware of exactly what was going on. “It’s… happening.” The billionaire didn’t have much more of a chance to react to this newfound catastrophe before the opulent objects filling the room, plates, forks, knives, spoons, trays, chairs, and more, all suddenly lifted up into the air, flying around at random as they seemed to launch themselves on their own accord. Many of the servants fled altogether as this dangerous cascade of inanimate items swirled around the room, but even so, Preston did his best to fend the attacking objects off, though to little avail. “You are my possessions! Obey me!” he ordered, only for several plates to go zooming towards him in particular. The billionaire let out a frightened cry as he joined his wife and daughter in hiding under the table in the hopes that it would shield them from this chaotic onslaught.

“This is a disaster!” Priscilla cried, aptly panicked as the silverware continued flying just overhead. “The party’s in just 24 hours! What are we going to do?!”

“Surely there’s someone who can handle this sort of nonsense!” Preston lamented, only for his cry to receive a timely answer as a copy of the newspaper flopped down onto the ground right in front of him. Its headlining article featured a giant bat attacking Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland atop the town’s bell tower. Though what stood out most was the young boy, roughly about Pacifica’s age, whom he had seen around town a handful of times this summer, fearlessly fending the bat off while the officers behind him cowered in fear. Clearly, from his brazen, undaunted expression, he seemed to be right at home warding away such supernatural danger, which was something that gave Preston a much-needed idea for how to handle the current plight the upcoming party was facing. “And I think I know just the person…”

Things had been rather uneventful around the Mystery Shack as of late, a welcome change of pace, particularly for Dipper as he used this relatively peaceful rainy morning as a rare chance to relax. He had already set up shop in the den, surrounded by a plentiful abundance of snacks and sodas to keep him company as he sat comfily in front of the TV.

“You asked for it, you got it!” the TV blared excitedly. “An entire 48-hour marathon of Ghost Harassers, on the Used To Be About History Channel!”

“Be strong, bladder. We’re not gonna move until sunset,” Dipper remarked, more than content to do just that. Until, of course, his plans quickly fell through.

“We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news!” the local town news commandeered the broadcast, deviating away from the ghost hunting marathon, much to Dipper’s immediate disappointment.

“Aw, what?” he frowned crossly, only for Mabel to suddenly run in, Candy and Grenda trailing blithely behind her.

“It’s starting!” she quipped, hopping onto the chair beside her brother and forcing him to move aside.

“Turn it up!” Candy exclaimed, squeezing onto the other side of the chair as her and Mabel essentially sandwiched the already rather perturbed Dipper between them.

“Make room for Grenda!” Grenda shouted boisterously, leaping on top of them all and recklessly knocking over a lamp in the process. The girls were just in time to see the beginning of the news story, featuring Toby Determined reporting on the scene outside of Northwest Manor, standing amongst an already very large, very eager crowd of townsfolk. “Well, tonight’s the night, but I’ve been out here for days!” the reporter exclaimed, his clothes tattered and muddy from doing so. “The Northwest family’s annual high-society-shindig-ball-soiree is here! And even though common folk aren’t let in, that doesn’t stop us from camping out right outside the gates for a peek at the fanciness!”

“Ooooooh!” all three of the girls mused, stars of amazement in their eyes as they stared at the screen, enthralled. Dipper, on the other hand, couldn’t have been any less interested in this rather soft, largely unimportant news.

“Ok, can someone please explain to me why people actually care about this?” he asked dryly, rolling his eyes at the brief snippets of poor-quality clips of past Northwest parties on screen.

“Northwest Fest is pretty much the best party of all time!” Grenda informed in her usual loud way. “Rich food, richer boys!”

“They say each gift basket has a live quail inside!” Mabel added just as enthusiastically.

“Give me your life, Pacifica…” Candy sighed wistfully as a clip of the heiress played during the newscast.

“You guys have got to be kidding,” Dipper deadpanned. “In case you’ve already forgotten, Pacifica Northwest has been a complete jerk to us all summer. She’s almost as bad as Gideon, minus the whole trying to kill us thing.”

“Oh, come on, bro-bro, you’re overexaggerating,” Mabel huffed. “Pacifica’s nowhere near as crazy or evil as Gideon is.”

“Maybe not, but she’s still the worst.” Dipper was suddenly interupted by a random knock on the door, but even so, his sour attitude towards the heiress didn’t change as he got up to answer it. “And that’s not just jealousy talking; I’d say that to her face.”

Ironically enough, however, the face he was met with upon opening the door was none other than Pacifica’s herself. “I need your help,” she said, saving the pleasantries and getting right to the point.

A very brief beat of rather awkward silence passed between the two of them before Dipper quickly acted upon what he had previously said. “You’re the worst,” he quickly told the heiress before abruptly slamming the door on her without bothering to hear her out whatsoever.

The trio of girls inside gasped in horror at response to Dipper’s careless rudeness towards Pacifica, especially given the fact that her family was hosting the most incredible party in town. Still, he hardly seemed to care as he turned towards them, arms crossed and caustic expression set. “See?”

Unfortunately for him, Pacifica wasn’t willing to give up that easily as she knocked on the door once again, this time much more insistently. And despite really not wanting to, Dipper knew that she likely wouldn’t go away until he at the very least heard her out. “Alright, what do you want?” he asked coldly as he opened the door again, sending her a quite transparent glare.

“Look, you think its easy for me to come here?” Pacifica asked, dressed in clothing that would largely obscure her identity, including a scarf over her hair and sunglasses over her eyes. “I don’t want to be seen in this hovel. But my dad made me come all the way out here because there’s something haunting Northwest Manor.” At this, the heiress removed her sunglasses, a hint of desperation in her otherwise haughty manner as she continued. “If you don’t help me, the party could be ruined!”

“And you really think that matters to me, like, at all?” Dipper raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why I should even trust you. All you’ve ever done is try to humiliate me, Mabel, Steven, and Connie.”

“Hey, its not my fault you four are easy targets,” Pacifica scowled, every bit as bitter over this exchange as Dipper was. “Just name your price, ok? My dad will freak out if go back without any help, so I’ll give you anything!”

“Hi, Pacifica!” Mabel quickly interjected, rushing to the door before her brother could get a single word out. “Excuse us!” At this, she was quick to pull Dipper back into the shack despite his confused protest. “Dipper! Don’t you see what this means?!” she asked him in a fervent whisper. “If you help Pacifica, you could get us into the greatest party of all time!”

“What?” Dipper asked incredulously. “Mabel, this is Pacifica we’re talking about here. Helping her out will just end up turning into a huge disaster, I know it.”

“But it’s Candy and Grenda’s dream!” Mabel pleaded, nodding back to the starry eyed duo behind her. “And you know… it’s kinda mine too and you’d totally be the world’s number one best brother ever if you got me and my friends into this party and I’d totally owe you and shower you with the biggest, happiest hugs I can give and-”

“Ugh, alright already!” Dipper interjected, quite tired of his sister’s enthusiastic rambling on the matter as be begrudgingly turned to address Pacifica again. “I’ll bust your ghost. But in exchange, I’ll need three tickets to the party.”

The heiress let out a disgruntled growl at this, but nonetheless she conceded, reaching into her purse and retrieving the aforementioned tickets. “You’re just lucky I’m desperate.”

“Woo!” all three of the girls chanted in absolute elation in the living room, completely overwhelmed with excitement about the immaculate party that lay ahead of them. “Desperate! Desperate! Desperate!”

“Grenda, get the glue gun!” Mabel commanded with a huge, zealous grin. “We’re making dresses!”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I agreed to this…” Pacifica muttered, face palming as she prepared to leave.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this either…” Dipper remarked just as crossly, almost completely certain that he’d come to regret this choice some way or another.

Warm, plentiful laughter rung out between Steven and Connie as they emerged from the house, Lion trailing not too far behind them. The pair had spent most of the morning hanging out around the temple, with Connie practicing her sword skills on her own while Steven readily cheered her on. Still, soon enough the rousing rounds of swings and swipes soon came to an end as they decided to head down to the shack for a bit to see what Dipper and Mabel were up to.

“Well, time to assume my secret identity,” Connie joked, putting her glassless glasses back on. “Thanks again for letting me practice at your place, Steven. It’s a shame I can’t practice at home…”

“Well, why can’t you?” Steven asked, curious as he continued to hold the umbrella up for both of them, shielding them from the rain as they walked down the hill.

“Because my mom would totally flip if she caught me with a sword,” Connie remarked with a small chuckle, even though she was being serious. “And besides, Pearl hasn’t given me a ‘take home’ sword yet like she has for Dipper. Probably because I haven’t really gone on a lot of missions with you guys since we’ve started training, which I understand.”

Steven took pause upon hearing this, seeing that while Connie was apparently complacent with this fact, there was still a hint of longing in her expression all the same. Longing that he couldn’t help but feel compelled to fulfill. “Hey, wait a sec,” the young Gem stopped, prompting both Connie and Lion to do the same. “May I?” he asked, turning to the pink beast, who obediently lowered his head to allow his owner to reach inside his magical mane. Connie watched in apt curiosity as Steven felt around inside the pocket dimension for a moment, before finding what he was looking for and pulling it cleanly out of Lion’s forehead: Rose Quartz’s legendary sword.

“Here-eth,” Steven began, playfully yet dutifully bowing before the rather surprised Connie. “You can borrow-ethhhh my mother’s sword-ethhhhh.”

“S-Steven! That… that’s so nice!” Connie exclaimed with a small, albeit taken aback smile. “If grammatically incorrect. But…” At this point she was quick to switch into the same medieval tone Steven had been using. “Thou canst just giveth me thine mother’s sword!”

“Why not… -ethhhh?” the young Gem asked with a confused frown.

“Because its really important-ethhh!” Connie argued as they finally made it to the shack.

“That’s exactly why you should have-ethhhh it! You can have it to practice-ethhh with-ethhhh.”

Connie hesitated as Steven presented the sword to her once more, its large, pink form suddenly seeming quite intimidating as she looked upon it. This was by far a special blade, one that held more history that she could likely ever even hope to understand. Even with her skills progressing at the rate they were, she still felt largely unworthy by merit alone to wield such an impressively powerful sword. And yet, as she looked back to the young Gem who was so kindly offering it to her with such a hopeful smile, she found it was becoming increasingly difficult to turn that offer down. “Are you sure-ethhh?”

“Positive-ethhh,” Steven nodded with a confident, steady grin. One that was finally enough to convince Connie to take the illustrious, surprisingly light sword into her own hands.

“Thhhhhhank you!” she exclaimed with a laugh, finally capping off the pair’s playful barrage of medieval speech.

“You’re welcome,” Steven said, his smile finally falling a bit as his tone became serious. “It’s just… I was thinking… We gotta be ready if we need to fight Malachite or Peridot o-or Bill or… or those creepy Gem fusion experiments. And seeing as how you’ve already got the skills, all you really needed was a sword. Which means we’re bound to be ready for whatever comes our way next.”

“Well, there’s no real way of knowing that for sure,” Connie mused thoughtfully as they prepared to head inside the shack. “But still, I’ll take good care of it.”

The pair exchanged another warm smile as they opened the door, only to find a scene of colorful chaos unfurling before them. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were congregated in the den, mutually awash in frantic excitement as they scrambled to put their home-made evening gowns together in time for the party. As Candy and Grenda collaborated on pouring copious amounts of glitter onto a swath of already very shiny fabric, Mabel rushed towards the stairs, energized as ever.

“Hi, Steven! Hi, Connie!” she greeted the confused pair quickly as she ran past them. “No time to talk! Our pom-pom supply is running dangerously low and I gotta replenish it ASAP!”

“Uh… what’s going on?” Connie asked as Mabel rushed off.

“They’re getting ready for tonight,” Dipper said as he came over to join the pair.

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Steven asked curiously.

“There’s some stupid party happening at Northwest Manor,” Dipper explained, still rather vexed over the matter. “And I somehow got roped by Pacifica into getting rid of a ghost that’s apparently haunting the place in exchange for getting those three tickets for it.”

“Oh my gosh, the party!” Connie exclaimed with a recollective gasp. “I can’t believe I forgot about it! Ugh, my mom got invited for being one of the ‘top tier medical professionals’ in Gravity Falls, which means I have to go too, as much as I’d rather do literally anything else.”

“Same here,” Dipper staunchly agreed. “The last thing I want to do is spend an evening with Pacifica, of all people.”

“Tell me about it,” Connie crossed her arms with equal distain. “It’s kind of hard to believe Pacifica would ask you for help, Dipper, seeing as how she’s made it really clear she hates all four of us. Not that the feeling isn’t completely mutual, seeing as how she’s just about the worst.”

“That’s what I said!” Dipper exclaimed, exasperated. “But unfortunately, I couldn’t really turn her down; Mabel would have never let me live it down if I didn’t get those tickets for her.”

“Aw, I don’t know what you two are so upset about,” Steven interjected with a small smile. “This party sounds like a lot of fun! You know, aside from that whole ghost thing you mentioned, Dipper.”

“Yeah, it’ll be ‘fun’ alright,” Dipper deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “About as fun as getting a root canal.”

“Or getting hit by a bus,” Connie added before they both broke out into a bout of rather cynical laughter. Steven didn’t really join in on it as someone knocked on the door, but even so, as he went to answer it he offered the pair some more encouragement over the evening they were both so clearly dreading.

“Well, even if you guys don’t think so, I still think you’ll both have a great time at the party,” the young Gem said warmly. “I sure wish I could go. But I wasn’t invited, so I guess I’ll just have to-” Steven cut himself off as he opened the door to see a rather impatient doctor standing outside. “D-Dr. Maheswaran!”

“Yes, yes, hello, Steven,” Priyanka greeted dully as she stepped inside. “Hello, Dipper.”

“Uh, hi, Dr. Maheswaran,” Dipper replied, glancing over at Connie in confusion as she hurriedly hid Rose’s sword behind her back before her mother could see it.

“M-Mom!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with alarm at this unexpected intrusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to pick you up so we can go get ready for the party this evening, remember?” Priyanka remarked in a huff. “It’s only a few hours away and we have much to do before then, to the point that I even had to leave work early. But it’ll all be worth it if I can land the Northwests as the sponsors for the purposed new wing at the hospital. Which means I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight, young lady.”

“Yes, mother…” Connie grumbled, far from keen on the idea of sucking up to Pacifica’s family like her mother seemed to be.

“Now say goodbye to your friends,” the doctor ordered, reaching out to grab her daughter’s hand without any warning. “We’ll have to hurry if we want to-” Priyanka stopped short upon hearing the noisy clatter that came as a result of Connie loosing her grip on the sword she had been concealing as it fell to the floor.

“Oh no…” Connie groaned, face palming as she realized she had no time to reclaim it before her mother turned to see it lying in plain sight on the ground beside her.

“Is that… a sword?!” Priyanka gasped, picking the sheathed blade up in complete appalment. “Connie, where did you get this?!”

“I-it’s-” Steven nervously began to explain before Connie quickly interupted him.

“I-I found it! It was just… lying outside and I wanted to show it to Steven and Dipper.”

“Wait, but isn’t that Rose’s-” Dipper was immediately cut off by Connie as she slapped a silencing hand over his mouth while her mother seethed with fury all the while.

“How could you possibly think this is ok?!” the doctor exclaimed, completely livid as she paced back and forth the foyer with the sword still in her grip. “Do you know how many children I see coming into the hospital every day who’ve cut their faces off playing with swords?”

“Uh…”

“None!” Priyanka snapped hotly. “Because they have parents who love them and don’t let them play around with deadly weapons like some kind of gang member!”

“B-but-” Connie tried to protest, but her mother immediately shot her down.

“No buts! I don’t even know why I have to tell you this! You should know better! No playing with swords! Under any circumstances! Now, come along, we still have to get ready for the party. I’ll have a talk with your father after he gets off work tonight to calculate just how grounded you are. And we’re using the abacus!”

And with that, Priyanka abruptly turned on her heel and walked out, taking Rose’s sword along with her, much to Connie’s dismay. “I hate that abacus…” she remarked sourly before her tone turned fretful. “Steven, I’m so sorry! She took your mother’s sword!”

“Maybe we could get her to change her mind?” Steven suggested with a reassuring smile.

“She never, ever changes her mind,” Connie huffed, rubbing her temples. “We’ve got to get that sword back ourselves.”

“How are you going to do that?” Dipper asked with a frown. “There probably isn’t a great chance that Dr. Maheswaran will let the sword out of her sight considering how upset she was about it.”

“Oh, you’re right…” Connie mused worriedly for a moment before excitedly snapping her fingers. “Wait! I know! The party! We can wait until she’s distracted tonight and then, Steven, you and me can sneak off with it without her even knowing!”

“That’s a great idea, Connie!” Steven chimed brightly. “There’s just one problem though… I’m not invited to the party.”

“Connie!” Priyanka shouted quite impatiently from outside. “We need to leave, now!”

“W-well, you’ll just have to figure out a way to get in!” Connie urged as she began to hurry out. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“Hopefully…” Steven said, halfheartedly waving her off as she rushed to join her mother. “Wait a second! Dipper, didn’t you say that you convinced Pacifica to give you some tickets to the party? Do you think maybe you could get just one more from her so I could get in too?”

“Steven, it was basically a miracle that she even agreed to give me tickets for Mabel, Candy, and Grenda,” Dipper said with an apologetic frown. “I highly doubt she’s gonna be willing to fork over another one, even with me taking care of her ghost problem for her.”

“You’re probably right…” Steven sighed in disappointment. “But what am I gonna do? I gotta find a way to get into that party somehow!”

“Did somebody say party!?” Both boys were quite started as, out of nowhere, Amethyst suddenly dropped down from the ceiling, grinning wryly as she landed in between them.

“Amethyst? What are you doing here?” Dipper asked in apt confusion.

“Oh, ya know, just napping up in the rafters, just like I do all the time,” the purple Gem remarked, stretching herself out as she fully woke up. “The ones here at the shack are way more comfy than the ones up at the temple, believe it or not. But it’s been kinda hard to get any rest around here with everyone being so loud for some reason. Seriously what’s up with all that?”

“Oh well uh…” Steven began rather anxiously, not wanting to admit to any of the Gems that he had lost track of his mother’s sword. “E-everyone’s just… really excited about the Northwests’ party tonight and-”

“Ugh, that yearly snooze-fest?” Amethyst stuck her tongue out in disdain. “I don’t know why anyone would get excited over that. It’s barely even a party! Just a bunch of rich stiffs standing around yapping about how much money they have. The only good thing about it is that the grub is all you can eat, which is an offer I always took them up on whenever we went to it back in the day.”

“Wait, so you guys have been to this party before?” Dipper asked curiously.

“Yeah, a few times,” the purple Gem shrugged. “But only because we kinda sometimes filled in as bodyguards for those Northwest losers way back when before we learned that they’re a bunch of crooked jerks. Crazy thing about it is that we still actually get invites for their party every year, even though he haven’t gone since Rose was still around. Guess they never bothered to take us off the guest list, not that we’d go anyway seeing as how those prudes didn’t keep their-”

“A-Amethyst!” Steven suddenly interjected, eyes wide with newfound hope upon hearing that his guardians had invitations to the exclusive party. Which meant that there was a chance he could help Connie out after all. “Did we get invited this year too?!”

“Uh… yeah? Pretty sure Pearl has the invites up at the temple. Why?”

“B-because I wanna go this year!” Steven urged, his manner still rather tight as Amethyst looked to him in confusion.

“What? Why?” she asked caustically. “Did you hear what I just said? That party’s lame, Steven. You’d get bored in the first 5 seconds, just like I always used to.”

“W-well… maybe its not as boring as it used to be anymore!” the young Gem argued earnestly. “And besides, Connie’s going! And so are Dipper and Mabel!”

“That’s right,” Dipper nodded, supporting the young Gem in his effort to try and win the purple Gem over on the matter. “Amethyst, would it really be fair if the three of us got to go to some huge fancy party while Steven just spends the night home, bored and alone?”

“Like a poor little sadsack?” Steven added, pouting pleadingly.

Amethyst didn’t answer right away as she looked between the pair, arms crossed and expression dry. Still, her manner didn’t stay that way for long upon watching the young Gem’s lower lip start to quiver as a sign of his genuine desperation. Which was something that none of the Gems, not even Amethyst, was able to resist. “Ugh, ok fine!” she groaned in exasperation. “I’ll help you convince Garnet and Pearl into going with us to that dumb party. But only because their food is really good. And also ‘cause I’m in the mood for busting up some of the Northwests’ expensive fancy property.”

“Yes!” Steven cheered, quite relieved as he gave Dipper a thankful high five. “Thanks so much Amethyst!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the purple Gem remarked with a casual wave of her hand as she took her leave to inform her teammates of their plan. “Just don’t come cryin’ to me when you end up clonking out on that ballroom floor from how boring it all is. Which will happen. Trust me, I know, I’ve done before.”

Sure enough, with Northwest Fest set to start in roughly an hour, a massive crowd of spectators had congregated around at least a mile radius from the mansion’s securely locked gates, ones that were meant to keep the common folk out while the exclusively wealthy guests enjoyed the finery inside. Of course, this year’s party did carry some exceptions to these upscale standards, namely the group Pacifica unceremoniously escorted in through the mansion’s stately front doors.

“Welcome to Northwest Manor, dorks,” she announced dryly as Dipper, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda all got their first glimpses of the immaculate ballroom. “Try not to touch anything.”

The girls hardly heeded the heiresses as they rushed past her, clad in their flashy home-made dresses as they rushed to take in every lavish sight surrounding them. The mansion’s grand hall was quite a splendor, with high vaulted ceilings, expertly crafted woodwork and spotless marble floors. With most guests having yet to arrive, the only ones milling about at the moment were maids and servants as they put together the finishing touches for the festivities, including the massive apple cider fountain and lengthy buffet of hors d’oeurves. Overall, the setting of the party alone lived up to the stories of its splendor, splendor that the girls were more than happy to explore as they cheerfully ran about.

“Everything’s so fancy!” Mabel quipped, stars in her eyes as she spun around in her fluffy pink gown. “Fancy floor, fancy plants, fancy man!” she finished as she zealously patted the face of a nearby butler.

“Mm, yes, very good, miss,” the butler conceded dutifully before walking away.

“The rumors were true!” Candy proclaimed, running by with a quail-filled gift bag in hand before Grenda and Mabel hurried after her, chuckling cheerfully all the while.

At the same time, Preston and Priscilla entered the room, calm and composed over their nearly-complete party preparations, even despite the previous night’s setback. “Ah, if it isn’t the man of the hour!” Preston addressed Dipper cordially as the couple approached him. “I trust you can help us with out little… situation before the guests arrive in an hour.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dipper assured rather confidently. And really, he had every reason to show confidence for the task ahead as equipped as he was with the journal, ghost tracking equipment, and even his sword as an extra precaution. On top of all that was the general level of experience in fending off supernatural danger he had gained over the course of the summer alone, which made him feel more than equipped to deal with a simple, run of the mill ghostly haunting.

“Splendid! Pacifica, take our guest to the ‘problem room’,” the billionaire said to his daughter before dropping his voice down to a mutter while Dipper was distracted. “And uh… he’s not wearing that is he?” he asked, rather unimpressed with the boy’s common, almost sloppy attire and overall manner.

“I’m on it,” Pacifica nodded, wasting no time in dragging Dipper off to the mansion’s quite extensive guest dressing room. And, despite his extensive protests, she eventually managed to get him fitted in an appropriately formal suit, something that Dipper found to be incredibly uncomfortable and restricting even from the moment he first put it on.

“Ugh, it’s like this collar is strangling me,” he grumbled, pulling at the offending, quite aggravating collar. “Who do you guys think you’re impressing with this stuff anyway?”

“Uh, everyone?” Pacifica retorted just as sharply as she quickly adjusted Dipper’s tie. “You wouldn’t understand. High standards are what make the Northwest family great. And part of those high standards is that we always look our best.” To prove her point, the heiress motioned down to her own fashionable lavender ball gown, one that she knew and was quite proud of the fact that it was the best that money could buy.

“Oh really?” Dipper remarked with a wry, knowing smirk. “That’s funny seeing as how you guys didn’t look all that great when we exposed you for lying about founding the town.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Pacifica scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We’re still way better than pretty much anyone else in this town, even if we didn’t found it some stupidly long time ago. And in case you haven’t noticed, everybody still loves us, so its not like you guys ‘revealing the truth’ even changed anything.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the only reason why people supposedly ‘love’ your family is because you guys are ridiculously rich?” Dipper asked rather crossly.

“No, its because we’re respected,” the heiress corrected pointedly. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh yeah, sure, ‘respected’,” Dipper deadpanned. “For pretty much nothing but being rich.”

“Oh, just shut up already and come on!” Pacifica snapped, quite frustrated especially as Dipper kept up his smug, triumphant grin. Still, both of them were rather eager to get this ghost hunting mission over with, if for nothing more than to cut the begrudging, yet momentarily necessary tie between them. Which was why they continued on to investigate in a state of cross, bitter silence, one that neither of them felt compelled to break, lest even more biting, hostile words spark between them. Words that, ironically, were the exact opposite of the kind of sentiments that would spark up between them soon enough.

Though it had taken some doing, Steven and Amethyst had managed to convince Garnet and Pearl into going to the Northwests’ party. Still, despite their agreement to show up, none of the Gems were very excited to be there as they arrived early, just as they always used to do when they used to attend the party in the past. They had almost ended up arriving in their usual attire, but upon Steven’s insistence, they had begrudgingly shifted into more elegant wear for the evening. Garnet had taken on a smooth, sleeveless, sleek magenta gown, one that filled out wide past her knees and had a large slit revealing her shapely left leg. Pearl’s dress was more modest; a graceful, pale blue, silky ensemble, with straps and an additional skirt from behind. Though Amethyst usually abhorred getting dolled up, she had made an exception for Steven, putting on a shorter purple dress with loose skirts and low straps on top of tying her hair up into a messy, yet still presentable (thanks to Pearl) bun. As for Steven, he was clad in a rental tux that Greg had managed to score for him at the last second, but even still, he was quite ready for the party himself, even despite his apprehension for even having to be there in the first place.

“I still can’t believe we agreed to come to this shallow parade of overindulgence and excess,” Pearl huffed disdainfully as the group approached the mansion’s entrance. “I thought our days of attending these despicable Northwest parties were long over.”

“We all agreed to make an exception this year for Steven, Pearl,” Garnet reminded, even though it was clear she was none too pleased to be there either. “So we’ll just have to suck it up for a few hours.”

“Yes, I know, but still…” the white Gem dropped her voice down to a whisper as she clutched the Gem leader’s arm. “All of this shameless touting of refinement, power, and position over others? You can’t deny that it’s a little like-”

“Homeworld, I know,” Garnet’s expression darkened somewhat. “That’s one of the many reasons we stopped going to these.”

Despite their quiet conversing, Steven still picked up on what his guardians were talking about and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty for stirring up bad memories of their former planet by essentially using them as his ticket into this party. Part of him wanted to tell them his true reasoning for wanting to come, namely to help Connie reclaim Rose’s sword, but he couldn’t very well admit that to them out of shame that he had lost something so precious and important, especially since it was his responsibility to keep it safe in the first place. So instead of telling the truth, the young Gem decided to do one of the things he did best: cheer them up.

“I-I know you guys aren’t looking forward to this, but I still think we could end up having fun!” he quipped with a warm smile. “I mean, we’re all here together, and Connie, Dipper, and Mabel are coming too so maybe the party won’t be as bad as it used to be when you guys used to go to it.”

“Oh yeah, speakin’ of which,” Amethyst interjected curiously as they all presented their invitations at the door before being let inside. “How did those three get invites to this ritzy blowout anyway? I always remember this thing being super exclusive, to the point that they only let rich, snobby jerks in. And last time I checked, Connie, Dipper, and Mabel aren’t rich, snobby jerks.”

“Oh, uh, well-”

“Steven!” the young Gem was interupted almost as soon as him and the Gems stepped into the ballroom by Mabel, who had managed to spot them from the other side of the hall. She didn’t hesitate to excitedly run over towards him, though she did slow her pace somewhat, her cheeks flushing red upon noticing the rather dashing suit he was in. “W-wow…” she said as she came to a stop, trying her best not to come across as flustered and doing anything but. “Steven, you… y-you look, uh… you… um… G-great to see you!”

“Uh, its great to see you too, Mabel, even though I did just see you a few hours ago.” Steven chuckled, fortunately not paying her stumbling much mind.

“Heh, yeah… Oh my gosh!” Mabel quickly changed topics, averting her gaze from the young Gem lest she turn incoherent again as she addressed the Gems instead. “You guys all look so pretty! I love, love, love your dresses!”

“Well, thank you, Mabel,” Pearl smiled kindly. “Your dress for the evening is very… creative as well!”

“Aw, thanks so much! I made it myself!” Mabel cheerily gushed, pulling off a playful curtsy. “Still, this is so crazy awesome! I wasn’t expecting to see any of you guys here! Isn’t this party the fanciest thing you’ve ever seen?!”

“Mm… we’ve seen fancier,” Garnet noted rather dryly, eliciting confused frowns from both Mabel and Steven.

“Mabel! You gotta get over here!” Grenda suddenly called, her deep voice echoing from across the ballroom.

“Oh! Hold that thought!” Mabel exclaimed as she started to run off, though not before bidding Steven and the Gems a quick farewell as they waved her off. “I’ll catch up with you guys later! I hope you have fun!”

“Ha, like that’ll ever happen at this lamo snob party,” Amethyst grumbled, crossing her arms petulantly.

“What’s up?” Mabel asked Candy and Grenda as she joined them before a large, stately book resting on a stand.

“Look what we found! It’s the guest list!” Grenda grinned, eagerly flipping through it before stopping a few pages in. “Whoa! Check out this hottie!”

“Marius von Fundshauser!” Candy read, already completely enthralled with the wealthy young man from his picture alone. “He’s a baron from Austria!”

“Forget the quail, I’m putting him in my gift basket!” Mabel quipped, more than ready to indulge herself with another summer crush. Especially if it helped her get her mind off her ever-growing feelings for a certain young Gem.

“Hold up, ladies,” Grenda interjected, her tone surprisingly serious. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think this boy might be out of our league.”

“Grenda is right,” Candy nodded just as rationally. “He is a white whale. Hunting him will destroy us.”

“Well, there are plenty of other cute boys coming to this party,” Mabel vouched with a conceding smile. “So let’s make a sister’s truce not to waste our time on Marius. Deal?”

“Deal!” Candy and Grenda both agreed as they all put their hands together in mutual agreement on this plan. Still, all three of them laughed somewhat nervously as they broke their hands apart, none of them entirely sure if this was a deal they intended on keeping.

As her father had instructed, Pacifica led Dipper to the so-called “problem room”, which, even upon an initial glance, was exactly what he had been expecting. It appeared to be some kind of lounge, just as stately as the rest of Northwest Manor was with hand-crafted hardwood furniture, walls lined with paintings hailing the family’s allegedly proud history, and mounted animal heads, and a large roaring fireplace that cast the entire room in a shadowy, almost blood red glow.

“This is the main room where it’s been happening,” Pacifica informed as they stepped inside, her usual confident manner somewhat diminished in place of fledgling fear.

“Yeah, this looks like the kind of room that would be haunted alright,” Dipper concluded as he pulled the journal out and turned to the fortunately extensive section on ghosts. “I wouldn’t worry about it though. Ghosts fall on a ten-category scale. Floating plates sounds like a category 1, which is pretty far from being anywhere close to dangerous.”

“So what?” Pacifica asked with a teasing smirk. “Are you gonna bore him back into the afterlife by reading from that book? Or are you going to pretend to stab him with that cute little toy sword of yours?” she asked, nodding to the Ancient Sea Blade he had securely strapped to his back.

“First of all, it’s not a toy, its real,” Dipper corrected, half tempted to draw it and show her. “And secondly, I only brought it with me as a precaution. If it really is a category 1, then the most I gotta do is splash that sucker with some anointed water,” he said, holding said small bottle of holy water up. “And he should be out of your probably-fake blonde hair.”

“What was that about my hair?” Pacifica scoffed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

“Shh!” Dipper quickly interupted her as he pulled a small, ghost-tracking device out of his backpack, one that was already beeping in response to the apparent supernatural activity in the room. “I’m picking something up.”

The heiress simply sighed in aggravation but all the same she hung back, allowing him to investigate further as he followed the readings the device was giving off. Dipper stopped short in front of the fireplace as he briefly glanced up to the large painting of who appeared to be an 1880s lumberjack until the device’s signal suddenly went dead. “Ugh, come on, stupid thing,” he muttered in annoyance, beating the side of it until it began beeping once more. “There we go. Huh?” He was met with immediate confusion as he glanced up again, only to find that somehow, the lumberjack in the painting had suddenly disappeared from the frame in what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds at best. Something that Dipper already knew well from experience, was far from normal. “Uh… Pacifica?”

The heiress didn’t even heed him as she instead let out a frightened scream on the other side of the room, one that was quite warranted given the pool of blood she had just spotted near her feet, one that was being fueled from above. Both her and Dipper let out shared gasps of shock as they glanced up to see blood, thick, dark, and real, swelling from the seemingly dead mouths and eyes of every single one of the taxidermized animal heads on the walls. A steady, unnatural gale-force wind started to swirl around the room as bright, sinister flames began bursting out from the confines of the fireplace, almost as if they were trying to latch onto Dipper and Pacifica as they rushed to meet each other near the center of the room. The danger seemed to escalate more and more with each passing second as the animal heads, still dripping with unexplainable blood and blank, unseeing eyes glowing a sharp, warning red, began to raise their voices in a deep, unearthly, ominous chant.

“ANCIENT SINS! ANCIENT SINS! ANCIENT SINS!”

On and on this mysterious mantra continued as the objects in the room began to take flight, books, furniture, and antiques all rising into the air before they haphazardly glided around the appropriately terrified pair. “Dipper, what is this?!” Pacifica cried about the incredible din surrounding them, her trembling hands held close to her as her long hair whipped about in the hurricane winds.

“I-it’s a category 10…” Dipper replied, absolutely shaken. After all, the last time he had witnessed a supernatural disaster this dire or intense was when he had watched his own body be taken over by a vicious dream demon while he floated outside of it, distraught and helpless. And while this haunting was nowhere near as immediately catastrophic as that had been, it was still every bit as deadly, a fact he was starkly reminded of as his only real option for taking care of it, the vial of anointed water, abruptly shattered right in his hand.

“ANCIENT BLOOD AND BLACKENED SKIES,” the animal heads changed their chant into something new, but every bit as dark and sinister. “THE FOREST DARK SHALL ONCE MORE RISE!”

“What do we do?! What do we do?!” Pacifica practically screamed as she grabbed Dipper by the suit jacket and shook him desperately.

“I-I… I don’t know!” Dipper answered truthfully, realizing that he was actually quite unprepared for something of this caliber.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Pacifica shot back in disbelief. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of supernatural expert or something?!”

“Who on earth told you that?!”

“Uh, the town newspaper did!”

“Whoa, really?” Dipper paused, rather pleasantly surprised to hear this. ��That’s… actually pretty awesome.”

“Focus!” Pacifica snapped harshly. “We’re about to be killed by creepy dead animal heads and flying furniture, remember?!”

“Don’t worry,” Dipper assured as evenly as he could, given the circumstances. “It can’t possibly get any worse than this!”

Of course, he was immediately proven wrong as the fire violently sparked up again, forcing the pair to dive under the nearby table to avoid getting burned. And they did so just in time as, out of nowhere, a powerful black skeletal arm emerged from the flames, still completely consumed in them as it smashed down onto the ground. The rest of the charred skeleton subsequently pulled itself out of the fire, something akin to skin and clothes forming around the bones as they formed the visage of a large, burly man, the lumberjack from the painting himself, who was clearly deceased based on his rotting, grisly form. A sharp, deadly axe had cleaved his head, the obvious cause of his death that still remained in his undead form. And his manner was every bit as outraged and heated as the burning inferno he had emerged from as he belted out his first proclamation in a deep, rumbling voice.

“I smell… a NORTHWEST!” the ghost growled, blue flames igniting in place of where hair and a beard would normally be as his one remaining eye shot open. Dipper and Pacifica made sure to remain hidden out of the ghost’s view under the table as he began to storm around the room, another axe materializing in his hand as he dragged it threateningly across the floor with each torturously slow step. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Hurry!” Pacifica whispered to Dipper sharply as he frantically flipped through the journal for answers. “Read through your dumb book already and figure out a way to get rid of that… thing!”

“I’m looking!” Dipper retorted just as harshly as he pulled out his blacklight. “And its not dumb, ok? This book is gonna save our lives! Alright, here we go; Advice:” Hoping that the category 10 ghost page would hold the key to ousting this great, newfound threat, he held the blacklight over the page, only to get the lone, disconcerting message of “Pray for mercy!” instead of anything tangibly useful. “Aw, seriously?!”

Matters were only made worse as the table, their only real cover from the ghost and his deadly axe, suddenly hovered away, leaving them directly in the menacing specter’s line of sight, much to their shared horror. “You should not have come here!” he shouted, not even hesitating to swipe at the pair with his weapon, which they only barely dodged.

“This way! Hurry!” Pacifica exclaimed, grabbing Dipper by the arm and quickly pulling him up before they rushed out of the room. The ghost was in hot pursuit, his fiery manner sparkly with murderous intent as he relentlessly chased them down the mansion’s maze-like halls, ready to strike.

Northwest Manor’s massive doors finally opened to the illustrious group of invited party guests as Preston proudly stood by to greet them all, his wide, cordial grin completely hiding any implications that ghostly danger was currently lurking through the mansion’s halls. “Welcome, dukes, duchesses, sultans and sportsmen! And—ugh… Mayor Dewey…”

“Preston!” Dewey exclaimed brightly, rushing forward as he threw an arm over the billionaire’s shoulder. “We’re so honored to be here, isn’t that right, Buck?”

“Not really,” Buck dryly stated, his arms crossed and his shades still on despite his formal attire.

“Ha! Isn’t my son just hilarious?!” Dewey chuckled with an incredibly forced laugh as he snapped a finger at one of his aids, not noticing Preston’s quickly growing aggravation with him. “Now, smile for the campaign promotion!” The mayor did so brightly, even if the billionaire made his annoyance quite clear before finally acting upon it as soon as the aid snapped a photo.

“Alright, Dewey, that’s enough of your ‘campaigning’ for one evening,” Preston scowled scornfully, pushing the mayor back into the crowd. “Now then,” the billionaire continued, quickly regaining his composure as he addressed the rest of his guests. “Tonight we will enjoy only the finest of tastes and only the snootiest of laugher.” Someone in the crowd let out an incredibly haughty chortle in response to this remark as Preston nodded in approval. “That’s the ticket!” he exclaimed, motioning for the guests to finally step inside.

Despite the party’s exclusivity, there were still quite a few attendees who filed in, most of them quite prominent in some regard, be it wealth or reputation. Within this group were some of the town’s most esteemed medical professionals, and among them was Dr. Maheswaran, with Connie almost sullenly following in after her. After since her mother had confiscated Rose’s sword, she had been trying her best not to fall even further out of Priyanka’s good graces than she already had. Hence why she had been obedient, almost rigidly so, all the way leading up to their arrival at the party itself, in the hopes that her mother would loosen up her newly tightened reigns for the evening. And fortunately enough, her vigilance paid off, as that’s exactly what Priyanka did.

“I have to go meet with the other doctors before we propose the hospital sponsorship to the Northwests,” the doctor said to her daughter, her tone as serious as ever. “I trust that you can mind yourself like a proper young lady without getting into any more trouble for an hour or two, right?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Connie nodded apprehensively, keeping her poise and manner as polite and compliant as possible as to not give away her intention of going against her rules.

“Good,” Priyanka nodded in staunch satisfaction as she began to walk off. “And remember what we talked about on the way here!”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Connie assured with a rather fake smile. “I-I don’t think you’ll need to worry about me stumbling across any swords around here!” Her smile immediately fell into partial guilt as soon as her mother fully turned away, since she knew she would soon be seeking out the very sword that had gotten her into all this trouble on her own accord. Still, she didn’t let herself linger on that guilt for too long as Steven managed to spot her amidst the crowd and didn’t hesitate to come running over.

“Connie!” he called with an elated smile as he caught her off guard with a sudden hug.

“S-Steven!” Connie chuckled as the broke apart. “You actually made it!”

“Yeah, it turns out the Gems actually get invited to this party every year,” Steven’s smile quickly turned to wonder as he got a better view of Connie’s attire for the evening: a floor length turquoise dress with short sleeves and a dark sash, one that complimented her neatly-done updo quite nicely. “W-wow… Connie, you look great!”

“Thanks…” Connie blushed, her reddened cheeks matching the young Gem’s own. “You look really nice too. B-but there’s no time to talk about that now! We gotta get your mother’s sword back while my mom is distracted!”

“Right,” Steven nodded, resolved. “So where is it?”

“She left it outside in the car,” Connie reported with a worried frown. “Which means that we can’t just go out through the front door to get it, everybody will notice. There has to be another way out of the mansion…”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find it!” the young Gem grinned encouragingly. “Come on!” And with that, Steven grabbed Connie’s hand, reigniting the warmth in her cheeks as they slipped through the party’s growing crowds towards the back of the ballroom, where the beginning of the hallways leading to the inner sanctums of the mansion awaited. Neither of them had the faintest clue about the manor’s layout, which was why they had to settle on picking a random hallway and seeing where it led. They managed to do so without Priyanka, or really anyone else for that matter noticing them, mostly since everyone was already so distracted with the fancy offerings of the party itself. And as soon as they were out of the party proper, they both noticed that the mansion’s lofty halls were much more spacious, quiet, and even eerie than either of them would have thought they would be.

“Whoa, this place is even bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside,” Steven remarked as they made their steady way down the corridor they had chosen. “And that’s saying something seeing as how it looks huge on the outside.”

“What do the Northwests even need such a huge mansion for anyway?” Connie asked, making her disdain for the wealthy family as apparent as ever. “They probably don’t even use half the rooms in here and if they do, then they’re probably just filled with stuff they never look at or use.”

“You’re sounding like the Gems did earlier,” Steven remarked with a small, bemused smile. “They… really aren’t that happy to be here.”

“Well, who can blame them?” Connie huffed. “I’d rather be anywhere else but here either, but at least this party his good for one thing: helping us get that sword back.”

“True,” Steven nodded. “Though I don’t really know what we’re gonna do with the sword once we get it back… Lion didn’t come with us to the party, so I guess we’ll just have to sneak it back inside and hope your mom doesn’t see-” The young Gem stopped short as a display case resting against the nearby wall caught his attention as they were passing it. A case that was filled with what seemed to be rather clusters of conjoined gemstones.

“Steven?” Connie frowned as she also paused, noticing his apparent surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Steven glanced away from the case briefly. “Its just… these rocks look an awful lot like the ones those Gem experiments in the Kindergarten had…”

“Really?” Connie asked, concerned. “You don’t think…?”

“…No, they couldn’t be,” the young Gem shook his head. “We bubbled all of them up. A-and even if there were any left that we didn’t find, how would they have ended up here?”

“You got me,” Connie said with a small, reassuring smile. “Now come on, we gotta hurry and get that sword!”

Steven nodded in firm agreement, only taking a very short final glance back at the gemstone display case before he hurried after her. Still, as they continued their way down the narrow mansion hall, neither one of them noticed as one of the odd, strangely familiar-looking gem clusters slowly began to glow, its kin all steadily starting to do the same.

Given their tarnished history with the Northwest family in general, the Gems had decided early on to make their contempt towards their party very apparent. They refused to engage themselves in interacting with any of the transparently pompous guests as they instead hung back together near the other end of the ballroom, their disdainful, disapproving scowls clear as they refused to show any signs of willingly indulging in this wasteful finery.

Well, that is, save for Amethyst.

The purple Gem had essentially overtaken an entire buffet table, scarfing down all of the expensive entrees she could get her hands on, much to Pearl’s ever increasing aggravation.

“Amethyst, could you please try to control yourself for a change!?” the white Gem asked, her arms crossed as she continued standing alongside Garnet nearby.

“No can do, P,” Amethyst said as she essentially poured an entire punch bowl on herself. “These Northwests may throw some lame parties, but at least the snacks never disappoint. I gotta admit, I almost kinda missed this.”

“Well, I certainly haven’t,” Pearl concluded, turning her nose upward coldly. “Now get down from there, you’re making a mess!”

“Good,” Garnet spoke up, undermining the white Gem with a nod of approval, much to her teammates’ confusion.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead and make a mess,” the Gem leader clarified staunchly. “It’s not like the Northwests don’t deserve it after everything they’ve done over the years.”

While Pearl was still rather lost by this bizarre order, Amethyst was more than happy to follow it through. “What, you mean like… this?” she grinned as she dropped a very expensive china tray onto the ground, shattering it upon contact.

“That works,” Garnet nodded in approval as she discreetly summoned her gauntlet. “So does this.” With a simple flick of her fingers at the window behind her, a large crack rippled across its otherwise pristine surface as the Gem leader simply smiled in smug satisfaction.

“G-Garnet!” Pearl gasped, appalled by such destructive behavior.

“Aw, c’mon, Pearl, don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Amethyst goaded, tossing another plate to the ground. “After all, you were the one who painted that awesome tag on their wall a few weeks ago. How is this any worse than that?”

The white Gem hesitated briefly, but in the end, her usual desire for order was quickly overruled by her longstanding contempt for the Northwests and all those like them. “Well…” she began by summoning her spear. “I suppose a tiny little scratch wouldn’t hurt too much…” With this, she placed the tip of her weapon against the smooth marble floor before she began to slowly drag it, leaving a long, marring scratch across the pristine surface. “Oops. Did I do that?” she grinned, already exhilarated by this act of rebellion.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Amethyst cheered, continuing her own form of vandalism as Garnet and Pearl both took to theirs, all three of them reveling in taking their age-old scorn towards the Northwests out, even if it was in a rather simple way.

It stood to reason that a party as fancy and upscale as Northwest Fest would have food and appetizers that were every bit as fancy and upscale to match. And though Amethyst had partaken of the many buffet tables around the ballroom, fortunately she hadn’t gotten to the fondue fountains yet, which was where Candy had been firmly planted for at least the past ten minutes.

“Cheese, chocolate,” she said to herself, essentially entranced as she moved her stick between the two melted substances. “Cheese, chocolate-”

“Candy, listen to me carefully,” Mabel finally interjected as she stepped over to her, halting her constant switching. “You’re caught in a sweet-savory loop. You need to stop now, before you’re lost to the chocolatey cheesiness forever! So put the fondue fork down.”

“I want to… but I can’t…” Candy mused, still completely transfixed on her fondue stick. That is, until most of the ballroom’s attention was garnished by a butler near the front doors.

“Announcing Baron Marius von Fundhauser!” he proclaimed, stepping out of the way to reveal the young baron. Upon a very first glance at him, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all instantly enamored, all three of them awestruck by his stately, royal attire and long, silky auburn hair. Clearly, he carried the air of a majestic baron in both title and manner as he strode into the ballroom confidently, the girls’ watching him in utter captivation all the while.

“Guten tag!” Marius greeted the trio with a friendly smile as he passed by them, apparently not noticing their jaws unanimously hanging agape in amazement.

“Guten take me now!” Mabel exclaimed, lovestruck as she started hurrying after him, only for Grenda and Candy to quickly stop her.

“Mabel, we had a truce!” Grenda frowned, still clearly serious about keeping said truce.

“Yes, yes, a truce,” Candy nodded, somewhat less so as she forced a complacent smile. “Uh, Grenda? Can you go fetch us some fancy napkins?”

“Wow, ok!” Grenda blithely agreed, innocently heading off to do so.

“Listen, Mabel,” Candy began, dropping her voice down to a whisper as soon as Grenda was out of earshot. “I don’t know if I can follow this truce. He is too adorable!”

“Ugh, I know, right?!” Mabel gushed tightly, almost relieved for Marius’ welcome arrival and Steven’s subsequent, unexplained disappearance from the party. “But what do we do? He’s unattainable! I mean did you see his hair!? It’s like he was straight out of a shampoo commercial!”

“What if we flirt with him as a team?” Candy suggested. “With our cuteness combined, one of us might have a chance!”

“It’s the perfect plan! But… what about Grenda?”

“I love Grenda, Mabel, but these boys are fancy! Her aggressive flirting style might scare them away!”

The pair glanced over at the larger girl, who was in the midst of “fliting” with another boy, though in her own unique, incredibly forward way. “What’s on your shirt?” she asked, pointing to his chest until he glanced down, at which point she proceeded to bring her finger up and flick him hard in the nose. “Ha! Gullible! Loser!”

Upon seeing this display, both Mabel and Candy nodded, both of them immediately on board for their plan to win Marius over between just the two of them. Really, the figured that it would be better for everyone if they left Grenda out of this loop, as much as they didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, the baron was exactly that, a baron. They couldn’t risk the chance of Grenda scaring someone as prestigious and esteemed as Marius off, or worse yet, offending him or hurting him at her own expense. And if, in the process of keeping their attempts at courting Marius between just the two of them, either Mabel or Candy ended up catching his eye and his affections, then, they supposed, that would just be an added benefit.

With the party in full swing as it was, few guests bothered to wander anywhere in the mansion past the main ballroom where all the festivities were being held. And yet, if any guest happened to start wandering the manor’s halls, then they would have likely caught sight of a fiery lumberjack ghost relentlessly chasing a pair of fearfully fleeing kids with nothing less than the absolute intent to kill.

Fortunately though, Pacifica knew the winding corridors and lengthy halls of her mansion home well as she navigated herself and Dipper through them while the ghost sped after them, chuckling threateningly all the while. Despite their efforts to shake the spirit off their trail, he kept on them tightly, his exact motivation for wanting their ends rather unclear, though that was hardly what either of them were concerned with as much as staying alive.

“What are we gonna do?!” Pacifica shouted amidst her growing breathlessness as they continued fleeing. “We can’t keep running from that thing forever!”

“I’m looking!” Dipper shouted back, the journal in one hand and his sword in the other. Of course, it was of little use against the incorporeal ghost, but at the very least it was good for fending off the stray pieces of furniture and dinnerware the specter sent flying their way.

“Well look faster!” the heiress snapped impatiently, worriedly glancing over her shoulder as they rushed through one of the mansion’s several inner gardens. The ground was still muddy from the earlier rain showers, which made their trek through it somewhat haphazard, but all the same, they managed to make it to the other end with the ghost still only a few dangerously short feet behind them.

“Come on, come on…” Dipper muttered, frantically flipping through the journal as much as he could until he finally found what he was looking for. “Aha! I got it! Haunted paintings can only be trapped in a silver mirror. And look!” he pointed ahead to the pristinely white parlor they were running straight towards, or more particularly, the large mirror conveniently hanging from its wall. “There’s a silver mirror right there!”

“Wait!” Pacifica exclaimed, grabbing Dipper’s arm before he could so much as even step foot into the room. “Don’t go in there! This room has my parent’s favorite carpet pattern! They’ll lose it if we track mud in there!”

“What? Are you serious?” Dipper scoffed, unable to believe that the heiress was even remotely concerned with something so unimportant. “Pacifica, we don’t have time for this!”

“W-well we need to make time!” Pacifica retorted, her eyes wide with fear that seemed to go beyond the threat the ghost posed. “We’ll find another way!”

“Why do we need to find another way if there’s a perfectly fine way right in front of us!?” Dipper argued crossly, trying to press his way past her into the room.

“Because my parents will kill me if I don’t listen to them and mess up their rug!”

“Why are you so afraid of your parents?!”

“You wouldn’t understand!”

By now, the argument between the pair had escalated quite a bit in intensity as they roughly grappled with each other, Dipper desperately trying to get into the room while Pacifica desperately tried keeping him out. They could both hear the ghost steadily approaching by his deep, ominous laughter alone, but he had largely been forgotten as Pacifica unexpectedly grabbed the journal, hoping that prying it away from Dipper would be enough to convince him to move on. And fortunately for her, this plan worked as she pulled it away from him, surprising him quite a bit as their eyes met in a very short beat of awkward tension before the heiress took off running down the adjacent hallway with the journal in hand.

“Hey!” Dipper shouted, adamantly running after her. “Pacifica, give that back!”

“Oh what?” Pacifica smirked back over her shoulder, triumphant and relieved that her impromptu plan had succeeded. “You want your dumb nerd book? Then come and get it, Pines!”

Dipper couldn’t help but let out a small growl of frustration at her teasing, still rather taken aback by the heiress’ stubbornness and boldness as he ran after her nonetheless. And of course, all the while, the lumberjack ghost continued its haunting chase after them both, more than ready to rain his fiery fury down the moment he inevitably caught up with them.

After traversing and admittedly getting lost amidst the mansion’s many hallways, Steven and Connie had eventually stumbled upon a back door that led to the large parking area roped off for guests behind the manor. And, though it took some doing to find Dr. Maheswaran’s vehicle amidst the myriad of limos and sports cars, they eventually reached it, only to find a setback they admittedly hadn’t anticipated.

“It’s locked…” Connie frowned in disappointment as she tried pulling the trunk open. “Ugh, we should have seen this coming. There’s no way my mom would leave something like a sword in her car without keeping it locked up tight. What are we supposed to do now?”

“Hm… I think I have an idea…” Steven said, looking to the lock thoughtfully. “Do you have a hair pin or something like that?”

“Um, yeah?” Connie complied in confusion, pulling a non-essential pin out of her updo.

“Thanks!” the young Gem grinned as he started wedging the pin into the lock.

“Where did you learn how to pick locks from?” Connie asked, her brow furrowed as she watched Steven work.

“Amethyst and Mr. Pines taught me after I walked in on them trying to open a safe they found somewhere,” Steven explained with an innocent smile. “So they taught me how to pick locks in exchange for not ‘spilling it’ to anyone else about the safe. Tough I’m still not sure why they wouldn’t want anyone else knowing about something like that…”

“Uh, probably because they stole that safe instead of finding it, Steven…” Connie pointed out.

“…Oh. Well, at least I learned something useful,” Steven shrugged as he successfully unlocked the trunk. Sure enough, Rose’s sword lay within, and despite a moment of initial trepidation for breaking her mother’s strict orders, Connie took the blade nonetheless, strapping it over her shoulder before shutting the trunk behind her.

“Ok, we got it,” she said, letting out the deep breath she felt as though she had been holding in since this entire situation began. “Now we just have to sneak it out of the party without my mom seeing…”

“And without the Gems seeing either,” Steven noted as they began making their way back up the hill to the mansion. “I sorta didn’t tell them about this whole sword thing, and I feel like they probably wouldn’t be too happy if they found out its pretty much the reason why I begged them to come to this party in the first place…”

“I guess we’re gonna be on double duty when it comes to being stealthy for the rest of the night then,” Connie said with resolve as they reentered the manor the same way they had left it. However, the pair stopped short as soon as they stepped inside upon seeing what lay before them. The highly decorated hallway was in shambles, wall tapestries torn and decorative displays laying in shattered remains on the ground without any rhyme or reason at all. “Whoa…” Connie mused, her voice dropping down to an apprehensive whisper. “What could have done all this?”

“D-didn’t Dipper say something about Pacifica asking him to help out with a ghost haunting the mansion?” Steven asked nervously, drawing a bit closer to Connie out of fear.

“Yeah but… a ghost wouldn’t have been able to do this much damage… would it?”

“I… I don’t know, maybe,” Steven shook his head fretfully, remembering well just how much destruction the convenience store ghosts had cause at the start of the summer. “We should go find Dipper and ask him if he’s seen-”

The young Gem was cut off as a low, rather inhuman moan echoed from the end of the hall in front of them. The pair froze, their hands unceremoniously intertwining tightly as a large, looming shadow draped itself over the wall, its source unknown as it grew in size and intimidation. Neither Steven or Connie dared to even breathe as the unearthly groans raised in volume, the shadow coming to a stop as a massive arm slammed down into the open before the rest of its twisted body emerged from around the corner. Simply put, it was a mass of multiple mismatched limbs, all strewn together into a hulking, massive, discolored body, if it could even be called that at all. And, resting at the center of where its face would have been if it had one, was a very familiar cluster of conjoined gemstones.

“C-Connie?” Steven whispered, gripping her hand tighter as this monster began lumbering its way towards them through the mess it had made earlier. “I-I think that’s one of the Gem mutants I was telling you about…”

“What? Are you sure?” Connie asked, her voice just as quiet, even though they had clearly already attracted the mutant’s attention.

“Preeeeetty sure at this point,” the young Gem nodded stiffly, knowing this creature looked quite close to the ones they had encountered at the Kindergarten the other week.

“Well then, we got this sword back at just the right time,” Connie scowled towards the mutant as she swiftly drew Rose’s sword, wielding the massive blade with both hands as she took up an offensive stance. Steven watched in amazement as she rushed forwards, seemingly undeterred as she pulled the mighty sword back before delivering a clean swipe straight through the mutant’s weighty midsection before it could even try to attack. With a pained whine, the forced fusion imploded, its shard-composed gemstone tumbling to the floor before Steven ran forward to bubble it and send it away.

“Looks like you were right,” Connie said, still gripping Rose’s sword tightly as she looked around for any more. “Those rocks really were Gem mutants after all.”

“Yeah, but why would they be-” Steven was cut off as a loud crash sounded out from the other end of the hall. This was immediately and unsurprisingly followed by the emergence of even more gem mutants, both big and small, rounding the corner en masse as they walked, crawled, sidled, anything they could to inch their way towards the aptly frightened pair. “Uh, C-Connie? I think now would be a good time to run!” Steven warned, grabbing her by the arm as he tried to pull her down the other way.

“No, Steven, I can take them!” Connie protested, already positioning her sword to strike.

“I-I know, but still!” Steven pleaded, fearful for her safety more than his own really. After all, the last thing he wanted was to see her get hurt as a result of overconfidence in her newly acquired blade, even as powerful as it was. “We gotta get the Gems! They can help us take care of these things before they can make it into the ballroom and end up hurting someone!”

“…You’re right,” Connie begrudgingly relented, sheathing her blade. “So come on, then! We have to hurry!”

“Right!” Steven readily agreed, leading the way out of the hallway that had already been claimed and decimated by the marauding gem mutants.

As Steven and Connie began their hasty flight through the mansion’s lofty halls, Dipper and Pacifica continued theirs, with the former still chasing after the latter in the hopes of reclaiming the journal before the ghost could catch up to them.

“Pacifica!” Dipper shouted after the heiress, quite surprised at how fast she was. “I’m serious! Give me back the journal, now!”

“Why should I?” Pacifica countered just as harshly. “So you can go running back to that room, get mud all over the floors, and get me in trouble with my parents? Because last time I checked, that’s not what you’re here for!”

“You’re right, I’m here to get rid of that ghost!” Dipper reiterated, severely annoyed. “But I can’t do that if you won’t let me just because your scared of setting off your parents for some weird reason!”

“I already told you!” the heiress shot back, gripping the journal in her arms tightly as she continued running. “You don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand!” Dipper urged, both out of frustration and genuine curiosity as to why she seemed so adamant about all this. Interestingly enough though, this was what finally got Pacifica to stop in her tracks, her expression startled and strangely soft as she turned to face him.

“W-what?” she asked rather quietly, taken aback that anyone would even inquire about the matter at all, especially him. However, before Dipper could even reply, a brand new threat made itself apparent as it slammed down into the space directly behind Pacifica from the high ceiling above. It was a tall, lanky creature, with six disproportionate arms and no face to speak of as it balanced on a pair of long, mismatched legs amidst towering over the frightened heiress, letting out a low, threatening groan all the while. Pacifica let out a horrified scream at this grotesque creature as it started to advance on her, her long dress tripping her up as she clumsily fell to the ground, shielding herself with her arm as the creature raised one of its many arms with the intent to strike. And yet… it was a strike she never felt.

Hesitantly, Pacifica opened her tightly shut eyes and took a glance back towards the monster, only to see something that shocked her just as much as its sudden appearance had. For standing squarely in between her and the multi-limbed creature was none other than Dipper, his sword raised as he firmly, fearlessly pressed back against the many hands pressed against it. Yet all the same he held his ground, his footing steady and his expression fierce as he warded off the mutant, eventually managing to push it back enough to give himself enough space to properly fight it. All the while, Pacifica remained practically frozen to her spot on the ground, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped as she watched in absolute awe as Dipper rushed towards the monster with a courageous shout, lashing out with his blade as he maneuvered with skill and ease. The creature was unable to keep up with him as he dodged its slow, sloppy movements, and in what seemed like no time at all, the tip of his sword had punctured the monster squarely in its back, resulting in its hideous form poofing into nothing more than a mismatched cluster of gem shards.

“A Gem mutant?” Dipper frowned in confusion as he carefully picked the compiled stone. “How’d this get in here? Pacifica, do you know anything about this thing?”

Strangely, he received no answer from the heiress as he glanced back to look at her, only to find that she was staring up at him, seemingly captivated, though for what reason, he had no idea. Still, try as she might, Pacifica couldn’t convince her body or her mind to respond properly as her thoughts raced randomly and her cheeks began flushing warm and pink as she kept her eyes on the boy who had effectively just saved her life. She couldn’t deny that, with both his suit and hair as mildly yet endearingly disheveled as they were, resolve and adrenaline still sparking in his eyes, and the sword still held confidently in his hand, he did look the slightest bit dashing, almost heroic even, though she’d never dare to admit that out loud.

“Uh… Pacifica? Are you ok?” Dipper asked, making the heiress realize that she had gone far too long without taking her eyes off him.

“W-wha—oh, uh, y-yeah!” she exclaimed, clearly flustered as she rejected the hand he had offered to help her stand in favor of doing so on her own. “I-I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be. That weird arm thing wasn’t even that scary.”

“Oh sure it wasn’t,” Dipper remarked with a wry, rather playful smirk. “That’s why you screamed in terror as soon as you saw it, right?”

Pacifica shot him a disapproving glare at this, though it wasn’t as harsh as it admittedly could have been as she shoved the journal back into his arms. “Here, take you lame nerd book back,” she huffed, still trying to suppress her ongoing blush. “So… uh… where’d you learn how to do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know…” she held her hands behind her back as she nodded to his sword casually enough. “That.”

“Oh, sword fighting?” Dipper clarified, glancing to his blade before sheathing it. “Me and Connie have been taking lessons from Pearl for the past few weeks. It tends to come in handy when you deal with stuff like this a lot, which… yeah, I kinda do.”

“And… your family’s just… ok with you running around with a dangerous sword all the time?” Pacifica asked, slightly baffled by such apparent freedom.

“Uh… yeah?” Dipper shrugged, unsure of what she meant by this question. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

The heiress didn’t answer as she glanced down somewhat, her brow furrowing in both confusion and what almost felt like envy, though that couldn’t possibly be right. After all, how in the world could someone as well off and highly esteemed as her be jealous of someone as common and unrefined as him?

While it was quite likely that the ghost had lost track of them in the chaos that had just ensued, Dipper didn’t want to take any chances, which was why he took the lead in moving on. However, they barely even rounded the corner before they were held up again, though this time by it fortunately wasn’t by the ghost or any Gem mutants, but rather by Steven and Connie as they all accidentally happened to run smack into each other.

“Wha—Steven? Connie?” Dipper frowned in confusion upon seeing the pair at such a random juncture. “What are you guys doing here? Why aren’t you back at the party?”

“W-well, we got my mom’s sword back,” Steven began anxiously. “But then we ran into a ton of Gem mutants, just like the ones we fought at the Kindergarten!”

“Wait, you mean there are even more of those things running around here?” Dipper asked incredulously as he handed the remains of the mutant he had defeated over to Steven so it could be bubbled. “We were just attacked by one. How’d they even get into the mansion in the first place?”

“I don’t know…” Connie mused, her tone and expression growing quite suspicious as she glanced over at the nearby heiress. “That’s a really good question, isn’t it, Pacifica?”

“Oh what? You think I have something to do with this?” Pacifica asked harshly.

“Well, seeing as how all these Gem clusters were in a display case in your mansion, so it only makes sense that you’d know something about how they ended up here.”

“Well, I don’t,” the heiress huffed, her hands on her hips. “My parents probably bought them for the party and didn’t know they were actually gross, grabby, nightmarish freakshows.”

“Actually, they’re shattered Gems who were forced to fuse with each other,” Steven said with a sympathetic frown for the mutants’ plight.

“…I literally have no idea what any of that means,” Pacifica said, clearly out of the context loop. “Still, I don’t know anything about how those things wound up here.”

“Oh yeah? And how do we know you’re actually telling the truth?” Connie asked, still rather distrustful. And really, she believed she had every reason to be, given just how dangerous these Gem mutants were and just how not coincidental their presence in the mansion seemed to be. “After all, your family has a known history of lying when it comes to their dirty little secrets, so it wouldn’t be surprising at all if you inherited that bad habit right alongside all the money you don’t deserve.”

Pacifica let out an appalled gasp at this, outraged and offended by such an accusation as she took a bold, almost threatening step forward. “Ok, you know what, Maheswaran, I’m gonna-”

“Whoa, ok, hold it!” Dipper quickly interjected before any sort of scuffle could break out, both him and Steven rushing in to stand between the two incensed girls. “Connie, I know you’re uh, not really a fan of Pacifica, but as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think she’s lying about this.”

“Seriously, Dipper?” Connie scoffed. “You know how she is, we all do! Heck, for all you know, she could be lying to you about this whole ’ghost’ thing too!”

Dipper was actually quite prepared to correct Connie on this, not noticing Pacifica flinch slightly behind him as she realized this accusation was at least partially true. However, he really didn’t have to as the lumberjack ghost’s laughter began booming through the nearby corridor once again as he started to catch up with his victims.

“Its time to stop running, Northwest, and face you DOOM!” he shouted, finally appearing at the end of the hall with blue flames sparking all over his frightening form. All four of the kids let out a shared scream of terror as the spirit soared towards them at a breakneck speed, and all of the discourse concerning mutants and lies was quickly left behind as they unintentionally split up. Steven and Connie took off in the hallway they had just ran down, wanting to get back to the ballroom and find the Gems now more than ever with the appearance of this new ghostly threat. Still, the spirit paid them no mind as he continued pursuing his original targets, who were both desperately searching for any way they could find to subdue the ghost as they fled from him. In their frantic rush, they haphazardly turned a corner, only for Pacifica to end up tripping over her dress once more. She happened to grab Dipper by the sleeve in a last ditch attempt at steadying herself, only for them both to end up falling towards the nearby wall. Or rather, right through it. The ghost didn’t see this fortunately, as he glided straight on by while the pair tumbled into an apparently hidden storage room inconspicuously hidden behind a large tapestry.

“Huh? What’s this place?” Dipper asked as both him and Pacifica picked themselves up, glancing around the apparent collection of the Northwest’s various treasures and portraits.

“I… don’t know…” Pacifica admitted in apt confusion. “That’s weird. I don’t even know where this room is…”

“Hopefully the ghost and those Gem mutants don’t either…” Dipper remarked, taking a cursory peek back into the hallway.

“Yeah, maybe we’re safe,” the heiress let out a somewhat relieved breath, not noticing as the large sheet covering a painting behind her began to swell forward on its own accord. Dipper fortunately caught sight of this just in time as the sheet began to take on the clear, massive shape, one that reached out over Pacifica slowly and threateningly.

“Pacifica! Watch out!” he warned, drawing his sword as he rushed forward to defend her. Pacifica let out a frightened gasp as the ghost tossed the sheet away, laughing menacingly as he towered over her.

“Your fate is sealed!” the specter proclaimed, his blue flames rising as he prepared to strike the terrified heiress down once and for all. Dipper had just about reached her, unsure of what he was really going to do against the ghost with his sword alone, but he stopped short immediately upon noticing a discarded antique lying on the floor nearby, none other than a small, pure silver mirror.

“Prepare to die, Northwest!” the ghost shouted, his axe raised to deliver the final blow. Pacifica quickly braced herself for what would likely be a very painful end, only for Dipper to end up saving her from it at the last second. However, instead of doing so with his sword, this time he did so with the mirror, and the moment the ghost’s weapon made contact with it, everything seemed to happen at once. The entire room was engulfed in a blinding flash as Dipper was knocked back into Pacifica, who herself was pushed back towards the room’s small, low to the ground window. The pair was still completely in the dark about what was happening as they were practically launched out of the window, entangling themselves in its curtains as they rolled down a short hill, finally landing together at the bottom of it, breathless and rattled, but largely unharmed.

“W-what happened?” Pacifica asked her and Dipper both pulled themselves up. “Did you get him?”

At this, they both looked to the mirror, only to find an incredibly relieving sight: the ghost was trapped securely inside of it, demanding his freedom in an absolute fit of rage as he pounded against the other side of the glass to no avail. “Ha! Yes!” Dipper cheered, satisfied that at the very least one threat had been neutralized.

“We did it!” Pacifica exclaimed just as triumphantly, throwing her arms around Dipper without really thinking about it. Needless to say he was complete caught off guard by this unexpected hug, especially given the fact that it was coming from the heiress of all people. Still, what baffled him even more was the sudden rush of warmth he felt in his cheeks, coupled with the odd, yet strangely wistful feeling of not wanting it to end. It did, however, as Pacifica realized exactly what she was doing, her blush even brighter than Dipper’s as she quickly pulled away, averting his gaze as she awkwardly cleared her throat, wishing she could calm her racing heart and confused, flustered thoughts down already as she pulled out a dollar. “Uh… c-can I pay you to pretend that never happened?”

Despite being held up by the occasional minor Gem mutant, Steven and Connie eventually managed to navigate their way back to the main ballroom, only to stop short in surprise upon realizing that no one at the party was even remotely aware of the dangers lurking the halls just behind them. The pair ran into the midst of the celebrating crowd, more than ready to warn them all to flee the premises before it was too late. However, before they could even get a single person’s attention, they happened to accidently bump into the last person Connie had wanted to encounter at the moment.

“M-Mom!” she exclaimed in surprise upon running right into her mother’s torso. The doctor paused, looking away from the conversation she had been engaged in to her daughter instead, only to freeze with shock and motherly fury upon noticing the large pink sword strapped to her back.

“Connie!” Priyanka gasped, appalled. “How did you even—what are you doing with that?! I made a rule, no swords under any circumstances!”

“But mom-” Connie tried to argue, knowing that she needed to be armed in the dire circumstances they were facing.

“No,” the doctor interupted rigidly. “I told you once, and I can’t believe I have to tell you again! But its clear to me now that I can’t even trust you to so much as listen to me even after I put my foot down! So you leave me with no choice; you’re grounded until further notice. Hand that sword over, now.”

“But Mom, you don’t understand, I-”

“I said now!”

Connie flinched, clearly startled by her mother’s incredibly harsh tone as she let out a defeated sigh. With no other choice, she took the sword off her back and relinquished it, largely feeling as though she was handing over a piece of herself in the process. And as Steven caught sight of her utterly dejected expression, he found he could no longer stand by in silence.

“Er, Dr. Maheswaran, wait! You can’t take that sword away from Connie! She needs it—we need it to-”

“That’s quite enough,” Priyanka cut him off, sending him a fierce warning glare. “I’m not going to argue over this sword nonsense any longer. It’s done.”

“Mom, please-” Connie pleaded desperately only to be shot down one final time as her mother began to walk off, sword in hand.

“Done!” she reiterated, glaring back at her daughter with what was nothing less than absolute disappointment. Disappointment that left Connie feeling crushed even more than losing her sword had.

“So… what now?” Steven asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I guess we just go find the Gems and let them save the day, as usual…” Connie sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she morosely headed off to do just that. Of course, what neither of the pair was aware of was that the Gems had actually taken their ongoing vandalizing spree up onto the roof, where they were currently in the process of spelling out the word “snobs” in huge letters using paint Amethyst had “happened to find”, much to the enjoyment of the still large crowd gathered outside the gates below. But even still, Steven and Connie began duly, almost solemnly even pressing their way through the party, knowing that with the horde of Gem mutants drawing ever closer and Rose’s sword no longer a viable option, they were the only hope they had left.

With the ghost finally subdued and captured, Dipper and Pacifica blithely went to go report their shared success to the heiress’ parents. And while the Northwests weren’t as openly elated or excited as the young pair, they were still quite relieved to know that their haunting had been taken care of and their immaculate party saved.

“Well, Pacifica, you really found the right man for the job,” Preston remarked, snapping his fingers to signal to the nearby butler to shake Dipper’s hand in his place.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Priscilla said before a brief pause that ended with her nodding to the butler. “That’s enough.”

“Hey, just holding up my end of the deal,” Dipper grinned as he took the mirror the ghost was in and prepared to head out.

“Wait, leaving already?” Pacifica asked in slight disappointment. “You’re at the world’s best party, dummy. Are you sure you wanna go so soon?”

“Well I’d love to stay,” Dipper said with a smile just as playful as the heiress’. “But I’ve got a category 10 ghost to dispose of and then I should really go help Steven and Connie out with the rest of those Gem mutants.”

“Oh that’s right, I almost forgot just how adventurous your life is,” Pacifica rolled her eyes with a lightly teasing smirk.

“Heh, yeah,” Dipper chuckled, not paying too much attention to where he was going as he kept his sights on the heiress behind him. Which was how he ended up walking straight into one of the garden’s pillars. Pacifica was unable to contain her laughter at this, something that flustered Dipper quite a bit as he backed up and tried to play his clumsiness off as intentional. “O-oh, uh, l-like you said: a-adventurous.”

“Oh yeah, running into a pillar,” Pacifica quipped, still chuckling. “That’s totally an epic quest right there.”

Despite still being somewhat embarrassed, Dipper couldn’t help but finally join in on the heiress’ ongoing amused laughter, something that only died down between them as he sent her a small wave of farewell, one that she returned with a warm, genuine smile. He held up a similar smile as he departed, unable to deny that this misadventure, despite all of its harrowing moments, had ended on a much better note than he had could have ever expected anything pertaining to Pacifica Northwest to. For instead of being just as closed off and callously coldhearted as she had always come across to him before, it seemed as though there was another side to her: a playful, daring, capable side that came across as so much more authentic than the haughty front she usually seemed to put up. And even more unexpected than that was the fact that he had found himself taking a genuine liking of that side of the heiress, one that he hoped to see again in any of their future encounters. “Call me crazy, but… maybe she’s not so bad after all…” Dipper remarked to himself once he was out of the heiress’ earshot, surprised that he was even admitting something like that, but pleasantly surprised nonetheless.

His satisfaction was soon cut short, however, as a mocking, knowing laugh sounded from within the mirror in his hand. “What are you laughing about, man?” Dipper asked, glancing down at the trapped ghost in apt confusion. “I defeated you.”

“You’ve been had, boy,” the ghost said with another bitter laugh. “The Northwests lied to you, just as they did to me and my kin one hundred and fifty years ago.”

“…What do you mean?” Dipper ventured, genuinely curious as the ghost began to recount his tale of woe.

“One hundred and fifty years ago this day, the Northwests asked us lumber-folk to build them a mansion atop the hill. We were told it would be a service to the town, that once a year they would throw a grand party that would be open to the people of Gravity Falls, and all would share in the bounty of their wealth! It took years of backbreaking labor and sacrifice, but the promise of such a luxorious feast kept all of us going as we worked towards the manor’s completion, aided by a group of strong, magical, yet kindly women the Northwests had contracted to help the project along.”

“Wait, magical women?” Dipper interrupted, intrigued by this point in particular. “You mean the Crystal Gems?”

“Yes,” the ghost nodded disdainfully. “The Crystal Gems were invaluable in helping us raise these stately halls, but on the night we needed them most, they were nowhere to be found to stop the injustice committed against us lumberjacks. For when it was time for the grand party the Northwests promised the common folk of the town, they coldly refused to let us in. And with the trees we had cut to build the mansion gone, the mudslides began. While they partied and laughed, I was swept away by the storm and met my end to the very axe I had used to build their undeserved empire. And so I said with final breath: ‘One-fifty years I’ll return from death, and if the gate’s still closed to the town, wealthy blood will stain the ground!’ A curse passed down across every generation of Northwests, even to this day.”

“So… wait a minute,” Dipper said once the ghost was finished, quickly putting the pieces together of how everything he had just heard related back to the present. Which, in turn created a picture he was far from happy with. “The Northwests knew this haunting was coming, and they tricked me into helping them to avoid ghostly justice? …I’ll be right back…”

With the state of the party as seemingly secured as it was, Pacifica had returned to her expected spot by her parents’ side as they mingled with their wealthy guests. Yet her thoughts were hardly in the fancy festivities going on around her as they usually were during Northwest Fest and instead they were focused on the boy she had spent the earlier half of her evening with. She found it so incredibly strange that just a few hours ago, she had barely even spared a second thought towards Dipper, viewing him as just as common and ordinary as anyone else. Yet now, after the past few hours of narrowly surviving a deadly haunting with him, she couldn’t deny that he somehow fascinated her in ways that confused yet excited her all at once. And as she thought about his brazen swordsmanship, his clever readiness for almost any situation, his awkward yet almost frustratingly endearing laughter, Pacifica couldn’t help but sail through the evening with a distant, almost dreamy smile on her face, one that was filled with an unknown yet brimming longing to see him again.

A longing that was incidentally fulfilled sooner than she thought it would; though in the last way she could have wanted it to.

The Northwests were in the midst of entertaining dignitaries in the foyer when the mansion’s front doors suddenly burst open, revealed an incredibly indignant Dipper behind them. “Northwests!” he exclaimed angrily as he marched in, mirror still in hand. “You have some explaining to do!”

“Dipper! You came back!” Pacifica instantly perked up, a bright smile on her face as she began to rush over to him. Though it was quick to disappear as he shot her a particularly harsh, glare, one that was a very far cry from the warm smile he had left her with.

“You lied to me!” he accused furiously before addressing the entire family. “All of you did! All you had to do was let the townsfolk into the party and you could have broken the curse! But you just made me do your dirty work instead!”

Pacifica took in a sharp breath at this, knowing that he had discovered the one wrench in all of this that she had hoped he wouldn’t find out, especially as the newfound camaraderie began forming between them. But before she could even try to explain anything, her father was quick to only make things worse.

“Look at who you’re talking to, boy,” Preston began coldly, essentially ignoring the incredibly hostile scowl Dipper was sending up at him. “I’m hosting a party for the most powerful people in the world. Do you really think they’d come here if they had to rub elbows with your kind?”

“My kind?” Dipper repeated with an appalled scoff, not even bothering to contest the billionaire any further. After all, he had expected as much from the head of the Northwest household, but he had foolishly come to believe that their daughter was different, that she wasn’t just another pompous, heartless sob, that she had at least some redeeming shred of actual humanity in her. But as he had just discovered, none of that was true at all. “Looks like I was right about you all along,” he said to Pacifica bitterly, not even caring about her genuinely distraught expression. “You’re just as bad as your parents. Another link in the world’s worst chain!”

“N-no! Dipper, you don’t understand!” Pacifica protested earnestly, determined to set the record straight. “I’m sorry, they made me lie to you! I should have told you everything from the start, but-” The heiress was abruptly cut off by the sharp, sudden peal of the bell in her father’s hand, one that instantly silenced her back into submission as she glanced down submissively, ashamed by her own inability to resist it, ashamed by the fact that she had even agreed to this deceptive charade in the first placed, ashamed by everything really, but mostly, she was ashamed of herself.

“Enjoy the party,” Preston remarked mockingly as Dipper turned to head out, not even bothering to send Pacifica a second glance in his palpable fury, something that made her heart ache even more than just about anything else. “It’s the last time you and your kind will ever come.”

As vehemently outraged with the Northwests as he was, Dipper knew there wasn’t much he could do get back at them for their despicable actions. So instead of frustrating himself further, he sullenly took the mirror outside, following the journal’s instructions to create the proper setup needed to oust the ghost from the mortal plane. “Stupid Northwests, making me do their exorcism for them,” he grumbled to himself after placing the mirror at the center of the circle of candles. With everything in place, he began to read the journal’s spell to get rid of ghosts, though given the circumstances, he was hardly invested in the matter whatsoever “‘Exodus demonous, spookus scarus, aintafraidus noghostus’-”

“Dipper… Dipper!” the ghost called from within the mirror. “Please let me have my revenge on the Northwests. You hate them just as much as I!”

“Hey, I feel for you, I really do,” Dipper conceded and it was true, for more reasons than one. Even aside from the fact that they had both been made fools of by the Northwests, this ghost wasn’t exactly the first being trapped inside a mirror he had taken pity on. “It’s just… my sister and my friends are in there and you seem just a little unstable…”

“Very well, boy,” the ghost hung his head in apparent acceptance of his fate. “But… before you banish my soul, may these tired lumber eyes gaze upon the trees one final time?”

“Uh, I guess,” Dipper said, somewhat confused by this odd request though he obliged nonetheless, picking the mirror up and holding it towards the nearby forest. “Go nuts, man.”

Upon getting even just a glimpse at the trees, the ghost laughed wildly as the sight of the forest empowered him enough to ignite his flames brighter and hotter, to the point that their heat rapidly spread to his mirror prison itself. Dipper didn’t even have time to be confused about what was happening before the mirror’s handle suddenly turned red hot, burning his hand to the point that he was forced to let go of it. The glass shattered the instant it made contact with the ground and with it the ghost exploded from its ruined shards, paying no mind to the startled boy who had accidentally released him as he set his sights on the mansion once more.

“Yes! Vengeance!” he proclaimed with a triumphant laugh, speeding towards the manor with the intent of finally fulfilling his bloodthirsty vendetta.

“Oh no!” Dipper exclaimed, aptly alarmed as he remembered who else was still in the mansion. “Mabel! Steven! Connie!” Despite his lasting anger at the Northwests, he knew well that he couldn’t let the ghost accomplish his violent ends so long as innocent people were in danger. Which was why, after making sure his blade was strapped securely to his back, he rushed back up towards the mansion, unsure of what he was going to do to stop this disaster but determined to try rather than do nothing, as he assumed the Northwests were very likely to do.

With their freeform destruction on the roof complete, the Gems returned to the party proper, mischievous grins on their faces as they continued their own form of “revenge” by turning over tables, piercing through expensive paintings, and breaking priceless antiques. Of course, they were always discreet enough in doing so that no one really noticed, but still, they couldn’t deny that they were all three having genuine fun in their righteous form of destruction against the wealthy family. When it came right down to it, it almost felt nostalgic, at least to Garnet and Pearl as they recalled helping break apart the similar upper-crust regime of Homeworld centuries ago. And though this was indeed on a much smaller scale than that, they still couldn’t deny that it felt incredibly cathartic all the same.

Not too far away from the tapestry the Gems were currently tearing apart, Mabel and Candy were carrying out their strategic plan to flirt with Marius, with the former boldly taking the lead as she approached the baron with a wide, cheerful smile. “Hi, I’m Mabel!” she greeted loudly, catching Marius somewhat off guard. “So, Australia, huh? Do you guys eat kangaroo meat over there, or, uh… a-are they strictly pets?”

“I am from Austria,” Marius corrected with a confused frown.

“Haha! Yeah!” Mabel let out a forced, awkward laugh, panicking as she tapped Candy’s shoulder. “Tag! Tag!”

“I am Candy!” the other girl said to the baron as she took over just as brightly. “I love the tiny hats you wear on your shoulders!”

“Hi again!” Mabel cut back in, roughly pushing Candy aside in light of this. “If you were a boat, do you know what kind you’d be? A dream boat, that’s what kind.”

“You are tagged out!” Candy protested in a harsh whisper as she elbowed Mabel.

“I tagged back in,” Mabel pushed her back crossly.

“You can’t do that!”

“I can tag myself! Its allowed!”

“No, its not!”

“Yeah, it is!”

As the girls continued to bicker amongst themselves, the very confused Marius nervously retreated, unsure of how to react to them so clearly arguing over him. They also failed to notice that someone else had watched this entire embarrassing display, and she was far from pleased with what she had just seen. “Ahem!” Grenda interjected, hands on her hips as she cut through Mabel and Candy’s argument. “What exactly was all that?! You were flirting with Marius without me!”

At this, the pair exchanged a tense glance, knowing that there was really no playing any of this off as they had been caught red-handed. “W-we are sorry, Grenda,” Candy began, genuinely apologetic. “It’s just…”

“Your flirting style can come across as a bit… intense…” Mabel continued rather hesitantly.

“Oh, I see!” Grenda scoffed, thoroughly offended by this opinion. “You think I shouldn’t be myself just because I’m at this stupid mansion! I thought you liked my style!”

“We do!” Candy affirmed. “But these boys might not!”

“Oh, then I guess they wouldn’t like this either! Hey, Marius!”

“Yah?” the baron asked curiously as he wandered back over to the group.

Grenda paused briefly, looking to her friends with a critical glare as they both shook their heads with silent pleas for her to stop before it was too late. But of course, as angry as she was, she refused to comply with them and ‘flirted’ with Marius anyway. “You’ve got something… on your shit!” Of course, the baron glanced down, only for Grenda to launch her finger upward to hit his nose rather unforgivingly. Mabel and Candy gasped in shock at Grenda’s apparent audacity, and, with all three of them equally frustrated with each other, they all stormed away from each other in a huff without sparing another word. Still, none of them paid much mind to the rather stunned baron they had left behind, who looked off in the direction of the girl who had so aggressively “flirted” with him with amazed stars of newfound infatuation in his eyes.

After what felt like ages of searching in vain for the Gems, Steven and Connie eventually gave up, opting to rethink their options when it came to dealing with the infestation of Gem mutants. An infestation that was more than likely to make it into the ballroom itself sooner rather than later.

“We’re running out of time,” Connie noted, peaking down the nearby hallway for any signs of approaching mutants. “If we don’t hurry, then those mutants could end up hurting someone!”

“Yeah, but what can we do?” Steven asked fretfully. “We can’t find the Gems and your mom took my mom’s sword… Huh, that’s… actually kinda ironic now that I think about it…”

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Connie said with firm resolve, ignoring her issues with her mother for the moment for the sake of the greater good. “We’re going to handle this problem ourselves, sword or no sword, whether my mother likes it or not!”

“Excuse me?”

Both kids let out a startled gasp as they spun around to find none other that Priyanka herself standing right behind them, having sifted her way through the crowd in search of her daughter only to find her at the exact wrong moment. The doctor still had Rose’s sword tucked under her arm, her expression completely shocked and outraged over what she had just heard, but even so, Connie had no intention of retracting what she had said.

“M-Mom, I… You have to listen to me listen to me,” she began somewhat unsteadily, though her confidence started to grow as she reached for the sword. “I really, really, really need that sword! If you don’t give it to me, then a lot of innocent people could be in huge danger!”

“What? Connie, no!” Priyanka staunchly refused, holding the blade up as her daughter continued trying to grab it. “What has gotten into you? You know I never go back on a rule, young lady.”

“But there has to be some exceptions!” Connie argued fiercely. “I’m not some… rule-driven robot!”

As soon as she had said this, a brutal crash sounded from the end of the nearby hallway, one that was immediately followed by the appearance of a very large Gem mutant, one that didn’t hesitate to lunge forward towards the group near the ballroom. “W-what on earth is that thing?!” Priyanka asked, protectively gripping her daughter’s shoulder tightly.

“It’s a Gem mutant!” Steven exclaimed, determined to help Connie fend it off as his shield formed over his arm. “It’s why you have to let Connie have that sword back, Dr. Maheswaran! So she can beat it and protect everyone here!”

“Wha—b-but-” the doctor’s protests were cut off as the mutant pounced, one of its many hands reaching out and grabbing the closest thing to it, which just so happened to be Connie. “Connie!”

“M-Mom!” Connie called back as the mutant began dragging her towards it, its grip on her strong, despite her attempts to break free from it.

“I’ll save you!” Steven exclaimed, rushing forward before slamming his shield into the mutant’s side, forcing it to relinquish its hold. “Keep away from my Connie!”

The mutant let out a threatening groan as it shoved the young Gem back roughly, still towering over the group as more creatures began filling in behind it, pressing the trio back towards the ballroom. “T-these things are beyond reason!” Priyanka shook her head, unable to believe what she was witnessing.

“Mom, if you would go back on your rule this one time!” Connie pleaded, feeling largely useless against this threat without a sword in her hand. “I just need to help Steven get us out of here!”

“No! Mother knows best!” Priyanka reiterated harshly, still keeping the sword away from her daughter, even despite the growing danger.

“W-we can’t let these things into the ballroom!” Steven cried, struggling to maintain his stance as the largest mutant continued pressing against his shield. The smaller mutants were starting to maneuver their way around the group, crawling up the walls and ceiling as they essentially surrounded them, though they still didn’t work their way into the ballroom just yet. Upon seeing this, the young Gem gasped but reacted accordingly, abandoning his shield for a bubble instead, though the mutants continued pounding against it just as viciously.

“W-we’re trapped!” the doctor exclaimed, quite alarmed by this turn of events.

“We don’t have to be!” Connie proclaimed, her expression adamant as she turned to face her mother, refusing to give up in these dire straits. “Really, Mom. I know how to do this!”

“No, you don’t!” Priyanka argued, just as resilient on her side of the matter as her daughter was.

“Ugh, yes, she does!” Steven cut in quite impatiently, knowing they were wasting very precious time fighting like this. “She’s been training! She hasn’t just been playing around with that sword! She’s been taking classes learning how to use it right! Even though she’s always studying, or practicing tennis, or playing violin, she still works really hard to be a good sword fighter and she is!”

“No,” the doctor quickly denied, refusing to believe anything of the sort. “No, no, no, no, no. I know my daughter! I know what she’s doing every second of the day. All her activities, all her internets, everything. I know she’s definitely not some sword fighting hooligan!”

By this point, Connie had gotten to the point where enough was enough. For as long as she could remember, she had always rigidly stuck to whatever her parents had told her, complying perfectly for the sake of winning their approval and pride more than anything else. It was tedious, laborious, even difficult at some points giving their very high standards for her. But now, such standards could no longer apply. Because not only were they in a life or death situation, but things had changed. She had changed. It was a shift that everyone who knew her, everyone who came in contact with her had been able to see, especially herself. Everyone but her own mother, it seemed. “You don’t know me at all!” Connie finally exploded, beyond frustrated with her mother’s stubbornness by now. “You still haven’t even noticed my glasses!”

“W-what about your glasses?”

“They don’t have lenses anymore!” Connie huffed, taking her frames off and sticking her finger straight through them. “I haven’t needed actual glasses for almost the entire summer!”

“What?!” Priyanka asked, completely baffled. “Your eyesight just… magically got better?”

“Yes!” Connie shouted adamantly as Steven shrugged in slight embarrassment, given his involvement in all this. “I’ve been dealing with magic and monsters and things like these,” she pointed to one of the mutants beating against the side of the bubble. “Ever since I met Steven! That’s why I need you to just trust me and believe that I know what to do here!”

The doctor paused, her expression softening somewhat as she looked to her daughter with genuine conflict before looking back to the pressing danger that was so clearly surrounding them all. “B-but… you-”

Before Priyanka could get another word out, the entire mansion itself seemed to shake, accompanied by what sounded like a massive explosion coming from the ballroom itself. All of the party guests let out a collective gasp as the room’s large fireplace swelled dramatically, and from its sparking embers, the lumberjack ghost emerged, laughing manically as he prepared to rain righteous devastation down upon the entire party.

“Generations locked away, my revenge shall have its day!” he shouted boisterously, blasts of blue light bursting from his palms. As this apparent magic struck several of the party guests, the effects were immediate, their bodies starting to freeze before slowly turning into hollow, immovable, non-sentient wood.

And from that moment, the entire ballroom erupted into complete and utter chaos.

Aside from the petrifying blasts the ghost continued firing off at random, his power also brought the mansion’s many taxidermized displays to life, with the dead animals terrorizing every guest who had been lucky enough to escape being transformed into wooden statues. Nature itself soon started to overtake the hall, with vines and tree limbs bursting through the floor and entrapping more unfortunate attendees for the ghost to cast his horrific spell upon them. Almost as soon as this disaster had begun, the Northwests had been quick to tuck themselves out of sight, unable to do anything else but watch as their elegant party and their mansion itself began to crumble right before their eyes.

“Preston, what are we going to do!?” Priscilla cried mournfully, though her husband remained stoic in his cowardly plan.

“Prepare the panic room,” he remarked coldly, punching a taxidermized squirrel off of his shoulder.

While the Northwests had no intention of doing anything to stop this violent onslaught, the Gems were quick to notice it, forcing them to quickly put their ongoing vandalism aside as they leapt into action. “Whoa, isn’t that guy one of those lumberjacks from way back when?” Amethyst asked, summoning her whip as she beat back a mounted deer head. “Pretty sure that dude should be dead by now, shouldn’t he?”

“He is” Garnet confirmed, gauntlets at the ready. “That’s a ghost.”

“Well, he’ll be even less than a ghost once we’re through with him!” Pearl exclaimed boldly, finally calling the specter’s attention. “You! We demand that you put a stop to this senseless destruction and release these innocent humans at once!”

The ghost did take pause at this, though only to turn to the Gems with an expectant, almost smug grin as he glided towards them. “Ah, the Crystal Gems, what ages have past since we last met?” he asked almost calmly before a certain bitterness started to enter his tone. “I suppose its only fitting that you would stand to defend those treacherous Northwest scum even all these years later. After all, you did the very same thing one hundred and fifty years ago by not rising to the occasion to ensure my brethren and I the justice we deserved!”

“We’re not defending the Northwests,” Garnet countered, her gauntlets in tight fists. “We never would. Especially after we found out what happened that night.”

“So you DO know!” the ghost exclaimed, his flames rising in fury upon hearing this. “And yet you still did NOTHING to stop it!”

“If we had been there, we certainly would have!” Pearl protested firmly. “But we were away on a mission that night; we only found out about the Northwests breaking their promise from the other lumberjacks the next day! And believe us, we’ve condemned them for their horrible actions against you all ever since!”

“Oh you have?” the ghost scoffed, clearly not believing this claim. “Then answer me this: why are the mansion gates still closed, one-fifty years on!? Why have you not forced the Northwests to right the wrongs of their sinister past? Why have you failed to do what you promised: to protect this town and its people from the evil lying right within its own borders?!”

The Gems exchanged a rather surprised glance at this, none of them quite sure of what to say at such a strong accusation of their apparent failure. But really, when it came down to it, there had been nothing they could have really done to correct this unfair situation. They couldn’t force the Northwests to open their gates to the common folk, they hadn’t been able to keep that initial rejection from happening in the first place and they couldn’t keep it from happening now. It was a delicate situation, a very human situation that the Crystal Gems had found themselves ill-equipped to deal with and still did. And, based on their lack of an answer, that was a conclusion the lumberjack ghost had already angrily reached.

“You three are no better than the very Northwests you claim to condemn,” he remarked hatefully and dismissively. “And for that, you deserve nothing more than to share their DOOMED fate!”

The Gems only had time to let out a shared gasp before the ghost struck them with his power, which, alarmingly enough, effected them in the exact same way it would any human. In mere seconds, all three of the Crystal Gems were nothing more than wooden statues, stuck frozen in offensive poses against a foe they were powerless to defeat.

“Oh no!” Steven gasped, completely distraught as he happened to watch this entire display from the edge of the hallway him, Connie, and Priyanka were still in. “The Gems!”

“Steven, no!” Connie stopped him before he could rush out, still mindful of the Gem mutants as well as the ghost. Unfortunately, it seemed as though these threats were starting to combine as mutants began pouring out of the other hallways, sulking into the ballroom and openly attacking the dwindling number of non-wooden guests right alongside the ghost himself.

It was this absolute state of pandemonium that Dipper returned to as he burst back into the mansion, breathless and soaking wet from the ongoing thunderstorm outside. He stopped immediately within the doorframe however upon taking in the disaster before him, with undead animals and marauding mutants running amok amidst the myriad of already petrified party guests. Dipper didn’t get much of a chance to analyze the situation however before a nearby Gem mutant lunged at him, prompting him to act on instinct in drawing his sword and stabbing it cleanly through right before it could reach him. However, there was little his blade could do to help the poor soul who was inching across the floor, his body already half wooden as he desperately tried to escape his fate. “P-please, help me!” the guest cried before the inevitable happened, entrapping him in an immovable, unaware wooden form.

“Whoa! That is messed up!” Dipper exclaimed in apt shock upon witnessing something so horrific, though the ghost was quick to divert his attention as he let out a rather fitting proclamation.

“Just one way to change your fate!” the specter shouted amidst turning even more terrified guests into wood. “A Northwest must open the party gates!”

“A Northwest?” Dipper gasped, realizing that this situation wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. “Pacifica!” Knowing that there really wasn’t any other viable option for quelling the ghost’s intense, deadly fury, Dipper took off, cutting through any Gem mutant in his path as he went in search of the heiress, hoping that despite her earlier deceptiveness and dishonesty, she could still turn the tide in this mess once and for all.

At the same time, Steven, Connie, and Priyanka hung back a bit from the ballroom, mostly to avoid being detected by the ghost more than anything else as most of the Gem mutants had already pressed their way past them. Still, all three of them were quite shaken by the chaos playing out before them, especially the doctor as she shook her head in frightened disbelief.

“And now there’s a ghost too?” she asked, dumbfounded. “You mean to tell me that you kids deal with deadly threats like these on a daily basis?!”

“Um… yeah, kinda,” Steven shrugged with an awkward smile, hoping the truth wouldn’t set the doctor off even more.

“But like I said, we know how to handle it!” Connie argued brazenly. “We have experience, we can stop all this and save everyone, I know we can! I just need you to let us do that!”

Priyanka didn’t answer, instead peaking out into the tumultuous ballroom and then back to her daughter, clearly unable to make a choice about what to do or what to say. “C-Connie, I… I don’t…” she trailed off, true concern and fear in her eyes as she met her daughter’s still quite adamant expression. And while Connie was somewhat surprised by her mother’s near-allowance, she knew that she couldn’t afford to wait for it any longer.

“Ugh, there’s no time for this!” she groaned, finally doing what she had wanted to do from the very beginning. In a move to quick for Priyanka to stop her, Connie pulled Rose’s sword out of its sheath in her arms, gripping it tightly as Steven pushed the bubble forward into the ballroom proper, anticipating the fight that was about to commence.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Connie, who had already taken up an offensive pose as Gem mutants started crowding around them.

“Drop the bubble,” Connie nodded readily as Steven did just that.

With their only line of defense gone, Steven and Connie both leapt into action, the latter lashing out first to the mutant that tried to jump at Priyanka, only for her blade to end up slicing cleanly through it. At the same time, the young Gem beat a handful of smaller mutants back, but as he nodded to Connie once more, they both prepared for a maneuver that they had only ever practiced before, but finally felt ready to put to use in a real fight. With deft precision, Connie leapt to Steven, using his shield as a boost to gain the proper height to land a brutal finishing blow on a taller mutant, poofing it instant. Priyanka could only stand by and watch in dumbfounded awe as her daughter, usually so intellectually minded and well-mannered, sliced her way through these savage creatures with a kind of skill that was far beyond anything she had been expecting. Still, with the majority of mutants having taken to the ballroom, Steven and Connie knew they had no time to rest on their laurels as the danger running rampant throughout the party was still quite high.

“Steven, let’s split up to take care of the rest,” Connie ordered, stilling gripping Rose’s sword tightly. “Then maybe we can try to figure out some way to get rid of that ghost and free all those people.”

“Right!” Steven nodded affirmatively, his shield still positioned on his arm as he prepared to follow Connie out into the fray.

“Mom, stay here and don’t let that ghost see you,” Connie continued, her tone just as authoritative as she turned to her mother. “Steven and I have this covered.”

“C-Connie, wait!” Priyanka exclaimed, stopping her daughter by grabbing her shoulder. Connie shot her a rather upset glance at this, fully expecting her mother to try and restrain her and hold her back, just like she always did. But instead, she did something entirely different. “Be careful,” she urged, pulling her daughter into a loose, caring, but rather solemn embrace.

“…I will be,” Connie promised, letting out a small, somewhat remorseful sigh before the hug broke apart. “Now come on, Steven. We have a party to save.”

Seeing as how Pacifica had been nowhere to be found amidst the unfurling chaos of the ballroom itself, Dipper had no choice but to rush through the mansion’s halls in search of her, knowing that he had not a moment to waste. Fortunately, his search didn’t have to go on for too long as he happened to take a quick peek in the hidden room they had first captured the ghost in, only to find the heiress sitting there alone in the dark, knees pulled to her chest and her head bowed low in apparent shame.

“Pacifica!” Dipper exclaimed, rushing over to her, even despite that fact that she seemed to pay his entrance no mind whatsoever, even as he leaned down right next to her. “I’m so glad I found you! The ghost is back and he’s turning everyone to wood and he just started rhyming for some reason? B-but anyway, I need your help!” he urged, grabbing her wrist in an attempt to pull her up but she was quick to bitterly pull it away. “Pacifica?”

“You wanna know why this room was locked up?” Pacifica began, still averting his gaze as she coldly nodded up to the set of paintings sitting a few feet away from them. Paintings which depicted Northwests of the past taking part in deceptive, duplicitous, downright dastardly acts across history. “This is what I found in here. A painted record of every horrible thing my family’s ever done. Lying, cheating… and then there’s me. I lied to you just because I’m too scared to talk back to my stupid parents!” In a fit of apt rage, the heiress took off her expensive earrings, tossing them disdainfully towards another painting of her own parents before letting out a sigh of defeat. “You were right about me… I really am just another link in the world’s worst chain…”

Dipper took pause at this, unsure of really how to respond to the heiress’s palpable, genuine guilt. Immediately, he couldn’t help but regret his former harshness towards her, especially now that he knew she had only been following her parents’ rigid orders in tricking him. And yet, instead of offering an apology right away, he ended up going with a different tangent instead. “Well… you don’t have to be...”

“Huh?” Pacifica finally glanced over at him, confused.

“Just because you’re your parent’s daughter, doesn’t mean you have to be like them,” Dipper clarified, offering her a small, encouraging smile. “You don’t have to keep this terrible chain going; you can choose to break it, you can choose to be better than them!”

“Heh, you make it sound so easy…” Pacifica said with a bitter laugh. “And for someone like you, I guess it probably would be. You don’t have your parents standing over you almost every second of the day with some stupid bell, drilling it into your head that you have to be perfect, that you have to uphold the family reputation, that you have to be just like them otherwise you won’t ever be worth anything to anyone!”

By now, the heiress’ usual composure had completely crumbled as she let out a tight sob, with tears that she quickly tried to wipe away only for more to end up following it. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she felt doomed, doomed to repeat the treachery of her ancestors, doomed to keep this cycle of corruption going, doomed to be just another lying, cheating, heartless Northwest. It was a line of thinking that she had once been proud of, a legacy that she had willingly wanted to uphold. But now, it felt suffocating, agonizing even, as though it was pulling her down into a darkness she wanted no parts in, but would inevitably end up drowning in, no matter how hard she tried to resist it.

And yet… maybe she wouldn’t.

For as she felt herself slipping deeper into the darkness of this despair and awful repetition, an unexpected hand suddenly took hers, somehow steadying her and pulling her up out of that darkness by its mere contact alone. Pacifica drew in a small, tearful breath as she glanced up at Dipper, his expression sincere and sympathetic as he kept his firm, yet gentle grip on her hand all the while.

“Pacifica…” he began, his tone solemn yet steady. “You don’t actually believe any of that, do you?”

“I-I… I don’t know…” she shook her head truthfully, knowing that it was all she had ever been taught by her parents. Then again, it could have all just as easily been yet another lie, another fabrication to add on to the countless others her family was so infamous for. “I… I don’t… want to, I just… I guess… I just want to feel… free for a change…” Like you, she wanted to add, knowing that Dipper was perhaps one of the most unfettered people she had ever met. He could do what he wanted, say what he wanted, all without the fear or worry of anyone telling him that he couldn’t, that he had to conform to some strictly set standard that stood against everything he believed in. It was a bold, foreign concept to Pacifica, one that fascinated her to no end and made her wonder what it would be like if she was granted that much open, endless, liberating freedom herself. Freedom that she had only ever gotten close to as a result of being close to him.

“Well… then that’s up to you,” Dipper said, still smiling kindly to her. “Like I said, you don’t have to be what your parents say, especially if they’re trying to train you to be just as horrible as they are, no offense.”

“Believe me, none taken,” Pacifica remarked, unable to hold back a brief, sardonic laugh at this.

“But still,” Dipper continued, letting go of her hand, though he still kept his other one positioned on her shoulder, something that she couldn’t help but smile about. After all, it was probably among the most genuine physical affection she had gotten from anyone really, including her own parents. “You can way more than they want you to be. Heck, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve already proved that by just realizing that what your family’s doing is wrong. I’m sorry about what I said earlier, but… I do mean it when I say I think you can be someone better. It’s not too late.”

“It’s too late!” the ghost’s triumphant shout could be heard all the way from the ballroom, startling the pair out of their tender moment as they hurried out to see what was going on. The alarming sight before them elicited a horrified gasp from them both as the entire ballroom had been overtaken, either by unruly, encroaching plants or still meandering Gem mutants, all spread out around the multitude of now wooden, immovable party guests with no single survivor seeming to remain. “You’re all wood!” the ghost proclaimed with a victorious laugh from his spot at the top of the stairs overlooking the ballroom, which is vengeance had completely claimed.

For a moment, all Dipper and Pacifica could do was look over this horrific scene in apt terror as they tried to spot anyone still living and free amidst the apparent forest of wooden statues. But there seemed to be no one left, for Steven and Connie were nowhere to be found, and the Gems, Candy, Grenda, even Mabel had all fallen victim to the lumberjack’s petrifying curse. Which, of course, was something that Dipper refused to let stand as he swiftly drew his sword, determined to finally put this violent specter in his place once and for all.

“Dipper, wait!” Pacifica shouted, failing to hold him back as he rushed out brazenly, taking up a stance of opposition not too far away from the ghost itself, much to the heiress’ apt alarm.

“Alright, ghost,” Dipper began boldly, grabbing a discarded silver platter with the hopes of trapping the ghost inside of it. “Prepare to get-” He was abruptly cut off as the ghost blasted both the platter and his sword out of his hands, showing that the spirit had no patience to even trade barbs with the boy who had trapped him in the first place. “No, wait!” Dipper exclaimed in sudden fear as the ghost remorselessly hit him with his inescapable curse. The effect was immediate, working from the ground up as it all too quickly turned his flesh into hallow, unfeeling wood, much to his apt panic. “N-no! No, stop! Someone, help!” he cried desperately, crippled by a hauntingly familiar sensation of rapidly losing all his senses entirely as his chest became nothing more than frozen bark before it spread up his arms and finally to his face. “Help, please!” His final, agonized plea hung onto the air as an echo as he finally froze, completely turned to wood and stuff in an eternal pose of stricken terror as he reached for help that would likely never come.

All Pacifica could do as she witnessed all this was let out a sharp gasp of both shock and anguish, unexplainable tears welling up in her eyes as she watched Dipper succumb to the threat that her family was solely responsible for. One of the few people who had managed to inspire her, to encourage her to move beyond her family’s harsh standards, who showed her genuine warmth and kindness that hadn’t been bought but rather earned, was now nothing more than a wooden husk and she knew it was all thanks to her. Which was why she had to do something. She couldn’t just walk away and leave Dipper, and really every other innocent person in the mansion, to such a grisly fate. She had to stand up, to right the wrongs of her family’s past, to truly be someone better than any of her predecessors had been, including her own parents.

She had to open the gates.

And yet… she couldn’t. As much as she wanted to, she knew well what would happen if she even tried. Her parents would never forgive her, in all honesty, they’d probably punish her more than she could possibly imagine. They didn’t take disobedience kindly, especially when it came to massive matters like this. Seeing as how she couldn’t find them amidst the crowd of statufied guests, she knew that they’d find out about her blatant defiance somehow, they just would. And then, any shred of empirical freedom she thought she had would disappear completely; any hope she might have had to become a better person, to improve herself and rise above her family name, would vanish entirely. She’d be trapped, just like she always was, in that cycle of lies and greed and selfishness that had poisoned the Northwest name for decades.

And the possibility of that happening was something she desperately didn’t want to risk.

So instead, Pacifica let fear take over as she took a step back into the shadows, out of the ghost’s range, away from the disaster she could so easily solve with just the pull of a lever. However, she failed to see one of the few other survivors rushing along the edges of the hall, trying to take out the remaining Gem mutants while remaining out of the ghost’s sight, until they happened to haphazardly crash right into each other.

“Ugh, Pacifica!” Connie snapped, pulling away from the heiress with a cold scowl. “Get out of my way! I have to—wait a second,” she stopped short, lowering her sword somewhat as concern filled her expression. “W-where’s Dipper? Wasn’t he with you earlier?”

“H-he was…” Pacifica glanced down guiltily, trying her best to hold back her returning tears. “But… but he… t-the ghost… I wasn’t able to-”

Connie cut her off with a sharp, startled gasp as she glanced out into the ballroom, instantly spotting Dipper’s now wooden form near the center of the hall. “Dipper!” she exclaimed, aptly distraught as she turned back to Pacifica, clearly livid. “What happened?!”

“H-he just… ran out there! I wanted to stop him, but I-”

“Oh yeah, sure you did,” Connie deadpanned harshly. “Like I’m gonna stand here and believe that you actually even thought about sticking your neck out for someone else. Heck, I bet the only reason you’re so torn up about what happened to Dipper is because you lost your only ghost hunter, right?”

“Augh, you don’t know anything do you?!” Pacifica retorted just as fiercely, her gloved hands clenched in tight fists at her sides. “You think the only person I care about is myself, but you’re wrong! Believe me, I’d love to just run out there and open the gates so that ghost would set everyone free, but I can’t! Because if I did, then my parents would… t-they’d…”

“They’d… what?” Connie asked, her glare softening somewhat as she noticed just how visibly anxious Pacifica seemed to be.

“Forget it,” the heiress said dismissively, wrapping her arms around herself as she glanced out towards the ballroom sadly. “You wouldn’t understand…”

“…Somehow, I think I would…” Connie admitted with a hesitant sigh, looking to the hallway she knew her mother was still hiding in. “My mom is… pretty strict. She didn’t even know about my sword fighting training until tonight and when she found out about it, she refused to let me fight, even against all these Gem mutants running around. But… I knew a still had to fight, that I was one of the only ones with any hope of stopping all this, and so I am.”

“E-even though your mom said no?” Pacifica asked, rather amazed by such a concept as blatantly going against parental orders with no apparent regret.

“Even though my mom said no,” Connie confirmed with a nod, pausing for a moment as she looked to the rather conflicted heiress with newfound pity. Perhaps, despite what she had been led to believe, Pacifica wasn’t really spoiled or cruel from her own choosing; maybe that was just how her parents had raised her, had forced her to be. And as someone who knew all too well just how heavy a burden trying to live up to parental standards was, maybe, Connie realized, the two of them weren’t so different after all. “I think I realized that… sometimes my parents aren’t always right. And when they’re not, that’s when I have to just… figure things out for my own, you know? And maybe… maybe that’s something you need to try for yourself, Pacifica.”

The heiress said nothing in response to this, her brow furrowed as she kept her sights on Dipper afar in the distance more than anything else. Connie raised an eyebrow upon seeing this, surprising something of an incredulous smile as she realized what was going on here, though she said nothing about it at the moment. “I gotta go find Steven,” she said, repositioning her grip on Rose’s sword as she hurried off. “Try to make the right choice, ok?”

Pacifica took in a deep breath, steadying herself as she slowly nodded, even after Connie had left. “Ok,” she whispered, resolve to do this, determined to save them all, to save him.

Whether her parents liked it or not.

“A forest of death,” the ghost concluded grimly, still presiding in his spot above the ballroom. “A lesson learned, and now the Northwest Manor will BURN!” The specter erupted into vengeful laughter as flames rose up from him, igniting the large portrait of the Northwest family hanging from the nearby wall first, though it quickly began to spread, more than ready to burn everything, and everyone, in the mansion to ashes in minutes.

Or at least it would have.

“Hey, ugly! Over here!” Pacifica shouted as she emerged from hiding, figuring now was as good a time as any to put an end to all this. She stood before the ghost boldly, unfettered by the powerful, hateful spirit as she stepped towards the lever that would open the mansion’s outer gates. “You want me to let in the townsfolk? Cause I’ll do it! Just change everyone back!”

“You wish to prove yourself?” the ghost asked challengingly. “Then pull that lever and open the grand gate to the town! Fulfill your ancestors’ promise and right this wrong once and for all!”

Pacifica was prepared to do just that, her expression hardened as she began reaching for the nearby lever. However, her hand froze right before she could grab it as an underground hatch leading down to the panic room opened up a few feet away, her father, mother, and one of their countless butlers anxiously peeking out of it. “Pacifica Elise Northwest! Stop this instant!” Preston exclaimed in a harsh, incredibly disapproving whisper. “We can’t let the town see us like this! We have a reputation to uphold!”

“A reputation?” Pacifica looked to him, appalled. “Our entire mansion’s about to go up in flames and a bunch of innocent people right along with it and you’re worried about our reputation?!”

“Well, of course I am!” Preston scowled adamantly. “And you should be too, young lady! Our family is built off of power and position, we can��t have common nobodies off the street running rampant in our mansion! Now come into the panic room. There’s enough mini-sandwiches and oxygen to last you, me, and a butler a full week.” At this, he quickly dropped his voice down to a whisper so the nearby servant couldn’t hear him. “We’ll eat the butler.”

“You’re wrong!” the heiress snapped, her former fear of standing against her parents quickly fading as she realized just how many self-serving lies she had been fed her entire life. Lies that she refused to eagerly buy into any longer. “The only things our family was built off of are cheating and dishonesty! I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to learn that, but I have! And its about time everyone else did too!”

“You dare disobey us?” Preston scoffed in disbelief. “Where did this shamefully disrespectful attitude of yours come fro—oh wait, I know…” The billionaire’s tone turned disdainful as he shot a glance towards the center of the ballroom, where Dipper’s wooden remains stood. “It was that foolish Pines boy, wasn’t it? He was the one who inspired you to start thinking like a no-account vagrant instead of the elite young lady of status that you truly are! Well, worry not,” he said, pulling the bell that Pacifica had come to dread and loathe so much out of his suit pocket. “I know of the perfect to fix that…”

Pacifica flinched, pulling her hand away from the lever on instinct upon hearing the bell’s clarion ring, a ring that seemed to echo throughout her entire childhood and always carried one, singular order: behave. A ring that had groomed her into what her parents wanted her to be: submissive, unquestioning, accepting of all the atrocities the Northwests were responsible for in the past and were still committing even now. A ring that she hated, with every fiber of her being, but she knew better than to resist it.

Until now.

Because now, that ring wasn’t her master any longer. It couldn’t be. She remembered the advice both Dipper and Connie had given her, advice that mixed together inside her mind that she could be more, that she could do the right thing even when her own family never had, that she could change.

That she could be free.

And no matter what the cost might be, that freedom was something she was finally ready to take.

“Dingly, dingly!” Preston growled, ringing the bell harder as he noticed Pacifica was paying it no mind and reaching for the lever once more. “Is this bell broken?”

“Our family name is broken!” Pacifica proclaimed, slamming her foot down as she finally grabbed the lever. “And I’m gonna fix it!”

Putting every last ounce of reservation and fear behind her, the heiress pulled the lever down hard, at long last finally opening the gates up to the common townsfolk outside. The people of Gravity Falls gasped in amazement at this unexpected turn of events, but of course, none of them hesitated to rush forward, delighted to be allotted inside the legendary Northwest Fest for the very first time ever.

“Yes! Yes, its happening!” the ghost happily cried as the townsfolk excitedly ran up the hill to get to the mansion itself. “My heart, once as hard as oak, now grows soft, like more of a… birch or something.”

As a result of the ghost’s satisfaction, his curse upon the mansion quickly faded away, the taxidermized animals becoming still and unmoving as the wild plants disappeared back into the ground they had emerged from. At the same time, all of the petrified party guests seamlessly and painlessly were returned to normal, from the wealthy dignitaries, to the Gems, and to Dipper, who let out a sharp gasp as he returned to normal, rather startled by this shift as he happened to glance across the hall over at Pacifica. The heiress remained where she was by the lever, but even so, the huge smile of warm relief she sent him was undeniable, knowing that to see him alive and well again made all of her struggling against her parents more than worth it.

“Pacifica,” the ghost addressed her, briefly diverting her gaze away from Dipper right as he returned her smile. “You are not like other Northwests and for that, you should be proud. I feel… lumber justice…” And with these final words of contentment relayed, the specter finally disappeared from the mortal plane, leaving only his axe behind as it slammed into the ground, the only remaining physical sign of the devastation he had wrought.

Of course, almost as soon as the ghost had vanished, the multitude of townsfolk reached the manor, flooding in through the front doors in a flurry of chaos and excitement. They had no mind for manners whatsoever as they ran about, indulging on buffet tables, leaping into cider fountains, and laying their hands on whatever expensive knick-knacks they could find. Still, their arrival had added an undeniable and much-needed element of reckless fun and freedom to the party, one that absolutely appalled Preston and Priscilla as they stood by, helpless to stop what their daughter had so brazenly done.

“Good lord, the riffraff! Its everywhere!” the billionaire cried, aghast at the state of his once pristine party as he ran about, trying and completely failing to reclaim some sense of class and order.

At the same time, the Gems, upon recovering from their formerly petrified states, were quick to see the wild debauchery going on all around them, something that aptly confused them, given how they knew Northwest parties to usually be.

“What’s going on here?” Pearl asked, her spear dissipating as she watched Manly Dan toss a keg of cider across the hall.

“I dunno, but this is my kinda party!” Amethyst cheered, laughing as a few of the town’s teens rode an empty platter down the nearby stairs.

“Looks like everyone else has followed our lead,” Garnet remarked with a wry smirk, placing hands on both of her teammates’ shoulders. “You know what that means.”

“Woo! Time to bust it up!” the purple Gem rowdily whooped, rushing forward unrestrained.

“N-now Amethyst, let’s try not to bust things up too much!” Pearl warned as she began to run after her, though she quickly stopped with an incredulous scoff. “Wait, what am I saying? This is the Northwests’ mansion we’re talking about here! Let’s bust it up to our hearts’ content!”

“Now you got it,” Garnet nodded in amused approval, joining her teammates as they gladly leapt into the ongoing chaos and fun all around them.

Meanwhile, Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all in the midst of recovering from their own bouts as wooden statues, though none of them knew much about what had really occurred. Still, as soon as they had properly gathered their bearings, Grenda was quick to turn on the pair, sending them a disapproving scowl as she addressed them.

“Ahem,” she began somewhat coldly. “Don’t you two have something you’d like to say?”

“…Grenda, we are so sorry,” Candy relented remorsefully.

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have left you behind,” Mabel added just as empathetically.

“It’s ok,” Grenda conceded, her bitter manner quickly dropping upon noticing their sincerity. “Maybe I do need to work on my flirting. But for now, come on. Let’s go dip our heads in some cheese and chocolate. Friends?”

“Friends,” the other two girls happily agreed as they all joined together in a group hug. This moment of reconciliation soon came to an end however, for before they could make their way over to the fondue fountains, they were abruptly halted by a certain baron.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Marius called after them, approaching Grenda in particular with a fond, longing smile. “Grenda, was it? I must speak with you. There is something about you, I-I can’t get you out of my head! You’re so bold and confident! I know you are probably out of my league, but… might I give you mien phone number?”

“I don’t have a phone!” Grenda brightly exclaimed, elated by this offer. “Write it on my face!”

The baron proceeded to do so as Mabel and Candy watched on, neither of them having to pretend to be happy for their friend’s successful romantic catch. “Whoa-oh! Go Grenda!” Mabel exclaimed with a surprised grin.

“I guess we shouldn’t have sold her short,” Candy concluded. “I call bridesmaid!”

“What? I call co-bridesmaid!” Mabel countered before both of them shared a warm laugh. Despite their earlier scuffle, their friendship had been easily repaired, with all three of them knowing that no boy, no matter how cute or fancy, was worth damaging something so valuable to them all.

“Is that the last of them?” Connie asked Steven as he finished bubbling away what seemed to be the last of the Gem mutants. They had finished proofing and capturing them all around the same time the ghost had disappeared, which meant that now the party and its guests could truly be safe to enjoy the remainder of their evening.

“Yeah, I think so,” Steven nodded, offering her a small, congratulatory smile. Connie didn’t get much of a chance to return it, however, before her mother approached, her manner strangely anxious as she met her daughter’s somewhat unreadable gaze.

“C-Connie,” Priyanka began gently, looking between her daughter and the sword in her hand. “I… is this… really what you’ve been doing all summer? Training to fight these… things?”

“Yeah…” Connie nodded, glancing down guiltily. “Mom… I’m really sorry about lying to you. It started off as a tiny secret, and then it felt like I didn’t hide it, you wouldn’t let me see Steven or Dipper or Mabel ever again…”

“Is… is that how you feel?” Priyanka asked, her tone genuinely upset at the thought of unintentionally causing her daughter such worry and fear. “Are we too controlling?”

“…Maybe…” Connie admitted with a small shrug, deciding to be completely honest with her mother on this.

“I just… wanted to be a good mother,” the doctor said remorsefully, almost sadly even. “I-I just wanted to protect you.”

“But I can protect myself now!” Connie urged firmly. “You saw that I can! You just… need to start trusting that I can handle some things on my own.”

Priyanka sighed, a bittersweet smile crossing her face as she knelt down and placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You are growing up awfully fast, aren’t you?” she said, a hint of pride filling her tone. “Okay. We’ll pull back on the rules. And I’ll try to keep an open mind about this,” she nodded to the sword in Connie’s hand. “And that,” she looked towards the bubbled Gem Steven was sending off to the temple. “And… him…” She finished rather tightly, nodding to the somewhat confused young Gem himself.

“That’s… all I really want,” Connie said, finally smiling herself.

“I know, its just… it scares me that you can’t talk to me about all this!” Priyanka pressed with apt concern. “I need to know what’s happening in your life. I need to be able to step in when you’re in over your head. Would you just promise me that you’ll stop all the lying?”

“That’s a rule,” Connie nodded, resolved to meet her mother halfway in doing just that.

“I love you, honey,” Priyanka smiled as she pulled her daughter into a warm, protective embrace.

“I love you too, Mom,” Connie retorted just as contentedly, more than happy to let her mother intervene if the need ever arose.

Steven wore a soft smile himself as he stood by, watching this heartwarming display. However, his grin did fade somewhat as he happened to glance down at Rose’s sword in his arms, particularly at his mother’s iconic symbol on its scabbard. He couldn’t help but wonder, as he watched Connie and her mother share such a tender, genuine moment, if he would have ever known a similar relationship with his own mother if she was still around. But as it stood, this was a gap he’d never truly have filled, a kind of protective, motherly love he’d never fully get to know. Or at least he thought.

For the young Gem was soon drawn out of his solemn thoughts as a familiar hand landed on his shoulder. Steven glanced up to meet Garnet’s gentle grin, followed by Pearl’s and Amethyst as they filled in beside her.

“Y-you guys!” he exclaimed in apt relief to see them unharmed. “You’re ok!”

“Of course we are!” Amethyst quipped, playfully elbowing him. “What, you really think we’re gonna let some undead lumber loser beat us down? Please, you know us better than that!”

“Are you enjoying the party, Steven?” Pearl asked, flustered changing the subject though she was still smiling down at her young ward nonetheless.

Steven paused, looking down at his mother’s sword one last time before smiling back up at his guardians. “You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

With the ghost gone and the heiress’ parents preoccupied, Dipper and Pacifica had found it rather easy to reunite and debrief from their harrowing experiences, both of them more than happy to watch the unfurling freedom of the newly-opened party all around them. “Man, if your family hates this, then they’re idiots,” Dipper remarked with a small laugh as several townsfolk ran by noisily but happily. “This is great!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Pacifica huffed, crossing her arms. “Next year, I’m sure they’re just gonna lock everyone out again.”

Dipper paused, briefly noticing that the heiress still seemed rather remiss after everything had happened. Fortunately though, he quickly thought of a sure-fire way to change her sour tune. “Hey, guess what we’re standing on.”

Pacifica glanced down, her face lighting up with a vindictive grin as she noticed their muddy shoes were planted firmly on a repeat of her parents’ favorite white rug. From that point, neither of them were really able to hold their laughter in as they freely tarnished the carpet, spilling food and punch onto it without any care in the world, all in a sign of defiance to the billionaire’s rigid, self-righteous rules.

“Hey, so, uh…” Pacifica began somewhat awkwardly as their laughter began to die down. “I just wanted to say… um… thanks, I guess, for what you said back there. In a way, I guess it kinda inspired me to finally stop listening to my parents’ self-entitled garbage and start listening to myself for a change. And I gotta admit, it… feels kind of… nice.”

“If anyone’s thanking anyone around here, I should be thanking you,” Dipper said just as warmly. “If it wasn’t for you, then I’d still be a boring old hunk of wood right now.”

“Yeah, that totally would have sucked,” Pacifica remarked with something of a flirtatious grin. “I couldn’t imagine you, of all people, being so stiff and boarding.”

Dipper couldn’t really hold in a burst of heavy laughter at this, something that only served to fluster the heiress even more than she already was. “What, did you come up with that one yourself?”

“Hey, at least I tried. It’s not like puns are really my strong suit.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Oh shut up,” Pacifica smirked, pushing him playfully as he continued laughing. “But seriously though, I should probably go and find someone to clean this mess up. I’ll be right back!”

Dipper waved her off with a fond smile that he was unable to chase away, even if he had wanted to. As catastrophic as this night had turned out to be, at the end of it all, it had all been worth it to form a true, genuine bond with Pacifica, who, as far as he was concerned, was so, so much kinder, braver, and better than he had ever thought her to be.

His contented musings on the heiress didn’t last too long, however, before a certain old hillbilly ran up, seemingly just as zany and excitable as ever. “Woo! Scoobity-doo!” McGucket exclaimed, hopping up and down in his usual wild way. “Hornswaggle m’goat knees!”

“Whoa, hey, McGucket!” Dipper greeted with a bright smile, happy to see the hillbilly out and about in the aftermath of recovering his memories. “How have you been? Are you—whoa!” he was succinctly cut off as McGucket suddenly pulled him aside, his kooky act falling to the wayside for a much more serious one as soon as they were out of everyone else’s earshot.

“Dipper! I’ve been lookin’ for ya!” the hillbilly began intently, his expression and tone both dire as he put his glasses on and pulled out the old laptop, which looked nowhere as bad off as it had been before. “I fixed the laptop and-”

“You fixed it?! Dipper interupted, his eyes wide with surprise at this news. He paused, however, forcing himself not to be too overwhelmed by it as he remembered exactly why he had strived so hard to unlock said laptop in the first place. “Y-you… you didn’t happen to find anything on there about how split Gem fusions up… did you?”

“Er, uh… no?” McGucket frowned, confused by such an odd question before he returned to the matter at hand. “B-but anyway, I’ve been doin’ calculations, and I think somethin’ terrible is comin’! The apocalypse! The end times!”

Dipper simply let out a disappointed sigh at this as he glanced to the laptop somewhat bitterly, knowing he had wasted and lost so much for something that wouldn’t have even been able to help Lapis in the first place. But given that his spirits were relatively high from the party, he didn’t particularly feel like lowering them at the moment to look into the hillbilly’s frantic warnings, which in and of themselves, might not really hold any weight at all. “You know what, McGucket? How about we talk about this stuff tomorrow?”

“But-” McGucket fretfully tried to protest, only for Dipper’s already waning attention to quickly be diverted.

“Dipper!” Pacifica called from the party proper, smiling brightly as she beckoned for him to join her.

“Be there in a second!” he called back to her before turning to the distraught hillbilly once more with a small smile and a shrug. “It’s a party. Let’s have some fun for once, huh?”

“N-no! Wait!” McGucket exclaimed, though his pleas were in vain as Dipper left, dangerously unaware of what he had just uncovered. The hillbilly quickly opened the laptop up, its screen blaring the words “Imminent threat” in bright, glaring red as a countdown steadily blinked upon it, showing that only less than 24 hours remained. “Oh, this is bad!” he shook his head nervously. “Something’s coming! Somethin’ big!”

The hillbilly continued to look over his worrisome findings, completely unaware of the tapestry behind him, one that seemed to almost foretell of the very danger he feared was soon to come: a burning landscape with suffering humans upon it, and a long triangular shape presiding over the chaos, its singular eye watching all.

“Hey,” Dipper greeted Pacifica blithely as he rejoined her near the makeshift ‘dance floor’ the townsfolk had set up at the center of the ballroom. “What’s up?”

“Uh… well…” the heiress blushed, anxiously averting his gaze. “I was just, um… Well… Oh, how do I put this…? I was thinking maybe… y-you and I could… you know…” Unable to spit it out, she instead nodded to the several pairs freely moving about the dance floor, biting her lip as she noted his initial confusion, followed by his dawning realization.

“What, you mean, dance?” he asked, looking back to her rather surprised.

“Y-Yeah, I mean, i-if you wanna…” she crossed her arms, feigning stoicism over the matter. “W-we don’t have to. I just thought it would be like, fun or something.”

“Oh, well, uh… I-I’m not really that much of a dancer,” he admitted, starting to become rather flustered himself in light of this offer.

“So? Neither are any of them,” she nodded back to the dance floor again, where the couples upon it were basically just spinning around in tandem without any rhyme or reason at all. All the same, he hesitated, his eyes wide and his cheeks just as red as hers as he met her awkward, apprehensive expression. “W-what? Are you embarrassed or something?”

“N-no!” he shook his head quickly. “Are you?”

“No!”

“W-well then, I guess we should…”

“Yeah…” she took in a deep breath, slowly taking the hand he shakily offered out to her, In truth, neither of them were exactly sure why there were so nervous, even as they emerged onto the open floor together. After all, they really had no reason to be; this was just going to be a loose, friendly, freeform dance. Nothing less, and nothing more.

And though it took a moment or two of mental preparation, they soon started to fall into this mindset themselves as they began to spin, hands intertwined as they rotated in wide, dizzying, almost chaotic circles. It didn’t take long for them to start laughing, their faces still somewhat red but this time it was a welcome warmth as they “danced” about, the ballroom around them and the multiple pairs of eyes curiously watching them soon forgotten just as much as their initial inhibitions were. As wild and unkempt as it was, there was no denying they were both having fun, enjoying each other’s company, something neither of them thought could never happen before this fateful night. Yet here they were, a highly-esteemed heiress with a tarnished family history and a middle-class boy only really known for his knowledge of the supernatural. An unusual pair, for sure, but that hardly mattered to either of them at that moment for as far as they were concerned, they were the same. Just two kids, spinning around an elegant ballroom, hands intertwined as they laughed together with freedom in their minds and happiness in their hearts.

Happiness that would someday become something that nothing, not the past, the present, or the future, would ever be able to destroy.

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meganelizabether · 7 years

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My top 10 TV shows of 2017, 9-4

9. Brooklyn Nine-Nine

This show has managed to stay flat-out funny, genuinely heartwarming, and important without being heavy-handed. Tackling police work with optimism, integrity and humor can’t be easy, but somehow, the writers manage it every season. Plus, Santiago and Peralta’s relationship is one of the most realistic and happy (i.e. best-written relationship ever eeee fangirling a little here) on television, past and present. While they didn’t make sense as a couple in season one, the writers’ smartly let Jake grow up, and showed how he enriched Amy’s life with his childish joy and unwavering love. Now, they just make sense, and it’s a beautifully simple and magically complex thing to behold (like all good relationships).

8. Glow

I’ve always had a deep loathing for professional wrestling, based entirely on early childhood exposure to its spray-tanned, greasy, ludicrous brand of hyper-masculinity. The people who watched it didn’t seem to think it was funny, which I found very confusing, and the bombastic violence never seemed remotely entertaining. Luckily, “Glow” matches its source material by allowing its characters to be big, bold and ridiculous in and out of the ring, while slowly and delightfully subverting types over the course of the season. The parts are juicy, the characters are messy, and the women are unabashedly themselves. It’s one of the purest things I watched all year, and I can’t wait to see where the next season ends up.

Also 8. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

One of (few) good things about 2017 was the diversity on television. Shows like Black-ish, Fresh off the Boat, The Mindy Project, Empire, Jane the Virgin and Insecure all got renewed, and as the year draws to a close, I can truthfully saw we’re living in a great age of television. Not only do we have a stunning variety of amazing shows, we have writers of color creating for actors of color, on shows produced by people of color. We have a spectrum of sexuality across all TV genres, written as main characters and not tokens or random friends who appear only on very special episodes. The diversity isn’t just on the surface anymore, and it shows. Some of the most original, important and entertaining stories on TV would never have existed if not for the diverse creators who finally got their feet in the door.

And yes, that is a preamble-apology of sorts for including a very, very white show like The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on a fairly short list. Sure, the main characters are Jewish, but so far, the show hasn’t developed a sense of otherness, or tackled any anti-Semitism surely hanging around in 1950s New York (I haven’t finished the season yet, so maybe it’s there?). The moment where Midge (literally) upstages an African American band feels extremely privileged and a bit cringe-worthy as well. Historically, the Palladinos have been pretty tone-deaf tackling, or completely ignoring, issues like race, LGBTQ issues and politics, and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

HOWEVER, the show is damn funny; the acting is great, the writing is crisp, the feminism is present and bourgeoning, and I’ll admit it... I’m a sucker for a period piece. It’s like Mad Men, but hilarious (and I do also have to admit that I miss Mad Men, for all its flaws). And we have not yet arrived at a time when I can say, stop with the funny women on TV already. There’s just too many of them. Why not some serious shows about serious women?

7. Dear White People

The movie this Netflix series’ is based on was funny and enjoyable, but it also felt pretty self-contained, so I wasn’t initially sure how this would play out over an entire season. However, Simien and his writing team totally blew me out of the water by taking the relatively broad character sketches from the movie and turning them into people who made me laugh, cry and cheer, episode after episode. Honestly, I can’t remember a show that made me feel so emotionally invested in 11 episodes. Despite losing the star power of Tessa Thompson, recasting Sam White turned out to be a boon for the show. Thompson’s iteration was heavily influenced by her trademark snarky, take-no-prisoners persona, but Logan Browning’s version highlights and deepens Sam’s inherent vulnerability and uncertainty. This adds nuance to her prickly, trigger-happy social activism, and underscores just how much this is an image of White’s own creation. Antoinnette Robinson as Coco was another standout for me--her performance was mesmerizing, beautiful and completely heart-rending. The moments she and Browning share crackle with energy, and it’s hard not to mourn the current state of their friendship. I’m rooting for them, guys, cuz I need more amazing female TV biffles in my life right now.

Other things I loved:

Marque Richardson as Reggie. He’s hot, he’s angry, and he’s got layers. Richardson does Emmy-worthy work during his run-in with campus police, and in portraying the devastating emotional fallout of the violent encounter. The back half of the season allows Reggie to move from player in a requisite love triangle to fully-formed character in his own right, and I’m looking forward to seeing more Reggie-centric episodes in the future.

John Patrick Amedori as Gabe. Ah yes, the token white boy... this could easily have been the most basic, nothing characterization, but no, not in the hands of these writers, and not with Amedori’s acting chops. Gabe is cheesy, a bit fumbling, and sometimes out of his depth, but he’s also big-hearted, brave and empathetic. It’s incredibly important that we understand and buy Sam’s attraction and deep connection, and also that his character stand up to her subconscious self-loathing, which the show deftly accomplishes.

“Dear White People” is a show that wears its heart on its sleeve, and that’s a great thing in this era of cynicism and bleakness (I’m not just talking about prestige TV). If you haven’t watched it yet, add it to your queue ASAP.

6. Master of None

This was a solid return for one of our chosen Millennial ambassadors--hilarious, awkward, expansively optimistic, and full of Ansari’s signature TRUTH. Artistically ambitious (the loving ode to Italian cinema in “The Thief”), unabashedly socially aware (Religion, First Date), and full of moments of tender vulnerability (Thanksgiving), the show proves time and again it’s as good as the hype. My only complaint: I’m not on board with Dev and Francesca. She’s cute, he’s cute, they have some cute moments... but I’m not really buying it. Maybe it’s risky to apply too much of the real world to this fictionalized version of Ansari’s life, but I can’t help but wonder if the ambiguity comes from his own failed relationships. Considering how much Ansar’s love life has played into his creative endeavors so far, it’s not that much of a stretch. Hopefully, he’ll continue to channel his life into stories that feel real, not imagined and artificial, even if that means no true love for Dev for a few more seasons.

5. The Good Place

This show never should have made it to network TV, but I’m thrilled it did. It’s a deliciously weird little anomaly, and I want MORE RIGHT NOW. I love Kristin Bell (Veronica Mars 4ever), which initially convinced me to give this pastel, candy-coated comedy a shot, but every actor is a total gem. The timing is impeccable, the pacing is ambitious, and the philosophy is... well, it’s interesting, integral, AND funny. How many shows can tackle the fundamental questions of human existence without breaking a sweat, while playing them for big, completely earned laughs? Not many, that’s for damn sure.

4. The Handmaid’s Tale

So yeah, I have concerns about the longevity of this show. As in, I’m not sure there should have been a second season. The last half of season one felt simultaneously too rushed and too drawn out, giving me pause about the writers’ ability to string Atwood’s material across 13 more episodes.

That said, the series deserves this spot on the merit of the first few episodes alone. TV this energetic, vital and fully-formed out of the gate is always worth celebrating, and Atwood’s decades-old vision of the future proved prescient and dangerously real. The show inextricably benefitted from 2017′s political zeitgeist, where white women felt the anxiety and panic most women of color have felt for... well, I guess for always.

This show is arresting and impossible to ignore. The actors, stripped of makeup, naturally lit, and filling the frames with pure, distilled emotions, suck you in and force you to feel what they feel. Sometimes (often), this is incredibly difficult, but others, it leads to feelings of euphoria and triumph. At it’s best, “The Handmaid’s Tale” is a perfect distillation of humanity, both its ugliness and its beauty. Here’s hoping the showrunners can pull off another season with equal grace and artistry.

Annnd I’ll be back before New Year’s with my top three shows of 2017 :-)

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pickupthepen · 5 years

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Little Demon

Hi there.

I want to tell you a story. A few years ago, back when I was consulting for 21st Century Fox, I found myself wandering in an airport market at LaGuardia, in search of my usual Diet Coke and, as always, perusing the book selection. As my eyes glazed over the occasional best sellers that were faced forward so shoppers could see the covers and make impulse choices on pretty colors and a couple of words printed in script typeface, my eyes locked on the name “Anne Lamott” on a little orange paperback. My mind clapped- “ha!” Not long before that, I was floating in her pool in Marin as she asked me how my relationship was going. She always had a handful of wonderfully eloquent words of wisdom to offer in moments like those, and I let her in on my heartache. I always forget what she does to afford a mission-style mansion and a gorgeous pool like that, and I’m always still a little surprised to see her name in bookstores. I wouldn’t say I’m a loyal fan of her work, but I bought the book- “Hallelujah Anyway”- and left it under a pillow in my NY boutique hotel room. That relationship ended, and I haven’t seen Anne in longer than I would like to admit.

Years later, this past weekend in particular, I sat in my neighborhood bookstore in a chair, staring down the Religion/Spirituality section. I may have been there for hours- I’m not sure. I read every book title, every back. I imprinted every cover into my mind’s eye. If you want to know the truth, I was hoping there’d be something there, something to take my mind off of what I was feeling, something that’d give me the secret to figuring out what I’m supposed to be doing with my hands and my heart, or some place to travel far away from this seat. Maybe my name would be up there one day after I find what is that I think I need. I’m always hoping that something as simple as a book can fix what feels broken, or maybe to find some way to keep what I fear losing. That’s why there are so many of these books to read, right?

But a question really worth asking myself, which I did, in fact, come around to asking- how many books would it take for me to get there? Could I find the right one, the key? How many “Hallelujahs Anyway” or hours floating in a pool with Anne is it going to take for me to figure it all out? What is “it”? How many books about travel, food and adventure will it take for me to have the courage to leave corporate life? How many tarot readings, meditation sessions, long conversations with friends, buddhist teachers, Tolle and Watts tapes, or “spiritual” instagram posts do I have to scroll through before I can be my authentic self, whatever the hell that means? How much studying will I have to do in order to feel the freedom of the wind blowing through my hair? Do you see what I mean?

Okay, take a step back.

I want to paint a picture of my morning. Let me tell you about a girl named Sally. We have a unique friendship- our circles never really overlap, but every once in a while, we stay up late together. We cook, we talk about who we’ve loved and what we’ve lost, the things we battle in our hearts, what it means to be women of dignity and grace in the workplace, and that not all is as it seems. On occasion, we play a game where we ask questions in rapid succession to see if we can tap into what our intuition knows to be true, and we laugh at our answers. This weekend I asked her, “Do you think I’m psychic?”, and she quickly replied, “Yes!” Sally and I have built our friendship upon the foundation of honesty, and no one really knows how deep our commitment to one another goes. I kind of like that you don’t get to see everything about who we are as two people whose paths have crossed- it’s for us. I will say that she is an irreplaceable part of my life, that I’ve walked the beach in her hometown under a moonlit sky, and that I adore her mother. I’ve looked out at the stars above the San Francisco skyline from the windows of her Castro lair. I’ve heard her cry. She’s heard me cry. She’s my friend- a very important one.

This morning, after having cursed Anne for writing books that never fixed me, and that I never even gave a chance, I opened Instagram and one of her posts was at the top.

“What if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written, or you didn’t go swimming in those warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you have a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.” -Anne Lamott

Trust me, I immediately realized the irony of having condemned Instagram to be a worthless wasteland with no real influence or value and to have my morning turned around by Anne’s post of text on a purple background (she’s a writer, not a designer). I thought about how Anne, although so far from me in this moment, was so close. She whispered to me, not knowing that I’d read what she had written, another one of her eloquent words of wisdom. What I would give to go back to her pool that sunny afternoon and listen once more to her words. What did she tell me way back then? What was she trying to tell me? I remember her seeming a bit ambivalent, as if my relationship wasn’t what I really needed to examine. I can almost see her watch me miss the point, thinking “this girl will understand one day, but not today.”

I thought, “I should tell Sally about this.” I thought of all those daydreams that I carry with me when I walk around the city, and I wrote them to her in a list. I told her about how I did want to learn how to land that big jump at Breckinridge, even though I never have. I told her about my daydreams of sitting on Edmond’s sailboat with him in the Aegean Sea, eating and singing together. I mentioned learning a new language, not to be a pretty girl who speaks in pretty tongues, but because I love learning, I find language fascinating (obviously), and fuck y’all, I want to! I told her about how I want to write a book, but every time the thought of what you might think of me crosses my mind, I stop. I told her about my imaginations of a blues band with my father- he’d play guitar, and I'd sing. I think about that a lot, but perhaps that’s the only daydream that can never come to life. I want to drive around the vast wastelands of Alaska, and sit under the stars. I want to climb mountains. I want to dance until I can’t walk with Allison in Berlin. I want to redesign a kitchen and prepare recipes in a workshop of my making. I want all of it.

Amidst my daydreams, pontifications over Anne’s words, and texts to Sally, I received a message from my best friend. She had slept through her final exam for an important class. Minutes later, another came through- she talked to her professor, she’s going to take the test tomorrow, so now she has more time to study and to sleep. Hah, opportunity. Her dad always says, “when the garbage truck comes by, fill it up!” Then, suddenly, it popped in my mind that I hadn’t checked my mail in weeks, and my heart sank. I jetted up, set the pile on my desk, and sorted through each envelope. I always fear having missed something- I normally keep a watchful eye over my finances and commitments, but sometimes things slip through. I thought about my best friend and how I could channel her experience from this morning in embracing failure, and if there were some error that I had fallen blind to, I could fix it. But, I found no such ominous piece of mail in that pile, only a couple fliers, a beautifully designed AirBnB magazine, and a postcard with an image of ice and a man in a red jacket that read-

“Hello from afar, you little demon. It’s cold and absolutely beautiful here, may it give you some inspiration, because all I can say to you is to live your life for you, to the fullest, and joyously each and every day. Until March, from Antarctica.

-Edmond”

Life’s gorgeous gems always have a magical way of landing where they began, don’t they? I seem to have a magical way of finding great joy in being wrong. Maybe the universe wants me to see that not every moment is a triumph over an obstacle- sometimes I’m allowed to simply relish in happiness. What might I miss when I’m strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing? What might I miss when I obsess over answers, and perhaps more accurately, a way to change how I feel?

I began writing you this letter in a moment of fear. I was hoping to convey some sort of message that there aren’t any real answers to feeling better, to being better, to having better. I was hoping I could find melancholic and meaningful wisdom within my soul about the realities of life- I wanted to say that there are no secrets messages in books, that the words that I choose don’t really matter, that we have so very little in life that we can control, and only a bit that we really know. I thought I had a really good idea about there not being a way to untangle yourself from confusion and uncertainty, so you might as well give up and stop buying those god damned books. But Anne’s words have changed the way I look through my lens out at the world in a number of ways. My best friend’s words change my perspective (and make me laugh) every single day. Sally’s words inspire me, and bring me home. This morning, Edmond’s words reminded me of who I am, what I believe in, and where I want to go. There still isn’t much I have control over, but I have more choices in this life than I sometimes admit, and I often pretend that I am completely powerless for fear that if my life were in my own hands in any way, I’d fuck it up. That being said, I know that I always choose my words methodically and with intention, and with that, I have the power to be radically honest. I can tell you what I desire, what has broken me, and stories of my past that have shaped the woman that I am growing into. When I release these words, out unto the stars, the earth begins to shift.

So, as always in my letters for you, my dear friend, I will say something honest: Sometimes I’m fucking terrified of life. Uh, redact that- I am often terrified of life. I want every item on that list of daydreams that I sent Sally, but I fear what I might lose when I walk away from certainty and the things that I rely upon. I fear deeply that I will never be loved or understood- that is a fear that I know very well, and that I’m not alone in carrying with me. I’m scared that I might lose my whole life to complacency, to playing it safe. I’m terrified that I am going to wake up at 75 and I will never have told anyone that I was deeply, madly in love with them because I was so fearful that I didn’t deserve to hear it back. I’m scared that I will have forgotten how to dance with freedom and power, that I'll have never left the safety of carefully curated sentences, paid bills, aced exams, tennis opponents that I can easily beat, jobs that I know how to do without flexing my mind, practical homes, acceptable relationships, inexpensive sheets, reasonable methods of transportation, and a blog that no one fucking reads because I refuse to be vulnerable (ok I'm getting a little dramatic). I’m just saying- I’m scared of settling, whatever that means, and not having at least tried to leap for something higher.

I think about climbing- I’m scared of what will happen when I jump for the next hold on a bouldering problem that is just out of reach. I think, “when I hit the ground, will I be ok?” But what if I never leapt? Would I be able tell you about that second when I jump, how my stomach drops, my hand slaps the rock, and to my surprise I find myself hanging on, lifting myself to stand on top of that boulder? I wouldn’t even know how to begin to describe a moment like that, had I never experienced it, and that’s mine to keep. I also wouldn’t be able to tell you that I have missed those holds more often than I have landed them, and I’ve always been okay. That’s really worth saying.

If I never finished anything I started writing, would these words sit inside of me for the rest of eternity, would I lay to rest wishing someone had come here and finally felt as though they had a companion in grief, joy and downright lunacy? What if I played by the rules, and never wrote in a fucking curse word? What if I played by the rules? If I were never honest about what’s really inside of my heart, I wouldn’t have the friendships with Sally and Edmond that I do. If were never candid about having made friends with dishonesty, I wouldn’t have Caroline Godfrey. If I never told anyone about my love for women, I wouldn’t be able to tell my mother about how my heart sometimes hurts in romance, and to be held by her words of encouragement and love. I might have missed out on sharing myself with my own mother, and I might have missed out on hearing the hilarious words “that lesbian conference that you go to” come out of her mouth. If I hadn’t admitted to myself that I had become a prisoner of alcohol, I might not even have my life. Actually, I know for certain that I wouldn’t have my life, because every moment worth remembering came after the first time I muttered the words, “I’m Casey, and I'm an alcoholic.” I have a list of a million beautiful things which I have earned from honesty and trust in myself and others, but I will save them for another rainy day (it didn’t rain today but you know what I mean). To make this list complete: If I didn't know any of these lovely human beings, I wouldn’t have mornings like this morning, where everything seemed to make sense again, and I finally felt woven right back into our web of diamonds and silk.

I know I need to end somewhere, and I feel compelled to leave you with an idea. What if you did have some sort of control over how your life unfolds? What if Tolle isn’t exactly right when he says that you’re just being thrashed around by circumstance as the universe reveals itself as you, and that the only choice you have is to either wake up or stay asleep? I challenge you to consider that every move you make pushes your needle toward either courage or fear, freedom or complacency, love or isolation, inspiration or apathy. Every choice and every word matters, and you can choose. You can choose. And if you need a place to begin, you can start by taking a moment to ask yourself what is true for you, finding wonder in those with whom you share your life, and by going out into the world, because all of it is yours. If you don’t, like Anne said, it might break your heart. Leap, my darling friend, courageous human, and say something honest.

Best wishes.

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recentanimenews · 5 years

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Why Bayonetta and Vanquish Prove PlatinumGames Are the Best at Action Games

When PlatinumGames first appeared in 2009, gamers didn’t know what to expect, but we knew to expect something wild. Over 10 years out, that legacy continues to live on, as PlatinumGames has become one of the foundations of modern takes on quirky action games, with titles like Bayonetta, Vanquish, NieR: Automata and Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance standing out amongst their library of titles for being unapologetically frenzied and challenging. Building on many of the staff’s history with games such as Okami and Devil May Cry, it’s easy to see where the pedigree comes from, and for a time, PlatinumGames were the only people on the block willing to dip their toes into the single-player action adventure genre (can you believe that it was ALSO 10 years between Devil May Cry 4 and 5? Crazy!).

While PlatinumGames has continually pushed the envelope and explored newer takes on action games, Bayonetta and Vanquish remain memorable as two of their first major forays into the game market (with the Wii’s weirdo Mad World being the third, seemingly lost to time part of the founding trio of games). In time for the 10th anniversary of PlatinumGames' founding and the creation of Bayonetta and Vanquish, our friends at SEGA sent us an early copy of the dual re-release for the PS4, and it was an interesting trip down memory lane, warts and all.

Starting with Bayonetta, players find themselves again in the tall, tall shoes of the Umbral Witch herself on her first ever adventure. Something that stood out immediately in this version of Bayonetta is that the load times are essentially non-existent; I barely ever found the ability to use the loading screen practice menu at all, actually, which honestly surprised me. What this really did was create the fast, action-packed pace that Bayonetta seems to desire, allowing you to seamlessly attack chapter after chapter, challenge after challenge.

Visually, the game didn’t get much of an upgrade, but it did get a bit of a facelift, with 4k visuals and 60fps enhancements that really help the game “pop." Even on a regular PS4, though, it still looks and plays great with no slowdown to speak of. While the visuals look cleaner and sharper, the textures do show their age a bit, but generally the game looks and plays smooth, which is where the real focus of one’s attention is likely going to be; it’s probably easy to say that Bayonetta’s never looked as sharp as she does right now!

Control wise, Bayonetta still has that focus on timing-perfect dodges and combo-focused combat, both of which work well and that I generally had little trouble with. I actually found that some of the quick time events were a bit easier too, either because I’ve played the game so many times and just expect them now, or they’ve been retooled to be a little less sudden and game ruining. The camera is, well, still the same camera, and that has all of the frustrations of mid ‘00s era design choices one might expect.

Obviously, as an update and not a remake, that’s to be expected, but getting used to the fixed-angle perspective in Bayonetta after games like DMC5, Revengeance, or Automata certainly took a little readjustment. In the end, it isn’t a big deal at all, and I never felt like the camera was getting in the way of my succeeding or failing at a section of the game, just that occasionally I’d find myself in fairly inopportune views that I would work quickly to get out of (and, honestly, that first fight with Jeanne and the Witch Walking is still… probably one of the worst parts of the game, mostly due to camera issues). If anything, I found myself surprised at just how clean and snappy the controls of Bayonetta were on the PS4 version, and I started to remember that they were always like this; PlatinumGames has always known how to make great controlling action games, and Bayonetta feels fresh and easy to control in a way that makes it fairly timeless.

Other than that, though, this is basically the same game as it was in 2008; Bayonetta never got any form of DLC, so there isn’t really anything new here. If you’ve played and mastered the game before, you may want to keep that in mind; there are all new trophies to get, however, and as most Bayonetta fans know, the real fun of the game comes from mastering various difficulties and getting the coveted Pure Platinum trophies, so just look at this PS4 version as a brand new way to get your chance to do that all over again.

As far as a definitive version of Bayonetta is concerned, there are a few things I’d probably offer: this is probably the best looking and best running version of Bayonetta on the market right now, but… Bayonetta 2 and 3 are Nintendo exclusives, meaning if you want the full Bayonetta package, you may want to track down the Switch copy of Bayonetta 2 that comes with the first game, as well. Really, that’s depending on what you’re looking to get out of this game; if you want a gorgeous steelbook and 2 great games, this is a fantastic choice, but if you are looking to get into Bayonetta and play all of it, you may be better off directing your attention to the Switch copy of the game (depending on availability, anyway). Personally, I found myself getting sucked into trying to get my score juuuust a bit better, getting that trophy I didn’t get, trying to push myself against difficulties of a game I’ve played four times now, so, you know how it is!

Moving to Vanquish, I personally feel that this is the real star of this release. While Bayonetta achieved success in a cult classic way that’s helped it get 2 sequels, Vanquish feels like a bit of a forgotten gem of a game. When it was initially released, a lot of reviewers didn’t seem to know what to make of the game, with it’s seemingly short playtime being a fairly large complaint against it. Vanquish remains a bit of an odd bird, but with time comes wisdom, and many gamers may now appreciate the game for what it really is: one of the most frantic, score based shooting games ever made.

Vanquish is not a game that is going to win you over with a good story, developed characters, or really anything else other than what it presents you: tough as nails shooting galleries based around the slide/boost mechanic and limited bullet-time power. Ostensibly a game about a future in which military battles are fought in space, players take on the role of Sam and his DARPA created super-suit, giving him amazing reflexive abilities to zoom around battlefields, shooting guns in all sorts of crazy poses, and giving you one of the greatest set of “wow did you see how cool I was” gameplay segments possible, mixed with countless, countless deaths and retries.

For those who are new, Vanquish is indeed a game you can “beat” in maybe 5-6 hours, if you’re good, but that isn’t really the point of Vanquish. The point is to constantly get your score up, to get better at each gallery, to try new weapons and strategies while looking as stylish as possible. If Bayonetta and Devil May Cry were games in which melee combat was made to look stylish and crazy, Vanquish is the cover-shooter equivalent of that, and honestly it still feels fresh and exciting ten years later, as very few games present an experience remotely close to what Vanquish does.

Much like Bayonetta, Vanquish has almost no load times, making the blisteringly fast pace of the game even faster, and between the two titles, seems to have benefitted the most from the next-gen facelift; while cutscenes still look very early PS3, the in-game action looks and feels great, with no slowdown (other than the bullet time feature in the game), and really helps smooth out the crazy firefights going on all around. I’ll be honest: I wasn’t a huge fan of Vanquish when it originally came out, but this updated re-release won me over, making me appreciate a game I maybe didn’t give enough attention to, and hopefully now we’ll see even more fans give this hidden gem the appreciation it deserves on newer platforms.

For the price tag ($39.99 USD), the physical copy of both of these games is an amazing bargain, essentially $20~ per title with great new graphics and smoothed out load times and gameplay. Even if you’re considering getting them digitally, both games are great, but Vanquish feels like the real star here, a game that maybe most people didn’t give a fair look back in 2009 that would certainly deserve a second chance today. Personally, I’m curious to see what types of crazy combo vids and score based runs people are going to post, but in the meantime, I’ll be upping my own game. As I typed this, I got the PlatinumGames bug again, so it’s time to go work on my scores!

REVIEW ROUNDUP

+ Great package of 2 classic PS3-era games with new graphic updates.

+ Modern tech means lower load times, and both games play like a dream now.

+ Controls in both are smooth and responsive, and feel great.

+ The start of PlatinumGames' charm, these titles really do hold up to newer games still.

+/- That said, there isn’t really anything “new” here, so don’t buy in expecting new content.

Are you a PlatinumGames fan? Got any challenge-based stories from your time with their games? Let us know what you think of these two and more in the comments!

----

Nicole is a frequent wordsmith for Crunchyroll. Known for punching dudes in Yakuza games on her Twitch channel while professing her love for Majima. She also has a blog, Figuratively Speaking. Follow her on Twitter: @ellyberries

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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fictionchronicler-blog · 7 years

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Governess as Heroine

NOTE: Illustrations and gifs are not mine.

“May we read the selected works of Edgar Allan Poe please? I’ll be ever so good!”

“It’s 6pm. I get off at 8. Yeah. Mom and Dad will deal with the nightmares.”

It's a staple of Victorian life and nowadays a job title that implies magical shenanigans will follow—the governess. The 1851 England Census listed a whopping 25,000 women employed as governesses, women hired to teach the children of a household and see to their educational and moral needs, not to be confused with a nanny or nurse, who handled babies. One of the only ways a woman could support herself in Victorian times, real-life governesses are a regular who's who of famous people—Marie Curie, Mary Wollstonecraft, and all three Bronte sisters (Emily, Charlotte, and Anne).

Public schools and the ever-increasing demands of education have almost made the in-home governess obsolete, and yet stories still abound featuring a governess as the main character in every genre from horror to family musical. Why? I started thinking about this, and you know the face I make when the idea for a meta comes along.

The deranged hair, too.

So get ready for another history lesson that looks back at the position of the governess and the impact it has on pop culture.

Not Wanted: Plucky Heroine

Our image of a governess is probably a young woman, attractive, but not in a threatening or overly sexy way, teaching three or four precocious Victorian children in a cozy school room, bringing some whimsy into their otherwise repressed lives.

We know now that the Victorians weren't quite as stuffy as they presented themselves as (someday I will do a Top 11 Why Victorians Were Messed Up list), but they really liked acting like they had no more pressing obligations than letter-writing or, if they were feeling athletic, fox-hunting. I mean, these were people that hosted parties where unwrapping an honest-to-god mummy was the main event. They were not about hard labor in the slightest. Naturally, just as the lady of the house was not expected to do the cooking or the cleaning, she was not expected to take it upon herself to educate her own children. The family would therefore have to hire out, looking for an unmarried woman to educate the girls and the small boys (most boys went to a boarding school around 8).

Governess: You two! Go to the schoolroom and let your mother take her snuff in peace!

Mom: You’re hired!

How it would work is that mom and dad would put an advertisement in the newspaper to specialist employment agencies and girls schools. The governess would be expected to teach the three Rs of reading, writing, and arithmetic (and you have already failed as an applicant if you put “reading, riting, and rithmetic” on your application), as well as the “accomplishments,” which were the arts like foreign languages, painting (girls on watercolors only, oil's too manly), and the musical instruments of either the piano or the guitar because girls craning their necks or blowing into things is just a little too unseemly. They would also cover a little history and “use of globes” (what I am presuming is very rudimentary geography). A governess also had to set the moral example to the children since she would spend the most time with them. She had to share the same religious beliefs as the family, so hiring a Catholic governess in England at the time was pretty much out of the question. Also, it was an unwritten rule that you should hire a “plain” girl, lest the young men of the household become interested in slumming it.

“This sounds snooty. Why would anyone do this?”

Well, women didn't have a lot of choices in the early 19th century. The Napoleonic Wars had rendered Europe economically unstable, and that's just bad news for the middle class. A boy could quit school at 15 and go into a trade without upsetting the family since it was always assumed he could earn whatever they had spent on his education and his family didn't have to support him. A girl, though, could really only go into teaching or get married if she didn't want to be a burden to her parents. Since being a governess meant you lived in somebody else's house and ate food you didn't have to buy or prepare yourself, that was a lot better than taking a hit to your dignity and becoming a laundress.

If you met all these requirements, had nothing in your background that would make you seem to be anything less than a pillar of piety, and the family liked you, you would be hired on to teach their kids and follow their household's rules.

Sometimes that included going along with your Henry VIII delusions.

Constant OTJ Training

So now you're a governess, and you're going to learn pretty quickly that you're in for a lonely life with only rich people's kids for company. If you've ever watched the E! Entertainment Channel, you know where I'm going with this. Hint: you're not in for a lot of stimulating conversation and valid friendships.

Because most governesses came from middle class backgrounds in which they were educated, they were considered higher than most of the other service staff in the house. Cooks and maids were told to be deferential to the governesses, as well as the male equivalent, the tutor. And yet, you also weren't part of the family. You teach and entertain the kids all day long, but you don't get to sit down with them for dinner, for example.

“So who do you eat with?”

The mice in your school room, gentle reader. The mice in your school room. Depending on what genre of fiction you are in, you can make these mice your friends and sing to them about hoping for better days, or you can follow one up to the attic and find a dead body. Yes, the school room usually doubled as a sitting room for the governess, meaning that's where she was to hang out in the evenings after hours.

Naturally, this kind of lifestyle doesn't lend itself to forming relationships, at least not with adults.

“Couldn't you just invite the governess next door over for recess or something? Play date?”

Maybe, but if you were on a nice estate, the next-door neighbor was probably half a mile away or more, and if you are watching a lot of kids, you might need the carriage, which the dad has taken into town to talk with other dads about business and how silly ethnic people are while sipping brandy, so that's out. If the family had a party, you were not invited to attend since it was your job to keep the kids in line. Worst of all, even if the family was outwardly nice to you, you were being watched like a hawk.

Lady McHighpants: (offscreen) Sir McHighpants! Miss Drab is crying at the pianoforte because no one wanted to participate in music time! Shall I have the lash to whip her hands for displaying such vulgar emotions in public?

Sir McHighpants: (offscreen muttering) Business things, business things, business things...

Remember, sexual harassment awareness was not a thing, and you're in a very Madonna/Whore society where you need to live up to men's expectations of a woman being pure and saintly at all times. A book out there called Letters to a Young Governess instructed women on how to behave in order to keep their jobs and included this little gem:

“…if there are young men in the family where you reside, remember that your carriage will generally govern theirs; they will not presume, if you are discreet and unpretending.”

What this means is that if they made your life miserable, if they made personal remarks and you retaliated in any way, if they groped you, if they put you in a compromising position in any way, it was your fault. And if you were fired for this, you wouldn't get a job elsewhere because now you're a harlot. Anne Bronte entered the world of the governess in 1839 and eventually wrote an entire novel about her mistreatment in the field. Agnes Grey depicts children who torture animals, lie, steal, and are generally unruly. The parents blame the governess, of course, as she has not established control. On top of this is the wretched loneliness and lack of financial success. Anne Bronte ended up never being a governess anywhere longer than five or six weeks as a result. Things only got worse as she found a position for a male friend as a tutor who eventually had an affair with the lady of the house. That went about as well as you would think, and the poor guy became a drunk.

Original Stories From Real Life was a 1791 children's book by Mary Wollstonecraft about two girls and their fictional governess Mrs. Mason. It is rare in that it champions the role of the governess. Mary and Caroline, the two sisters, are orphaned and left to their governess, who slowly rids them of all their faults, the lesson being that proper education and care can create the balance between logic and emotions necessary for children to become rational, charitable adults. It's as dry as it sounds, but William Blake did the illustrations, if that helps.

Note this governess isn't the dark prude in the other paintings, but rather more like an angel, with her two devoted disciples on either side revering her.

“Sure they aren't just coveting that really sweet bonnet?”

I'm sure. Of course, this was 1791, though, and Mary Wollstonecraft was kind of a controversial figure, what with wanting women to be seen as equal to men and all. By the 1830s and on, governesses were painted in shadow, wearing drab, mournful clothing, and sort of being the buzzkill.

So it was a low-paying, tedious job that was mentally taxing and isolating, not to mention thankless.

When a governess' services were no longer required, she could stay on and be hired by one of the girls as a companion (read: ladies maid) or find another family. The loneliness of the job continued into middle age, however, due to most of the men a governess would come into contact with were of the upper class and wouldn't be interested in a woman considered beneath their class. So marrying out of the job was rare. Also, since it was low-paying and required a few moves, many were impoverished by the time they reached middle age, the Governesses Benevolent Institution set up in 1841 to at least ensure these women got a pension.

Jane Eyre and a Rather Angry Fantasy

Rochester: Is this what existence is, Jane?

Jane: That’s the dog, sir.

The most famous fictional governess may very well be Jane Eyre, the titular heroine of Charlotte Bronte's 1847 classic. Jane Eyre could be its own college course, so it will be a challenge for me to keep it concise and applicable to our topic. The basic plot is that Jane grows up in a school from hell and instills in her two conflicting longings for kinship and independence (she's a passionate, thoughtful type). Can she gain purpose and love without sacrificing her integrity and who she is at her core? Thornfield Hall may provide the answer as she becomes a governess to Edward Rochester's French ward Adele. Rochester is a little weird—okay, he's very weird—but he falls in love with Jane, she falls for him, and that's only about halfway through the book. I can't tell you the big twist or how it's resolved, but the whole thing is very Gothic and you've got disembodied voices on the moors, beds on fire, out-of-nowhere family members—the whole thing's an intellectual trip.

Okay, now, first of all, Jane Eyre received very mixed reviews from both men and women. Those who hated it despised the idea of Jane not fitting the mold of the Victorian heroine. Most heroines in the time period were completely self-sacrificing and passive, being the moral inspiration for the rest of their family members and basically being beautiful, sweet angels rather than characters. If your heroine was smart and capable, she was also most likely an old maid, like Marion in The Woman in White. If the heroine had any sexual side at all, she was presented as a tragic figure like Nancy in Oliver Twist or Tess in Tess of the D'Ubervilles.

Jane was a more well-rounded character, very headstrong and independent, a firm believer that women should not be forced into the domestic life; this is fitting since Charlotte Bronte hated being a governess. But Jane also craves companionship. She is “plain and little,” a stark contrast from the unbelievably beautiful heroines who would always wind up just a wife, usually to a man not worthy of her. Jane, however, wants an equal, someone who will love her for who she is rather than what society has prescribed them to view her as.

Rochester: I've been standing in this position for hours waiting for you to come by.

Jane: I work here. And live here.

Rochester: Ah, Jane. There's that wood sprite's wit I so love. (seriously, read the book. He says things like this)

From a governess' perspective, this is both a fantasy and also perhaps a cautionary tale. While Jane is happy at Thornfield Hall and rather lucky to have a friend in Mrs. Fairfax, a well-behaved kid in Adele, and an employer that, well, doesn't think she sucks, she feels something is missing. She and Rochester are intellectual equals, but her low income and inability to properly socialize with the other women who visit keeps her at a lower status. She has to actually ask for money to be able to travel to visit her own family (even though they're assholes and she's only going out of obligation), and, since she is reserved about this kind of thing, Rochester sort of one-ups her whenever he can to get some kind of rise out of her, to include dressing up like an old gypsy woman at his own party. If you're like me, that's when he stopped being fun and a few red flags went up. So while Jane has meaningful relationships, she knows deep down she still isn't being all she can be.

I say it's a fantasy also, because, well, remember what I said everyone was afraid governesses would do with the men in the house?

Reenactment

The idea of your male boss falling in love with you might be flattering, hot, and an easy way to worm your way into high society if he's a widower, but no one would turn a blind eye to this kind of thing. Marriage was big news, especially when it came to the upper crust. There would be no way a rich gentleman could marry a governess and not cause a scandal.

“It's not exactly smooth sailing in the book, what with uninvited guests and what's in the attic.”

Well, Jane also discovers that having only independence and moral superiority is no life for her, either, as it deprives her of love and passion. Between a rock and a hard place, am I right? If you hooked up with a man in the household, odds are he was just using you, would brag to his friends, his parents/wife would find out, and then you'd be kicked out with no references or nest egg for these rainy-day occasions.

Jane Eyre was written at a time when a lot of what was considered common knowledge was seriously being questioned. Were women really better suited for the domestic stuff because of biology? Could the bumps on your head really give insight to your inner character? Are crazy people actually sick and in need of help? And, should we really be treating our governesses like crap when they have already suffered so much?

“Being a Governess Sucks” Lit

As people began valuing education more, the role of the governess changed from Debbie Downer to just an unfortunate turn of events for your average young woman. Little Women, Emma, and Vanity Fair all have characters who either hate being a governess or hate the idea of needing to become one. The latter, in fact, is kind of a humorous take on every respectable aristocrat's worst nightmare of a bitch in governess' clothing swooping in and just taking over. Becky Sharp, you magnificent bastard! I've read your book!

In 1898, Henry James decided that the loneliness and potential powerlessness a governess could have would be an excellent fit for a different genre of literature—horror. “The Turn of the Screw” is one of the best novellas EVER and has been adapted into one of the best horror movies period, The Innocents. This governess doesn't even get a name, and we don't even get a full picture of what's going on since this is one of those frame stories where someone else is narrating to us what happened to someone else. Is this a case of an unreliable narrator? Is the governess cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs? Are the kids possessed? Are the kids just clever little shits? We don't know!

The story is that a governess has been hired to care for a man's nephew and niece, Miles and Flora, the former having just been expelled from school for talking to the other boys about some very inappropriate things. The governess learns that their former governess and the gardener had a relationship, were jerks, spent a lot of time with the kids, and are both dead. The kids start acting weirder, the governess starts acting paranoid, and I can't even tell you the strangest stuff because that would be giving away spoilers.

You ever watch an old movie and think the set would be the perfect haunted house? And then come to find out it actually MIGHT be a haunted house? Welcome to The Innocents, folks. Popcorn and adult diapers both strongly recommended.

The film version spells things out just a little bit more than the story, but it in no way gives the viewer a clear answer that explains what is happening, if this is a haunting, a possession, or people losing their minds. Either way, the governess (played by Deborah Kerr, who we will also talk about later) is in way over her head here. That's the thing. Somewhere along the line, men decided that two things were incredibly easy—house cleaning and child care, and if you've ever had to do either, you know how wrong that is. But no, from the Victorian period on, there have been slogans for newfangled appliances being “So easy a woman can do it,” moms doing chores in their pearls, and cartoon animals helping out with dishes and sewing. Somewhere along the line, someone decided that people who look after children can work long hours and be given only the thinnest shred of authority, and yet pay them very little for it. This woman has no resources. She has an illiterate servant who can give her back story, but that's about it, the uncle she was attracted to at the beginning won't answer her letters asking for advice, and there aren't that many neighbors around. And when kids decide they're not going to listen to you, they're not going to listen to you.

One has to wonder if the story would be a little more clear-cut if it wasn't a governess in the position. If it was someone with a job that usually inspired images of competence and intelligence, like a doctor, would we be more inclined to think the events were real and not just someone going crazy?

“Um no, Deborah Kerr was a little off her rocker before even showing up to the house.”

Very true. The ambiguity is tantalizingly frustrating, and the movie just adds so much atmosphere that it's impossible not to watch it while on the edge of your seat. I don't think I'm spoiling anything, but here is an image of her seeing one of the supposed ghosts:

The black and white doesn't diminish the terror at all. Look how ambiguous and shadowy that looks! And there is this really neat scene where Flora insists she doesn't see the woman all in black staring them down across a field...

“It's governess vs. governess!”

That's another thing to touch on. Miss Jessel, the deceased governess, is implied in a few places to have taken part in things with the kids present that kids really shouldn't be present for, if you get my drift. Was she as depraved in life as she's purported to have been? Or was this a lonely, desperate woman who either sought out companionship or was forced/manipulated into something? How much do the kids actually know? Because they talk and carry themselves like little adults, let me tell you. You will not find creepier kids who do so little to come across as creepy. Any other scary-movie child seems to be putting an effort into it whereas it just comes that naturally to these two.

So this is kind of a worst-case scenario for the life of a governess?

“She gets plagued by ghosts???”

No, she has children with issues that extend well outside her expertise, has no support system to help her cope with that or help the children at all, and ends up suffering the consequences of said issue worse than anyone else. If Anne Bronte had little psychopath kids in her care, then others did, too, and if the parents wouldn't do anything and you have no friends to help you, you have one of two choices—quit your job and start worrying about how you will eat, or put up with it until something really bad happens.

Weapons of Magic or Song (Sometimes Both!)

Into the 20th century, people valued education more than ever before and began respecting educators more for it, although female teachers were still seen as intellectually inferior to men since they only taught little kids while men were learned professors. Oh, add another thing to things men think are easy—house cleaning, child care, and teaching little kids the right way to hold a pencil.

There was a resurgence of the governess as a heroine in the late 40s that extended well into the 60s, a time when people wanted more conservative messages and clearly-defined heroes and villains in their stories, but also when people were challenging the establishment. Rodgers and Hammerstein were those people. Their musicals might have some whimsy to them, but they deal with some very real subject matter, like Carousel addressing domestic abuse and South Pacific dealing with racism.

In 1951, they adapted the memoirs of Anna Leonowens into their stage musical The King and I, which became a movie in 1956. The real Anna did indeed go to Siam (now Thailand) to teach King Monkut's 39 wives/concubines and 82 children, keeping a correspondence with Prince Chulalongkorn, the heir to the throne, well into his adult years. However, there probably wasn't as much sexual tension in real life, King Mongkut known to regard Anna as difficult to work with, and since he was known to be a laid-back, nice guy, most Thai people find Yul Brynner's eccentric, temperamental performance offensive.

Once again, this is kind of a fantasy playing out. Anna, in the story, gains some political clout, is yet another governess who has the head male of the household crushing on her, and miraculously gets 82 kids to not only sit still, but participate in musical numbers.

But on the other hand, The King and I deals with culture clash, sexism, and racism. Anna and the King engage in as much sexual tension-laden situations as Jane and Rochester, but his inner conflict with sticking to tradition vs. branching out makes it an impossible relationship. Anna herself is portrayed almost without flaws, the epitome of grace and mental/emotional resolve, very similar to Disney's Belle. The Asian characters, well, most are portrayed sympathetically and the King and the supporting players are three-dimensional characters, so that's pretty progressive for 1951. Again, though, this is kind of an angry fantasy as Anna is influential and gets to go on this amazing adventure, but the women who would ordinarily be her peers are her students, there is a ton of pressure on her as the only representative of Western thought and ideals (that is portrayed as superior in most productions), and she and the King can never really act on what's sizzling between them.

So is this what the life of a governess is, wherever she may go, always stuck in an odd place between progress and repression?

Rodgers and Hammerstein made a governess their main character again in 1959 with a little show of theirs called The Sound of Music, in which yet again a real-life governess' life is slightly fictionalized. Again, a woman is brought in to teach a brood of kids (“only” seven this time, though), clashes with the dad, and ends up a heroine in a oppressive society. It's a little more in-your-face than The King and I, which purposely kept things vague or only in subtext, when your governess is pitted against freakin' NAZIS.

Maria's more free-spirited answer to goose-stepping was doing the Charleston in floral-print

Maria is an interesting character mainly because she's a slightly more somber free spirit type. She could fit right in with Lucy Ricardo or in a Katharine Hepburn screwball comedy, but she has an intensely spiritual side and can be both well-spoken and passionate when sticking up for her beliefs. She can relate to the children so well because she too knows what it's like to feel you're not good enough when you're a vivacious, outgoing person in a restrictive society that demands you be something you're not, and it's this refusal to just shut up and color that attracts Captain von Trapp to her in the first place.

“Where's MY brooding, handsome single dad who will eventually come to learn life lessons from ME?”

Alas, it's a lot more common for women to inspire men morally in fiction than the other way around, and this does seem to be becoming a trope, doesn't it—the governess having a relationship with the dad. It doesn't seem to end well in real life (see Jude Law and a couple of other celebrities), but these movies rarely focus solely on how the governess impacts the children, and she NEVER influences the mother, if there even is one. It's always the dad, and maybe that's just because most of us are suckers for a good romance, but there has to be more to it than that.

Cuz so many single dads out there really dig the top-button, long-sleeved governess apparel. Rrooowr.

Captain von Trapp's back story is that he was a Navy man and a musician in his spare time, but when his wife died and left him with seven kids, he decided no music and more marching would be his parenting style. Maria, who by now has struck up a strong bond with the kids, chides him for not being emotionally available to his kids, and it's when he hears them sing—which she taught them to do—that he realizes she was right. Now, fortunately the musical doesn't drag this out for longer than it has to and the couple will soon have Nazis to worry about, but what is the fantasy here? Did governesses desire marriage, and, if so, did they desire a marriage to their employer?

There's really no way to find out, but I can see it both ways. On the one hand, marriage was a viable way to escape bad situations back in the day. It's similar to the Cinderella situation. You're trapped in a miserable life until a guy with the right resources volunteers to take you away from it. Cinderella doesn't want to go to that ball so badly just because of plot reasons; she's looking for a way out of her terrible family life and has run out of all other options. A governess didn't meet that many men, she didn't have many friends, and if the strongest relationships she formed were with the kids that she was already mothering a lot more than their biological mother was, maybe it's not too much of a leap to assume that, if the dad was single, he might marry her and make her lady of the house so she is doing the same job of nurturing the kids she already loves, but now with the added perks of financial security and adult companionship.

But, then again, I'm certain just as many of these bosses were jerks and there is no way in hell the governess would want anything to do with them. There is that cliché of liking the bad boy so you can be the one that changes him, but...

Governess: Mister Smith, young Master Winthrop had these matches in his pocket.

Mister Smith: Goodness gracious, Miss Governess! How dare you stifle and coddle this young explorer of mine! The other boys will think he's a sissy!

Governess: But what if he burns the house down, sir?

Mister Smith: Then you're fired!

Governess: Mister Smith, young Myrtle was dangling her undergarments in front of the boy next door, and I thought I should bring it to your attention.

Mister Smith: Have you not taught her basic decorum? What books are you giving her? Not too many, I hope! I'm sure she saw you do that. You're the only one she could have learned that from. Her mother hasn't shown me her undergarments for the last six years!

Governess: Mister Smith, I've received a letter from my sister that our mother is on her death bed, my father is now crippled, and the pig ate my brother's hand. Could I have a week's advance on my salary and five days off to see them?

Mister Smith: Good God, Miss Governess! You can't leave at a time like this! Winthrop is a little arsonist and Myrtle's one step away from becoming a whore! We need you!

You see where I'm going with this? I get when the bad boy at the playground pulls your pigtails because he likes you, but even very young governesses would be able to pick up on the fact that the dad just never has her back. There is that stereotype that women like guys who treat them badly, but, come on. If you work for an asshole, you know it.

Not that Captain von Trapp is an asshole. He opposes Nazis, is a veteran, seems to be a decent fellow once he loosens up a little, and led his kids across the Alps so they wouldn't have to be in Hitler Youth programs (not in real life. They just got on a train). But what is it about changing the dad that makes for such a popular story? Certainly there is more going on with Maria than that as she changes the whole household.

One word: power.

Maria may not crave power in the conventional sense, but this is the one way the governess could legitimately wield a ton of power—influencing the family. She already influences the kids. They spend more time with her than with anyone else. But if she can influence the parents and maybe even befriend them, she's really got a good thing going. Jane Eyre doesn't fall for Rochester because he's rich, but rather because he likes having her around! They talk, they bond, they talk about each other's pasts and problems (albeit not all of them, at first). She has adult companionship, a friend. This means she isn't just the lowly governess. She's a valued member of the household, someone people would miss, not because of the services they render, but because of who they are.

Maybe that's why there are so many stories of a governess being able to do magic. Magic is power.

“I thought it was knowledge.”

Pretty sure if you can do magic, you're at an advantage, too. Bedknobs and Broomsticks and the more recent Nanny McPhee feature middle-aged, single women caring for children that aren't theirs, changing the kids' lives for the better, the former actually using her witchcraft to battle Nazis. They just can't get away from all the supernatural tomfoolery, can they? Miss Price, played to perfection by Angela Lansbury, wants to learn magic to help the Allies win World War Two. Talk about influence. Nanny McPhee (Emma Thompson) may have things on a smaller scale, but she plays just as pivotal a role in the lives of the family members she works for, her mantra, “When you need me, but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me, but no longer need me, I have to go.”

Influence might just be what every governess wished she had more of, and so we come now to the governess of a story that allows her to change the very dynamic of the family she serves.

Originally a children's book series that lasted from 1934 all the way to 1988, it was adapted by the Walt Disney Company into a masterpiece of a film in 1964, and one that can and should be its own meta. It went through development hell, and one of the aspects Saving Mr. Banks got right was the importance and success of the movie hinging not on the character of Mary Poppins saving the children, but saving the father, who is too much of a workaholic to spend quality time with them.

This has kind of been done to death, the dad so wrapped up in his work that his family life is passing him by, but in no other movie I know of is it done so poignantly. Mary Poppins waltzes in with her no-nonsense attitude, basically hires herself, and when she is about to be fired, she actually masterminds a field trip for Mr. Banks to take the kids on that will have nigh-miraculous results.

I'm of the opinion Mary Poppins (and also Bert) is not quite human, but it doesn't really matter. The lesson of learning to take in life's simple joys is illustrated so beautifully in the haunting “Feed the Birds” song, an amazing scene between Bert and Mr. Banks when Bert sort of spells out what Mary Poppins has been doing this whole time, and a gorgeously-filmed sequence when Mr. Banks walks to the bank, expecting to be fired himself, and reflects on all that has happened. It's not really the kids learning life lessons from Mary Poppins, as they're in reality good kids who are just bored and in need of some attention. Mr. Banks is the one who is just a little too set in his ways and can't be bothered to give his own children any warmth. What stops this from being too cutesy or too preachy is Mary Poppins' practical attitude. She's not an ice queen, but a firm, stubborn woman who denies she does anything magical.

But she gives the kids cough syrup that tastes like rum and dates homeless guys.

The governess aspect of Mary Poppins may be the most believable. See, for all my snark, I find it hard to believe that every single governess suffered. Teaching today is underappreciated and underpaid, but people still do it because it is so rewarding. They are shaping lives. They are an adult kids can go to for help and look up to, maybe even emulate. The job of a governess was to nurture young people, and while some kids I'm sure hated their governesses, there had to be some out there who really loved theirs.

The “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” sequence never fails to make me cry because it's the whole point of the movie. As Mary Poppins watches as the happy family goes arm in arm to the park, it's a bittersweet moment, but isn't it also the best-case scenario a governess can hope for? She did what she went there to do—save this family by teaching them to make time for each other. Realistically, she's not part of the joy, but she is responsible for it. It has to be a little sad for a teacher to watch his/her students move on to the next grade, but it is what is supposed to happen. It's a sign he/she has done a good job. The entire scene is so moving because it really brings everything home. Mr. Banks gets his job back along with a promotion, proving you don't have to sacrifice your family to move up the ladder. Mrs. Banks puts her suffragette sash on the kite, literally making it “come out of the closet” and be acknowledged by her family as something she is passionate about. The kids can look forward to outings with their parents and a lot more warmth at home. All of it is done by Mary Poppins without a thank you, or even a goodbye.

That's why I think the governess as a heroine persists and is a popular choice for storytelling. There is a risk-taking aspect to this woman, no matter how prim and proper she may seem, for she is venturing out on her own with a specific purpose, and it's a noble purpose. The people around her in the story change because of her. She is making things happen, things that have to happen for children to mature. She might find love, she might fight off ghosts, but the woman is a hero for encouraging and persevering, all with very little expectation of credit. Just to give you a real-life example as my conclusion, here is a photo of Anne Sullivan with Helen Keller:

#meta; governesses; books; horror; jane eyre; brontes; Disney

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