Chapter Text
Hello, all. This story is an old collab I did with a friend of mine who is, unfortunately, no longer active. However, she still is and was an amazing writer so please go check her out at some point; her profile is still listed under the authors of this story in respect and her contribution for making me a better writer and pushing me out of my comfort zone to make a larger book. When I first started writing here my chapters were only a page long with minimal words but, Panic, you inspired me to add larger words and try strange plots, to write chapters of five and six pages. Thank you for all that you've done for me and inspired in others. I hope that one day we can reconnect and pick up where we left off in our friendship.
Anyways, I wanted to say that I am editing this story as of the re-posting of this chapter. I'd been planning this for a while now and recently found the inspiration to do so. The edited chapters will have the dates they were re-written at the top. If you miss it, though, it will be easy to follow with how the chapters are titled. Old chapters appear like this 'Chapter One: Example' verses the 'IIV: Example'-- I will be using this format from this point on. Even if you are an older reader, I suggest re-reading the chapters as I remake them as I will be adding a lot of new hints, events, actions, and more. Some things in the future might be confusing if you skip them over.
In addition, a few words on this story that I recommend you keep in mind. Firstly, there are quite a few triggers in this book (gore, cussing, implied nudity (in passing), death, murder, mental abuse, manipulation, to name a few), so please continue with your own comforts in mind. If it is of any aid to you, I'd say this story is something between pg-15 and R ratings The title is a bit misleading and I would also like to clarify that while this story is listed as a Bill x Y/n x Dipper story, it isn't exactly a sound relationship. Bill and Y/n are in fairly good relations, but over time Dipper and Y/n's relationship becomes something I'd call toxic and unhealthy. So if you feel like that might be out of your comforts, I would not recommend this story :)
~Phoenix
꧁𓊈* (-) *𓊉꧂
Edited on 01/31/2023
The events of nearly six years ago still weighed heavily upon the shoulders of the numbers of Gravity Falls. But none knew the pressure that still squeezed at the hearts of the Pines Family with knotted knuckles and twisted fingers. It reminded them much like the fingers of the demon that had come to pass in an attempt to colonize their world for himself, how his arms would shift into unproportional limbs like thin, gnarly tree branches that used to grasp at their dreams like hooks in a fish. Unnaturally black fingertips that spun thin, strong webs across the town of Gravity Falls in an attempt to shape it into the perfect ground zero for him and his rotting home-world.
One might ask themselves what happened between the end of the End, and the start of a new, more peaceful era. Or, at least, that's what they liked to call it when, in fact, it had been anything but peaceful and quiet for the unrestingly cryptic town. After the events of Weirdmageddon the town all but shut themselves into their small corner of the world between weathered cliffs and tall needled pines. The sleepy town had grown in some ways and shrunk in others during this time, earning some new faces while parting with the old. McGucket had passed away since buying the old manor on the hill but not before his life had taken a turn for the better.
He had been able to re-find himself in his madness just before his passing and talked as Fiddleford to Stanford one last time, informing him the name and address of his only daughter, Octivia McGucket, who he gave the house over to. It took a long time until Stanley was able to locate the girl since her last name had changed when she wed, but the moment he had stumbled across the Facebook page of Octavia Edwards, Ford knew it was her. The short torso and long legs, the short, round face, the deep green eyes that all pointed toward her father was easy for the older twin to make out. She had, at first, offered Stanford nothing but hostility when he showed up upon her Texas doorstep, blaming him for a long-term grudge toward Fiddleford's loss of mind. But, she soon let down those walls in favor of breaking down in the elder man's arms upon hearing the news. Ford and Stanley both did their best to comfort the middle aged woman and offer her a hand if she chose to ever move into the large home.
Instead, shortly after her divorce a few years later, she moved into a small portion of the home and split the building into threes. She said that she alone would never need a home so large for herself, two dogs, and three children (Venessa (12), Adrid (17), and Bethony (2)) who lived with her during the summer months, spending the rest of the year with their father for the sake of the betterment of their education. And so, because of this, half of the building was given toward the cause of putting a good hospital in the small town instead of making people drive the three hours or so to Portland. The other half went toward the people who had lost their homes in the demonic event she knew next to nothing about as an apartment building. To say Ford was upset to hear that McGucket had been writing her letters about what happened was an understatement, but luckily for him, the older man's words were hard to read and as garbled as his thoughts after the portal accident. All she claimed to know was that a deviating event had occurred and caused many people to leave because of the lack of livable homes, so she was doing what she could to help.
In fact, she had named the plex 'Old Man Apartments' in honor of her late father, hoping that it was what he would have wanted for his beloved town.
Aspeaking of Stanford, he and his family had quite the change since it all. After everything that occurred, Ford and his twin jumped on a boat and sailed the world for many months. They had gone surfing in Hawaii with mermaids, diving with the Lochness Monster in England, hunting for Bigfoot in Kentucky, flying on the back of Mothman in Virginia, and so much more that they had always wanted to try. But they had found that they were getting older, and the ceaseless rocking of their small boat home was enough to make their backs hurt and their necks ache, so they set sail one last time off the coast of Austria after meeting a polite, pineapple-loving, vegan Chupacabra and docked for the final time four hours from the Falls. Plus, maybe the approaching 18th birthday of their two favorite twins helped the decision along, not that Stanley would admit that directly to the mystery twins themselves.
On the topic of Mabel and Dipper, they had gone back to their busy lives soon after leaving the Falls for the summer. When they had returned they had been rather upset to hear that they would be moving at the end of the school year from their hometown in California to the alpine forests of Colorado. Normally, they wouldn't have minded it if it had been at least a few miles closer to the hidden town they grew to adore during that summer of 2012, but instead it added many hours to any drive or flight they would plan in the future. Because of this, they were unable to find a ride up there during the summer of 2013 or many summers after. Every time they tried their parents would remind them that their great uncles where no longer there waiting for them and would instead send them off to stay with their aunt Susan and her boyfriend Greg. Both of them hated Greg. He was inhumanly tall, smelled like old cheese, always left his sweaty socks around, and loved violently nerdy documentaries and nothing else. It was always a boring visit for the two of them, especially in contrast to what they had done when they were twelve. Although, to be fair, when you spend the summer defeating and killing a demon older than even the earth you walk on, it was kind of hard to find something that could even come close to compairison.
Clearly, Dipper hadn't taken Ford up on his offer to study under him. Not right away, anyway. The two had come to the agreement that the teen would first finish high school and then study with Stanford on religion and mythology after alongside his look-alike sister who instead wanted to go into fashion and home renovation. She had found that she was really good that that last part after they moved, and she had helped their parents decorate their new home. And, upon coming up with a plan and buying their tickets, they informed their Grunkles that they would be flying into Portland a week after the school year would end and graduation passed, having already bought their own cars beforehand with a loan from their parents to help them get started. But they wanted to take the bus for old times' sake instead, having the vehicles shipped to their small-town destination in their stead.
The ride into town was full of excitement, taking the slow rout from Colorado Springs up to Gravity Falls over the period of about five days, taking a few hours between rides to explore the town they stopped in for a moment to stretch their legs. But they didn't stick around too long, they wanted to see their beloved town again as soon as they could and, in turn, explore the new home of Standford and Stanley who awaited them eagerly. What they didn't know, though, was the new face that their Grunkles had found only a week before they were due to arrive. A coincidence, Stanley had said, but Stanford thought otherwise. Although the older man was still mentally foggy, the man had managed to recover much of the memory he had lost. Their childhood came to him in small flashbacks, their time apart in dreams, and the occasional feeling of fear when he woke up after a nightmare he could not recall.
He didn't remember much of the odd happenings of Weirdmageddon with his memories erased, however Ford was still worried for his brother. He was sure that Bill was long gone and dead after the fact (if he hadn't, Ford was sure that he would have appeared somewhere or another along their journey), however he still feared for his brother. Since what happened, Stanley had found that he was oddly good at predicting the actions of others and would sometimes stare off into nothingness as if he wasn't quite there. In addition, he would blurt out strange words of other languages or even forget how to speak English all together for short periods of time, even claiming that he could hear someone screaming behind his thoughts in twisted, inhuman voices. They sounded like himself sometimes while others he could have sworn he heard his long dead mother calling out to him. It was also not uncommon for the man to sleepwalk during the night, getting more and more common as time went on, adding yet another reason as to why the two of them had to end their boat trip as soon as they could. What if he happened to step off the side of the boat or something?
It bothered Ford that he couldn't help his brother no matter how hard he tried to do so. He was used to knowing things, but no matter how many herbs or medications they tried it never seemed to stop. To add onto it, Ford thought it might had been a result of actually killing a dream demon within his mind. And, since he had never seen anyone else try and actually succeed in the act, he didn't know how to stop it. Or if that was why it started at all. He was completely and utterly in the dark.
It was because of his stress that Stanford had taken a walk the day that he had found the odd thing that would come into his life. Since he had returned to Gravity Falls, he had taken it upon himself to patrol the woods for threats and oddities as he found the time. He often found and greeted the occasional gnome or stepped over the roots of an Ent soaking up the warm sunlight from above. They didn't bother him so he paid them no mind, instead trying to play peace maker between the unicorns and the fae. Both had lessened their little fights now, though, and so he more took these strolls for the sake of habit and clearing his head for the day to come.
His newly built home had been placed deep within the woods at his request, the small, two-story cabin complete with a large bunker underneath for himself and a sizable yard in front. He loved the place dearly and even had a larger house built in the back for the twins when they arrived, each home purposefully and carefully avoiding triangular windows and spaces aside from the roof. Even the upper stories had been placed so that the triangular wall on either end would be imperfect and therefor deemed safe.
The door shut with a soft click under the six fingered hand that pulled it closed, the elder smiling softly at the sound. It felt right to be home after just under four years at sea and though it had been a year and a half or so since they had returned, he would never seem to get used to the small things again. Like the click of passively locking doors or stable ground. The polished metal was warm under his palm as he let it go after a lingering moment, his chocolate eyes skimming the unworn iron surface. He fondly sighed before taking a breath full of sunny forest air, the scent of pine sap and warm soil welcoming him.
His boots tapped hollowly on the porch floor as he approached the steps of his home, peeking up at the partly clouded sky above from under the shade caused by the rim of the roof above. Gentle, wispy clouds lingered along the tree line as he looked back down and brought his focus to the wooden steps under his shoes. A warm, loving breeze shook the leaves before him as if to beckon him closer and wish him good morning, casting small dancing patches of warm light over his shoulders and cheeks.
Golden spots with earthy lime hues dappled his coat as he watched the sun peek out from between thin pine needles far above. A slight smile still bore his thin lips as he raised a hand to the bright star and blocked his face from its blinding light, the silhouette of his six fingered palm warped over his skin. Through slightly crinkled eyes, the man thought about how nice his twice daily walks would be with Dipper by his side, listening to him talk about his travels. With Mabel following along from upon the spine of a nearby fallen tree trunk. How they would talk about their new hobbies and stories from high school to him in the evenings. Oh, how he yearned to hear their voices sooner than this Thursday, four days from now.
He wanted to say that he was the most hyped between the town and himself, but that wasn't quite true. Stanley seemed to be slightly more excited than he, if that was even possible, taking an hour each day to add things to his list of things to do when they got here. He had never been one to write down ideas or make lists, but Ford assumed it was one of the many things he had influenced his brother into doing during their time at sea and between their much-needed brotherly bonding moments. His boots brushed the firm soil under soft grass blades, the mud from last night's rain sticking to the black rubber bottoms. A small, singular person wide trail had been worn between the trees across the yard from the porch, a path formed by his own two legs in a well sized loop around his home and through most of the more populated areas of the town. Not by people, but by a large number of peaceful cryptids.
The sunspots warmed his thoughts as well as his skin as his feet trekked the well known path through the forest. It had become a mindless action to him now, knowing what roots to avoid and subconsciously ducking under limbs that obscured his path. He still recalls running through these trees and over the large familiar stones when he was just a boy, feeling freedom in the forest for the first time in his short life at the time. Now, he felt chipper and young upon repeating the same actions in his ender years, practically able to watch a ghost of his childhood lead the way with a small leather fanny-pack strapped to his hips.
He missed the calm, mostly oblivious years of his youth. The very first journal he had ever written having begun at the young age of 16. Most people didn't know of the first journal he had made, the one that he had started with, making drawings of him with his favorite tree or the face-shaped rock he had found at the base of an old oak. That one had actually been lost to time when he had tripped and dropped it into the river leading to the waterfall Gravity Falls was named after. He never saw it again, three years of youthful findings, maps, and dilutional fantasies soon to come true all written down messily within its pages. He was sure it was still down there, waiting for him to find it, but the lake was so deep in some spots that he knew it would be next to impossible to relocate. Oh, what he wouldn't have done to have it returned to him. Besides making a deal with a demon, of course.
He still felt like a hero welcomed into the treeline, not watched or creeped out like he used to. It actually felt quite homely to him, it had since he had returned from the portal thanks to his brother all those years ago. But, even still, he always brought a few small weapons with him in case he ran into a wolf or hostile being. he rarely ever did but it didn't hurt to ease his nerves at the mere brush of the memory ray or his electric gloves. Maybe it was the part of him that still feared the return of the dreamon that managed to forever traumatize his waking and taunt his dreams. Most people thought the same thing, some even moving far away in an attempt to stop reminding themselves of the awful, terrible event bestowed upon them.
The ray gun in his satchel awkwardly met his hand with a cool nudge of metal against flesh, a grounding touch that Ford had come to rely upon. And, right beside it, hidden from his view, was the leather bound red and gold book four, which he had filled with his time at sea. He had left his more recent book, book five (filled with most of the same things) at home as a gift to Dipper, long since planning to gift it to his student in his retirement of monster hunting. Of course, he would still patrol and go on the occasional hunt, but overall, Stanford didn't plan on going out of his way to chase cryptids. It was time for the new generation to take over, the younger, more agile, stronger twins.
With his book against his side and his tan trench coat over his shoulders, the silver haired man felt nostalgic. Like he was on his way to write yet another journal filled with all the strangeness the Falls had to offer. He knew that he nor Dipper nor the next set of twins would ever find all that the small town had to offer, and to a point he was happy with that. Like the odd tunnels that lurked under the cliffs that he had never gotten to explore. Or the odd statue maker in town who seemed to only make one, oddly realistic statue seemingly overnight.
But, with five nearly completed books, he had hope that the saga would continue long after he was gone. The first about the intergalactical experiences he had with his demonic 'friend' before his real colors came through. The second about the many rituals and magical items he had come across during his time. The third about the creatures he found during his studies within the local town and soon, his discovery of the strange, one-eyed being's betrayal.
And, thus far, the sixth he hoped would be his last. It was filled with thoughtful words about the legacy he wished to leave behind and some of the things he found that saved his life many times before. Designs for the memory gun and portal, all written down in hopes that his successor would find it helpful. It was almost fully full, the last page being blank for where he wanted Dipper to pick up from. A short introduction, if you will. And, the next book, book seven, was already made for the young teen. A dark blue book with a silver boarder, the shape of a basic pine tree glued onto the front with the number '7' written in bold across it. On the back, a simple sketch of the little dipper in invisible ink. One last secret for the teen to find on his own. And, of course, several small shooting stars doodles across the inside covers.
Although Bill had appeared to burn the journals during their fight, in reality the demon had simply teleported them away into his penthouse at the top of the Fearimid. They had found all three in the rubble of the destroyed building made of black, light-absorbing anti-matter bricks after his death. He guessed it made since, though, with how hard Bill had worked to get his hands on them. Perhaps he hoped that the answer for his freedom lurked within their pages only to fall for the trick Stanley had set up for him.
Ford wondered how the three-sided monster would have reacted if he had told him during his dying moments that the answer had, in fact, been looking at him in the face the whole time. Lurking within the yellowed pages.
Ford kept walking, zoned out with unfocused eyes aimed toward the horizon of grass and trees. The farther had walked, though, the less he seemed to recognize the area and soon he found himself stopping to look around. The forest was dense around him, dark and unwelcoming. But, the path kept forward so he continued, perhaps a passing cloud had passed over the sun, making the area seem less warm and inviting. His mind continued to wonder his thoughts, riddled with excuses on how the trees seemed to loom above and the thorns seemed to inch closer. He knew that this fear firming in his gut was because of Bill, the long walks they used to take through the forest in search of fuel for the portal. He hated, too, that the dead being still could have such a hold on his mind and in turn, his life. Thin needles coated thinly in sap brushed his shoulders as he trudged deeper into the area; warn, pact dirt leading him down the rout. Between bushes, past rotting logs, over the occasional stone, under low grown trees. But the longer he went, the stronger the feeling of unease settled upon his shoulders.
It was up until that moment that Ford had managed to ignore the feeling of unease that picked at him like gnats in the night. The feeling of being watched overtook him and his feet stopped once more, realizing where he was. He was near the Statue. Every now and again he would check the stone triangle for any changes or danger, but when he never found any, Ford had stopped coming altogether. He hated seeing it, it cruelly reminded him of the monster that it had been created from. But the crawling feeling of eyes like spiders across his skin made him want to slink back toward his warm and ever welcoming home.
A slight rustle in the bushed nearby caused him to jolt, Ford's limbs jerking backward violently before springing into motion. His figure lurched between the trees, and he soon found himself coming to a screeching stop before the stone, moss coated figure of his old friend. A soft laugh run through his head; a sly feminine tone that made Ford's head feel like it was under the pressure of a watermelon coiled up within a snake. He grasped at his ears in response and let out a sharp inhale of pain. He wanted it to stop, the feeling unlike any he had ever felt before. But, when his wish was granted, he wanted to take his thought back just as quickly.
A high-pitched male laugh overtook the melodic one from moments before, the pressure easing as he looked up to see a girl clutching onto a nearby tree trunk drunkenly. She seemed half lifeless as she slumped against the harsh bark, her nails digging into the groves between the cracked surface in an attempt to find a way to keep herself upward. Her legs appeared weak and frail as she chuckled, her tone morphing into that of a voice Ford wished to forget.
Instead of running from it, though, the elder seemed to stumble forward, almost entranced by the girl before him. Her lips curved into a wide grin as he approached, clasping for his memory gun on instinct. "Cipher," he practically growled out, watching as her grin shifted into that of a frown under her hair.
She appeared to be fairly young, maybe 20 at most, with all the features that a model would envy. Her (h/l) hair lolled down her shoulders and passed her cheeks in a dawn-facing (h/c) halo, the soft texture seeming to glow in paler whisps around her with the occasional stray bunch, shimmering like silken threads in the early morning glow. Nestled within those (h/c) ribbons were small, dewy pearls of water that told the story of her lingering out in the woods for far longer than first glance. Those small beadlets gave her an almost angelic appearance, like a crown of rain across her brow and lashes.
He would been a fool to only see those sweeping eyes, though, as they looked past her hair to peer up at him in all their enticing beauty. Her (s/c) flesh dipped and curved gracefully around her figure in hypnotizing ways that moved the eyes easily down her neck and into the gentle nest of her collarbone and farther into her sloping shoulders. Her clothes were clean to the glance, but Ford wouldn't let himself be fooled. Not when his two nephews were so close to arriving. She was enchanting, an oddly charming aura filling the space between them, although there was only one problem. With another chuckle, the voice of a demon slipped past her lips, her shoulders moving in a serpentine motion at the action, rolling in their sockets as if to partly hide her face.
Looking back at him were the yellow tainted eyes of Bill Cipher himself, narrow pupils aimed sharply toward the grey-haired man. The possessed person didn't say anything for a long moment, only offering the stunned man a vengeful glimpse. The oddly calm nature of the beast before him sent shivers down his spine and make him quiver like a sail in a winter wind. "How are..." he trailed off, staggering back when the girl pushed off the tree slowly, her soft palm parting with the rough surface. "You're dead, this is a dream," the elder declared, pulling the weapon from his bag and pointing it shakily at the encroaching figure.
"Even if it was, it would still be me. Only dream demons can take root in your mind," the demon mocked, stepping closer so that only the triangular stone stood between them. He ran his hand along the rim of the top hat resting on its rightful place upon its head. His hands moved slower than he would have liked as he raised the ray gun and the demon only watched with a hostile gaze, amused. "Your trembling, Sixer. It's barely been a few years and you're already losing your touch; I thought I taught you better." The girl chuckled and looked back up to meet the man's eyes, her narrow pupils restricting with a silent burning anger toward the man.
Stanford hated the thought that he and his family was once again on the receiving end of the infamous demon's hatred. They had been once before, and he nearly destroyed them and the world as they knew it because of it. Ford really didn't want to place the twins in that situation again, so he had to stop this here, and now.
"Leave the girl out of this, Cipher. This is between you and I," he grumbled, setting the dial of the ray gun in his hands. He had met this woman before, she was one of the old residences of the town, one of the few he could never quite forget. The first time they had met was a few weeks before Weirdmageddon at the Shack, claiming to have come for a gift for one of her out of town friends. Then again after he and his brother returned from their seaside trip. She had come to welcome them back, although she seemed more focused on Stanley than himself. How Bill was able to jump from Stanley (if that had been the case at all) to this girl, he had not the foggiest idea. But her blamed himself all the same.
Slowly putting the girl's name into the ray gun, the words (Y/n) (L/n) spelled out on the screen slowly in digital letters. Something flashed behind the yellow of her eyes, a shimmer of blue around the thin black lines in her eyes. He had just done something, and the six fingered man didn't want to let him stick around long enough to find out what it was or finish the act. With a trigger finger moving faster than his thoughts, his pointer landed harshly against the gun and shot the beam at the poor girl caught up in all of this mess. It was because of this that he almost stopped a few seconds into the process, the way that Bill had grinned just before the beam hit her as the thought of his crime warped over his mind.
He had just hit a stranger with the memory gun, one that (even if they only met twice) he found himself harboring a great respect for. He knew that when she woke, he would have to regift her identity to her through words, but he could never return what he had robbed of her. And, with that thought, Bill appeared to be aimed toward her like a bullet toward the heart, so he also knew that he could not simply let her go free after it all. Whatever spell he had cast over her just before being erased from her mind was something Stanford couldn't figure out alone, not right now.
He watched with a sinking heart as the girl doubled over and dropped to the ground. Her body auraed a blueish color from the ray that soon faded away, leaving her laying limply in the grass next to the Cipher statue. She let out a long, nearly silent breath as if she had been holding one while possessed, her chest falling and her shoulders going limp. But what made the elder man worry most was the red that began to stain her hair. A sickly-sweet crimson that tainted her (h/c) strands from the back of her head, the elder man bending down quickly to check her pulse at the base of her jaw and neck.
She was breathing, thank goodness, but she appeared to have hit her head on her way down. It was, as sick as this sounded, a blessing in disguise. Some sort of physical evidence to offer her as to why her memory was missing when she woke. Next, he worried about when exactly she would wake up. For Stanley, it had taken him nearly a month to come to, and even then, he was still out of it for a long time. But the longer he thought about what Bill could have done to her mind, what he could have had planned for her, the man knew that she would have begged for him to save her sooner or later. He just knew in his gut that he had just saved the day for yet another person hurt by Bill Cipher himself. He was the hero here, after all. Right?
After this event, it had taken a long while for Ford to actually get her back to his home. He had basically kicked down the door behind him and tossed the girl onto the couch. "Stanley!" He had yelled out worriedly from the downstairs living room. His brother was quick to run down the steps and help his younger twin bandage up (Y/n)'s head and just as quick to pull out the blood cleaner they kept under the sink. They had found that they took in so many hurt animals and creatures from the forest that it had begun to stain the floors and their towels, so they had been sure to pick some up here and there as they needed it. An odd item to have in their house, yes, but necessary. And a good prank just waiting for use, so Stanley claimed.
As the days dragged on, Ford made sure to keep the unconscious girl in one of the upstairs rooms in the larger house in the back, leaving the twins to pick between the two downstairs rooms and the second guest room on the second floor across the hall. He was happy now that he requested two guest rooms for the sake of Mabel's sleepovers. But, as one can imagine, Stan was not happy at the girl's arrival. He reminded Ford that, much like what had happened last summer, they had been put in danger by his actions. Ford didn't have the backbone to tell him the state in which he found her, though, so he simply said that he had found her next to the statue, not that he had conformation of the demon still being alive.
He was sure that he had hit the demon with the ray once again, so he hoped that he had gotten rid of him for good this time, but that grin he had offered the silver haired man unsettled him. For a being facing death all over again, he didn't seem afraid or worried, just weakened. And that thought alone led the man to believe that he had something up his sleeve. Stanley, of course, had no memories of Bill himself. This was both a good thing and a bad one in Ford's eyes. For one, he didn't have the same lingering fears as the six fingered man did, the same nightmares about the apocalyptic event. But, on the off hand, Stan could make a mistake and awaken the being all over again, not the mention that he wouldn't know the true danger of their inhuman foe, should he make a comeback. Which Ford was nearly absolutely, one hundred percent, positively sure he would. After all, he had played chess with the dreamon before, and never once had he won any of his games.
꧁𓊈* (-) *𓊉꧂